Five TImes Neal was Sick (and slept on the Burkes' couch), Part 3
Part three: In which Neal learns that all salt waters are not created equal
*****
He leaned against her more than he meant to, but when he tried to stand up straighter and under his own power he got woozy again.
“It’s okay, Neal, we’re almost there,” Elizabeth said, gripping his arm that was draped over her shoulder.
“Feel so useless,” he said, his voice rough.
She slowly steered him to the couch, leaving him on his own long enough to push the coffee table aside before gently nudging him so the backs of his knees were touching the cushion. He bent awkwardly to touch the couch before he sat down. It hurt her to watch the man who had spent so much time over the years in their home, in their living room, on their couch, struggle to make certain he was in the right place. The bandages over his eyes meant he couldn’t see (it was a temporary condition, they had been assured). The meds he’d been given at the hospital meant he was somewhat uncoordinated (also only temporary).
After he was finally sitting she stood in front of him, put her hands on his shoulders and asked if he needed anything.
“A do-over on today, if you could manage it,” he sighed.
“Aww, sweetie.” He heard the sympathy in her voice. “If I could, I would. It’s almost time for your treatment, do you think you might want something for pain first?”
“Elizabeth, you really don’t have to do this. Mozzie would probably make some noise, but I’m sure he can handle things until I can manage it myself.”
“I actually don’t mind. We had to put cream on one of Satchmo’s eyes when he was a pup and got into a skirmish with some raspberry bushes. I’m going to assume you won’t try to bite or scratch me.”
He smiled crookedly. “Maybe try to run away, though.”
She sat down next to him.
“So, what happened? Peter didn’t get into specifics and he had to leave before I got to the hospital.”
“We were interviewing a witness who knew a little more about the extortion procedures than a witness should know. When he realized he’d said too much he took off into one of the city’s maintenance garages. Peter and I split up to find him, next thing I knew I was getting sprayed in the face with salt water.”
She made a sympathetic sound. “That sounds painful. What’d they say at the hospital?”
“Honestly, Elizabeth, I’m not even sure, it hurt so much. Peter was there with me, they talked to him. I just know it should get better in a few days.”
“Oh, I have your discharge instructions in my purse. I can read them to you, if you like.”
“Maybe later, just - does it say anything about tearing? I feel like they’re watering like mad.”
She glanced through several pages of notes. “Here it is,” she said, “yes, that’s normal and apparently a good sign that there’s no damage to your tear ducts.” She paused. “You look tired. How about we do this and then you can get some rest.”
He nodded. While she organized the supplies she needed and washed her hands he peeled the tape and gauze from his eyes.
She sucked in a breath when she saw them for the first time, and she almost regretted her offer to bring him here instead of to his home to deal with Mozzie’s tender ministrations. Or June’s, more likely.
“W - wow, that looks - wow.” All of the skin around his eyes, but especially his eyelids, was bright red and terribly swollen, and his eyelashes looked as if they were glued together with a heavy gummy discharge. She helped him to lay down on the couch, his head on a large, thick towel.
“You don’t have to do this, really. Call Moz for me, please?” he pleaded.
“I have this, Neal, I just wasn’t expecting - I don’t know what I was expecting. I’m going to clean the outside first,” she said, putting a wet washcloth over his eyes. “Let me know if the water’s too hot.” Following the hospital’s instructions took her about five minutes to gently clean the outside of his eyes. It took considerably longer to apply the drops and cream and to re-bandage Neal’s eyes, although a lot of the time was spent in just trying to keep his eyes open long enough for Elizabeth to put apply the prescriptions. Even the dim light she needed caused shooting pains in his eyes.
Peter arrived home just as Neal swallowed a pain pill.
“Hey, Neal, how are you feeling?” Peter asked.
“Pretty awful,” he murmured.
“Did you eat something? You shouldn’t take those on an empty stomach.”
“Elizabeth took very good care of me,” Neal replied. His whole posture screamed “misery” to anyone who saw him - shoulders hunched, head down, arms crossed on his knees. He was still wearing his suit pants but his shirt and jacket were replaced by surgical scrubs at the ER, and Elizabeth had given him one of Peter’s flannel shirts to wear over it. The incongruity of Neal’s attire would have made Peter smile if it wasn't for the reason behind it.
“I’m gonna sit next to you,” he said. Neal nodded.
“Elizabeth told me how painful your treatment was. I stopped by the hospital, they gave me something that should help with the light sensitivity.”
“Thanks,” Neal said so softly Peter would have missed it if he was any further away.
