White Collar Fic: O Come All Ye Faithful
Rating: PG
Summary: It's Christmas time! Nobody is supposed to be alone at that special time of year.
Pairing: Peter/El, Neal (gen)
Spoilers: Not really
Word count: ~ 4,000
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, it's sad but true.
Many many thanks to theatregirl7299 for beta-reading! You just gave me my Christmas gift!
Friday Afternoon
December, 21st
Neal was in a bad mood.
Looking outside the window he could see the snowflakes falling down and it reminded him once more that Christmas Eve wasn't far away. But still he felt depressed despite the fact that he loved winter and had really longed for the Holidays. He shifted on the bed, wincing as pain shot through his right leg. Sighing he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His patience was strained and he wasn't sure if he could hold on any longer. He was sore, bored and extremely grumpy. So grumpy that he even wasn't in the mood to flirt. And he surely has had several occasions in the last three weeks. Above all his hair was messy and he hadn't shaved for several days.
There was a knock on the door.
With his eyes still closed he debated with himself if he should allow the guest to enter. But before he could come to a decision, the visitor (or should he say intruder?) opened the door and stepped in.
"Oh, you're awake," Peter greeted him. "You didn't answer so I thought you may be asleep." Without hesitation he went to Neal's bed and looked at him closely. He held a cup of coffee in his left hand, and another cup in his right hand. "You seem unhappy."
Neal frowned. "Really? I'm fine. You surely must misjudge something," he replied, his voice thick with sarcasm. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he breathed in and out clearly audible.
Peter wasn't confused by his demeanor and grinned slightly. "Yeah, right."
Since he had no chance to escape, Neal sighed again and looked at the alarm clock on his night stand. "Aren't you supposed to be at home?" he asked but otherwise wasn't up for a conversation at all.
"I won't stay long. Just making sure the surgery went well and you're alright," Peter said and put both paper cups down at the nightstand. "I brought you some tea."
Taking a deep breath, Neal nodded. "Thanks."
"El told me to say hi."
A smile appeared on Neal's face. "Say hello to her, too."
"I just met with Dr. Williams and he's optimistic that your condition will be better soon."
The smile vanished. "Yeah well, he already told you this the last time," Neal interrupted him and was annoyed. "Tell me something I don't know."
"Point taken. But this time he really sounded confident. And he said that I should try to distract you since you were a bit bitchy these days," Peter finished his sentence, unimpressed by Neal's sudden animosity.
"Distract me? How?"
"You tell me. What do want to do?"
"What I want to do?" Neal asked. "I want to go home."
"Sorry, that's not gonna happen. You're still a bit feverish."
Neal snorted and looked outside the window. "Mission failed. Try something else."
"Well, you can't go home, but you could get out. How about a walk? A little change of scenery."
"Seriously? Peter, I've just had surgery to fix my broken ankle. Again." He shook his head in disbelieve. "I CAN'T take a walk, in case you haven't noticed." Pointing to his elevated leg which was hidden under the blanket, his frustration grew stronger with every word.
"Boy, are we grumpy," Peter said, but his voice held no accusation. "What I meant was to put you in the wheelchair and get you down to the cafeteria. And to assure you, I know that your ankle is broken. For three weeks I've been well aware of that fact and I'm aware that your mood has dropped within the last week. The nurses have started to complain about you. And THAT scares me. A lot. This isn't you."
Neal didn't answer and continued to watch the snowflakes. Deep inside he knew that Peter wasn't responsible for his own misery and that he shouldn't react so badly against his friend. But his frustration had needed a way out of his mind. "Just leave me alone," he mumbled.
Maybe Peter would take the hint and would go home. At least Peter was able to walk around while Neal was forced to stay in the bed due to complications of his fractured ankle. To top his dilemma next week would be the last possible date for the Kandinsky exhibition he had longed to see for months. Sure, the museum was outside his radius but he would have found a way to convince one of his colleagues to come with him. But he wouldn't get anywhere anytime soon. Obviously he had strained his luck too much.
What bothered him more was that he hadn't been injured during an investigation. No, all he had done was to help one of June's neighbors who had asked him to give him a hand while setting up the Christmas light sets around the house. Unfortunately one of the steps from the ladder broke and Neal had fallen down, fracturing his right ankle badly. That had been three weeks ago and with each day passing Neal doubted that he could leave the hospital next week, since the healing process didn't go as the doctors wished for and were worried about the infection. While the rest of the New Yorkers would celebrate Christmas Eve with their families, Neal would feel sorry for himself and lick his wounds. Figuratively.
"Nope. Not a chance, buddy. Come on, think. What do you want to do? Watch a movie? Do you want to read a book? Play cards? Talk about sports?"
"Sports? Are you kidding?" Neal looked at him like Peter was some kind of crazy.
"What's wrong about sports?"
Again, Neal chose to stay silent.
