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aragarnaTitle: The Empty House
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aragarna
Genre, rating: canon, possible missing scene, gen, g.
Characters: June, Peter
Warnings: none
Spoilers: 3x16
word count: 1500
Beta: Many thanks to the wonderfulwinterstar95
Summary: Neal just cut his anklet, leaving June in an empty house.
Author's Note: This is for the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
month_of_june. Title borrowed from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the famous story where his hero returns.
Additional note at the end.
When she heard the doorbell she rushed to the door, her heart filled with anticipation and hope. But it was not Neal who was at the door. It was a Marshal, one of those damn Marshals, with his Marshal windbreaker and stern Marshal look. He was followed by half a dozen clones. The first one of them, whom she recognized as the one in charge of Neal’s release, approached her with a contrite smile and gave her a tip from an imaginary hat as a salute.
June felt her heart sank inside her chest and hope was replaced with apprehension. This was not what she expected at all.
“Sorry to bother you, once again, Ma’am,” the Marshal said as he presented her a search warrant. “It seems like Neal Caffrey cut his anklet. Again.”
She didn’t like the way he emphasized that last word. Again.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” she protested, “Neal is at his hearing.” But she had no other choice than letting them run upstairs, process Neal’s room, and basically through everything upside down. She forced a warm smile she didn’t mean at all and gestured to the Marshal he could go upstairs. Not that the others had waited her agreement to proceed. They knew the drill…
June followed them upstairs. She wanted to keep an eye on them. There was not much she could do to protect Neal, but at least she could make sure to protect his properties – and hers!
As she crossed the threshold and entered Neal’s room, she couldn’t help but notice the anklet sitting in the middle of the table, its red light blinking, unfazed. She brought her hand to her chest to steady her heart. Neal did run.
A part of her refused to believe it. Neal wouldn’t do that. Not now, when he was so close to freedom, real freedom. June knew how much that hearing meant to Neal, despite the young man’s attempt to hide it behind a casual wave. Neal would never do anything to jeopardize his chance, and certainly not something as stupid as cutting his anklet two hours before the verdict. And yet, here it was the anklet, on the table.
A noise coming from the large bookshelf brought her back to more material considerations. She spotted a Marshal picking up from the floor a couple of books he had undoubtedly dropped. He glanced sideways at her, a little wary and their eyes met. June made sure to concentrate all her hate and disdain her glance and the vision of the young Marshal literally decomposing in front of her brought her a slice of satisfaction.
Heartbroken, she looked at those men in uniforms, taking apart every bit of Neal’s apartment, looking for pieces of evidence and hints of leads. They opened the drawers, spilling out their content, they lifted every carpet, looked behind every painting, inside every books, even in the fridge, leaving everything disordered.
At one point, a female Marshall approached her and took her statement. No, she hadn’t seen Neal leave the mansion. She was at the hearing giving her own testimony. No, Neal didn’t talk about running. Actually he was pretty determined to stay. Yes, she’ll let them know if he contacted her. Or so she said.
Later, Peter’s familiar figure materialized in the doorway. Judging by the severe expression showing on his face, he already knew. What June couldn’t tell was how Peter felt about it. He greeted her with his usual cordiality, but she could tell his heart wasn’t at it. He had a heated conversation on the balcony with the lead Marshal and she tried to read Peter’s body language through the French window. Standing tall, hands on hips, lips tightly closed, he was definitely angry.
Peter came back inside, and stood beside June until the last Marshal clone disappeared down the staircase, anklet bagged, leaving them alone in the empty and chaotic apartment. June hadn’t dared ask any question in front of all those unfriendly intruders. But now, she didn’t know how to ask. Obviously, something had happened. Something serious enough that Neal cut his anklet. Was it about the hearing? Would it dig another rift between the two partners and friends? Neal and Peter’s relationship had seemed to get stronger over the last months’ events, so why on Earth would Neal run? June couldn’t think of any possible reason that would make Neal run away from his friend.
