Fic: Phantom Limb
Title: Phantom Limb
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Kate
Spoilers: Out of the Box
Summary: Kate helps Neal through a hard time. AU telling of what happens to Neal in prison between Out of the Box and Withdrawal. For Day Five of my Twelve Days of Ficmas challenge.
Warnings/Triggers: Mental Illness
Word Count: ~1000
A/N: Unfinished fill from elrhiarhodan’s Promptfest that I resurrected. The prompt was Neal - Days.
----
Eight days, seventeen hours and twenty minutes. Give or take. That’s how long Neal has been in solitary, and he knows he will soon lose his mind.
Since he was a CI for the FBI, they’ve put him in what they’re calling “protective custody.” They think if he’s put into genpop, he’ll be in danger. Peter thinks he’ll be in danger. He’s not wrong. Neal knows this intellectually. But it doesn’t mean he’s safe.
He’s been coping well enough, he supposes, trying to keep up some sort of routine, maintain some semblance of self. He gets twenty minutes in the yard for fresh air, and the meals come regularly. In between, he sketches on the walls and recites Yeats to himself. He does push-ups and crunches when he gets cold, to get his blood flowing.
Twelve days, nine hours and six minutes. Kate visited him again today. “I’m dead,” she tells him, in case he’s forgotten.
“I know. Why do you come?” he asks, aloud, taking a step towards her.
“Don’t you know?”
“Am I going crazy?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Will you stay?”
“Not always.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Because you’re dead.”
“Oh. Don’t be. There are worse things.”
“Such as?”
She doesn't answer, just smiles.
Thirteen days, six hours, twenty-seven minutes. Kate made love to him today and he’s not sure how he feels about it. Most of him knows it’s a hallucination, but the part that misses her most needed it to be true and so it was. He falls asleep with her scent in his nose and her hair in his mouth and when the guard brings him his supper, she’s gone.
Fourteen days, thirteen hours and two minutes. The guards tell him today was Kate’s funeral. He’s not sure if they have done it to hurt him or not. She stands in the corner and laughs.
“Why do you laugh?” he asks.
“Because I’m not dead, silly.”
“I’m pretty sure you are. You’ve told me.”
“Then what am I doing here?” she asks, suddenly sitting behind him on his bunk with her hands over his eyes.
“I don’t know, you won’t tell me.”
She opens her hands. Peekaboo. “You’ll figure it out.”
Seventeen days. He doesn’t count the hours anymore. He can barely manage the days. But he’s figured out how to shut off his brain, and when he does, his thoughts stay away. Kate stays away. Sometimes he needs that.
Twenty days. Peter has come to visit, and Neal follows the guard to the visitation room. Peter takes a step towards him when he enters, genuinely happy to see him. Neal sits with his back against the wall and stares at the sky that’s visible outside the window.
Peter takes a seat, folds his hands on the table in front of him ineffectually. “They’re giving me a reinstatement hearing next week,” he tells Neal. “After that, I can try and get you out of here.”
“…” Neal opens his mouth but doesn’t speak. He watches a pair of starlings flying around outside the prison; they’ve ganged up on a red-tailed hawk and are chasing it away from their nesting site.
Peter continues his one-sided conversation. “Diana’s still trying to track Fowler down. We’re not having much progress, but we’re plugging away. We’re going to get to the bottom of this, Neal.”
“…”
“El sends her love.”
For some reason, this penetrates the haze in Neal’s mind and he looks at Peter. Well, looks toward Peter. And then looks away.
Peter walks over, crouches down and puts his hands on Neal’s shoulders, stares into his eyes. “Jesus, Neal, you gotta give me something.”
Neal shakes his head. “Can I go?” he says quietly.
“I’ll get you home soon. I promise.”
“Can I go?” Neal repeats, and Peter realizes he wants to return to his cell. Stricken, he calls for the guard.
When he returns to his cell, Kate whispers to him. “I need you here with me.”
“I know.”
“I said I need you here with me,” she repeats. She traces her fingertips over the vein in the center of his forehead. He likes her touch, needs it.
“I’ll stay, I promise.”
“Good, because you have to.”
“Why?”
She shrugs and smiles. He’s supposed to know, but she never says.
Thirty days. Peter comes back to the prison but Neal doesn’t want to see him. It’s hard to see anyone or think about anything from outside. Kate nods when the guard leaves.
Peter sends word that he’s gotten Neal’s deal approved - it’ll be a matter of days before he’s out. Neal cries for five straight hours. Kate watches.
Thirty-three days, eleven hours and five minutes. The guards come to take Neal to be processed out of the prison. He sits in a holding area, the street clothes he came in with sit in a paper grocery sack on the table next to him. Kate holds his hand.
“It’s time for you to go,” she tells him.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“But now you can.”
Neal nods. Now that he can leave, he understands. He knows why Kate came to him and why she stayed. Because, even though Peter had promised to get him out again, even though Neal might have had faith in that, a part of him knew it was possible that it wouldn’t happen. Kate got him through it. The days and nights of solitude and despair; without her he’d have truly gone insane.
“I love you,” he tells her, but she is already gone.
There is a buzzing sound as the lock on the door is released and Peter steps into the room. Neal rises, and smiles, truly happy to see his partner. For the first time in over a month, he thinks about living on the outside, and the memory of what he lost won’t destroy him. And for the first time in thirty-three days, twelve hours and nine minutes, he doesn’t need Kate to remind him.
----
Thank you for your time.
This fic has been remixed by the lovely embroiderama:
Phantom Limb (The Supernumerary Remix)