Chapter Text
It was Thursday morning when Reese called the Burke house and asked that they bring Neal to his house to meet Michael, his oldest son, that afternoon.
Peter was surprised that the meeting was to be at Reese's house – even he'd never been invited there. However, Reese gave him an address on the Upper East Side that caused Peter's eyes to widen in even more surprise. This day was certainly going to be interesting.
Neal had been napping after a walk to the park and playing with Satchmo, which he'd insisted on even after Elizabeth tried to get him to take it easy. He was feeling better, less achy and stiff, but he stilled tired easily. When Peter woke him, he'd apologized and filled Neal on the details, and Neal insisted on getting cleaned up and dressing appropriately.
Neal showered and put on one of his favorite suits. Then they all got in the car and Peter drove them over the bridge and through Manhattan. Neal didn't know where the Hughes family lived exactly, but Peter was driving by the park and into one of the more affluent neighborhoods in the city.
It was even more shocking when Peter parked in front of a very nice home on West 84th.
"Are you sure this is the right address, hon?" Even Elizabeth was confused.
"I double-checked it." Peter got out of the car and opened the back door for Neal, who was still sitting inside staring at the brownstone.
It wasn't ornate, but it was obviously well-maintained. It looked like a house that Neal would have cased several years back because it was nice, but not so nice that he would have thought the security system would be difficult to tackle.
"Neal?" Peter jerked him out of his thoughts and Neal got out, straightening his suit before he stepped onto the sidewalk.
Peter and Elizabeth followed behind, holding hands to support each other so that they could get Neal through this. He had been unusually quiet in the car, even when Peter had tried to give him openings to be the smartass that he usually was.
As Neal neared the stairs that led up to the front door, something tickled the back of his brain. He looked up and down the sidewalk for a moment before crouching down. Instantly, he flashed back to a different time, but the same place. The trees along the block were in exactly the same places, and his mind flashed back to a small hand, his own hand, petting the neighbor's yapping poodle on the steps next door.
The memory was so vivid that he almost fell backwards on his butt when Peter squeezed his shoulder.
"You okay?"
Neal nodded and let Peter pull him back to his feet. "It's a beautiful neighborhood," he murmured, forcing himself to move forward. He had to get this over with before the urge to turn tail and run became too great.
Reese had the decency to wait for Neal to ring the doorbell before opening the door, though the speed at which he did it suggested that he'd been watching for them from one of the front windows. "Please come in."
Neal, Peter, and Elizabeth all stepped inside and tried to keep their eyes from wandering impolitely.
"How are you feeling, Neal?" Reese noticed that Neal's color was back to normal and that he was moving with ease. He'd read up on the side effects from Neal's half of the procedure, so he'd known what to look for, but Peter had also been surreptitiously keeping him updated as well. He knew the last few days had been uncomfortable for his son.
"I'm okay," Neal replied. "How's Emma?"
"She's doing as well as can be expected, but her vitals are all within normal levels, and she's sleeping a little less now."
"That's good." It sounded good. Neal made a mental note to speak with Emma's doctor the next time he was at the hospital so that he would better understand her condition.
"It's very good. Why don't we all have a seat? Michael will be down in a minute." Reese led them to a sitting room that reminded Neal of June's house.
The silence was uncomfortable, and they each fidgeted in their seats until Elizabeth commented, "Reese, you have a gorgeous home."
He smiled and waved a hand at the furnishings. "It's all Cathy's doing. She's been decorating this place for as long as I can remember, but she refuses to remodel. The only thing that's changed in forty years is the kitchen."
In the back of the sitting room, there was a sideboard table. Neal couldn't take his eyes off of it, and while Elizabeth and Reese were discussing how to talk Cathy into remodeling the house, he slipped out of his chair and approached the table.
He could feel their eyes on him as he kneeled in front of it and pulled the middle drawer out all the way. There was a space inside where items had been pushed up and over the sides of the drawer over the years. Underneath the drawers was a solid wood piece that kept the items from falling to the floor. Neal reached in and pulled out a vintage Hot Wheels red Mustang from among the other debris.
Reese's breath caught when he saw what Neal was holding. It had been Daniel's favorite toy, and they hadn't been able to find it after his abduction. They had always assumed that he'd had it with him.
"One of your more inspired hiding spots." An unfamiliar voice caused everyone's head to turn. A young man stood by the entry, wearing dark-wash jeans with a worn Henley t-shirt. And he had tears in his eyes.
Neal used the sideboard table to help himself stand, and then he turned to face the newcomer. "You must be Michael."
The man nodded and walked toward Neal. "You don't remember me."
