Chapter Text
Six Days Old
Neal came to an abrupt alt in the foyer. He had never seen the house like this before. There was stacks of paper, a stack of blankets on the sofa, clothes strewn everywhere, half filled cups and filled plates with food in various stages of decay. Elizabeth had been the main caretaker of the Burke home but Peter was a man who abhorred mess and disorder. He was just as neat as his wife had been and wasn’t the type to let things get like this.
Neal stepped gingerly around the mess and opened the kitchen, which was also in a poor state. Pots and dishes, all still containing fool moldered on the counters and in the sink. The garbage can was overflowing and starting to smell. The only clean things were the racks of clean baby bottles on the table, a kettle that stood besides them and a stack of laundered spit up cloths. There were jars and jars of formula, from pour and heat to the powdered mix with water types. There was soy based and milk based, and lactose free.
With a gentle sigh Ne looked over to where Satchmo’s bowls usually were and pressed his lips together when he saw that they were no where to be found.
Neal turned and went back the way he had come. Once he was at the stairs he looked up at the second floor landing and feared for what he would find. Greif did strange things to people, Neal knew first hand. Greif had made him angry and self-destructive and had made his mother give up on everything, including the son she had once adored.
Neal’s stomach clenched as he thought about poor little Elliot. Elizabeth had died after giving birth to him. Elliot had started life with only one parent and if the state of the house was any indication, Peter had probably lot the ability to function. Neal pressed a hand against his churning stomach. He wouldn’t know what to do if it turned out that Peter wasn’t able to take care of Elliot, he had waved all his parental rights and if Elliot was taken…
Neal pushed aside those thoughts. Elle had died just six days ago, and this… this was pretty bad but he couldn’t just jump to conclusions. Neal climbed the stairs slowly, his eyes roaming over the second floor with a focus that he usually reserved for casing museums and galleries before large heists. This floor wasn’t so bad. That carpet hadn’t been vacuumed recently, with the bathroom door open Neal could see that it was fairly clean if not pristine like Elizabeth kept it. The Master bedroom door was closed and judging from the pattern in the carpet the door hadn’t been opened in days. The door of the other room, the nursery, was open a few inches.
Neal moved on cat feet and leaned against the wall and peered into the room. His heart ached desperately, as he watched. Peter was sitting in the over plush gliding chair in a stained T-shirt and boxers, little Elliot swaddled in the lovely yellow and gray blanket that El had knit a bottle held to his lips. The nursery was spotless. Not a single thing out of place or dust to be seen.
Neal closed his eyes and tipped his head back to let it rest on the wall behind him. He should have known better. Peter was the most responsible person Neal had ever met. Even if Peter let everything else go to the wayside there was no way that Elliot would be forgotten. This was the Son Peter and El had looked forward to for so long, it only makes sense that he would remain cherished. Even if Peter didn’t love the baby as much as he did he would never disrespect El’s sacrifice and memory by neglecting the child she had giver her very life for.
Neal left father and son to their own devices and lipped down stairs to clean up. He’d never been around children but he knew that the first few months were trying, busy and tiring. Peter was dealing with the loss of Elizabeth, a new baby and a host of other things, the least he could do was lend a helping hand by cleaning.
(-)
“Hey, Peter.”
Peter turned abruptly, his eyes looking through more than at Neal. He stood up and settled the now sleeping baby into his cradle. “Neal, what are you doing here?”
“The funeral is tomorrow… I just…” Neal had always been good with words, Ellen used to tease him saying that it was made of cold silver, but now… he couldn’t even string together a decent sentence. “I know you’re not alright.”
“Oh…” Peter looked haggard. His skin was pale and sallow. His eyes were ringed in inflamed red and the blood vessels were showing in the whites of his eyes. Shaving had become a thing of the past and Peter’s stubble was bordering on the beginnings of a beard which made his dry split lips all the more nticeable. This clothes hung off of him in a way that was just wrong. To see how much weight that Peter had lost in a week was painful.
“Peter… you need help.”
“No. no I’ve got it. Elliot, Elliot’s doing okay. He doesn’t cry that much. I remember my mother used to tell me that babies cried all the time when they’re just born. Elliot… He doesn’t cry so much.” Peter reached into the crib and traced the curve of the child’s face with a large and gentle finger, “Have you two met yet? He looks so much like you and El.”
Neal came closer and peered into the crib. Elliot looked nothing like he did when he was first born; pink, wrinkly, and wet. Neal wanted to touch him, but couldn’t push past the awe and feeling that he would somehow manage to break the little thing he was looking.