They sat like that for a few minutes until Peter realized Neal’s hitched breathing might be from crying.
“Neal, are you in a lot of pain?” Peter asked as he put his arm around his partner’s shoulders.
Neal shook his head with small movements.
“What if - ”
He couldn’t finish that thought out loud.
“You’ll be fine, Neal, it’ll just take a while. Your corneas got pretty badly scratched but they’ll heal. The docs said the swelling and the irritation should diminish enough in a few days, a week at most, so that you can switch over to sunglasses, and once the scratches heal your vision will be as good as it was yesterday. Right now they’re more worried about infection.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, it should all be in your paperwork. Look, you must be exhausted, do you want to crash upstairs until your next treatment, or dinner? I’m not sure what El’s got on the schedule.”
“It’s too quiet upstairs, Peter. I’d rather stay here, if I won’t be in the way.”
Elizabeth brought in a blanket and some pillows while Peter helped Neal get oriented on the couch.
“I’m going to let Satchmo in, are you okay with that?”
"That'd be fine, Peter."
Once Satchmo checked out the displacement of the coffee table and found Neal's dangling hand for some behind-the-ears-rubs, both Satch and Neal dozed while El and Peter talked quietly in the kitchen.
"How you holding up, El?" Peter asked her with his arms around her waist.
"Did you see him? Of course you did. All that from salt water?"
Peter frowned. "Is that what he told you?" She nodded. "I guess 'salt water' is one way to describe it. It was the brine solution the city uses to spray on the streets before it snows. The guy we were after used the hose on the truck, hit him with it right in the face. They were still mixing it and there were a lot of crystals that hadn't dissolved yet. He's actually pretty lucky it wasn't worse than it is."
"Did he know that's what it was?"
Peter nodded. "Oh, yeah, he knew. A couple of the city workers got him to an eye wash right away, they had it going and were talking to him the whole time while we waited for the EMTs." He paused. "He was afraid, El. He didn't say anything, but I'm pretty sure - ." He left off, remembering how Neal clung to him even with Peter holding him to guide him to the waiting ambulance, whispering please please please over and over.
“He’s an artist, honey, loss of vision would be devastating. Not to mention the isolation he’d feel.”
"I wonder if he was afraid that he'd get sent back to prison. A year and a half in prison again after working with us for all this time, and being - " he could barely get the word out himself, "blind - that would be terrifying."
"That couldn't happen, could it?"
"I'd take him to Cape Verde myself."
***
Peter hated to wake Neal up, but he needed another treatment before Peter went to bed shortly before midnight. Maybe because it was just generally darker, maybe it was the new pain relief, or maybe Neal just hurt less overall, but this time was a lot easier. With Peter's help locating everything, he was able to clean up the gunk and put in the drops himself. He didn't want to admit his squeamishness, but he even managed to apply the cream in his left eye, after Peter did the right.
"What do you say, ready to head upstairs?"
"I'd like to use the bathroom, but I'd rather sleep down here. My luck I'd probably fall down the steps."
Downstairs again, with Neal back on the couch, Peter slid Neal's cell phone under the cushion where it was least likely to get stepped on or accidentally moved. "Call me if you need anything," he said.
"Peter, do you think you can drop me off at June's tomorrow before work?"
Peter tipped his head.
"You're not a problem, Neal. I already talked to Hughes, I can work from home the next couple of days."
"I appreciate that, Peter, and I am grateful, to you and Elizabeth. It would be easier, for me, where I know where everything is."
"You know this is only temporary, right? It's just the infection concern - "
"I know it is, Peter, and believe me I'm in a far better place now than I was earlier. I talked to Moz, he's gonna come by, oversee things and all."
"Mozzie?"
"Who's a bigger germaphobe? He'll be fine. I'll be fine." For the first time since that morning Peter saw a genuine smile on his friend's face.
"Yeah, I'm sure you will be," he said, actually agreeing with Neal's assessment. "How about after breakfast I'll bring you to June's, we'll get everything lined up for you, and I'll just stay until Mozzie gets there?"
As much as Neal wanted time for private reflection at June's, the chance to work through his own anxieties in his own home, he appreciated Peter's need to watch out for him. It was comforting in a way he hadn't expected. And since he was pretty sure that after a couple of days of being alone and in the dark he'd be pleading for someone to read him mortgage fraud files, the last thing he wanted to do was push Peter away. He nodded.
"That'd be perfect. Good night, Peter."
"Good night, Neal."
and off to part 4
or back to part 2