June felt apprehension compressing her chest as thoughts ran through her mind. Could Peter have done something so terribly wrong that it would have convinced Neal to give up everything he had built here?
Anxious, June watched the agent standing in the middle of the room, his hands still on his hips, distractly looking at the mess surrounding him.
“Peter,” June said. “You know Neal wouldn’t run without a good reason.” It came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t help feeling defensive of her young friend.
Peter turned around to face her. She braced herself, ready to counter all his arguments against Neal. But what she saw in Peter’s eyes caught her breath. There was no more anger. Only pain and sorrow. A sad smile appeared on his lips as he tilted his head.
“I know,” he said softly.
All of a sudden, it became clear. Whatever happened, Neal had Peter’s consent. Neal wouldn’t have run otherwise. Peter took a chair from the table, turned it around and sat backward, arms crossed on the back of the chair.
“What happened?” June asked quietly.
Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kramer happened,” he stated darkly.
June frowned. If she remembered correctly, Kramer was an agent from DC, who was first around to solve some business about the U-boat treasure, and was now back to make a report at the hearing. But June also remembered Neal mentioning Kramer was a friend of Peter’s. Wasn’t he his mentor at one point?
Peter didn’t seem inclined to elaborate at the moment though. The wound was too fresh. Instead, he stood up and, approaching the bookshelves, he started picking things from the floor and putting them back in their original place. Their exact original place, June noted.
“You’ve got quite a memory, Peter,” she said with a smile, pointing to the old candle lamp Peter had just moved back to its right spot on a shelf.
Peter smiled. “It comes with the job. And I’ve been here quite a few times myself.” He made a circular gesture toward the room. “I’m very sorry about that mess, June.”
June came close to Peter and put a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Peter. They had a job to do.”
“Even though you and I both knew there wouldn’t be anything to find here.” Peter gave her a wink.
“Neal’s too smart for that,” she agreed.
A shadow quickly passed over Peter’s face.
June started sorting things herself. With Peter’s help, they made the bed. She could just call the maid, Peter didn’t even have to do this. But she wanted to, and it seemed to be Peter’s desire as well. A way to sort things out, tidy the mess.
They fell silent, tidying the room together, aching hearts finding comfort in the other’s presence, keeping their bodies busy to prevent their minds from thinking about their common loss.
Finally, every piece of the apartment and Neal’s belongings were back in their proper place.
“Will he come back?” June asked, at last.
“I’ll work on that, yes… It might take a while though,” Peter sighed. “Don’t expect him too soon…”
June echoed the sight. “Maybe we should cover the furniture, then? There are large sheets at the bottom of Neal’s closet.”
Peter retrieved the sheets from the closet and they covered the bed, the sofa, the table, the television set, the coffee table. The little apartment seemed even emptier, hollow, this way. June reminded herself it was just waiting for its rightful occupant to come back. She’d hold onto hope .
“Do you mind if I just hang around a little?” Peter suddenly asked, looking somewhat embarrassed. June, on the contrary couldn’t wait to get out of this gloomy and empty room. But she understood.
“Of course. Stay here as long as you need. I’ll be downstairs.”
When Peter finally came down to say good bye, June noticed his brooding look was gone, replaced by a resolute one.
She accompanied him to the threshold of the mansion.
“I highly doubt it, but if by any chance you hear from him, or Mozzie, let me know.”
“Count on me Peter.”
“And no one else.”
June smiled. “That goes without saying.”
He gave her a warm and strong hug. “And if you want to talk, or if you need anything – anything at all – El and I, we’re still here.”
“Thank you, Peter. And likewise, my door remains open for you, anytime.”
“Bye, June.”
“Bring Neal back home.”
Peter sent her a warm and intense look. “I will.” And she knew he would.
The End.
Author's Note 2: It's been brought to my attention that there has been at least one similar story to this one: Where the World is Cold. All similarities are purely coincidencial, but go and check that other one, it's probably better than mine. And I also remember another nice story I read last year, where June let Peter in a couple of time, but I can't remember the title, nor the author. So my apologize to you, dear author.
