Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 12 Lapsed Judgment

Violet flipped a dressing soaked spinach leaf to the other side of the platter, as she nervously stirred the glass of green tea with a straw. The first booth behind the take-out counter gave her a direct view of Cruz, which meant her assailant would be captured on camera. It was only mildly reassuring. She knew that this was dangerous business and that Neal had nearly died, probably in her defense. If only he was the one in the back booth pretending to read Grisham.

Once again, the door opened jingling the string of bells dangling from the hook on the back of the deli's door and once again, her heart leapt into her throat. From behind, she could hear Agent Jones order a ham and cheese on rye with Dijon. She took a drink trying to wash down the previous bite of grilled chicken. The time was getting close and all she wanted to do was crawl under the table amongst the crumbs and hide. There wasn't any courage involved in tonight's plan, only her unrelenting trepidation about what she was expected to do. In truth, Violet was barely holding it together.

Clinton turned carrying a large drink and sandwich with the service dog at the lead. Taking six paces forward he allowed his foot to catch in the instrument's case strap that was draping onto the floor. Tumbling forward, the plastic cup hit the floor splashing cola onto Violet's pant leg. Ruby immediately stopped when Clinton dropped the lead, turning to face her master.

"Oh my god, sir are you alright? I am so sorry. My case must have tripped you." Violet stood helping Clinton get his feet back under him, handing him the dog's lead. Turning, she quickly grabbed a stack of napkins and began to blot at the agent's sopping wet shirt.

Clinton removed the napkins from Violet's hand and leaned down, whispering in her ear. "Mozzie knows the meeting location. He wants you to clean the FTIR lenses really well with alcohol."

"Oh okay … are you sure that you are alright? Please let me get you another meal … oh... oh … Don't step that direction there's ice on the floor. Please, be careful walking. Are you sure I can't help you?" Violet's startled reaction shifted her focus and she failed to notice her cell phone vibrating against the table.

Clinton recognizing the disoriented look in her eyes leaned closer and whispered. "Mozz might be calling about the al-co-hol to clean the lens."

Violet fumbled to pick up the phone. "Ah … right. He'll be there and expect it to be clean."

Clinton nodded in acknowledgment and turned as Cruz approached the two. "Kevin sweetie, here take my hand. I got us a booth all the way in the back." Gently grasping the agent's hand, she pulled up on the dogs lead. "Miss, thank you for helping my friend. He's just learning to rely on the dog's directions. It's only the second time out on his own." She turned, slipping her arm around her partner's waist. "Let's get you back to our booth and away from this wet mess. Step to the left a little."

The two agents awkwardly squeezed through the isle with the dog leading the way. Cruz slowly turned her head and looked back at Violet as she spoke into Clinton's ear. "What was that all about? I thought the dog was just to get assailant's scent."

As they reached the booth, she placed her partners hand on the table and guided him onto the bench as Ruby settled in at his feet. Leaning forward he smiled lovingly in Cruz's general direction. "Neal's twitchy little bald friend had a message for Violet. Believe me, Peter is taking a big risk and he isn't happy about it. Neal somehow has him directly involved in the operation."

"I'm sure Peter isn't happy with Neal taking any more risks but he must trust..." Cruz stop mid-sentence as she watched Violet close her phone and exit the booth heading toward the kitchen door. Tenderly grasping her partner's hands, she leaned forward. "Jones stay put. We can't risk blowing our cover just yet."

Lauren slid across the vinyl bench and stepped into the open isle way. "Violet just headed toward the kitchen entrance."

Clinton shifted in his seat, adjusting his vantage point toward the counter area. "Maybe she just went to get a mop. She seemed pretty rattled when I fell."

Lauren shook her head as she quickened her pace toward the crowded counter area. "I don't think so; she took her jacket and the case with her."

Aggressively pushing her way through the patrons at the counter, she darted for the kitchen. Swinging the saloon style doors violently back against the tile wall, the agent flashed her badge to the startled kitchen staff. Maintaining a full stride forward, she dodged a baker carrying a large metal tray filled with freshly baked bread. "FBI, which way did the other woman go?" The stunned baker pointed toward the open screen door leading into the alley.

"Dammit, what the hell does she think she's doing? Burke, you getting this? Violet just answered a call and exited the rear of the deli." Cruz quickly scanned the area, looking for any indication of the direction Violet had taken. "Do we have anyone back here or watching the alleys? She's gone … they had to be waiting for her … yes, she has the case with her."

