Chapter Text
Neal's POV
Thursday afternoon
‘Come on Peter, can’t we just check it out?’ Neal said as he hovered over his partner in the White Collar conference room.
‘You’re being ridiculous. She’s probably just pissed off at you’ Peter replied as he continued to box up the evidence from the case they’d just finished up.
Neal checked his phone once again, noting with dismay that Sara still hadn’t responded to his latest text. It had been over an hour and he had a nagging feeling that something had gone terribly wrong with his girlfriend’s latest recovery. Granted, his last text had consisted of yet another dig at her choice of shoes for the retrieval and he'd reminded her (or was that teased her) that it was her turn to figure out dinner. He knew how much Sara hated cooking, preferring to let Neal take the lead in this, his area of expertise. Her idea of getting dinner on the table came down to a choice between Thai or sushi – both of which were on speed dial on her cell phone.
At breakfast, Sara had mentioned a lead she was following and how she hoped it would lead to the recovery of a lesser known Degas which was rumoured to be fenced out of a warehouse in the garment district that afternoon. Neal had offered to go along with her but Sara had scoffed at the notion – after all, nothing could keep Sara Ellis from her duties as an insurance investigator, not with her trusty baton and her ballsy attitude. She’d been doing this job long before she’d ever started dating Neal Caffrey and she’d always taken care of herself just fine, thank you very much.
‘Look, Peter, you’re the one who’s always telling me I have amazing instincts... Well, I’m telling you, something isn’t right here. I know Sara’ Neal argued, his voice growing shrill.
‘Dammit Neal! Why is it I’m always getting caught up in your love life?’ Peter muttered, as he looked over at his CI – which, as it turned out, was his first mistake. Staring into Caffrey’s aquamarine, puppy dog eyes was all it took.
‘Fine! We’ll go’ Peter relented as he grabbed for his jacket and followed Neal out.
The drive to the garment district was quiet with Neal brooding as he looked out at the passing traffic and Peter secretly cursing Neal for dragging him out there. It was going on five o’clock and he’d promised El he’d be home for dinner – something he hadn’t managed to do all week.
The garment district housed several warehouses that had been all but abandoned over time. It seemed like a logical place to start looking. Although Sara was more than capable of taking care of herself and reminded Neal of that very fact every chance she got, he still couldn’t help worrying about her.
Especially lately.
Their relationship had intensified to a level that had Neal wondering where they were headed. Since his return from Cape Verde a few months back, they’d hooked up again and this time, things had turned serious. Really serious. And without the many secrets that had been their downfall in the past – the U-boat treasure, the Raphaël – there was nothing left between them but amazing sex and a comfortable, warm intimacy that seemed to be growing day by day. To Neal’s delight, Sara had been spending most nights over on Riverside Drive and on the odd days when they didn’t see each other, he’d begun to feel lost and abandoned. Not that he ever shared this fact with Sara – it was more his style to cajole her into coming over or to find some pretext to drop in on her at her Upper East Side apartment.
Peter pulled up by the river’s edge between two abandoned warehouses and the two men jumped out of the Taurus agreeing to split up in order to cover more ground. If his hunch was wrong, Neal would never hear the end of it from Peter - or from Sara. She hated being treated like a damsel in distress. She was fiercely independent and could be downright scary at times and Neal was thankful she was with him and not against him. Sara Ellis could intimidate you with a sarcastic comment or a quick swipe of her baton and Neal had seen men much larger than himself cut down to size by the lovely Miss Ellis. If it turned out he was making a federal case while she was safely at home purposefully snubbing his text, he was in for a good tongue lashing or worse yet, an extended period of the proverbial cold shoulder, Sara Ellis style.
Without success, Neal made his way back to the car to an annoyed Peter who was about to call it quits when Neal spotted a third warehouse tucked in behind the one he’d just visited. They each headed for opposite ends of the building, agreeing to meet in the middle. As with the previous two buildings, this warehouse was dark and musty with dull fluorescent lighting giving it a dingy yellow glow. The building still housed industrial shelving and there were boxes stacked up on the shelves on the south end of the building. It was likely being used to store some illicit merchandise by the looks of it and Peter made his way down the first row towards the back of the building. Neal headed in the other direction and almost immediately, picked up on a small catlike sound, soft but plaintive, and he wondered if a stray hadn't wandered in looking for food. As he continued to skulk down the row of shelves, he picked up on a rustling sound as well as a gentle cough that was decidedly human.