Author:
aragarnaGenre, rating: canon, possible missing scene, gen, g.
Characters: June, Peter
Warnings: none
Spoilers: 3x16
word count: 1500
Beta: Many thanks to the wonderful
winterstar95Summary: Neal just cut his anklet, leaving June in an empty house.
Author's Note: This is for the
month_of_june. Title borrowed from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the famous story where his hero returns.Additional note at the end.
The Empty House
When she heard the doorbell she rushed to the door, her heart filled with anticipation and hope. But it was not Neal who was at the door. It was a Marshal, one of those damn Marshals, with his Marshal windbreaker and stern Marshal look. He was followed by half a dozen clones. The first one of them, whom she recognized as the one in charge of Neal’s release, approached her with a contrite smile and gave her a tip from an imaginary hat as a salute.June felt her heart sank inside her chest and hope was replaced with apprehension. This was not what she expected at all.
“Sorry to bother you, once again, Ma’am,” the Marshal said as he presented her a search warrant. “It seems like Neal Caffrey cut his anklet. Again.”
She didn’t like the way he emphasized that last word. Again.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” she protested, “Neal is at his hearing.” But she had no other choice than letting them run upstairs, process Neal’s room, and basically through everything upside down. She forced a warm smile she didn’t mean at all and gestured to the Marshal he could go upstairs. Not that the others had waited her agreement to proceed. They knew the drill…
June followed them upstairs. She wanted to keep an eye on them. There was not much she could do to protect Neal, but at least she could make sure to protect his properties – and hers!
As she crossed the threshold and entered Neal’s room, she couldn’t help but notice the anklet sitting in the middle of the table, its red light blinking, unfazed. She brought her hand to her chest to steady her heart. Neal did run.
A part of her refused to believe it. Neal wouldn’t do that. Not now, when he was so close to freedom, real freedom. June knew how much that hearing meant to Neal, despite the young man’s attempt to hide it behind a casual wave. Neal would never do anything to jeopardize his chance, and certainly not something as stupid as cutting his anklet two hours before the verdict. And yet, here it was the anklet, on the table.
A noise coming from the large bookshelf brought her back to more material considerations. She spotted a Marshal picking up from the floor a couple of books he had undoubtedly dropped. He glanced sideways at her, a little wary and their eyes met. June made sure to concentrate all her hate and disdain her glance and the vision of the young Marshal literally decomposing in front of her brought her a slice of satisfaction.
Heartbroken, she looked at those men in uniforms, taking apart every bit of Neal’s apartment, looking for pieces of evidence and hints of leads. They opened the drawers, spilling out their content, they lifted every carpet, looked behind every painting, inside every books, even in the fridge, leaving everything disordered.
At one point, a female Marshall approached her and took her statement. No, she hadn’t seen Neal leave the mansion. She was at the hearing giving her own testimony. No, Neal didn’t talk about running. Actually he was pretty determined to stay. Yes, she’ll let them know if he contacted her. Or so she said.
Later, Peter’s familiar figure materialized in the doorway. Judging by the severe expression showing on his face, he already knew. What June couldn’t tell was how Peter felt about it. He greeted her with his usual cordiality, but she could tell his heart wasn’t at it. He had a heated conversation on the balcony with the lead Marshal and she tried to read Peter’s body language through the French window. Standing tall, hands on hips, lips tightly closed, he was definitely angry.
Peter came back inside, and stood beside June until the last Marshal clone disappeared down the staircase, anklet bagged, leaving them alone in the empty and chaotic apartment. June hadn’t dared ask any question in front of all those unfriendly intruders. But now, she didn’t know how to ask. Obviously, something had happened. Something serious enough that Neal cut his anklet. Was it about the hearing? Would it dig another rift between the two partners and friends? Neal and Peter’s relationship had seemed to get stronger over the last months’ events, so why on Earth would Neal run? June couldn’t think of any possible reason that would make Neal run away from his friend.
June felt apprehension compressing her chest as thoughts ran through her mind. Could Peter have done something so terribly wrong that it would have convinced Neal to give up everything he had built here?