Peter slammed his fist against the back of the surveillance van's door, raising an immediate welt across his knuckles. "Why should I be surprised that Caffrey's friends are equally as defiant as he is when it comes to following a simple plan? She's on her own for now. If something happens to her, Neal will never forgive me. Cruz, Jones, get back here now. We're headed for Columbia's campus."

Violet attempted to rub her temple with the back of her secured hands. There was a sizable lump developing on her forehead and her hands were tingling with numbness. In the dim light, her eyes slowly started to adjust revealing the inside of a compressed gas delivery truck. A row of gas cylinders and large rolling liquid nitrogen dewars rattled and clanked in the rack lining the opposite wall. The truck was freezing cold with open slats for cross-ventilation, a safety precaution with the pressurized vessels.

Her coat was gone and she found herself dressed in a light t-shirt, over-sized sweatpants and flip-flops. They must have suspected that she was wearing a wire or that the clothing had special devices built in. Her thoughts shifted to the modifications the FBI made to her test instrument and she prayed they hadn't been detected.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes trying to concentrate on how to handle the current predicament. She knew her lapse in judgment had left her on own, at least until she got to the lab and even then she was relying on Mozzie. A man she barely knew aside from his relationship with Neal and even that was sketchy. But she trusted Neal and Neal trusted Mozzie, now she would too. Slowly opening her eyes, she sensed that someone else was near but she wasn't prepared for that pair of dark green eyes, the eyes of Marcus's identical twin brother Matthew Glassenger. The deep-set eyes were all too familiar but surrounded by a face that was foreign to her, heavily marked with scars. She swallowed hard, choking back the wave of nausea, her pounding head swaying sharply to the left with the movement of the truck.

Kneeling down on one knee, Matthew reached out forcibly grasping Violet's slight frame. His lips curled into a wry smile as he reveled with enjoyment at her terrified reaction to his strong advances. Releasing his lingering grip on her shoulders, he softly caressed her cheek, exhaling the odor of stale cigar smoke into her face. "So, is this how Neal-ee-boy touches you?"

Violet winced at the odor and he quickly slapped her cheeks red. "Such a fine lady. Do I offend? It wasn't wise of you to involve Neal's friends from the FBI. His puppet-master, Burke must think we're idiots to have not spotted the two agents at the deli. It's a shame that Neal will have to pay again, for his meddling. You know I wanted to kill him last Friday. I actually think we came pretty damn close."

Violet shrugged backward against the metal rails mounted at the base of the truck's wall. She could feel the warm tears start to roll down her cheek, betraying her emotions. Her strained voice cracking as she spoke. "Please let Neal alone. I will do whatever you want. Just don't hurt him."

Glassenger leaned in close, pressing his hand against her chest. "You mean like this?"

Violet gasped as Matthew held a creased photo of Neal's battered face up in her view. "Not quite so pretty now."

He smoothed out the photo as he admired his work. His lips pulled tight in a satisfied grin as he displayed the photo once again, allowing Violet to fully absorb the acts of blatant brutality. "You just remember this when you feel the urge to betray us tonight."

He stood, grabbing a canvas cover from the corner of the truck bed and tossed it over Violet's torso. "Believe me; this isn't for your comfort. Just can't risk having Neal's fragile little Violet die on us. Sure, hope that thing we tried to pull out of your arm wasn't too important. Bled like crazy … probably ruined my shirt."

Sliding the window open behind the driver, he checked the GPS screen. "Call Marcus and let him know that the doctor is back with us. We should be there in about 25 minutes."

Matthew stepped back through the isle way between the rows of compressed gas cylinders, stopping to open a concealed side panel in one of the large liquid nitrogen tanks. "Well my dear, your chariot awaits."

Grabbing Violet and pulling her forward onto her knees, he checked the restraints before stuffing her into the hollowed out rolling metal tank. "You make any sounds at all and I'll personally make sure Neal suffers a painful relapse."

Violet peered out of the dark opening, her entire body shaking and tears now streaking down her face, steaming her glasses. A final piece of duct tape is stretched taut across her mouth as Glassenger flashes the photo of Neal in her face one last time. "Remember, we can inflict a whole lot of pain without actually killing him. If need be, I'll make sure he is unrecognizable in the next photo." Reaching inside the small compartment, Matthew grabbed Violet's chin, patting her cheek roughly before securing the panel back in place. "Now be a good little egg-head and maybe we'll let Neal and your Uncle live."

Neal cradled the cell phone loosely in his palm literally watching the minutes pass before his eyes. He knew the operation had started. Despite having studied Mozzie's photos of the lab layout and providing direct strategic input, he still felt utterly powerless. The success of the plan continued to rest on Violet's ability to hold it together and follow the clues that Mozzie had planted.

