Chapter Text
Neal had come to accept that memories before he was around 14 were gone, just a void that he knew he wouldn’t ever fill. He had accepted that Neal wasn’t his name, that he wasn’t the name he signed on documents, hid in his forgeries, or called himself everyday. He had accepted that with an air of mystery when he was asked by Peter or the other agents. He had also accepted that after being sent to jail and booked, that it was unlikely he was missed. His information didn’t ping any missing person information, didn’t come up in Wit-Sec, and no one recognized him in the papers.
Logically he knew that entering his falsified information probably wouldn’t match anything, but he had hoped. Hope that someone was missing him. He didn’t know anything. Didn’t know how old he was, this birthday, his mother or father, if he had siblings, was he good in school?
Ever since waking up in that old storage building covered in blood with only a sense of urgency to run and to run far, he couldn’t, and back then didn’t want to place anything together. Now, ten years later, he finds himself wandering more than ever. Selfishly, he had hoped being a CI for Peter with FBI that he would come across something in the files. He didn’t though, and not because he didn’t look. He searched every file he had access to, which admittedly wasn’t too much.
Mozzie had been a life saver back then, literally. He taught him everything that he needed to know while on the streets of New York. Helped him through tough times he would rather not speak about, both in the aftermath of leaving that storage facility and run of the mill problems living on the street.
He spent years honing his painting skills and being Neal Caffrey was a good distraction, even if the years spent in jail were long and mentally taxing, even with the few visits from Kate and his ‘Lawyer’.
Finding that precedence in the law book had been a lucky chance after spending hours and hours flipping through the law books in the jail library out of pure boredom. Who knew when a random law fact could get you out of a sticky situation?
The knock on his door broke him from his thoughts. He opened and closed his shaking hands a few times. He hadn’t fallen that deep in ‘what ifs’ in a long time.
“Neal! Hurry or we are going to be late!” Peter said, opening up the door with his key. “Why aren’t you ready?” He looked around suspiciously.
“Sorry Peter, I had a long night.”
“And just what are you planning Neal?”
“Nothing Peter, you know that.”
“Do I?” Peters face scrunched, but his eyes still roamed the apartment landing on anything he thought could be out of place or a clue.
“Yes, Peter. I wouldn’t.” Neal sighed heavily, and slid is coat on, straightened his tie, and turned to face Peter with the best smile he could. Flipping his hat, he said, “Let’s go, we are going to be late, Peter.”
Peter rolled his eyes and flung his arms in the air but followed him out the door.
“Anything you need to tell me?”
“No, Peter.” Neal looked straight ahead in the car. “What is the case about?”
“Information has come to light about a Drug ring, with a side of forging documents of all sorts. Unfortunately, we are just now hearing and getting information about this. Apparently, it has gone on for at least two decades. They are very slippery, moving around, coving their tracks, and all of their documents are very well done. I would say better than yours Neal.” Peter explained. “It has the whole of the FBI coming together. Intel states they kidnap children and make them run the drugs. We have managed to pull one of the children, and the blood work always comes back positive for multiple drugs and scared out of their minds. It’s a wonder they are able to function as they have. There haven’t been many survivors. That’s what tipped this whole thing off. A security officer walked by and found bodies. ”
Neal looked over to Peter, “Why are we being called in? Doesn’t sound like White Collar crime.”
“They have found hundreds of boxes of money that they suspect his fake. There are also State and Federal forms, stamps, and seals that are in one of the warehouses they also think have been forged. Looks like a full-scale operation, reaching far and deep. We are just now picking at the top of the iceberg. It’s an all-hands-on deck type of case. We are going down to take a look at all of that, to confirm fakes, and gather information to prosecute our side.” Peter’s face had a deep frown. “It’s a terrible case.”
Neal nodded, feeling a phantom trace of fear and unease. He pushed it away though, trying to get in the mind set, but that uneasy feeling still lingered. Maybe he should have told Peter he was sick. Cases involving children, even if he didn’t have to interact with them, were always hard.
Pulling up to the warehouse, both got out of the car and met with the agent in charge. He explained some of the numerous documents, and boxes of money they came across while he took them to a smaller room off the side of the warehouse.
There was an overwhelming amount of paper in the room. It almost looked like someone at the last minute tried to hide or destroy the documents, making it a total mess.
Neal scanned the room.
“For as traumatic as a scene this is, the perpetrators sure knew how to document everything. There are files they kept going back almost two decades. Drug sales and exchanges, files on the children and young adults they had running for them, down to who was in charge, where they kept them, and all sorts of nasty things. Can you believe they drugged them, kept them wanting more and more of the drugs, so keep them under their thumb? We found a storage room of drug paraphernalia being used. This isn’t even counting the stuff they were running. Real pieces of work they are. Most of the children they used weren’t lucky and never made it out. There’s a building a bit down from here that shows evidence of where they kept them. And we have found multiple skeletons some as old as twenty years. We need to nail these guys.” The Agent and charge nodded his head goodbye. “ I will check on you guys later. I will be up front coordinating.”
Peter ran his fingers through his hair and sighed and Neal started opening boxes to see what was inside. Both sorted through the boxes, most of it counterfeit bills.
“These are definitely fake, Peter.” Neal said holding up a few five dollar bills. “I don’t see how these would have passed any kind of inspection. They are good, but not perfect.” He said, rubbing his finger on part of the printed bill. “See here, these lines are not spaced as they should be, and the color is a shade off.”
He put them back down, wrote on a sheet of paper of the boxes contents, and taped it shut. Peter came over and added his signature.
Hours seemed to pass quickly, yet the sluggish feel of dread kept Neal feeling like he had spent years going over documents, marking where the forgeries were notable.
His next box he opened seemed to be file folders with papers clipped to the outsides, but covered in dust and who knows what from the warehouse.
He sneezed a few times, his eyes watering.
"You OK, Neal?" Asked Peter.
" Yea just the dust. I am going to have to get this suit cleaned. Who knows what is on it." Neal quipped. He turned to face Peter, but sneezed at the same time, the box of folders scattering on the floor.
"Neal! Be careful" Peter snarked, "PIck them up and go out to the car. Get some fresh air and some water."
Neal nodded, and started putting the files back in the box. He went to pick up the next file and froze. Looking up at him was a picture of him with a large red 'x' through it.