But Peter was persistent and wouldn't let go. "Talk to me, Neal. Please."
He should have known that Peter was determined to find a solution. "There's nothing you can do unless you're able to get me to the Kandinsky exhibition," he finally admitted.
Peter nodded. "Where is it?"
"At the Guggenheim. And this weekend is the last chance to go see it. But I don't think that…," he didn't finish his sentence because he realized how depressing his situation was. He waved his hand. "Never mind. Forget it."
Peter's eyebrows went up. "This weekend? I'm sorry," Peter shook his head. His face showed real disappointment. "I told you that I wanted to help you, but I guess I can't manage this."
"Told you," Neal mumbled.
Sitting down on the chair next to Neal's bed, Peter stretched his long legs and rubbed his face.
"Long week?"
Sighing, Peter looked at his partner and took a sip of the coffee. The taste wasn't great. In fact it tasted awful and he made a wry face. "Yeah. The caseload is…huge. And even though I hate to admit it, but the bureau isn't the same without you," he said, putting the cup back on the nightstand.
"Aww, I'm flattered," Neal answered and held his heart in a mock gesture. "I take that as a compliment. Okay, I feel better now. A little bit." He played with the blanket, but was careful with the IV-line he was hooked up to which provided him with antibiotics in order to fight the inflammation at his ankle.
Peter grinned. That sounded more like Neal. He looked around the room and recognized a bunch of flowers as well as some balloons with "Get well soon" sayings on it. And a stack of DVD's, with odd titles like 'Secrets of modern government' or 'The truth about Area 51' or 'Conspiracies of the 21st Century'. "I see that Mozzie had stopped by?"
"Yeah, he's taking advantage that I can't run away and that I have to listen to his newest theories."
"That's cruel."
"See? I need to get out of here."
"But even if you're at home, that wouldn't stop Mozzie."
"At least I would be home for the Holidays," Neal said quietly.
That comment let Peter frown. He wasn't aware that Neal was looking forward to celebrate Christmas. But if he really did, Peter could understand his frustration. Nobody was supposed to be alone at that special time of year.
~*~*~
Coming home that evening, Peter hung his coat at the clothes stand and entered the kitchen, where El was preparing their dinner. "Hi hon," he greeted her and stepped behind his wife, hugging her from behind. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her temple.
"Hi hon," El greeted him back and enjoyed the embrace. "How's Neal doing?"
Still holding her, Peter sighed. "His mood hasn't changed much, which is understandable considering the fact that he’s had three surgeries in three weeks."
"Yeah," she nodded. "Who wouldn't be peevish?" She turned in his arms. "Did you talk with Dr. Williams?"
"Yes, and he sounded confident this time. He was able to repair the nerve damage and he's convinced that the infection will vanish within the next few days."
"That's good to hear. I'm sure Neal will be happy about this."
"Not as happy as he would be if he was able to go home. He's really desperate and what bothers me the most, there's nothing I can do to light up his mood."
"There must be something, though."
"I'm afraid there's nothing. Unless he can leave the hospital or visit a Kandinsky exhibition, which will end this weekend. But according to Dr. Williams he isn't ready yet to leave the hospital." He could feel El's shoulders slumping.
"Oh no," El sighed. "Now I understand why he's in a foul mood after hearing this."
Shaking his head, Peter replied, "I haven't told him yet. After I talked with Dr. Williams, I couldn't handle being the bearer of bad news. I don't know what to tell him. But Neal isn't stupid. He knows that he can't go to the museum."
"Let's eat first and then we'll try to figure something out, okay? June told me that she will assist us, no matter what. She still feels bad because she had asked Neal to help Mr. Walker with the Christmas decorations."
"There's nothing she could have done to prevent Neal's accident. He missed a step and then lost his balance." Peter let her go and went to the refrigerator to get a beer. He shook his head when he thought of that day. When he had arrived at June's Neal was even walking but nevertheless he had refused to go to the hospital. That had been the shock and adrenalin rushing through his system. Only when he had threatened Neal to bring him to a prison infirmary instead a real hospital with real nurses, Neal had obeyed.
"Hon? Would you please set the table? Dinner's ready."
Startled by El's voice, Peter blinked a few times and then started to prepare the table. El would come up with a plan, he was sure about that. Shrugging out of his jacket and loosening his tie he looked forward for the dinner, since the last days have been very hectic at the bureau and he had stayed late most of the evenings.
________________________________________
Monday Evening
December 25th
Sipping at the stale tea and looking outside, Neal felt lonely. The streets and trees were covered with snow and only a few people were walking out there on the sidewalks. Life outside seemed to have slowed down a bit and the city's trees had been decorated with sparkling lights. Most people loved the beautiful sight. And in fact, it WAS a beautiful sight. After all it was Christmas Eve. So 99% of the people were at home celebrating with their families and loved ones. Peter and El’s visit was short, due to the oncoming holidays. Mozzie had stopped by several times, as well as June who still felt sorry about the accident. Although Neal had tried to convince her that none of what had happened had been her fault, her face still showed her guilty conscience whenever she came to visit him. Each time she had brought little gifts, including silk pajamas and robes and fluffy pillows. While he had been pleased about it (who wouldn't given up the scratchy sheets they provided at hospitals?), he didn't want her to feel bad at all. But so far he hadn't been successful convincing her otherwise.
