Chapter 19 Win-Win

Warehouse, Connecticut. January 8, 2004 – Thursday evening.

Neal stood still after Peter left the warehouse, catching his breath. He'd wanted to follow, but Henry had held him back, saying Peter needed time to think.

It still felt like he'd been sucker punched, and the adrenaline that left Neal's heart racing moments ago was rapidly dissipating. Soon he felt tired and sat on a stack of pallets. "Peter's going to send me to prison," he said. He was starting to feel the cold in the drafty building, and shivered. He wrapped his arms around his torso for warmth.

Henry placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, he can't do that. You have immunity for your crimes now. That was contingent on your confession, not on working for the FBI."

Neal nodded. He loosened his arms slightly.

"The thing is..." Henry paused, swallowed, and started over. "The thing is, with a resume that shows only three weeks of a legitimate job before you were fired by the FBI, there aren't going to be a lot of opportunities open to you."

Neal's arms tightened again. "You both think I'll return to crime."

Henry removed his hand from Neal's shoulder and sat beside his cousin. "It's the most statistically likely scenario. Neal, I'm sorry. This is at least partly my fault. What I did last night... I could tell Peter was almost ready to think of you as his son, and I knew it would help you manage the flashbacks if he went ahead and took that leap. But he wasn't ready for all of the repercussions. He couldn't handle seeing you in a life-or-death situation this soon. He led with his heart, as a dad, instead of with his mind, as a boss. If he'd had a little more time to process everything first, he'd have reacted more rationally here."

Neal relaxed his arms and sighed. It was a ragged sound, revealing more emotion than he wanted to show, but he couldn't help it. "I'm going back to a life of crime, and Peter will catch me and send me to prison. Win-Win won't let you talk to a convicted felon until 2013."

"No," Henry insisted. "First, once Peter calms down, there's a chance he can be convinced to give you another try. Second, if that doesn't work out, you have another option he isn't aware of. Neal Legend –"

"Is Shawn's sidekick," Neal interrupted.

"Damn it, Neal. You have to get past Shawn's ego. You were a partner, not a sidekick, no matter what he said. But you won't have to go it alone. I'll be Shawn again full-time. I'll tone him down and we can make it work. It'll be fun," Henry insisted with a determination Neal knew well.

"You can't. You have a job at Win-Win. You need to shake them up and open your own branch in New York. And you have to bring down Masterson."

"You're more important than Win-Win, and I'm starting to think that I can bring down Masterson without them."

"Thanks," said Neal. They sat in companionable silence, lost in their thoughts. Neal was planning how he'd escape and elude the FBI, preferably without disrupting Henry's career. And he was pretty sure Henry was planning how to escape and elude Win-Win to go on the run with him anyway. "Let's take the truck," Neal suggested after a while.

"Take it where?"

"Back to New York. It's evidence, right? It should go to some evidence graveyard in New York, and taking it there beats sitting around here. At least it would be warm." Neal stood up.

Henry stood, too. "You gonna tell Peter first?"

"We can call him from the road, ask him for directions to wherever the FBI stores impounded vehicles."

"He isn't going to like it," Henry warned.

Neal shrugged. "None of us will like going back together in Peter's car. Who fires someone and then gives him a ride home?" He walked to the main door of the building, and was surprised at how hard he had to push to open it. The wind was howling out there.

"Suddenly you're an expert on the etiquette for firing –" The wind hit Henry in the face as Neal opened the door. "It's snowing."

"Brilliant deduction. You'll go far at Win-Win."

The wind was whipping the snow into drifts beside the truck. "That settles it," Henry declared. "I'm driving. You never could handle icy roads."

Neal knew they were squabbling to avoid thinking about their impending unemployment, and he welcomed the distraction. But before Neal could rebut the aspersions on his driving, Henry slipped on a patch of ice and landed in a sprawl.

Instead of springing up in normal Henry fashion, he stayed sprawled on the ground and said, "Ow?" He sat up. "Yes. Ow."

Neal crouched beside him. "What is it?"

Henry held his left arm protectively against his body. When Neal touched the arm, Henry yowled in pain.

Footsteps crunched in the snow behind them, and Neal wasn't surprised to hear Peter asking, "What happened?"

"I think he broke his arm."

"No," Henry said. "Maybe a fracture. No big deal."

"Let's get you to a hospital," Neal said.

"No. They'll put a cast on it."

"That's what they do for broken arms," Neal agreed.

"No. You don't get it. If I show up at Win-Win Monday and have to tell everyone my arm was broken while I was with the FBI, they'll..."

"They'll what?" Neal prompted.

"I don't know." Henry almost whined. "But it won't be good."

