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Chapter Nine

Neal had raised a protect about staying in the Burke's guest room, but Peter had insisted. June wasn't in town to keep an eye on Neal and even though Mozzie could have done it, Peter quite honestly wanted to keep an eye on him himself. He knew it was rooted in the fact that he had sent Neal home from a crime scene with a severe head injury and hadn't noticed it. Even though realistically he understood how it had happened, it still bothered him that it had.

Elizabeth was pleased that Neal would be a guest for a few days as he recovered. She had insisted that Peter give her the instruction sheet the hospital had provided on Neal's release. In addition to both physical and mental rest, there was several things to watch for in case he developed postconcussive syndrome.

With Peter's need to be at the office and Neal's exhausted state, the topic of Don Teagan didn't come up until after dinner. Neal still didn't remember what had happened but he knew that Teagan had been killed on the order of his so called partners in Italy.

"It's the reason I wasn't sorry to send you to prison, Neal, even though I liked you," Peter explained. "I worried that that would happen to you. I knew you weren't violent, but when you travel in those circles, you come in contact with those who are."

"Nice," Neal said wryly, "You put me in prison to keep me safe."

"Prison is better than dead. Just look at Don Teagan," Peter reminded him. "The longer you stay in that life the more chances something unpleasant is going to stick to you."

"Mozzie says if you lay down with dogs," Neal said, "You get up with fleas."

Peter winced. It was always hard when he and Mozzie agreed on something but the little guy had recently provided him with some valuable insight, so he didn't take it too hard.

"I just hate it ended that way for him," Neal said. "He saved my life. If the others had had their way, they would have snatched me to get them inside and then killed me."

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I heard that part. You were lucky he was the one here handling the details."

"He thought I was worth more, you know?" Neal said, "I think he thought he was saving me from more than just death."

"How so?" Peter asked but was certain he knew the answer. Teagan had wanted to set free what he thought was a caged bird at best, or a tamed one at worse. Peter knew that even Neal questioned which of those he was sometimes, especially in rare moments of insecurity.

Just a flicker of emotion crossed Neal's face before he covered it with a smile, "The Las Vegas of the Persian Gulf sounds a lot more fun than surveillance van excitement, I must say. Boredom isn't a whole lot higher on the list than death you know, and just barely above prison."

"So he was saving you from boredom," Peter said with a smile.

"You don't think…" Neal paused with a grimace, as if the thought he had caused physical pain "they didn't kill him because he insisted on hiring me, did they?"

Peter understood Neal's concern. He had said, and they had heard, that the partners weren't thrilled with Teagan going against their wishes where Neal had been concerned. They also knew that Ponder and Daniels were the eyes and ears, and as it turned out, hands, of the partners while they were stateside.

"I don't think so," Peter said, not sure but suspecting what he said was true. If he was wrong, Neal didn't need to know the truth anyway. "I think there had already been shift in management planned before they came. It was their end game to kill Teagan and leave you locked in the office with him for us to find."

"I hope so," Neal said quietly, "I don't want trying to save me to have gotten the man killed." The thought of that brought a deeply pained expression to his eyes.

"Poor life choices, Neal," Peter said with a sigh, "that is what got Teagan killed. It wasn't your fault." Peter paused, studying his troubled friend. "He was a dead man when they sent him here, but he did do a good thing at the end of his life; he saved yours."

"You saved me by sending me to prison and he saved me by hiring me to commit a crime," Neal said with a humorless smile, not missing the irony. "What is it about me that inspires so many rescuers?" His injury had impeded at least to some measure his ability to hide his feelings; there was self-doubt in his eyes.

"Well," Peter said, "He claimed to be an expert on Neal Caffrey, and since I share that claim, I think I can speak for both of us; you are worth saving, Neal."

A look of mild astonishment crossed his face, followed by gratitude. The blue eyes hastily looked away. Peter suspected Neal was embarrassed by how pleased that statement had made him feel. Peter saved him further emotional discomfort with his next statement:

"So, I read through some transcripts today," His voice was amused, the gleam in his eyes indicating a change of subject. This brought a look of relief to Neal's face. "About the Onity Locking Systems," he continued, "you have some extensive knowledge of something that is supposed to be, well, secure. How did you manage that? Con some poor employee?"

The best way Peter knew to stop Neal's self-doubt was to allow him to boast about his many talents. And his knowledge of the Onity Locking System certainly was one of them. One he, the Neal Caffrey expert, hadn't known about.

"I was the poor employee," Neal said, brightening up with an obvious sense of pride "I went through the hiring process and everything," He shrugged. "I did six weeks of in-depth job training, too."

"Are you serious?"

"Entry level position, but I worked my way up quickly," he reported, "I had an uncanny knack at security programming. They called me a prodigy."

"Mad skills," Peter chuckled, "I am impressed. You actually had a real job."

Neal feigned a hurt look, "Don't be so surprised. Criminals and the FBI aren't the only one's who can benefit from my skills. My intelligence, winning personality and willingness to learn are sought after traits in the legitimate job market, too."

"The FBI is a legitimate job, Neal," Peter reminded. But Peter understood where Neal was coming from. He hadn't exactly interviewed for the job. Or had he? Peter wondered, remembering the moment that Neal identified the fiber on Peter's coat and asked Peter to visit him in prison a week later.

"So there is a legitimate work history out there in the real world for Neal Caffrey," Peter continued. "Who would have thought it? I looked, you know, and didn't find anything."

"I didn't exactly say I was Neal Caffrey at the time," Neal said ruefully, happy to have something to think about other than the past three days and the demise of Don Teagan.

"What exactly was your job description at Onity Systems?

"I helped out in several areas, including sales," he admitted, "but I ended up more in the field." His eyes danced with mischief and his smile was as bright as ever. "I provided discreet delivery and expert installation."

"Of course you did," Peter said with a smile, "I must say, when you need to be, you are nothing if not discreet."

"What can I say, mad skills."