Neal couldn't tell why he was so depressed. Maybe because he had missed the exhibition. He tried to persuade himself that there would be another opportunity sometime in the future. But still it made him sad thinking about it. Maybe it was the thought of Christmas in general. Although he hadn't planned anything special at all tonight. He probably would have cooked something and later read a book, savoring a good wine. Mozzie probably would have stopped by - not because of the Christmas spirit thing but because of the wine - and would have told him the "real" Christmas Story. Not that Neal was very religious, but he had always liked the holidays and playing in the snow, building snowmen and creating snow angels with Ellen. While his mother hadn't paid much attention to his actions, Ellen always was pleased to see him happy during their snow ball fights in the backyard. Suddenly he remembered the scent of the cookies Ellen had baked for him, remembered how they had roasted marshmallows at that tiny campfire Ellen had made at their backyard one year. Officially it hadn't been allowed, but that had made it exciting all the more. Thinking of Ellen made him realize how much he still missed his surrogate mother and he a heavy sigh escaped his lips. It had only been a few months since she had passed away. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes for a moment while he mourned the death of her.
Half an hour later he was startled by a knock at the door and set the sketch book away on the small table. Grabbing the wheels of the wheelchair he turned around a bit so that he could see the door when he answered, "Yes, come in please."
"Hello, my dear," June greeted him warmly and stepped into the room.
"June!" He was clearly surprised by her visit.
With a few steps she had covered the distance between them and lowered down bit to kiss him on the stubbly beard he was sporting these days. "Neal, my dear. How are you doing?" She sat down next to him, but didn't let go of his hand and watched him closely. "You're so thin! Are you getting enough to eat?"
Neal couldn't hide a grin. June was always concerned about his well being. "Don't worry. I'm fine. Counting the days until I can finally get out of here." The swelling on his ankle was gone and the doctors had put on a non-weight-bearing cast which required the use crutches or the wheelchair to assist his mobility. Dr. Williams had been cautiously positive that he could leave within next week. Of course, the recovery would take 4-8 weeks for the bones to heal completely and up to several months to regain full use and range of motion of the joint. The more severe fractures, like his one which required surgical repair, would take longer to heal. Because he had needed implanted supports, Dr. Williams explained to him, that the metal plates and screws may be removed later which meant another surgery. Boy, he really hated hospitals! "I'm surprised, though. I didn't expect you. Aren't you supposed to be home, celebrating with your family?"
She waved her hand. "I will visit them tomorrow. Tonight I wanted to be with you, if you don't mind?"
"Oh, not at all. It's just…," he shrugged with his shoulders, "…well, yeah, there's not much I can offer you, you know?"
"I don't mind at all, my dear." She looked outside. "Isn't it beautiful? I like this time of year. Everything is quiet and peaceful." Then she discovered the painting and studied it. "May I?"
Neal hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded and watched her as she looked at it.
"That is wonderful. She was a very special woman."
Hearing those words, it was hard for Neal to control his feelings and he had to swallow. "Yeah," he simply said; his voice thick with emotions as he looked at his drawing of Ellen.
"I wished I had known her better," June said and sounded mournfully, too.
"You would have liked her a lot," Neal smiled sadly. "She…was…one of a kind. Just like you."
The whole time she had held his hand and now she let go in order to wipe a tear from his cheek. "I'm sure she was."
"I'm sorry," Neal said and turned away, because he didn't want her to see him like this.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Neal," she shook her head. "You loved her. You still do. And always will. That's all that matters. And deep inside you know that she knows how you feel about her."
"It's just…I've never got the chance to thank her properly. For all that she had done for me. And I…," he sighed, "…it's my fault she died. I shouldn't have contacted her." With that, he dropped his head.
June wasn't surprised by his behavior. At least she didn't show. "Don't say something like that," she said softly. "As far as I'm concerned, she knew of the risks. But she decided it worth it. At least the two of you had some time together after all those years of being apart." She stayed silent for a moment before she asked, "Would you light a candle for her? We could go to the chapel downstairs. Sit there for a while."
Blinking in surprise by her suggestion, he needed some time to think about it. "I…think I would like that. But-"
"No buts. Let's go." With that she stood and grabbed the push bars of the wheelchair and guided him towards the door.