"Uh-huh. You're not thinking straight right now, because of the pain. The hospital would give you something to take the edge off, and then you'll be able to think again. That'll be good, right?" Neal put an arm around Henry and urged him upward. "C'mon. The sooner we get you to a hospital, the sooner you can boss us all around again."

With Peter's help, they got Henry settled in the back of the car, and then they headed to the same hospital where Neal had been taken on New Year's. To keep a glassy-eyed Henry distracted from the pain, Neal started telling him the highlights of the Sinclairs' party, from Marie's pretense of being French, to why the girls thought he was a character from School for Wizards, to tempting Collins into stealing a first edition Paradise Lost. Neal even made light of his surprise when he realized the inhaler contained something other than water. He also mentioned running into Kate, which elicited a breathless, "I never liked her," from Henry.

###

Peter didn't join the conversation in the car at first, because the driving conditions had deteriorated and he needed to focus on the road. But he was impressed by Neal's handling of the situation – from the moment Peter had arrived on the scene to see Henry on the ground, to the soothing and light-hearted tone Neal was maintaining now. The cousins had smoothly reversed roles, and Peter thought that caretaker looked good on Neal.

There was something very youthful about Neal's look and general demeanor, which Peter realized had caused him to underestimate the kid's level of maturity and grace under pressure.

Chunks of snow and ice made the interstate bumpy. Peter tried to avoid the worst of it, but one particularly bad patch elicited a hiss of pain from Henry. To help distract the young man, Peter asked, "Neal said you wanted him to use your identity. Why is that?"

"It confounds the data geeks at Win-Win to see me pop up in two places at once. They depend too much on data points and algorithms. Gotta make them think about what the data means and question their conclusions. They forget the data is telling them about people, who aren't logical or completely predictable. And it annoys Robert. That's always good." Henry took a deep breath, stopped hunching forward over his arm, and leaned back against the seat. He closed his eyes. "Neal, Shawn had plans this weekend. You'll cover for me, right?"

Neal glanced quickly toward the front seat and said, "Maybe you should cancel. How about we say no to Shawn for once?"

"Not this time." Henry's eyes opened slightly and he looked at Neal. "It'll be better if you do it, anyway. Should have thought of it before."

"This wasn't some convoluted scheme of Shawn's, was it? You get hurt, make me get involved again?"

Henry shook his head. "No way. I wouldn't do this on purpose. And Shawn isn't into pain."

"Really? Because I remember a story about Shawn and a dominatrix, and he didn't seem to mind, well, anything."

"You know what I told you about Shawn's stories," Henry admonished.

"'They're all lies.' I know. But I wanted to believe that one. It was hot. I really got off – "

Okay. Maybe Neal wasn't as mature as Peter had been thinking earlier. Peter suddenly had a very fatherly urge to interrupt the conversation. "Neal! Not in the car."

"What?" Neal stared at Peter. "Oh. I'm not going to get off in your car. Ew."

Henry and Thomas didn't bother to hide their laughter.

"That's not... Not what I meant," Peter said as sternly as he could manage. "I'm telling you to mind your language in the car."

"Why? What's so sacred about your car?" Neal still sounded confused.

"It's not the car, per se," Peter explained. "It's the company in the car."

"It's..." Neal trailed off. "I don't get it."

"Welcome to the capricious world of parents who randomly decide to correct your behavior," Henry told him. "Just say yes, Dad and get it over with. You can't win."

"I'm not..." Neal looked trapped. Peter guessed the kid didn't appreciate father-son humor after the scene in the warehouse. And he really didn't want to hear Neal say, I'm not his son.

"Forget it," Peter said, letting him off the hook.

###

At the hospital, Neal accompanied Henry to an examination room. Peter and Thomas headed to a waiting area, where they called Peggy. She promised to be there soon to pick up her husband.

"You mentioned Henry works at Winston-Winslow," Thomas said. "I've never met an employee."

"What do you know about them?" Peter asked.

"The founders both worked at the FBI. Agents Winston and Winslow reputedly had amazing closure rates, but their methods were unorthodox. In the early 1960s, the FBI pressured agents to be a lot more by the book. One of the agents was fired, and soon after the other one quit. One evening they met at a bar to commiserate, and came up with the idea of opening their own investigation and corporate security business."

"Going into competition with the FBI?"

"In a sense. They lacked the resources of a major government agency, but they also had more freedom. If the rumors are true, they pulled some wild stunts to close cases, and it paid off. Around the time I left the Bureau, Win-Win was moving into the data business. Data warehouses were the next big thing, and the company offered services in data security and data mining. Marketing departments of major companies are willing to pay big bucks for valuable, actionable insight into their data, and to get it they would be willing to sign agreements that Win-Win's investigative branch could access that data to solve or prevent crimes. They can't share clients' information outside Win-Win, but simply having access to the raw data feeds of major telecoms, banks, credit card companies, travel companies, and even some government agencies... You can see how that could help them track down suspects and point them in the right direction for solving cases."