Neal shook his head but wasn't sure what he could say to that. It hadn't really been a question after all.
"You used to hide your toys all over the house. I'm not really sure why because I didn't want to play with them and Emma wasn't that interested in anything that you couldn't put a dress on, but you would take your cars or your army men and find these little nooks and crannies to stick them in." Michael bent down and replaced the drawer that Neal had removed.
Neal shrugged and tightened his fingers around the little red car. He had no idea what to say now, and it wasn't often that he found himself at a loss for words. It was happening with more and more frequency though, and he didn't like that.
"Come and sit down, boys," Reese said, when the silence stretched on a little too long again.
Neal went back to the same chair he'd first sat in, and Michael exchanged a look with Reese as he sat down near his father. "What?" Neal asked.
"You used to sit there all the time as a kid and 'read' your books." Michael used air-quotes when he said read, which caused Elizabeth to laugh.
She pressed her hand to her mouth to stop herself. "Sorry. I just got the cutest mental image of a little Neal with a book in his hands."
"We have pictures," Reese said, getting up and going to the bookshelf in the corner. "Michael, did your mother- Oh, wait, here they are." He rejoined them but handed the photo album to Neal. "I should have shown these to you a couple of days ago. I'd actually forgotten about them."
"Thanks," Neal said, gingerly opening it to the first page. The opening pages were of two babies, one with a blue cap and one with a pink cap, in nursery room bassinets. The two kids got progressively older the more he flipped the pages and were sometimes joined by an older boy, who had to be Michael. He looked to be about five years old when Neal and Emma were born, and he looked less than pleased in most of the pictures. There were a few where he was smiling, but Neal noticed that the opposite was more often true.
When he got to the middle of the book where the twins were about three years old, there stopped being any pictures at all. The rest of the pages were completely blank.
Neal set the album on the coffee table and pushed himself to his feet. He walked to the window and looked outside at the familiar street. So much had changed, but so much was still the same. He hated that the Hughes family had gone through such an awful ordeal, and he hated that he didn't know what to do or say to make it better. He wished he'd grown up in this house with this family, but that wasn't how his life had turned out. He just didn't know what to do.
When Reese moved to stand up and go after him, Peter put his hand out to stop his boss. "Give him a minute," Peter said quietly.
Elizabeth, ever the hostess, turned her attention to Michael. "Hi, Michael. I'm Elizabeth, and this is my husband Peter. We're friends of Neal's."
"Hello," Michael replied politely, though one eye was still on Neal.
"Peter and Neal work with Reese in the White Collar unit, and I run my own event planning business. What do you do?"
The question was innocent, but the answer was ironic. "I'm a US Marshal."
Neal spun on his heel to gape at Michael. "You're a Marshal?"
"Not in New York, but yes, I am."
"So you know-"
"Who you are? Yeah. Even if Dad didn't talk about you at Thanksgiving, I'd still know who are."
Neal's eyes cut over to Reese, who shrugged. "It's not all that often that we get CIs in the White Collar unit. I talked about having you in the office."
"He said that you were an asset but also a loose canon." Michael shrugged and used his thumb to indicate both himself and his father. "Don't worry. That kind of runs in the family."
Neal smirked. "Good to know."
"I'll tell you some stories one day. Until then, I wanted to thank you for helping Emma. I was tested but wasn't a close enough match to ensure her recovery. It means a lot that you stepped up to help her, even with all of the rest of this going on."
"I had to go through with it after I was matched to her," Neal replied. "I wouldn't say no to saving someone's life. And I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm glad that your family can have the peace of mind of knowing what happened to that little boy." He pointed to the photo album.
"We're your family too. You are that little boy." Michael was confused by Neal's statement.
"No, I'm not. I haven't been Daniel Hughes since I was three years old, and I can't just go back to that. I'm not that person." Neal crossed his arms over his chest and looked from Michael to Reese and back again. "You all want me to be, but I'm not. I'm sorry."
"Neal, It's okay," Reese put his hands out in a placating gesture and stood up. "No one expects anything from you."
"You do. You and Cathy and Emma and Michael. All of you." Neal was barely holding himself together, and he didn't want to fall apart in front of these people. He gave them all a wide berth as he hurried out of the room and out the front door. He didn't even hesitate at the gate, just pushed it open and turned left and kept walking.
A few minutes later, he stumbled upon a small park. Since it was late afternoon, there weren't many people there and even fewer kids on the swings, slides and monkey bars. Neal sat down and squirmed to get comfortable. His back was aching again; he'd done too much today, and he hadn't taken any pain medication since the night before.
Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths. The urge to cry faded as his heart calmed and his body rested. Feeling better, he opened his eyes and looked around the park. He had that weird sense of déjà vu again as his mind flashed back to the past, to the same park when he was three years old. There had once been a sandbox about fifteen feet from the bench, and Neal had played there often with Emma. It was so strange, the disjointed memories of a childhood long forgotten.
Michael paused at the entrance to the park. He hadn't known that Neal would come here, but he'd had a pretty strong feeling it could happen, and he'd offered to go check on him. He hadn't been this park in years, and now all the bad memories rushed back to him fast enough to cause his head to spin.
He took a deep breath and moved to sit next to Neal on the bench. "This is where it happened. Do you… remember?"
Neal shook his head and glanced at the older man. Michael's face betrayed the raw pain and guilt he felt, and Neal almost reached out to him.
"You and Emma were three, and I was almost eight. Mom used to bring us here all the time. Anyway, I was in a bad mood that day. We'd missed the ice cream cart by five minutes, and I had saved up my allowance for a Nutty Buddy bar. Anyway, you were over there." He pointed to a spot in the grass. "There used to be a sandbox. And Emma all of the sudden had to pee. She couldn't wait, and you didn't want to leave, and it was turning into a big fight, so Mom told me to watch you. I was sitting here, playing a handheld football game and not paying any attention." He paused and took a shaky breath.
Neal did reach out then and lay a hand on Michael's shoulder. He had no words for his brother, but he could offer this small comfort.
"You were right there, and then when I looked back up, you were gone. I checked everywhere, all over the park, but you had just vanished. When Mom came back, she thought it was a joke, that we were pulling a prank on her." He looked over at Neal then with tears burning his eyes and said, "I'm so sorry. I should have been watching you. I'm sorry."
Neal didn't hesitate to close the distance between them and pull Michael into a firm hug. "It's not your fault. You were a kid, and you didn't know. I'm okay. It's okay."
Michael couldn't say anything past the lump in his throat, but he held Neal tightly, wishing that he'd done this when they were kids. That he'd made Danny come and sit beside him on the bench until their mom got back from the house. That he'd gone to play with him in the sand even though that was a little kid thing. That he'd made any other choice besides taking his eyes off his little brother.
They were still hugging when Reese, Peter and Elizabeth entered the park. El dug a pack of tissues out of her purse and handed it to Neal when the boys parted. He took one and handed it off to Michael before turning away to blow his nose and wipe his eyes.
"Do you feel better?" Elizabeth asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular.
Neal looked at his brother and waited for him to nod before he did so as well.
"We should go back to the house," Michael said as he stood up. "It looks like it's going to rain."
Neal tried to push himself up but his back and hip had stiffened up, and he fell back to the bench with a gasp of pain.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Michael leaned over him and Neal reached up to push him out of his personal space so that he could breathe through the pain for a moment.
"He's only a couple days out from the bone marrow donation," Peter explained, "so he's still stiff and sore sometimes. He'll be okay in a minute." He walked around the bench to stand on Neal's other side with his hand extended to help the younger man to his feet whenever Neal was ready to try again.
Neal reached up and took Peter's hand immediately, knowing he wouldn't feel better until he was on his feet and moving around again. Peter eased him up while Michael hovered at Neal's opposite elbow and Reese held his hands out instinctually, like he could stop Neal from falling if he were close enough.
Elizabeth threaded her arm through Reese's and tugged him toward the park entrance. Peter and Michael had Neal, and there wasn't anything Reese could do, so she decided to distract him. "You were saying that you wanted to have a big family dinner this Thanksgiving. I happen to know the caterer that makes the best honey-glazed roasted turkey in the city, and I think this is early enough to get it set up."
Peter pulled Neal's arm over his shoulder while Michael did the same on his other side. They fell into step behind Elizabeth and Reese as they made their way back to the Hughes home.
Neal pulled away once he felt steady enough on his own two feet. He hadn't protested Michael's help, but he didn't like leaning on anyone, especially people, even long-lost brothers, that he'd known for less than an hour.
When Reese and Elizabeth started up the walk to the house, Neal cleared his throat. "I hate to say it, but I'm pretty tired. Can we go?"
Reese and Michael both looked alarmed, but Peter was quick to respond. "Sure. We're planning on heading to the hospital tomorrow morning to see Emma. Maybe you guys will be there?"
Reese nodded and moved back toward Neal. He wanted to go for a hug but didn't think Neal would allow it. Instead, he clapped him gently on the shoulder and said, "Get some rest. We'll see you tomorrow."