~*~*~
At first, it felt awkwardly to be at the chapel. Neal looked around and recognized a handful of people sitting in the pews. A Christmas tree was standing in one of the corner. And in the other corner was a little altar with several burning candles. The silence was irritating him for a moment, despite the fact that it was supposed to be silent here. Being in a church wasn't a problem for him; he just didn't like the religious concept of it. The art was far more interesting for him and he smiled briefly when he thought of the breathtaking and astonishing paintings from the Sistine Chapel he had visited in Rome some years ago. This chapel though wasn't ornamented with precious paintings but with paintings from children. Presumably from the little patients who were treated at the pediatric station. Grabbing the crutches he gestured June that he wanted to stand up. She nodded and lowered the footrest which elevated his cast. It took three attempts until he finally was standing on his left foot and leaning on the crutches. Slowly he hobbled towards the altar, cautiously watched by June who never left his side. Together they lit two candles - one for Byron and one for Ellen. June remained silent for a minute; apparently she was praying so Neal just stood there and looked at the lovingly decorated Christmas tree and the drawings. Some of them were plain and simple, some clumsily painted. Some contained only impressions of colored handprints. And some of them were really carefully illustrated by older children. But they all had one thing in common - they dealt with all sorts of Christmas motifs and showed the great affection the children had with this time of season. And he noticed something else, too. Almost every picture had the words "Mom" and "Dad" written on it.
They stayed for a little while. Then June whispered to him, "We should go back."
"We could go to the cafeteria and have some coffee. I'm afraid they don't serve a five course menu, though," Neal suggested.
~*~*~
June was a very adamant person. Neal had tried to convince her to go to the cafeteria, but she insisted that they would go back to Neal's room. He had used every bit of his Caffrey charm, even his patented 100 megawatt Caffrey smile. But to no avail. "Really, we can even-" he stopped abruptly when she pushed him into his room. His room - which was now occupied by Elizabeth and Peter…and Mozzie.
"W-what are you doing here?" he stammered and blinked.
"We wanted to surprise you," Elizabeth said and smiled happily.
"Well…I'm…surprised," Neal said, still a bit stunned.
"It was her idea," Peter stepped in and grinned as he looked at June. Then he grabbed his cell phone and took a picture. "A speechless Caffrey. Priceless."
"Y-your idea?" It was then when he realized that he smelled food and saw the dishes waiting on the table. They even had bought an artificial Christmas tree with little flashing lights. Someone had managed to get a bigger table and more chairs into the room so that all of them could take a seat. That surely was Elizabeth's doing as well as the decoration of the table. Presumably Mozzie had been responsible for the wine. Neal swallowed as he saw his drawing of Ellen sitting on one of the chairs as well. Like she was there for real. "What is this all about?"
"I will give you some hints, mon frere…," Mozzie said. "Today is an annual commemoration of the birth of some guy named Jesus Christ and a widely observed holiday celebrated by billions of people all around the world…do I need to say more?"
"It's Christmas Eve, my dear and we wanted to celebrate with you," June answered and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly.
Peter approached him, holding a wrapped gift in his hands and offered it to him. "This is for you."
Not sure how to react, Neal shook his head. First he was reluctant to accept the gift. "But…I have nothing for you."
"That's okay. We just wanted to give you this."
Neal knew that Peter wouldn't accept "No" for an answer, so he obeyed and took the gift. Judging from its shape, he was sure it contained some sort of book. Within seconds, the wrapping paper was gone and he looked at the picture book. It was from the Guggenheim Museum. More precisely, it was the exhibition catalog for the Kandinsky show. "Oh wow, thanks," he said and let his fingers wander over the cover. "At least I got the catalog."
"Take a closer look," El encouraged him. "Open it."
Raising his brow, Neal looked at her before he did what he had been told. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"I'm still so sorry about what happened to you. Peter and El came to me and Peter told me about your wish to see the exhibition. So I talked to the curator and we came to an agreement," June explained and looked at Peter. "And Peter will accompany you."
"As soon as Dr. Williams gives his okay," Peter quickly added. "And only if you stop scaring off the nurses." Peter frowned. "Did I just say that?"
El slapped him on the arm, but didn't stop grinning.
Neal still couldn't believe what he was seeing. Inside the book was a ticket for the Kandinsky exhibition. But more important - there was a note on it. 'Extended until December 31st , 2012.'
Looking up, he saw the expectant faces of his friends and was - again - lost for words. "I-I don't know what to say," he finally managed to reply. Shaking his head in disbelief, he held the ticket with both hands like it was a very precious painting.
And suddenly he realized - he had a family as well. Not by blood. No. But June, El and Peter, even Mozzie and especially Ellen, they all belonged to his very own family. Odd sometimes, but nevertheless loyal and unique. A smile appeared on his face. He wasn't lonely.
"Thank you very much. To all of you," he genuinely smiled.
"Merry Christmas, Neal," June, El, Peter and Mozzie said at the same time.
Neal felt incredibly proud to have such a family. "I guess this is the best Christmas ever."