"Do you think they actually have that kind of access?"

"I do. I suspect that's why Win-Win has stayed out of the limelight these last few years. They're trying to get their ducks in a row before anyone figures out what they have and tries to regulate it."

"Something like that needs to have checks and balances," Peter said. "The potential for abuse is staggering."

"Based on their history and corporate culture, they aren't big fans of government oversight and terms like checks and balances. They'd be more open to the concept of having a conscience."

"Because they resent the FBI?"

"And because they have a history of recruiting psychologists."

"How do you know so much about them?" Peter had to ask.

"I found the rumors about Win-Win fascinating when I first heard of them at Quantico, but I never had time to look into them. When I started teaching law, I needed to research cases to reference in my classes. I sought out cases where Win-Win was listed as contributing evidence or providing expertise, and I noticed some trends. I can't prove anything. What I told you is simply the best explanation I could posit for what I observed."

"Keep it under your hat," Peter said, "but we've gotten word that Henry Winslow is being groomed to take over the company."

"Interesting. Did recruiting Neal have anything to do with gaining access to the Win-Win crown prince?"

"None at all. When I first heard the name Henry Winslow, I assumed it was simply one in a long list of Neal's aliases. I was shocked to learn he was an actual person, and I never connected the name to Win-Win until today."

"Is the Bureau pressuring you to befriend him? If I'm right about the company's data sources, I can imagine the FBI's top dogs are salivating over the idea of a consulting arrangement with Win-Win."

"Yeah. I expect to be told that friendship with a Winslow would be good for my career. But I don't see Henry falling for any false overtures. The best thing I can do is to keep working with him toward a common goal of helping Neal."

"In other words, do exactly what you would have done anyway, if you'd had no idea who he was or where he works. I think you're right, Peter. If you're going to be associating with members of Win-Win for long, they'll see through any pretenses."

When Peggy arrived, Thomas wanted to say goodbye to Henry. Peter led them through a rabbit's warren of exam rooms to find Neal sitting in one. "Where's Henry?" Peter asked.

"Getting a cast. His arm is fractured below the elbow."

The Gardiners expressed their best wishes, which Neal promised to convey. Given the weather conditions, they were eager to get home before more snow piled up. That left Neal and Peter alone, with both of them appearing distinctly uncomfortable about it.

"Listen, Neal, I'm not good at this stuff, so I'm just going to say it: I overreacted."

"I'm not fired?"

Peter dug into his coat pocket for Neal's badge. "Here. Take it. You're not fired, and you're not suspended. When we're back in the office, we'll talk about protocols for pursuing a suspect."

An RN popped into the curtained off space. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you'd left."

Neal's eyes narrowed. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, when Mr. Winslow's cast was set, he told me you were going to meet him in the cafeteria. I wheeled him there, and he said he saw his friends. I wouldn't have left him alone, otherwise."

Peter raised a brow. "Is Henry that out of it?"

"We gave him something to manage the pain, and he's a little, well, giddy. But not to the point of not recognizing people."

Neal stood and picked up his coat and Henry's. "We'll look for him in the cafeteria. C'mon, Peter. It's time to play the Hospital Game."

Henry wasn't in the cafeteria, but Neal insisted on checking out the space, taking note of the abandoned wheelchair. He retraced Henry's path from their arrival at the hospital until he went to the eatery, making note of the routes and signs that his cousin would have found tempting.

It fascinated Peter to watch Neal's thought process. He picked up clues and followed hunches with lightning speed, then paused to reflect, getting into his quarry's mind. At first Peter simply observed, but he couldn't help contributing. Neal accepted Peter's ideas with a nod or a clearly stated reason for dismissal, never pausing long in his pursuit. He engaged in several brief conversations with people who didn't realize they were being questioned. When one doctor claimed to be too busy to talk, Peter flashed his badge, and that got the man's attention. The doctor admitted having seen a patient wearing a sling headed toward the elevators a few minutes ago. At the elevators, Neal read the notes about what could be found on each floor and selected the up button.

"Why up?" Peter asked as they stepped into the elevator.

"Henry loves music. The next floor has a chapel, which probably means a piano. And there's a therapy space, which sometimes includes music therapy."

"He won't be able to play a piano with one arm."

"I'm banking on the drugs making him too fuzzy to think about that until he gets there. If we follow his trail fast enough, we might catch him before he decides on his next destination."