'Sara?' he called out quietly, surprising himself with the sound of his voice.
He continued down the aisle, stopping to listen for telltale sounds with each few steps. Rounding the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a human shape lying motionless on the ground, partially covered by a tarp of some sort.
'Peter, she's over here!' he called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous building.
He ran the last few steps and immediately kneeled by her side, calling her name and trying as best he could to assess the extent of her injuries. Sara lay on her side, blood pooling around her head, clothing ripped and shoes strewn a few feet away. Neal worked quickly to locate the source of the bleeding which appeared to be a gash on the back of her head hidden underneath her soft red locks. He could see bruises beginning to form on her abdomen where her dress had been torn and noticed her baton discarded and lying nearby.
Instantly, Peter appeared behind him, phone in hand, calling for help while he surveyed the immediate area to see if those responsible for Sara's brutal beating were still in the vicinity.
‘Sara… Sara…’ Neal repeated, urging her to open her eyes while checking on her breathing and refraining from moving her and doing any further damage. She moaned, her eyes momentarily drifting open before almost immediately closing again.
Despite the panic that consumed him, he moved slowly and deliberately as he lifted her head and gently placed it on his lap. Peter hovered nearby, having morphed into full detective mode as he checked for clues as to who the culprits might be.
The sound of Neal’s uneven breathing could be heard in the quiet space as he continued to repeat his girlfriend’s name to no avail.
'Why is it taking so long?’ he said, his voice strident and loud, all semblance of the usually calm, cool and collected Neal Caffrey suddenly vanished.
'It's only been a couple of minutes, Neal. Is she breathing?' he asked, crouching beside his partner.
'Yeah, she's breathing' Neal replied, trying to catch his own breath as he spoke.
'Who would do such a thing?’ he murmured as he pushed a strand of hair away to glance at her face. 'I knew I should have said something this morning. I shouldn't have let her come out here by herself. Dammit, she’s so damn stubborn and now look at her.’
'Don’t jostle her too much… just in case’ said Peter, attempting to be the voice of reason.
'Her arm… it looks broken' Neal said, surveying the damage.
In the distance, they could hear the sound of a siren announcing the imminent arrival of the EMT's. Peter took off towards the door they had entered through in order to guide the paramedics to this hidden area of the warehouse.
Neal stared down at Sara in total shock, trying to make sense of the situation and listening to her laboured breathing as she moaned softly. He reflected on the many sides of Sara Ellis: determined, willful, sarcastic, witty, sexy and he couldn’t reconcile the Sara he knew with this woman he was holding, so defenceless and vulnerable.
'Don't move, Sara’ he murmured softly. ‘I've got you.'
Despite his reassuring words, he felt anything but reassuring. He found himself inadvertently counting the seconds until finally, he heard the commotion of the paramedics arriving and the clanging of the gurney as it made its way on the concrete floor.
The EMT’s immediately got to work on Sara and Neal reluctantly left her side to give them room to manoeuvre. She began to stir, murmuring his name while the paramedics continued to assess the damage and evaluate the best way to lift her onto the nearby stretcher.
Peter and Neal stood by in silence, unable to move, waiting for Sara to be settled on the makeshift bed so they could get to the hospital and get her properly assessed and cared for. She called for Neal again and he moved to her side reaching for her hand.
'I'm here, Sara, I’m here’ he repeated.
‘I’m going to go with her in the ambulance' he called out to Peter as he followed the gurney out.
'I'll follow in the car' Peter added as he followed suit.
The ambulance made its way through the streets of Manhattan on its way to Mount Sinai Hospital, sirens wailing as they went. Sara had temporarily regained consciousness and appeared to be in agonizing pain. The paramedics were tending to her head wound and her arm which they’d attempted to immobilize as best they could but Sara seemed confused and upset. She called Neal's name, tears running down her cheeks, reaching out to touch him. He’d never felt quite so helpless, watching someone he loved in pain and in need of comfort and reassurance. He talked to her all the way, telling her she was going to be okay, that he wasn't going anywhere, that the doctors would make it better - anything he could think of to keep her calm.