THE END
Summary: It's Christmas time! Nobody is supposed to be alone at that special time of year.
Pairing: Peter/El, Neal (gen)
Spoilers: Not really
Word count: ~ 4,000
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, it's sad but true.
Many many thanks to theatregirl7299 for beta-reading! You just gave me my Christmas gift!
Friday Afternoon
December, 21st
Neal was in a bad mood.
Looking outside the window he could see the snowflakes falling down and it reminded him once more that Christmas Eve wasn't far away. But still he felt depressed despite the fact that he loved winter and had really longed for the Holidays. He shifted on the bed, wincing as pain shot through his right leg. Sighing he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His patience was strained and he wasn't sure if he could hold on any longer. He was sore, bored and extremely grumpy. So grumpy that he even wasn't in the mood to flirt. And he surely has had several occasions in the last three weeks. Above all his hair was messy and he hadn't shaved for several days.
There was a knock on the door.
With his eyes still closed he debated with himself if he should allow the guest to enter. But before he could come to a decision, the visitor (or should he say intruder?) opened the door and stepped in.
"Oh, you're awake," Peter greeted him. "You didn't answer so I thought you may be asleep." Without hesitation he went to Neal's bed and looked at him closely. He held a cup of coffee in his left hand, and another cup in his right hand. "You seem unhappy."
Neal frowned. "Really? I'm fine. You surely must misjudge something," he replied, his voice thick with sarcasm. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he breathed in and out clearly audible.
Peter wasn't confused by his demeanor and grinned slightly. "Yeah, right."
Since he had no chance to escape, Neal sighed again and looked at the alarm clock on his night stand. "Aren't you supposed to be at home?" he asked but otherwise wasn't up for a conversation at all.
"I won't stay long. Just making sure the surgery went well and you're alright," Peter said and put both paper cups down at the nightstand. "I brought you some tea."
Taking a deep breath, Neal nodded. "Thanks."
"El told me to say hi."
A smile appeared on Neal's face. "Say hello to her, too."
"I just met with Dr. Williams and he's optimistic that your condition will be better soon."
The smile vanished. "Yeah well, he already told you this the last time," Neal interrupted him and was annoyed. "Tell me something I don't know."
"Point taken. But this time he really sounded confident. And he said that I should try to distract you since you were a bit bitchy these days," Peter finished his sentence, unimpressed by Neal's sudden animosity.
"Distract me? How?"
"You tell me. What do want to do?"
"What I want to do?" Neal asked. "I want to go home."
"Sorry, that's not gonna happen. You're still a bit feverish."
Neal snorted and looked outside the window. "Mission failed. Try something else."
"Well, you can't go home, but you could get out. How about a walk? A little change of scenery."
"Seriously? Peter, I've just had surgery to fix my broken ankle. Again." He shook his head in disbelieve. "I CAN'T take a walk, in case you haven't noticed." Pointing to his elevated leg which was hidden under the blanket, his frustration grew stronger with every word.
"Boy, are we grumpy," Peter said, but his voice held no accusation. "What I meant was to put you in the wheelchair and get you down to the cafeteria. And to assure you, I know that your ankle is broken. For three weeks I've been well aware of that fact and I'm aware that your mood has dropped within the last week. The nurses have started to complain about you. And THAT scares me. A lot. This isn't you."
Neal didn't answer and continued to watch the snowflakes. Deep inside he knew that Peter wasn't responsible for his own misery and that he shouldn't react so badly against his friend. But his frustration had needed a way out of his mind. "Just leave me alone," he mumbled.
Maybe Peter would take the hint and would go home. At least Peter was able to walk around while Neal was forced to stay in the bed due to complications of his fractured ankle. To top his dilemma next week would be the last possible date for the Kandinsky exhibition he had longed to see for months. Sure, the museum was outside his radius but he would have found a way to convince one of his colleagues to come with him. But he wouldn't get anywhere anytime soon. Obviously he had strained his luck too much.
What bothered him more was that he hadn't been injured during an investigation. No, all he had done was to help one of June's neighbors who had asked him to give him a hand while setting up the Christmas light sets around the house. Unfortunately one of the steps from the ladder broke and Neal had fallen down, fracturing his right ankle badly. That had been three weeks ago and with each day passing Neal doubted that he could leave the hospital next week, since the healing process didn't go as the doctors wished for and were worried about the infection. While the rest of the New Yorkers would celebrate Christmas Eve with their families, Neal would feel sorry for himself and lick his wounds. Figuratively.
"Nope. Not a chance, buddy. Come on, think. What do you want to do? Watch a movie? Do you want to read a book? Play cards? Talk about sports?"
"Sports? Are you kidding?" Neal looked at him like Peter was some kind of crazy.
"What's wrong about sports?"
Again, Neal chose to stay silent.
But Peter was persistent and wouldn't let go. "Talk to me, Neal. Please."