They stepped out of the elevator and followed the signs toward the chapel. Peter realized that this was what he had wanted when he'd assigned Neal to work a month in the van: a safe environment to explore how field operations were supposed to work. Tomorrow they could talk about the Hospital Game and compare it to the FBI's procedures for chasing down suspects. They actually had a lot of common ground, and Neal had such an affinity for this work that it reaffirmed Peter's decision to recruit him.

A dejected Henry sat on a piano bench. When he noticed Neal, he turned around and waved vaguely at the piano. "I can't play. I can't remember ever not being able to play."

"What do you want to hear?" Neal asked, sliding onto the bench beside his cousin.

"Umm. 'My Immortal'?"

"Evanescence? You realize the singer is female, right? I can play the piano part, but I'm not going to sing like Amy Lee."

"You can adapt."

Henry closed his eyes and listened while Neal played and sang what Peter considered a maudlin song. Peter couldn't imagine what made Henry want to hear something like that now. It was less than comforting.

When the song ended, Henry sighed, leaned against Neal and said, "Every time I hear that song I remember how much you haunted me after the Marshals took you away, Neal. That day while our moms were packing, they told me to watch you. I didn't know what was going on, but it was clear the grownups were stressed and I was very serious about making sure nothing happened to you. When the Marshals came, one of them picked you up and carried you away and I thought I'd failed. Especially when you weren't happy about being held by a stranger. You started screaming, and then I started screaming. Mom told me I cried all the way home and kept asking about you for days, always wanting to know if you were all right. When I found you in Chicago, I felt so damned relieved. And then I was scared, 'cause you were so sick, and when you felt better you played the Hospital Game and I thought I'd lost you again. But when the doctors said you were okay, it was like I'd finally done my job."

Peter patted Henry lightly on the back in solidarity. He could completely identify with the enormity of feeling responsible for Neal. If it seemed overwhelming as an adult approaching his forties, how had Henry managed at such a young age? The mournful choice of song made perfect sense now. "You were just a kid, Henry. You did the best you could."

Neal gave Henry a half hug, careful not to jostle his injured arm. "You did a good job, Henry. I'm grown up and safe. You don't have to take care of me anymore. You don't have to work at Winston-Winslow just to provide me a job in the future. And you don't have to leave them just to help me deal with my mistakes. You deserve the life that you want."

"I don't know what I want." Henry yawned.

Peter decided it was best to get out of here while Henry was still awake and ambulatory. "I bet you want to get back to New York, and sleep in a real bed instead of a hospital bed."

Henry nodded. "Can I play with the radio?"

"Yeah, but I'm turning it off if you fall asleep."

"Or if you sing off key," Neal added.

A Beatles song popped into Peter's head. He tried to suppress it.

"Peter? Are you humming?" Neal asked as they stepped into the elevator.

"Uh. Not intentionally. What you said about singing off key made me think of a song."

"We're starting to rub off on you," Henry said triumphantly, and he launched into the song "With a Little Help from My Friends." It sounded fine to Peter, but Neal insisted that Henry's performance wasn't nearly up to par. However, he noticed that didn't prevent Neal from joining in to harmonize with his cousin. They tried to convince Peter to join the chorus, but he refused, and hushed them when they started encountering people in the corridors. But for the rest of the evening the line about singing out of key was stuck in his head.

Once they were settled in his car, Peter was relieved to see there was a break in the weather and the snowplows had cleared the roads. He found a fast food place with a drive through and was paying when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out, looked at the display and suppressed a groan. "It's your mom again," he said, handing the phone to Henry.

"Hi... Yeah, fine... Oh? Hold on." Henry turned back toward Neal, who was in the back seat. "D'you still have my phone?"

Neal reached into his coat. "Yeah. Oh, you have some missed calls. Sorry. Here." He offered the phone to Henry, who already had a phone in one hand and shrugged, unable to juggle both devices with one arm in a sling. Neal put the phone back in a coat pocket, then took the drink and sandwich Peter passed back to him.

Peter placed Henry's drink in a cup holder, but had no idea what to do with his burger. Henry handed the phone to Peter and took the hamburger. Peter looked at his phone as if it might bite him and handed it to Neal. "I can't do this and drive. You deal with it."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed seeing Neal on the comfort side of H/C this time.

Win-Win is a complex business, unlike any I've ever heard of in real life, and it was tricky to find the right point in the story to pause for an explanation. I think of them as ominous but not evil. They have the potential to be good or bad, and Neal and Peter may influence the direction Win-Win takes through their association with Henry.

This is the first chapter in the series that Silbrith helped edit. That marked the beginning of a collaboration that evolved from being a beta reader to becoming co-author of the series. Yay Silbrith!