Save Me If You Can

Save Me If You Can Chapter 6

THE PRESENT

Neal and Peter walked the streets of Manhattan, following the vaguely detailed directions Mozzie had given Peter earlier. While Peter had insisted on being given a simple address, Mozzie had argued that Thursday technically had no address, at least not officially, which is why Thursday was the perfect safe house.

Neal seemed anxious and fidgety during the walk, his nerves frayed and mind at times preoccupied – no doubt by the arduous task at hand - but then easily distracted by normal street sounds most people blocked out or ignored. Peter also noticed him scratching a lot, fingers constantly digging into arm flesh to stop some unrelenting itch. The agent fought to overlook it at first. When he no longer could, he stopped and turned to Neal, face to face, eye to eye.

"What?" Neal asked innocently. "What is it?"

"What's with you? Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Neal answered, not hiding his irritation, "Let's keep walking."

"Neal..."

"I'm hurting a little, Peter. Okay?"

"You mean you need to dose again."

"Yeah, I do. But I'm okay. Another hour or so and I won't be."

"You're not going to..."

"No," Neal answered. "I mean...I don't know..."

He moved past Peter and kept walking. "If we don't find Thursday soon, I may have to."

Peter grabbed Neal by the arm to stop him. "You won't have to."

Neal's blue eyes seemed wide and wild; there was fear of suffering, fear of pain. Deep down, he also feared disappointing Peter as much as himself.

"I don't want to, but...."

"Neal...you won't have to."

"I don't know if I can do this..."

"You reached out to me, remember? I'm here. We can do this. We're going to do this."

"I'm scared, Peter."

"I know." Peter relaxed his hold on Neal's arm and looked away. "So am I," he confessed. "But I'm not letting you back out of this. You're going to make it, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way. You got that?"

"Yeah," Neal said, and the men resumed walking. "Only...what about the bureau? How are you keeping off their radar for this?"

"You let me worry about the bureau."

"No, seriously," Neal insisted, "How can you do this without taking time off? Hughes can't be too happy with you right now. Wait...Hughes doesn't know, does he? Did you tell him?"

"Hughes doesn't know anything."

"Please don't tell me you're going to let this eat up all your vacation time."

"Will you just leave the details to me?"

"No."

"Fine," Peter said, somewhat agitated, not wanting to disclose everything to Neal before finding Thursday, but having little choice.

"Okay, here's the deal. I created a bogus file. Gave this place a phony address. For the next two weeks I am going to be on surveillance detail, watching the comings and goings of a fictional bond forger and art thief known only as The Mechanic."

"The Mechanic. I like it. Does that make me Charles Bronson? Or Jason Statham?"

"No movie trivia. At the same time, I'm working on a way flush Linus Hauser out of hiding and make sure he never gets out of prison again. After we get you back on your feet, I will simply file a report indicating a lack of evidence; quote something from last quarter's budget report citing fiscal responsibility, and call off the surveillance. Case closed."