Anxious, June watched the agent standing in the middle of the room, his hands still on his hips, distractly looking at the mess surrounding him.
“Peter,” June said. “You know Neal wouldn’t run without a good reason.” It came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t help feeling defensive of her young friend.
Peter turned around to face her. She braced herself, ready to counter all his arguments against Neal. But what she saw in Peter’s eyes caught her breath. There was no more anger. Only pain and sorrow. A sad smile appeared on his lips as he tilted his head.
“I know,” he said softly.
All of a sudden, it became clear. Whatever happened, Neal had Peter’s consent. Neal wouldn’t have run otherwise. Peter took a chair from the table, turned it around and sat backward, arms crossed on the back of the chair.
“What happened?” June asked quietly.
Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kramer happened,” he stated darkly.
June frowned. If she remembered correctly, Kramer was an agent from DC, who was first around to solve some business about the U-boat treasure, and was now back to make a report at the hearing. But June also remembered Neal mentioning Kramer was a friend of Peter’s. Wasn’t he his mentor at one point?
Peter didn’t seem inclined to elaborate at the moment though. The wound was too fresh. Instead, he stood up and, approaching the bookshelves, he started picking things from the floor and putting them back in their original place. Their exact original place, June noted.
“You’ve got quite a memory, Peter,” she said with a smile, pointing to the old candle lamp Peter had just moved back to its right spot on a shelf.
Peter smiled. “It comes with the job. And I’ve been here quite a few times myself.” He made a circular gesture toward the room. “I’m very sorry about that mess, June.”
June came close to Peter and put a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Peter. They had a job to do.”
“Even though you and I both knew there wouldn’t be anything to find here.” Peter gave her a wink.
“Neal’s too smart for that,” she agreed.
A shadow quickly passed over Peter’s face.
June started sorting things herself. With Peter’s help, they made the bed. She could just call the maid, Peter didn’t even have to do this. But she wanted to, and it seemed to be Peter’s desire as well. A way to sort things out, tidy the mess.
They fell silent, tidying the room together, aching hearts finding comfort in the other’s presence, keeping their bodies busy to prevent their minds from thinking about their common loss.
Finally, every piece of the apartment and Neal’s belongings were back in their proper place.
“Will he come back?” June asked, at last.
“I’ll work on that, yes… It might take a while though,” Peter sighed. “Don’t expect him too soon…”
June echoed the sight. “Maybe we should cover the furniture, then? There are large sheets at the bottom of Neal’s closet.”
Peter retrieved the sheets from the closet and they covered the bed, the sofa, the table, the television set, the coffee table. The little apartment seemed even emptier, hollow, this way. June reminded herself it was just waiting for its rightful occupant to come back. She’d hold onto hope .
“Do you mind if I just hang around a little?” Peter suddenly asked, looking somewhat embarrassed. June, on the contrary couldn’t wait to get out of this gloomy and empty room. But she understood.
“Of course. Stay here as long as you need. I’ll be downstairs.”
When Peter finally came down to say good bye, June noticed his brooding look was gone, replaced by a resolute one.
She accompanied him to the threshold of the mansion.
“I highly doubt it, but if by any chance you hear from him, or Mozzie, let me know.”
“Count on me Peter.”
“And no one else.”
June smiled. “That goes without saying.”
He gave her a warm and strong hug. “And if you want to talk, or if you need anything – anything at all – El and I, we’re still here.”
“Thank you, Peter. And likewise, my door remains open for you, anytime.”
“Bye, June.”
“Bring Neal back home.”
Peter sent her a warm and intense look. “I will.” And she knew he would.
The End.
Author's Note 2: It's been brought to my attention that there has been at least one similar story to this one: Where the World is Cold. All similarities are purely coincidencial, but go and check that other one, it's probably better than mine. And I also remember another nice story I read last year, where June let Peter in a couple of time, but I can't remember the title, nor the author. So my apologize to you, dear author.
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Date: 2013-06-28 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-28 01:34 pm (UTC)