“All that hair. You should see him with the hat off. He’s got so much hair and it’s so dark. His eyes open and… They’re your blue and El’s shape. His mouth and his nose are El too. His fingers… They look just like yours; long, he’ll have wide knuckles too.” Peter rambled, not really paying much attention to what he was saying. Some words were slurred and the strain of talking was making his voice crack.
“Peter. I think you need some sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Just a little sleep. You don’t look well Peter. Please,” Neal cajoled, “Isn’t it better to sleep while some one is here to listen out for Elliot? You’re tired and I know you sleep deep. I don’t want you to have to wake up ever ten minutes to make sure he’s not crying. I’ll come get you if he makes a peep.”
“I don’t want to sleep Neal. That sofa is shit and it hurts my back.”
That’s when everything fell into place. The blankets, the odd pattern inform of the master suite; Peter couldn’t bear to go into the room he had shared with Elizabeth. Her presence must permeate the room, her scent, her jewelry, her clothes, and her side of the bed. All reminders that Elizabeth was gone and would never come back.
“You need a rest, why don’t you watch a bit of TV then.” Neal urged gently prodding and herding peter to the nursery door. If he could get him downstairs and on the sofa maybe Peter would sleep for a while, giving Neal enough time to get into the master bedroom to get what Peter would need to get ready for the funeral before making something that Peter would actually eat.
(-)
From there Neal tackled the closet. Peter had many suits, his job required them. Most of them were off the rack affairs, but there were two or three bespoke suits that El had brought for him over the years. Neal fingered the black suit that Elizabeth had brought Peter for his birthday just a few months prior and pulled it out of the closet, laying it onto the bed delicately. Next he went through the shirts to find the oxblood red one Elizabeth had loved so much and then turned the tie rack until he found Peter’s wide black tie. Next came socks, shoes, cuff links and tie clip, which Neal polish to a shine before he carried the lot down stairs.
Neal slipped the hangers onto the coat hooks in the foyer, tucked the socks, clips and links into the left shoe and rolled the tie and put it into the right before placing the shoes under the hanging clothing. Neal would have Peter looking his best tomorrow when he saw El for the last time.
Neal slipped back up the steps and returned to the second floor. He pulled the door to peter’s bedroom closed as he passed on his way to the nursery. Neal walked over to the crib and leaned over to look into it. He had expected the baby to still be asleep, but was surprised to find himself greeted by two bright blue eyes looking up at him.
In that moment Neal could see what Peter had been talking about. The baby looked remarkably like Elizabeth, but Neal also managed to catch bits of himself in the child’s jaw line, the thick curl of his hair and those eyes that mirrored his own.
“Hi there.” He mumbled to the little thing looking up at him, “Your daddy’s taking a nap so it will be just you and me for a little while. I’m Neal… I’m a friend of your parents.” The baby huffed and Neal smiled touching the tiny hand that made it’s way from peter’s clumsy swaddle to the open air. “You’re going to be happy. I know things are rough now, but you really will be happy. Elizabeth loved you before she even saw you and Peter. Peter is a good man, the best father anyone could ask for. He’s a little sad right now but it wont last. He’ll get better and you’ll see; it will be all sports, and justice, and deviled ham sandwiches.”
Seven Days Old
“Are there going to be marshals at my door when we leave?” Peter asked as the thought had just dawned on him. Neal could slip his anklet if he really wanted to. The whole ‘inescapable’ thing was pure bullshit and they both knew it.
“No Peter. Diana’s been my handler since you took leave. She set my radius to your house for this weekend.”
“Neal, I didn’t mean to —“
“You’re my friend Peter. Why wouldn’t I help you when you needed it?” Neal rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder and smiled softly, “Trust me it’s no trouble. In fact it’s a privilege, I get to make sure you don’t wear one of your Sal’s dress barn suits for a day.”
There was a sudden bleat from the bassinet besides the sofa, and both men turned their attentions to the fussy Elliot. Neal stepped away from Peter, who went to the bassinet and lifted the baby out wish a soft hum.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get you cleaned up now, little man.” Peter turned and glanced back at Neal, “can you start the car? I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Yeah Peter.”
(-)
Peter had picked El’s favorite red cocktail dress up from the cleaners the day the funeral parlor asked if there was any particular outfit that to bury her in. She was beautiful, but nowhere near as gorgeous as she had been when she was full of life and laughter. Her make up had been done just the way it always had been and her hair lay around her perfectly styled as if she was going to pop up and go out to one of the parties she’d just planned.
Neal felt out of place sitting in the first pew of the church with the Peter and El’s family. Parents, siblings and their children all sat solemnly in a row. Peter looked like he would just collapse; he was so wan and pale. He looked nothing like the man Neal had come to know.