Even to his ears, the words sounded hollow.
WCWCWC
‘Mr. Caffrey? I'm Dr. Collingwood. I've just finished examining Ms. Ellis’ said the man who had suddenly appeared in front of Neal.
He was dressed in a lab coat with a stethoscope hanging from his neck; a tall and lean silver-haired man who appeared calm and collected – everything Neal wasn’t at the moment.
'How is she?' Neal blurted out as he walked towards the doctor.
'Are you related to Ms. Ellis?' asked Dr. Collingwood.
'I'm her boyfriend' said Neal.
'You’re the baby's father' he said more than asked.
Neal took a quick breath as the bomb the doctor had just dropped made its way through the thick soup that was presently his consciousness.
'The baby…. yes, I am' stuttered Neal with just the slightest of hesitations.
The doctor continued. 'Ms. Ellis has suffered a number of injuries. She has a concussion and a nasty gash on the back of her head, her left arm is fractured and she has some bruising on her ribs. She seems to have been kicked repeatedly in the abdomen but for the moment, the baby appears to have a good strong heartbeat although it’s still early days. I do want to monitor her closely though.’
A good strong heartbeat – the words reverberated in Neal’s ears. How soon could you hear a baby’s heartbeat, he wondered.
'How far along is she?' Neal asked, still in shock at this latest revelation.
'According to the ultrasound, I’m estimating between six and seven weeks' said the doctor as he checked his notes.
'Can I see her now?' Neal asked, slightly breathless.
'Of course, she's still drifting in and out of consciousness but you can sit with her. We've admitted her and we’ve set her arm and bandaged her ribs for the moment. We want to keep her under close observation for the next 48 hours because of the concussion and her pregnancy of course which is now considered high-risk in light of the events of this afternoon.’
'Thank you, doctor’ Neal said, the news he’d just heard finally starting to sink in.
He made his way to the 5th floor where he was immediately directed to room 508. He stood by the door to Sara's room, peering in, his heart throbbing in his chest. He could see the top of her bandaged head peeking out from the stark white sheets, her body still and motionless. As eager as he was to step inside, to see her for himself, to talk to her and reassure her – and have her reassure him – he needed a minute to process what had just happened.
Sara was pregnant!
How? Well, that seemed obvious. But when? If she was already six or seven weeks along, surely she must have known about it and if so, why had she kept it from him? He thought their days of deceit and duplicity were a thing of the past – he had certainly turned over a new leaf and all but left his deceptive ways behind and Sara had never been much of the secretive type, always preferring to tackle things head on. A few dozen scenarios flashed through his mind in quick succession. Maybe she’d decided not to keep the baby, maybe the baby wasn’t his (discounted as quickly as the thought had formed), maybe she was afraid of his reaction or maybe she’d been on the verge of telling him but hadn’t quite gotten around to it. Whatever the reason, he had gotten this life-altering piece of information from the lips of a stranger in an antiseptic setting and the answers to his numerous questions would have to wait.
Six weeks along… what were they doing six weeks ago – apart from the obvious? Suddenly, he flashed on the night of June’s 75th birthday party in late June. It was the night he first realized he was in love with Sara and he’d blurted it out as they’d prepared to have sex. He remembered feeling slightly flustered and more than a little intoxicated from the Château-Neuf-du-Pape that had flowed freely that evening. He suddenly had a vague recollection of a minor malfunction with the condom he had reluctantly taken from his bedside table. Sara had had to remind him to reach for the protection and he had awkwardly unrolled it, ripping it slightly. At the time, he’d thought nothing of it but obviously, his little swimmers had a mind of their own.
His mind numb and his thoughts scattered, he peered into the room where Sara lay motionless on the bed, still unconscious. This was not the time to throw all these questions at her. He had to give her a chance to heal, to come to terms with her injuries. He was going to have to put on the infamous Neal Caffrey mask for the next few days while the dust settled. The time for questions – and answers – would come soon enough.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the room.
TBC