Chapter 5: Party Games

Gardiner home, Connecticut. December 31, 2003 – Wednesday night.

Peter had to give Neal credit for his ability to con a crowd. The fake asthma attack worked like a charm. Not only did it bring forward Dr. Collins to help with the inhaler, it also had the doctor telling everyone else to back off, to let the patient get some air. The agent who'd trained Neal on asthma gave a thumbs up.

Concern crept in when Neal didn't take advantage of the opportunity to talk to Collins. After the inhaler was used, Neal continued acting like he couldn't breathe, even though the fake attack had fulfilled its purpose. He shouldn't keep up the act anymore. That was a rookie mistake.

Neal was the furthest thing from a rookie con artist.

"He's with us," they heard Peggy Gardiner's voice over the feed. "What's going on?"

"Adverse reaction to the medication in his inhaler," said Collins. "Swelling of the airway."

"Oh. I thought he might be disappointed in the party and be looking for an excuse to leave."

"Believe me, ma'am. No one could fake this." A pause. "Can I get a couple of people to help me move him to the library? Yes, through that door."

Peter was incensed. "It was supposed to be water in that inhaler, Rice."

"It was. Mostly. We weren't sure if he could fool a doctor into believing he was really in respiratory distress. We added something to make sure. What are you complaining about? It worked."

"Did Neal know?"

"We thought the element of surprise would be more convincing. What's the big deal, here? You made that same argument when you decided to 'arrest' him a few weeks ago."

"I was wrong, and so are you. You can't do that to one of my agents."

"He isn't an agent, Burke. No matter how many pretty speeches you make about how everyone in the White Collar division is an equal member of the team, he's not an agent and he never will be. He's a tool in your belt. You, of all people, should understand."

"Understand what?"

"A few months ago, you went on and on about this puppy you were adopting. Perfect pedigree, purebred. Papers from the breeder. That's what agents have. Papers from Quantico. What you have in that party is a mutt. A rescue dog. You took pity on him, and brought him in, but he isn't going to fit. You better watch it, Burke. He's going to bite you and your team, and eventually you'll have to kick him out if he doesn't run away first. Be smart and get as much use out of him as you can before that happens."

Peter was so angry he didn't trust himself to speak.

Wiese didn't have that problem. "I always like it when you use a dog analogy. Because you're such a bitch."

"Uh, Agent Burke?" said Jones. "We've got Collins and Marie Sinclair on the feed from Caffrey's watch. You wanna hear this."

###

For a little while, Neal's world narrowed to breathing. Getting air was all that mattered.

He was vaguely aware of being moved to another room, and lying down on a sofa. Someone used a cushion to adjust the angle of his throat for maximum air flow, and that was wonderful. He became aware of how tense he was, and tried to relax his body. It was a slow process.

He opened his eyes long enough to recognize the library. The room was dim, and blessedly quiet. People weren't crowding him and taking all of the air. Instead of air that tasted like wine and party foods on the breath of too many people, this air held the scent of old books and leather furniture.

"You said it was a reaction to his inhaler?" asked Peggy.

"It appears to be an allergic reaction to the active ingredient, or possibly the medication was tainted. Either way, he shouldn't use it again," said Collins.

Neal put two and two together, and it added up to Rice putting something in the inhaler that ensured he gave the performance of a lifetime.

Had Peter known?

No, Peter had too much respect for his team to pull a stunt like that. He would have warned Neal if he'd known. Neal wished he could hear what Peter was saying to Agent Rice right now. He'd have to ask Jones to give him the highlights.

Neal felt Charlotte jump onto the sofa next to him. She meowed softly before she stepped up to balance on his chest and touch his nose with hers. Her weight forced him to exhale deeply, something he'd been dreading because it meant letting the precious air go. But it wasn't as bad as he'd expected.

"I feel like we should take him home," said Peggy. "But I'm afraid to move him."

"Give him about fifteen minutes," Collins said. "If he doesn't have a relapse by then, it should be safe to drive him home. Getting a good night's sleep will be the best thing for him. That total relaxation is what his body needs."

Charlotte curled up on Neal's chest. He reached up to pet her, and she purred. The vibrations of the purring and the warmth of her body helped loosen the too-tight muscles in his chest. Cat therapy. Who knew?

"Thank you, doctor," said Peggy. "I'm going to let my husband know Charles is doing better. I'll check back in fifteen minutes."

Neal heard her close the door behind her. "Now, Mrs. Sinclair," said Collins, "certainly you can see by comparison that Bethanne is not sick. I'll tell you what every single doctor has told you for the last two years. Your stepdaughter is allergic to that damn cat you gave her. If you would get rid of the animal, or at least banish it from her bedroom, her health would improve demonstrably."

"The clinic confirmed she has Redding-Kotz."

"I checked into that when my own tests came back negative. You offered a sizable donation to the clinic while you were there. You paid for the diagnosis you wanted. I can only imagine why you wanted to pressure your husband into getting experimental treatments for a perfectly healthy child."

"You were eager enough to give her experimental treatments a few days ago," Marie countered. "You ordered all of the drugs and equipment."

"The situation has changed since then."

