Chapter Text
It was a nice fall evening, the after sunset air was cool but not quite cold, Neal would have enjoyed it if the circumstances were different. Instead, he stood motionless at the door a moment longer than he should have, trying to force reasons to leave. It was late, maybe they were in bed already? But no, he could see lights inside. Finally, he rang the doorbell, choosing to go through with the action before he could think about it again. Nerves washed over him, he felt his heart leap into his throat and for a second he thought about running but his feet remained planted on the doorstep long enough for him to hear movement from the other side of the door, followed by the lock being disengaged. Too late to go back now.
The door swung open and Elizabeth stood before him, he watched as her face changed from polite greeting to recognition before settling at slack-jawed shock.
“Hi, El,” he offered after a moment of tense silence.
“Honey, who is it?” Neal heard Peter call from the next room, followed by footsteps towards the door.
Peter appeared in the doorway and joined his wife in shocked silence.
“Peter,” Neal said, trying to break the tension. “I need your help.”
—
The trio settled at the kitchen table with tea, the Burkes having sent their son to bed before he could ask too many questions. The house was mostly the same as Neal remembered it, but with the additions little Neal had brought. A tiny jacket hanging on the rack by the door, new pictures on the walls, a few toys left on the floor. Seeing the scattered evidence of a well loved child and a happy family sent a pang through his heart, steeling himself for the task at hand.
“Neal,” Peter paused trying to force the thoughts racing through his head into a coherent sentence. “Its been six years. I didn't think you would ever come back.”
“I know, I, I'm sorry. I, I just,” Neal took a deep breath to steady himself. “This is bigger than me and I knew that you could help. Peter, you're the only one I trust with this.”
“Well what is it?” Elizabeth interjected.
Neal pulled his phone from his pocket and messed with it for a moment before turning the screen to Peter and Elizabeth. The picture on the screen showed a teenage boy on a stage, a band behind him. The boy's face was obscured by motion blur and his own long hair, dyed vibrant red, sweat soaked, and hanging in his face. Despite the flurry of motion restricted by the still image it was obvious the boy was screaming into a microphone, his fingers, nails painted black, dancing along the neck of his guitar.
“This is Michael Mulligan. He's 20 years old and until recently, he was the lead singer and guitarist for an indie alternative rock band called The History of Suns. 2 months ago, he was sentenced to 20 years in prison for murdering his mother, Madeline Holfeld.” Neal paused and watched for Peter's reaction, when there wasn't one he continued. “Peter, I don't think he did it. He certainly didn't get a fair trial. The entire case rested on three things. They claimed he had a clear motive because his mother kicked him out when he was 15 because he's transgender. His band was performing here in New York the same day she was killed, so he had an opportunity. And they found DNA on the knife that couldn't conclusively be matched to Michael but was a partial match, could be his, could be any male relative of his mother. The public defender he was assigned didn’t even seem to know what case he was working on, did nothing to point out the holes in the prosecution's argument, let the prosecution question Michael but didn't ask him any questions himself. They claimed his criminal record was further proof, but his record is just a few petty thefts and one count of possession of marijuana by a minor. Hardly points to him being a killer.” Neal concluded, glancing between Peter and Elizabeth.
“Alright, I see what you mean, I can try to look into it. But what I don't understand is why this is so important to you? I mean, what is it about this case that brought you back to New York after all these years?” Peter questioned, tactfully leaving out the other reasons he was surprised to see Neal back in the city.
“When they ran his DNA, one other thing came back. It was never mentioned during the trial so none of the court documents or news articles mention it but a friend of mine in Paris knew I was looking into it and pulled some strings for me. Michael was also a familial match to someone already in the system.” Neal hesitated a moment, observing the look on Peter's face as he began to fit the pieces together. “His DNA matched mine, Peter, Michael is my son.”
A tense silence filled the room as the Burkes processed the information. Neal sipped his tea, allowing the reveal to sit for a moment before continuing.
“I had no idea. I barely remember his mother, she was my first girlfriend when I got to New York. I was 18, we dated for maybe a month. This was before Mozzie or Adler, before Kate,” he paused and took a breath. “I had no idea she was pregnant when I ended it. I don't even know if she knew at the time. I happened to see an article about the case and it caught my attention because Michael Mulligan was my first ever alias, it's what she knew me as. It turns out he named himself after me. Or at least after the father listed on his birth certificate.” He paused, looking sadly at the picture he'd shown. “Anyway, the more I looked into it, the less sense it made. Peter, I can't just let him stay in prison for a crime he may not have committed.” Neal's voice had an edge of desperation to it.
“You want to make up for lost time,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Neal, you can't blame yourself for not being there for him, you didn't know.”
“I know but I wasn't the father I could have been, should have been, I can't change that but I can help him now. Please, Peter.”
Peter saw the pleading look in Neal's eyes, more genuine than he'd ever seen before, he thought of his own son, asleep upstairs, and knew that if it was him in Neal's position there was nothing he wouldn't do to make this right.
“Alright,” he sighed. “I can't promise you anything, it's not even my jurisdiction but I'll see what I can do. Maybe if I say I'm looking into possible corruption with this public defender?” He thought aloud.
“Thank you, Peter. I can't tell you how much this means to me.”
“Yeah, well, don't thank me yet, let's see if I can actually help first.”
“Its getting late. Neal, why don't you spend the night here, you can sleep in the guest room.” Elizabeth suggested, rising from her seat and gesturing for the two men to follow her instructions.
—
The next morning, Neal sat down for breakfast with the Burkes, including the young Neal, and tried to pay attention to El catching him up on the high points of the years he'd been gone, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
Finally, Elizabeth noted the time and began rushing the younger Neal out the door and off to school. Peter looked Neal over carefully for a moment deciding how to broach the topic that sat heavily between them.
“So, that picture you showed us last night, is that the only one you have of him?” Peter asked, deciding that was a safe question to ease into the subject.
“Oh, uh, yeah, it is.” Neal replied, quickly deciding how honest he wanted to be. “I didn't really look. I don't want the first image in my head of my son to be his mug shot. I knew that's what I'd find if I kept looking.”
“I think it's best if I don't let anyone at the bureau know what I'm looking into, not yet anyway.” Peter said, sliding into the more important details before he made himself late for work. “Frankly, I don't want to have to take the time to explain that you're still alive before it's necessary.”
Neal nodded in agreement.
“So why don't you stay here and I'll see what I can find out this morning and I'll come home for lunch to fill you in?” Peter continued.
“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good,” Neal replied with no intention of staying.
Peter shot him a suspicious look, then shook his head choosing to ignore what his gut was telling him.
“Alright, I'll be back at one.”
Once Peter had left, Neal straightened his tie, donned his hat, and set out to find the other two members of Michael's band.