Chapter Text
Phase 1: Kindness
Accept he will never willingly turn himself in.
Let him know you care what happens to him anyway.
Peter gingerly prodded at his jaw, probably already bruising and swelling, as he watched Dibble and Herbosky scream at one another across a cop car.
Dibble, 6’4”, built like an angry refrigerator, dwarfed Herbosky by quite a bit. That didn't stop either man from trying to rush the other once they'd been caught in the middle of a sloppy slash-and-grab from a private collection.
Another team of officers led Chapman past and Peter risked taking a couple steps closer to the snarling duo. Mostly to hear their argument better, but it didn't hurt that it moved him further away from the unpredictable boxer's nasty left hook as well.
“-ing kid as soon as he turned off the security system, like you were supposed to, we would have been in and out!”
“Not my fault your skinny a** couldn't fit through the vents!”
“Y–!” Words failed Herbosky and he lunged again, snarling and spitting half formed insults at Dibble and officers alike. Peter's lip curled in distaste. Men who let ego and anger and pride rule their lives were pathetic. Every one of the men caught tonight fit that description and hated each other for it.
He wondered how they even came to be working together. He wondered how they had managed to get anything done, let alone successfully rob two banks and a charity auction before slipping up tonight.
Jones sidled up to Peter, watching as both men were tased and dragged off to separate cars before anyone could get hurt. “You think he stores his ego in his mustache?”
“I'd believe it. He said something about a kid just then, what was that all about?”
“I don't know, boss. Maybe they had a sixth guy. It sounds like they left him inside though. There was only Ryan in the getaway van.”
“They already swept the building, didn't find anyone else. My guess would be that he slipped out the back when nobody was looking, but it probably wouldn't hurt to take another look.”
Jones shrugged. “Want a second pair of eyes?”
“Sure. Let's go.”
It didn't take long to search the building again. It wasn't large and the crew had only managed to cut up a couple paintings before the alarms went off, signalling Peter in the surveillance van the men were already inside. They still didn't know how they had slipped past them. If the alarm hadn't gone off, they would have gotten away with it.
“What are the odds they were just messing with us?” Jones asked as they cleared the final office.
Peter worked his jaw again before answering. “Low, but not zero. Either way I'm about ready to finish up here.”
He and Jones turned to leave but a muffled voice stopped them in their tracks. “Peter!”
Peter knew that voice!
“Caffrey?”
At this point, Peter had known of Neal Caffrey for almost two years, but it had only been a couple months since he met the kid face-to-face and picked up a phone call that changed everything.
“Where are you?”
“Uhh… up here. The… uh, vent.”
Peter looked up and found a dented vent cover where the voice was coming from. Standing on the desk, he shone his flashlight through the metal slats and found a pair of shoes in the dust. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier when we were first clearing the building, Caffrey?”
Neal's reply was muffled. Peter signaled Jones to get something to pry off the vent cover with.
“What was that?”
“I was freaking out, okay?’
“Must have been a pretty quiet freakout.”
“When four dudes want to kill you, you make hiding and staying quiet a pretty high priority.”
“Fair, so why didn't you leave already?”
Neal sounded embarrassed and a little shaky, “They saw me run in here and when they eventually found where I’d gone, they couldn't get me out. Someone punched in the grate. It's bent too badly to open from this angle and it's too small for any normal person to crawl through to a different one.”
Inhaling all that dust couldn't be good for his lungs. And if Peter had to guess, the kid wasn’t used to being trapped.
“Alright, don't worry buddy. Jones is going to find something to get the vent cover off and we'll get you out of there soon. Are you hurt at all?”
“No, no, I'm fine. They didn’t catch me.”
“If you're sure.” Peter could tell he was shaken up. It seemed neither of them wanted to think about what if they’d caught Neal, so instead Peter asked, “How did you end up here in the first place? Don't tell me the great Neal Caffrey is running with a bunch of second rate goons who can't stand each other's guts and hack masterpieces from their frames like third graders.”
“Please, It was just awful! They tore the edge of a Delacroix! It was one of his lesser known works, not worth much, but still! I swear I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be, Peter. Or rather, those idiots wouldn't be here and I would be long gone by now.”
“Really? Because they were saying the same thing about you. Seemed to think you were the reason the alarm went off and they got caught.”
“How odd.”
“Indeed, they were very animated about it as the officers were trying to read them their rights.”
“Was it Gibson and Herbosky?”
“Dibble and Herbosky. Their screaming match was how I knew there might be someone else left inside.”
“Aww, to think they would waive the fifth just for me.”
“I’m not sure if that was exactly their intent but they seemed very eager to get their hands on each other.”
“Sounds pretty gay.”
“In a murderous kind of way.”
“Kinky.”
Peter laughed. “Really not what I meant, but I can see why they literally chased you into the walls if that's how you've been heckling them all night.”
“If I had room in here, I would shrug nonchalantly."
Peter quirked an eyebrow, “Shrug nonchalantly? What are you? Danny Zuko?”
“Hmm… I bet I could pull off the greaser look.”
“Probably. But you didn't answer my question. Why are you working with violent scumbags like Herbosky and Chapman? It's not like you.”