He should have known that Peter was determined to find a solution. "There's nothing you can do unless you're able to get me to the Kandinsky exhibition," he finally admitted.
Peter nodded. "Where is it?"
"At the Guggenheim. And this weekend is the last chance to go see it. But I don't think that…," he didn't finish his sentence because he realized how depressing his situation was. He waved his hand. "Never mind. Forget it."
Peter's eyebrows went up. "This weekend? I'm sorry," Peter shook his head. His face showed real disappointment. "I told you that I wanted to help you, but I guess I can't manage this."
"Told you," Neal mumbled.
Sitting down on the chair next to Neal's bed, Peter stretched his long legs and rubbed his face.
"Long week?"
Sighing, Peter looked at his partner and took a sip of the coffee. The taste wasn't great. In fact it tasted awful and he made a wry face. "Yeah. The caseload is…huge. And even though I hate to admit it, but the bureau isn't the same without you," he said, putting the cup back on the nightstand.
"Aww, I'm flattered," Neal answered and held his heart in a mock gesture. "I take that as a compliment. Okay, I feel better now. A little bit." He played with the blanket, but was careful with the IV-line he was hooked up to which provided him with antibiotics in order to fight the inflammation at his ankle.
Peter grinned. That sounded more like Neal. He looked around the room and recognized a bunch of flowers as well as some balloons with "Get well soon" sayings on it. And a stack of DVD's, with odd titles like 'Secrets of modern government' or 'The truth about Area 51' or 'Conspiracies of the 21st Century'. "I see that Mozzie had stopped by?"
"Yeah, he's taking advantage that I can't run away and that I have to listen to his newest theories."
"That's cruel."
"See? I need to get out of here."
"But even if you're at home, that wouldn't stop Mozzie."
"At least I would be home for the Holidays," Neal said quietly.
That comment let Peter frown. He wasn't aware that Neal was looking forward to celebrate Christmas. But if he really did, Peter could understand his frustration. Nobody was supposed to be alone at that special time of year.
~*~*~
Coming home that evening, Peter hung his coat at the clothes stand and entered the kitchen, where El was preparing their dinner. "Hi hon," he greeted her and stepped behind his wife, hugging her from behind. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her temple.
"Hi hon," El greeted him back and enjoyed the embrace. "How's Neal doing?"
Still holding her, Peter sighed. "His mood hasn't changed much, which is understandable considering the fact that he’s had three surgeries in three weeks."
"Yeah," she nodded. "Who wouldn't be peevish?" She turned in his arms. "Did you talk with Dr. Williams?"
"Yes, and he sounded confident this time. He was able to repair the nerve damage and he's convinced that the infection will vanish within the next few days."
"That's good to hear. I'm sure Neal will be happy about this."
"Not as happy as he would be if he was able to go home. He's really desperate and what bothers me the most, there's nothing I can do to light up his mood."
"There must be something, though."
"I'm afraid there's nothing. Unless he can leave the hospital or visit a Kandinsky exhibition, which will end this weekend. But according to Dr. Williams he isn't ready yet to leave the hospital." He could feel El's shoulders slumping.
"Oh no," El sighed. "Now I understand why he's in a foul mood after hearing this."
Shaking his head, Peter replied, "I haven't told him yet. After I talked with Dr. Williams, I couldn't handle being the bearer of bad news. I don't know what to tell him. But Neal isn't stupid. He knows that he can't go to the museum."
"Let's eat first and then we'll try to figure something out, okay? June told me that she will assist us, no matter what. She still feels bad because she had asked Neal to help Mr. Walker with the Christmas decorations."
"There's nothing she could have done to prevent Neal's accident. He missed a step and then lost his balance." Peter let her go and went to the refrigerator to get a beer. He shook his head when he thought of that day. When he had arrived at June's Neal was even walking but nevertheless he had refused to go to the hospital. That had been the shock and adrenalin rushing through his system. Only when he had threatened Neal to bring him to a prison infirmary instead a real hospital with real nurses, Neal had obeyed.
"Hon? Would you please set the table? Dinner's ready."
Startled by El's voice, Peter blinked a few times and then started to prepare the table. El would come up with a plan, he was sure about that. Shrugging out of his jacket and loosening his tie he looked forward for the dinner, since the last days have been very hectic at the bureau and he had stayed late most of the evenings.
________________________________________
Monday Evening
December 25th
Sipping at the stale tea and looking outside, Neal felt lonely. The streets and trees were covered with snow and only a few people were walking out there on the sidewalks. Life outside seemed to have slowed down a bit and the city's trees had been decorated with sparkling lights. Most people loved the beautiful sight. And in fact, it WAS a beautiful sight. After all it was Christmas Eve. So 99% of the people were at home celebrating with their families and loved ones. Peter and El’s visit was short, due to the oncoming holidays. Mozzie had stopped by several times, as well as June who still felt sorry about the accident. Although Neal had tried to convince her that none of what had happened had been her fault, her face still showed her guilty conscience whenever she came to visit him. Each time she had brought little gifts, including silk pajamas and robes and fluffy pillows. While he had been pleased about it (who wouldn't given up the scratchy sheets they provided at hospitals?), he didn't want her to feel bad at all. But so far he hadn't been successful convincing her otherwise.