"I can pay you. Benny was going to leave her half of everything. It wasn't fair. My Katy and Lily and I would have to share the rest. If Bethanne loses her brave fight with Redding-Kotz, I'll get twice as much."

"Twice as much of nothing. Mrs. Sinclair, your husband already offered to pay me. Then yesterday he explained that he's out of money, and couldn't pay me until a year from now, contingent on Bethanne's survival. He doesn't even own this house. You'd better hope your beloved Benny lives a long, healthy life, because the minute he dies, L&B will sell this place to the highest bidder and kick you out."

Neal gradually sat up. Charlotte jumped off in a huff at being displaced. Then she minced away with an air that indicated anyone had better believe she had been the one to decide it was time to end her nap.

"You're lying!" said Marie. "Benny told me we're doing fine. He buys me anything I want."

Neal's throat was on fire, but he went ahead and said, "Actually..." He cleared his throat painfully and said again, "Actually, Collins is right. Benny's in serious debt. You aren't the only one with an open secret in this neighborhood, Marie. You and your husband should stop playing games and really talk to each other."

"You don't tell me what to do!" Marie exclaimed, and flounced out of the room. Not many people could pull off a flounce, but Neal had to admit that she nailed it.

"Your note said you're doing this for your son?" Neal was aware he sounded so hoarse that his voice was barely recognizable. He didn't bother with the accent. He noticed a glass of water waiting for him on the side table and savored it; no gulping the water down and risking choking after everything his throat had been through.

"You're here because of the note? I was careful not to say anything incriminating in it, and I want to make it clear, I can't be blamed." Collins sat on a chair opposite the sofa. "You have to understand, my son is barely older than Katy. He spent Thanksgiving with me, and I tried to explain the difference between a doctor who treats patients, and one who works in research. He asked how many people I had cured. It crushed him when I said none. All of my work is still theoretical. It will be in testing and trials for years, even decades. Eventually my work may help millions. Or it may never see the light of day. I thought, if I could double this girl's life expectancy, I could go back to my son and say that I had already helped at least one person." He sighed. "Then I realized she isn't dying at all. If I treated her, I'd shorten her life expectancy. And on top of all of that, Sinclair was only willing to pay me if she lived."

"Let me get this straight. You were here for glory in the eyes of your son, and for money from the Sinclairs. And for that, you were willing to experiment on a child."

"I realize that I was considering something in breach of corporate policy, and possibly illegal. But the important thing is that I didn't go through with it. I didn't actually break any laws."

"You were willing to take that risk, for enough money."

"My motives are irrelevant, in the eyes of the law. I'm not a criminal, and you can't arrest me."

"I'm not here to arrest you, Collins. I'm not the one you're in danger from." Neal was grateful for Collins' help after the inhaler mishap, but he also kind of hated the guy. And he wasn't a fan of Marie, either. They had the same casual disregard for life in favor of money that was turning Matthew Keller into a monster. "Marie sounds a little unhinged. Aren't you worried about her?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think will happen when you try to leave, if she wants you to stay?"

"You raise a good point. She's already mentioned that she always keeps an eye on me. And Benny's not thinking straight about this, either. She has him convinced that Bethanne is dying, and neither Benny nor Bethanne believed me when I said she's fine. Marie told Benny that I'm getting cold feet, and that he has to keep pressuring me to start the treatments. Who knows what lengths he'll go to, to keep his favorite daughter alive."

Neal stood up, testing that he had regained strength and control over his body. He ached, but could move. "If I offered to help you get out of here, you'd accept?"

"The more I think about it, the more I feel like I'm trapped here. It might be partially a prison of my own making, but I'm still trapped in it. What would I have to do, for this offer of yours?"

###

Peter couldn't have been more proud. Neal was getting Collins to say exactly what they needed to hear.

"This is a big win, people," Rice called out. "One more case closed for Missing Persons. We extract Collins in the morning."

"Neal did all the heavy lifting," mumbled Wiese.

"I'd like to see Rice try to close this one without him," Jones agreed. "Do you think she could disable an alarm to keep the cops from crashing the party and ruining our op?"

"The whole taming the monster under the bed is going to be epic when we brief the rest of the team on what happened," Wiese said. "Retired cat burglar, meet cat."

Peter smiled. It was a win for White Collar, too. The team was starting to rally around Neal.

And then Guillaume yelled, "She's back!"

Peter missed what Marie said when she entered the room, but he heard Neal's response, "It's the return of Mary Poppins' evil twin. If you liked the movie, you should definitely buy the book."

"That's a distress signal," said Jones. "Let's move in."

"Is it?" asked Tricia. "I thought it was by the book. You know, like follow the rules. Not B-U-Y the book."

"No one says buy the book," said Peter. "They say read the book."

"Or try the book," Jones added.

"But yesterday, when I said my kids love the School for Wizards series, he agreed it was buy, not read or try, remember? If he thinks the panic phrase is B-Y and not B-U-Y, he might not realize he said it. We could ruin everything if we show up and he's not expecting us."

"Did anyone put the panic phrase in writing?" Jones asked.

"No," said Peter, already deciding that in the future it would always be given in writing before an op. "And that means right now we don't know if we'll do more damage by showing up, or by not showing up."

A/N: Yes, this is the silly, frothy bit.