“Oh, you know…” Neal was quiet. Peter didn't push. The kid obviously didn't like the guys, was smart to be afraid of them, but for whatever reason, felt compelled to work with them anyways. Peter had a feeling it had something to do with the phone call months ago. He'd had a couple interactions with the thief since then, none of them in person, but each time, the kid had sounded more and more stressed. “Sometimes terrible coworkers just come along with having a job.”
Yeah, but most people can quit if their coworkers try to kill them and they end up trapped in an air vent. And most fourteen year olds didn't have full-time jobs.
“Neal, are you okay?”
Yeah! Yeah I'm fine! I told you I wasn't hurt. And it's kinda cozy in here. You know. If there wasn't so much dust. And if I could get out whenever I wanted to.”
He was deflecting. Avoiding the question. Peter let him. Against all his FBI instincts, he let him.
“Yeah. It doesn't exactly sound like a five star hotel. Good thing I hear Jones coming back. We'll have you out in no time, bud.”
“Oh goodie! Jones! Jones! You're my favorite human if you can get this vent cover off!”
“Never thought in my first meeting with Postcard Kid, I would be pulling him out of a wall.”
“Uh… Phrasing? …Peter, if I could, I would be giving you a side-eye that specifically asked you what they teach you people at Quantico.”
Peter eyed Jones. Jones frowned back as if to say ‘Really? You're gonna let him get away with that kind of talk?’
“It’s rude to talk about someone behind their back, you know.”
Peter ignored Neal and rolled his eyes in response to Jones. Of course he wouldn't, but Neal was a teenager who'd had a rough day and is still currently trapped in a dusty air duct. They could cut him some slack. Some.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Caffrey. Jones, what did you find?”
“A screwdriver.”
“That’s not going to work, it’s bent!” Neal whined.
“It's a very sturdy screwdriver. We can use it to pry the cover off.”
“If you say so.”
Peter nodded at Jones and he climbed up on the desk to work the grate out of the wall.
“You're gonna try and arrest me once I'm out of here aren't you?”
Peter didn't look at Jones. Letting criminals get away and even forming amicable relationships with them was really not smiled upon in the federal government.
Peter still couldn't say it directly. He had to maintain some plausible deniability. But there was no way he was taking the kid in until he learned who was pulling the strings here. Hughes knew he suspected this was bigger than teenage criminal prodigy Neal Caffrey alone. It would be fine.
“Well, I mean, technically we are supposed to be looking for a certain bond forger…” The cover popped off. “...Unfortunately, right now, Agent Jones and I are simply rescuing a dumb teenager from his own stupidity.”
“Oh.” Neal sounded a little choked up at that, but made no move to scootch out of the air vent.
“Yeah.”
“You comin’ out kid?” Luckily, it seemed Jones agreed. Or at least trusted Peter’s judgement on this, but there was a line. Peter didn’t know where Jones’ was, and he was already well over where he thought his own had been.
“Not a kid,” Neal huffed.
Jones snorted, “Sure you are. Last I checked, fourteen is still a kid.”
“I’m fifteen now.”
Something else was niggling at the back of Peter's brain.
“Oh! Well happy birthday then, kid.”
“You’re a funny guy, Jones,” Neal deadpanned right back.
Neal was still talking, but there was no movement from the open vent. In fact, there hadn't been any movement at all the entire time they'd been talking. No fidgeting, no shifting, no wriggling around. Neal didn't seem the type to sit still for more than twenty seconds, let alone twenty minutes.
Peter moved forward, suddenly suspicious. “...Neal?”
“Yes, Peter?”
He was either stuck and too prideful to ask for help, hurt, or this was a distraction. “Neal, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm okay Peter. I just needed a couple more minutes to slip out the back door. The vent in the next room over wasn’t bashed in and unopenable from the inside like this one. Thanks for asking though.”
Peter was moving before Neal even finished speaking. He grabbed at one of the boots and it came back empty. There was a phone tucked further in the vent, left on speaker.
“Clever,” he said, “Neal, you're too damn clever to be running with a dangerous crowd on low-ball heists like this.”
“I know.”
“You promise me you're not hurt?”
“I'm not hurt.”
He hopped off the desk. “Promise you’ll be careful?”
“I'll try. And Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep the phone.”
“I will. Stay safe bud. Glad you got out of here alive.”
“Thanks Peter,” he said. Then he shouted, “Thanks Jones! You're a real lifesaver!” and hung up.
Jones folded his arms. “He didn't even need my help though. I just went on a wild goose chase and pried this cover off for nothing.”
“Naw, I would say it’s 50/50 odds he's still in there and just waiting for us to leave,” Peter chuckled, following Jones into the hallway.
“Ha! You trust him?”
“Yeah, he’s a good kid.”
“I like him.”
“Me too. And tonight just confirmed my suspicions that this is bigger than I thought.” As they stepped out into the warm evening air Peter turned to face his most promising agent head on. “You willing help me rescue him?”
And to Peter's approval, Clinton Jones didn't even hesitate. “I’m in. You got a plan?”
“I’ll fill you in back at the office.”