Neal couldn't tell why he was so depressed. Maybe because he had missed the exhibition. He tried to persuade himself that there would be another opportunity sometime in the future. But still it made him sad thinking about it. Maybe it was the thought of Christmas in general. Although he hadn't planned anything special at all tonight. He probably would have cooked something and later read a book, savoring a good wine. Mozzie probably would have stopped by - not because of the Christmas spirit thing but because of the wine - and would have told him the "real" Christmas Story. Not that Neal was very religious, but he had always liked the holidays and playing in the snow, building snowmen and creating snow angels with Ellen. While his mother hadn't paid much attention to his actions, Ellen always was pleased to see him happy during their snow ball fights in the backyard. Suddenly he remembered the scent of the cookies Ellen had baked for him, remembered how they had roasted marshmallows at that tiny campfire Ellen had made at their backyard one year. Officially it hadn't been allowed, but that had made it exciting all the more. Thinking of Ellen made him realize how much he still missed his surrogate mother and he a heavy sigh escaped his lips. It had only been a few months since she had passed away. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes for a moment while he mourned the death of her.
Half an hour later he was startled by a knock at the door and set the sketch book away on the small table. Grabbing the wheels of the wheelchair he turned around a bit so that he could see the door when he answered, "Yes, come in please."
"Hello, my dear," June greeted him warmly and stepped into the room.
"June!" He was clearly surprised by her visit.
With a few steps she had covered the distance between them and lowered down bit to kiss him on the stubbly beard he was sporting these days. "Neal, my dear. How are you doing?" She sat down next to him, but didn't let go of his hand and watched him closely. "You're so thin! Are you getting enough to eat?"
Neal couldn't hide a grin. June was always concerned about his well being. "Don't worry. I'm fine. Counting the days until I can finally get out of here." The swelling on his ankle was gone and the doctors had put on a non-weight-bearing cast which required the use crutches or the wheelchair to assist his mobility. Dr. Williams had been cautiously positive that he could leave within next week. Of course, the recovery would take 4-8 weeks for the bones to heal completely and up to several months to regain full use and range of motion of the joint. The more severe fractures, like his one which required surgical repair, would take longer to heal. Because he had needed implanted supports, Dr. Williams explained to him, that the metal plates and screws may be removed later which meant another surgery. Boy, he really hated hospitals! "I'm surprised, though. I didn't expect you. Aren't you supposed to be home, celebrating with your family?"
She waved her hand. "I will visit them tomorrow. Tonight I wanted to be with you, if you don't mind?"
"Oh, not at all. It's just…," he shrugged with his shoulders, "…well, yeah, there's not much I can offer you, you know?"
"I don't mind at all, my dear." She looked outside. "Isn't it beautiful? I like this time of year. Everything is quiet and peaceful." Then she discovered the painting and studied it. "May I?"
Neal hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded and watched her as she looked at it.
"That is wonderful. She was a very special woman."
Hearing those words, it was hard for Neal to control his feelings and he had to swallow. "Yeah," he simply said; his voice thick with emotions as he looked at his drawing of Ellen.
"I wished I had known her better," June said and sounded mournfully, too.
"You would have liked her a lot," Neal smiled sadly. "She…was…one of a kind. Just like you."
The whole time she had held his hand and now she let go in order to wipe a tear from his cheek. "I'm sure she was."
"I'm sorry," Neal said and turned away, because he didn't want her to see him like this.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Neal," she shook her head. "You loved her. You still do. And always will. That's all that matters. And deep inside you know that she knows how you feel about her."
"It's just…I've never got the chance to thank her properly. For all that she had done for me. And I…," he sighed, "…it's my fault she died. I shouldn't have contacted her." With that, he dropped his head.
June wasn't surprised by his behavior. At least she didn't show. "Don't say something like that," she said softly. "As far as I'm concerned, she knew of the risks. But she decided it worth it. At least the two of you had some time together after all those years of being apart." She stayed silent for a moment before she asked, "Would you light a candle for her? We could go to the chapel downstairs. Sit there for a while."
Blinking in surprise by her suggestion, he needed some time to think about it. "I…think I would like that. But-"
"No buts. Let's go." With that she stood and grabbed the push bars of the wheelchair and guided him towards the door.