Scrolling through the menus, he opened the photo once more. "Violet, please be safe." He silently mouthed as he gazed at the small woman nestled snuggly in the overstuffed chair. "Peter, you have to bring her back to me."

He closed his eyes tightly against the brimming cushion of water, a thin stream of tears escaping the corner of his eye, trickling down his cheek to follow a path along his nose. Using the back of his sore hand as a make shift tissue, he spread the moisture across his bruised cheek. The internal tremors were mounting again, pressing on the edge of his weakened emotional barriers. Closing the phone, he turned his head to face the blank green wall, trying to concentrate on slowing the rate of his breathing.

Neal could hear familiar cheerful voices chattering in the hallway accompanied by the approaching sound of rattling paper bags. He again shut his eyes, forcing himself back into the familiar Caffrey veneer, now a thinly veiled illusion at best. He exhaled slowly and reclined his head back against the pillow. "I'm fine … just fine."

The clicking of the women's heels striking the polished tile floor grew louder as they passed the nurse's station outside his room. "His bed is just inside this door. I don't think he'll be expecting anyone after this morning." El pointed toward the open doorway, allowing June to enter first.

"Oh, the poor dear is asleep." June placed her shopping bags on the floor beside the bed and gently wrapped her warm hand around Neal's slender fingers. "Elizabeth, he feels chilly to me." She reached over and smoothed her hand back over his unruly waves, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Elizabeth stepped to the other side of the bed and tentatively skimmed her fingers along the back of his immobilized hand. "Oh, he is cool." Her fingers stopped, curling around his pinky. "Those IV sites in his hand look so painful. Just look at the puffy lump it left on his other hand." El bent down, pulling an afghan from one of the shopping bags. "This should help warm him up." She nodded to June as she started to unfold the charcoal gray, cable knit throw.

"El this is lovely. Did you make this?" June unfolded her half of the cover to extend over his feet. "Oh my, his toes are like ice. You wouldn't happen to have a pair of matching socks in that bag?"

"Actually, I do. Well, they don't match the throw but they should keep his feet toasty warm. I made a special toe cozy this afternoon that should fit over the end of that soft cast." She handed them across the bed to June and turned to tuck the soft knit material in under his chin. A slight smile emerged on Neal's lips as June pulled the cozy over his bare toes.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the young man playing possum and reached up tickling the corner of his mouth with the tip of her finger. "Neal Caffrey, are you awake?"

"Mmmp … hmmm"

Neal cracked one eye open and quickly closed it as a sheepish grin grew on his face. "T-toe cozy? Did yu really jus say toe c-cozy?"

"Yes, I did mister and your icy toes are going to thank me later." El softly patted his cheek as Neal pushed his elbow down into the mattress and attempted to shift into a more comfortable position. A grimace quickly drew his lips into a tight line as waves of intense pain rippled through his abdomen.

"Oh Neal" June winced as she watched the color drain from the young man's face. "Let us help you. What do you need?"

Remaining remarkably composed, Elizabeth tenderly stroked his deeply furrowed brow, combing her fingers back through his hair "June, he needs to use that button that's tied onto the railing. It gives him a dose of morphine."

His partner's wife continued to comfort him, lightly stroking her thumb up between his tightly drawn brows. "Neal look over at June, sweetie. You need an extra dose of the pain medicine. I know it hurts but just try to relax and breathe slowly through your mouth."

June handed the button to Neal and watched with relief as the color gradually returned to his face. "Neal dear, are you still having so much pain?" His self-appointed Mom carefully lifted his hand and held it to her cheek, tears moistening her eyes. "Elizabeth, do you think we should call for the nurse?"

Neal palmed the PCA button in his immobilized hand, pressing it twice. He could feel his composure slipping in reaction to the open emotional display of the two women hovering over him. "J-June … Liz-beth … I-I'm fine. It's eas-ing up … really."

Neal pointed toward the bedside tray in an attempt to divert their attention away from his outward response to the physical pain. "W-were yu two sh-shop-ing? M-mohan's … for me?"

"I don't know? June what do you think, after he made fun of the toe cozy?"

"Whisch I didn't get a c-chance to say … waz a th-thought-ful n lovely gift." He quipped with a slight slur, embellishing the statement with a coy smile and droopy-eyed gaze directed at El.

"Stop, stop … I give … not that look." She chuckled, opening the bag and holding it for Neal to see the soft blue charmeuse robe. "It's from June."

