Choirboy Caffrey

Chapter 2 - A Case of Angst

St. Louis. Friday afternoon. Early December, 2003.

When Neal picked him up at the airport, Peter placed his luggage in the trunk of Neal's rental car and then opened the driver's door. "I said I'll drive. Go around to the passenger side."

"Listen, Peter. There's a stop I have to make on the way back to the hotel. It makes more sense for me to drive. I know the area better."

"Because you used to live here." Peter took Neal's frown as acknowledgement. He'd never met anyone more reluctant to talk about his past. Each time over the last couple of days the kid slipped up and mentioned a childhood memory while under the influence of a fever or prescription cold meds, you'd think he'd betrayed national secrets. "Great. You can navigate."

From the passenger seat, Neal gave directions toward the downtown area. Then he slumped in the seat, arms crossed, giving every indication he didn't want to talk.

"It was a zoo in there once they started cancelling flights," Peter said.

No response.

"What, you're going to sulk now?"

"Take the next exit and turn left." Neal closed his eyes.

Although there was plenty of time and space to merge into the next lane, Peter swerved sharply, causing Neal to slide into the door and open his eyes. Peter gave his best version of an evil smile. "Do I have your attention?"

"Eyes on the road!" Neal insisted as he sat up and clutched the arm rest. "God! Do you have a death wish?"

"Tell me where we're going," Peter said as he took the exit.

"I told you, take a left. It'll be about two miles."

"Two miles to what? C'mon, Neal. In a few minutes we'll be there and I'll know what our destination is."

"It's not the what I'm worried about, it's the why. We're going to the U.S. Marshals' office."

"Why?"

Neal sighed. "I don't know if I can tell you. Keeping it secret is part of the deal. I think."

"You realize that kind of non-answer just annoys me, don't you?"

"Here! End of this block on the right-hand side."

Peter gave up and parked. In the office building they were greeted by tall, Nordic blond U.S. Marshal Simon Preston who said, "Agent Burke. I didn't realize you would be joining us."

"Me neither," said Peter and Neal simultaneously.

Looking at Neal, the Marshal asked, "Have you told the FBI about your situation?"

"I haven't told anyone. Ever." Neal ran his hands through his hair in what Peter was learning to recognize as a sign of stress.

"All right," the Marshal said soothingly. "Let's take your fingerprints first. Then we'll talk."

A few minutes later in a conference room, Neal wiped the ink from his fingers and the Marshal asked, "What name do you go by now? Danny? Henry?"

"Neal."

"Is that wise?"

"It's who I am. Neal Caffrey."

"All right. Neal it is. As a soon-to-be employee of the FBI, it's reasonable to have someone in a supervisory capacity aware of your situation. Do you trust Agent Burke to be the person holding this information?"

"Yeah, but if it goes in my file –"

"Understood," the Marshal interrupted. "Agent Burke, will you sign a statement of confidentiality, and swear under oath that you will not share any information you learn here about Neal Caffrey and his family?"