~*~*~
At first, it felt awkwardly to be at the chapel. Neal looked around and recognized a handful of people sitting in the pews. A Christmas tree was standing in one of the corner. And in the other corner was a little altar with several burning candles. The silence was irritating him for a moment, despite the fact that it was supposed to be silent here. Being in a church wasn't a problem for him; he just didn't like the religious concept of it. The art was far more interesting for him and he smiled briefly when he thought of the breathtaking and astonishing paintings from the Sistine Chapel he had visited in Rome some years ago. This chapel though wasn't ornamented with precious paintings but with paintings from children. Presumably from the little patients who were treated at the pediatric station. Grabbing the crutches he gestured June that he wanted to stand up. She nodded and lowered the footrest which elevated his cast. It took three attempts until he finally was standing on his left foot and leaning on the crutches. Slowly he hobbled towards the altar, cautiously watched by June who never left his side. Together they lit two candles - one for Byron and one for Ellen. June remained silent for a minute; apparently she was praying so Neal just stood there and looked at the lovingly decorated Christmas tree and the drawings. Some of them were plain and simple, some clumsily painted. Some contained only impressions of colored handprints. And some of them were really carefully illustrated by older children. But they all had one thing in common - they dealt with all sorts of Christmas motifs and showed the great affection the children had with this time of season. And he noticed something else, too. Almost every picture had the words "Mom" and "Dad" written on it.
They stayed for a little while. Then June whispered to him, "We should go back."
"We could go to the cafeteria and have some coffee. I'm afraid they don't serve a five course menu, though," Neal suggested.
~*~*~
June was a very adamant person. Neal had tried to convince her to go to the cafeteria, but she insisted that they would go back to Neal's room. He had used every bit of his Caffrey charm, even his patented 100 megawatt Caffrey smile. But to no avail. "Really, we can even-" he stopped abruptly when she pushed him into his room. His room - which was now occupied by Elizabeth and Peter…and Mozzie.
"W-what are you doing here?" he stammered and blinked.
"We wanted to surprise you," Elizabeth said and smiled happily.
"Well…I'm…surprised," Neal said, still a bit stunned.
"It was her idea," Peter stepped in and grinned as he looked at June. Then he grabbed his cell phone and took a picture. "A speechless Caffrey. Priceless."
"Y-your idea?" It was then when he realized that he smelled food and saw the dishes waiting on the table. They even had bought an artificial Christmas tree with little flashing lights. Someone had managed to get a bigger table and more chairs into the room so that all of them could take a seat. That surely was Elizabeth's doing as well as the decoration of the table. Presumably Mozzie had been responsible for the wine. Neal swallowed as he saw his drawing of Ellen sitting on one of the chairs as well. Like she was there for real. "What is this all about?"
"I will give you some hints, mon frere…," Mozzie said. "Today is an annual commemoration of the birth of some guy named Jesus Christ and a widely observed holiday celebrated by billions of people all around the world…do I need to say more?"
"It's Christmas Eve, my dear and we wanted to celebrate with you," June answered and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly.
Peter approached him, holding a wrapped gift in his hands and offered it to him. "This is for you."
Not sure how to react, Neal shook his head. First he was reluctant to accept the gift. "But…I have nothing for you."
"That's okay. We just wanted to give you this."
Neal knew that Peter wouldn't accept "No" for an answer, so he obeyed and took the gift. Judging from its shape, he was sure it contained some sort of book. Within seconds, the wrapping paper was gone and he looked at the picture book. It was from the Guggenheim Museum. More precisely, it was the exhibition catalog for the Kandinsky show. "Oh wow, thanks," he said and let his fingers wander over the cover. "At least I got the catalog."
"Take a closer look," El encouraged him. "Open it."
Raising his brow, Neal looked at her before he did what he had been told. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"I'm still so sorry about what happened to you. Peter and El came to me and Peter told me about your wish to see the exhibition. So I talked to the curator and we came to an agreement," June explained and looked at Peter. "And Peter will accompany you."
"As soon as Dr. Williams gives his okay," Peter quickly added. "And only if you stop scaring off the nurses." Peter frowned. "Did I just say that?"
El slapped him on the arm, but didn't stop grinning.
Neal still couldn't believe what he was seeing. Inside the book was a ticket for the Kandinsky exhibition. But more important - there was a note on it. 'Extended until December 31st , 2012.'
Looking up, he saw the expectant faces of his friends and was - again - lost for words. "I-I don't know what to say," he finally managed to reply. Shaking his head in disbelief, he held the ticket with both hands like it was a very precious painting.
And suddenly he realized - he had a family as well. Not by blood. No. But June, El and Peter, even Mozzie and especially Ellen, they all belonged to his very own family. Odd sometimes, but nevertheless loyal and unique. A smile appeared on his face. He wasn't lonely.
"Thank you very much. To all of you," he genuinely smiled.
"Merry Christmas, Neal," June, El, Peter and Mozzie said at the same time.
Neal felt incredibly proud to have such a family. "I guess this is the best Christmas ever."
THE END