"You know, for when you start to get up out of bed." June motioned toward her back. "I wanted you to be able to maintain a modicum of dignity." She pulled the top of the soft garment out from the bag and onto his lap. "And the blue color will accent your eyes nicely … not that they need any help garnering attention."

"T-thank yu, June." Neal started to reach up as June leaned in for a cautious hug through the maze of tubing and wires.

"You are most welcome. You had us all so worried." She brushed back a few stray bangs and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Even Samantha got you a little gift with Mozzie's help and maybe your credit card." June bent down lifting a blue-eyed Vermont teddy bear dressed in a plaid shawl collared robe and gray fedora from the remaining bag on the floor. "She even had them put a cast on his leg and oh, there's a little crutch and pillow too. She wanted you to have a furry friend to keep you company at night."

Neal smiled at the thoughtful and resourceful gift from the child and gave it a trial cuddle. "S-so sweet of her to th-think of me. I like his style … th-thank her …pl-ease."

El rolled the tray table up in front of Neal and started to unload her last bag.

"Th-there's m-more? You're both too kind to me." He whispered, placing his hand over his heart and closing his eyes against the stirring emotions.

"Are you hungry? The nurse that called said that you aren't eating. We brought you some homemade soup, chicken dumpling and creamy potato. It's your choice or you can skip right to dessert, baked scalloped apples."

"Liz-beth, yu shouldn't have fussed … am jus not hun-gry."

"Neal, but these are your favorites … well at least within your current dietary restrictions. Your doctor is very concerned about your continued weight loss. You just aren't going to have the strength to recover if you don't start to eat."

"May-be tomorrow"

"No Neal, waiting until tomorrow isn't an option at this point. You don't want them to put a tube in your nose to feed you." She cupped his chin, gently lifting his gaze to meet hers. "You've refused to drink the nutrition shakes and you haven't eaten more than a few bites. Your weight was too low when you were admitted and it continues to drop."

June placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She could easily feel his prominent collarbone and shoulder structure through the thin hospital gown but just couldn't bring herself to be firm with him. "Neal, maybe if you just try a little … you might be hungrier than you think." Her nervous fingers reached to smooth an unruly curl back behind his ear, the palm of her hand settling back against his shoulder.

Neal looked back and forth between the two women, shaking his head in surrender to their silent but persuasive pleas. "M-maybe a lil potato … does it have carrots and ba-con?"

El opened the wide-mouthed thermos releasing its enticing aroma. "Neal, this is my special recipe. Of course it has carrots and bacon." She lifted a small spoonful of the creamy soup to his mouth. "Take it easy. It is still pretty hot."

Neal indulged her with a satisfied smile as the rich liquid warmed his belly. "Tastes good." He said as he nodded for another bite.

"A little more?" El watched as he raised an unsteady hand, realizing that he couldn't easily feed himself. "Just relax and enjoy. You have a private caterer for as long as you'd like."

Neal finished eating another bite as Crystal's cell phone loudly beeped, the abrupt sound sending his body flinching backward against the pillows. Elizabeth startled by Neal's reaction, dropped the spoon and hurried to help retrieve the phone from under the edge of the afghan. In an instant, Neal shot forward snatching the phone from her grasp and anxiously retrieved the awaiting message.

"I-It's Moz." The phone wavered in his hands. "There's been an un-expected change. Glassen-ger is waiting at the lab." Clamping his jaw tight in frustration, he swiftly struck the back of his hand against the bed railing. "That arrogant b-bastard couldn't stand on the sidelines and r-re-ly on someone else to com-plete the job. He has to be the one calling all the sh-shots."

"Neal dear, please try to calm down. You're going to hurt yourself again." June gently encouraged him to lean back as she pressed the button to dispense a dose of morphine.

In utter exhaustion, Neal dropped his head back onto the pillow and flopped the hand still grasping the phone across his chest. He knew the pain would rapidly return in intensity as the adrenaline rush cleared his system.

Elizabeth carefully coaxed the phone loose from his grasp, pausing to gently stroke the new lump that was emerging on the back of his already sore hand. The combination of her soothing touch and pain medication rapidly worked to calm him. "Neal, why is that bad? Won't it be easier for Peter to catch them if they're all together?"

The frightened look in Neal's eyes met with Elizabeth's confident gaze. "T-this plan hin-ges on Mozzie's abil-ity to bl-end in. While they have on-ly met b-briefly once be-fore, Glass-enger still might recog-nize him." Neal pulled his hand away from Elizabeth's soft caress, gripping his temples. "Mozz … I'm afraid that just swapping your glasses won't be enough to make you a chameleon tonight."