Unexpected Information.

.

.

.

:::

Clinton watched Neal a little more closely.

The conman turned CI had somehow managed to stay at the edges of the case all day. And now, near the end of it, he was just beginning to see why.

Make-up; Clinton guesses, it just another type of paint and Neal's wearing just enough of it (in just the right way), to make the black eye (extremely obvious now) look like shadows from a sleepless night.

Which makes today's slight clumsiness, the carefully composed almost falling asleep at his desk and the not so artful absent mindedness seem like another long night with little to no sleep.

What Clinton is ashamed to admit he's only now beginning to see, is what might be a wrenched knee, hopefully only bruised ribs and possibly a concussion.

Clinton knows that Neal had called Peter to ask for the day, the morning at least, off, but Peter had insisted he be at the office. And that Neal would have pushed the matter if he could have made a future case out of his injuries , with a bad guy to blame everything on. His silence puts Clinton on edge.

What ever Neal's gotten himself into is either personal or a little more illegal than he can charm his way out of.

The little guy will be involved and probably Neal's landlady as well. He really hopes that they've kept Elizabeth Burke out of what ever it is this time. And that it doesn't become the FBI's (specifically the White Collar division's) problem.

.

:::

.

But it doesn't stop him from offering Neal a lift home at the end of the day.

Or helping him up the stairs to his room, because at that point, Neal's pretty much out of it and June clearly isn't capable of doing it all by herself.

He really doesn't like the way the granddaughter; Cindy, trails behind them, keeping her head down and holding her left arm close and steady against her ribs, with her shoulders hunched up around her ears.

Together Clinton and June get Neal out of his suit and into bed, June wiping the make-up from his face.

The bump on the back of Neal's head resembles a goose's egg, the bruises around his eyes; a preview of the ones nearly covering his torso and legs, almost black against the pale of his skin.

.

:::

.

"Cindy's ex-boyfriend," June murmured angrily, "Neal stopped him from using her as a punching bag. Gave the creep matching black eyes and a bruised ego. He brought some friends with him the other night, made some threats. I wanted to call Peter, but Neal said he could take care of it."

June's voice, her whole body shakes; angry and upset, and Clinton hugs her until she lets him go.

"Eight against one... Neal looking like this and most of what I feel is relief that he didn't let them do it to Cindy."

"He probably feels the same way." Clinton can see at least three different types of shoe prints in the bruises, the outline of something with a rounded surface and a fence-like mesh pattern, "Must have been one-sided a fight."

"They're MMA wannabes," Cindy says from the doorway, "Cage fights, unsanctioned stuff. They post the fights they win on the internet."

She finally looked up, fading bruises across her face. "They posted it live, thought it would be an easy win."

"Neal won?" Clinton looked from Cindy to Neal's injuries.

"Yeah," Cindy nodded, dropping a flash drive onto the nearest flat surface, "See for yourself."

Clinton watches the video, eventually.

He's already called Peter and given him a bare bones explanation, he barely needs to mention Cindy and abusive ex-boyfriend to get Neal all the time he needs to recover.

Clinton presses stop after the first and second punches to Neal's face, the second kick to his ribs and the first, third and fourth times the small but enthusiastic audience cheers.

The beginning is only a fight in the most loosest of terms, a beating is more accurate.

Up to a point.

Clinton knows that Neal can box and fence and it's probably not incorrect to say that he's picked up a few defensive moves along the way.

This is all offence.

Neal puts down three of his attackers before the other five realise he's done it.

The next two don't go down as easily, but it's still a lot easier and quicker than Clinton had expected, especially considering the beating Neal had received minutes before. It's also familiar; stylistically, in ways that Clinton would really rather not think about.

The video ends before the fight does, cutting off as the camera hits the floor.

He watches it all the way through five times, to be sure of what he's seeing, to figure out what to do...

He crops some of the stills, close enough to keep Neal out of frame, but wide enough make out the faces and the place. He'll send them to a friend in the NYPD who deals with illegal fights in a couple of weeks.

And it seems (after a few hours of searching the internet and only finding where the footage should be) like he might have one of the only copies left.

The flash drive sits in his safe for a month; long enough for Neal to start giving him nervous looks, before he deletes the contents and re-formats the drive.

.

This is not something anyone else needs to know that Neal is capable of .

.

And Clinton intends to keep it that way.

.

.

.