"Thanks for coming," Michael said. "See you tomorrow."
Neal nodded and turned on his heel to cross the street back to the Taurus. Peter and Elizabeth followed him, holding hands, unsure of what to say or how to help him after the emotions of the day. Neal had shown his emotions far too much recently and probably wanted to retreat to pull himself together. Peter wanted to recommend that he see a shrink but hadn't quite figured out how best to present that to Neal.
Once they were in the car, headed back to Brooklyn, Peter looked into the rearview mirror for a moment to see Neal fidgeting with the buttons on his suit jacket. His head was leaned back against the headrest, and he was gazing out the window with a faraway look.
"Neal?"
"Hmm?" he rolled his head and met Peter's eyes in the mirror.
Peter glanced at El, who gave him a displeased look and turned in her seat so that she could see Neal. "We're concerned about you, sweetie. This past week and a half has been kind of crazy and overwhelming."
Understatement of the year, Neal thought to himself but didn't interrupt.
"If you don't feel comfortable talking to me or Peter or both of us, that's okay. But we think that you should talk to someone."
Neal frowned at that. Clearly, they'd been talking about him when he wasn't around, which was frustrating enough. They were also so sure that he couldn't deal with all of this on his own. "Thanks, but I'm okay."
"Oh, sweetie." Elizabeth tilted her head and reached back to place a hand on his knee. "No, you're not."
Before he could reply, Peter spoke up. "The past three months have been rough for you Neal, with Kate and the plane, prison, and Fowler. Now, this Hughes thing. It's a lot for anyone to deal with. We're not trying to insult you or make you mad. We're concerned, and we want you to be okay."
Neal hated that he was stuck in the car, that he couldn't leave this conversation, and that they were forcing him to face things that he didn't want to face. He hadn't been sure that he would survive Kate's death, especially when he'd been whisked away to lockup and then prison within minutes of the plane exploding. It had taken him days to realize where he was and what had happened.
Then, Peter had gotten him released again, with the same deal, the same radius, and Neal had still been struggling to keep it together. They'd followed the trail of evidence to Fowler, and he'd been so focused on hurting Fowler, on doing something to him to make him understand just how badly Neal hurt, that he hadn't had time to do much else. When he'd finally gone after Fowler, Peter had been there, bringing him back from the brink of ruining the rest of his life with a murder conviction. It would have felt so good to shoot Fowler, but Peter had stopped him, but he didn't feel any better for Fowler being behind bars. It was a never-ending cycle of bullshit, and Neal wanted off the ride.
And then, he got the news that he was Reese Hughes' long lost son. What was that? The universe's way of laughing at him. Some karmic retribution for all the cons and schemes and scams he'd pulled over the years? He didn't hate the idea of having a family; he didn't even hate the idea of having Hughes for family. It was the fact that they so clearly remembered a little boy that had never grown up, a little boy that would never grow up. The path had diverged and Daniel Hughes had given way to Neal Winters and then Neal Caffrey, Nick Halden, Steve Tabernackle, and every other person that Neal had made up in an effort to figure out who he was.
He should have been Daniel Hughes. He should have grown up in that house on West 84th, with Emma and Michael, and the money and privileges that came with it. With two parents who loved him and supported him and didn't lay a hand on him in anger.
Tears were threatening when he looked away from Elizabeth and Peter, back out at the city that he loved so much because he'd always belonged here. "Okay," he whispered.
"Okay?" Elizabeth questioned, not sure if he was agreeing with Peter or answering her.
"I'll see someone," he clarified, just as quietly.
It took him a couple of days, but he finally made an appointment with a psychologist that Mozzie vetted for him. He also started spending time after work at the hospital with Emma so that he could get to know her better, and every other weekend Michael showed up in Emma's room and challenged them to a board game tournament or brought movies for them to watch together.
Reese and Cathy tried their best to give him space, but they wanted to get to know him too. Emma and Michael helped out when they could, inviting their parents to join in the games or other weekend activities. By the time Emma was released from the hospital, Neal was getting comfortable with all of them, but he still pulled away when things got too familiar.
Thanksgiving would be the first big family dinner, and Reese had invited Peter and Elizabeth. He wanted to thank them for all they'd done to help Neal, and he wanted Neal to be as relaxed as possible with everyone. Peter and Elizabeth meant a lot to his son, and Reese knew that he meant a lot to them too.
Family is not guaranteed, and it's neither selected nor inherited. Neal had run away from one family as a teenager, only to gain two – a close group of friends and a biological family he didn't know existed. As much as he felt overwhelmed by them all sometimes, he was proud to have them in his life.
~End