Fic: Blink of an Eye - Part One
Title: Blink of an Eye
Artist: aragarna
Author: reve_silencieux
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Peter, James, Elizabeth, Mozzie, Jones, June, Sara, Neal/Sara
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 6,991
Beta: sherylyn
Summary: In the blink of an eye, life can change, and all your plans crumble to pieces. An alternate beginning to S5 after Peter is arrested, but Neal saves the day-which is not without major consequences that everyone will have to learn how to deal with.
Author's Note: Written for White Collar Big Bang 2016.
Neal felt as if someone was holding him down. He couldn’t move. Struggling against the unknown, he fought hard, but it was too strong. His limbs felt heavy when he tried to pick up his arms, wanting to push it away, but they wouldn’t respond. He wanted to scream, but nothing came out and soon he felt himself drifting back into the abyss, forgetting that anything had ever happened.
He wasn’t aware of the erratic beeping that filled the air with his frantic attempts to move as his heart started beating rapidly. Or the hurried footsteps of the nurse rushing to his side just as he sank back into a restful sleep.
The next time Neal started to rouse, his arms were lighter, but still he jerked around and fought to free himself.
“Come on, open your eyes... I want to see those famous baby blues I’ve heard so much about, Mr. Caffrey,” a soft voice filtered through his head.
He didn’t recognize the voice. Faceless names swam through his head and it felt like he was battling a raging current, the water taking him away.
A blurry face hovered over him and he blinked several times, tears filling his eyes as he tried to focus.
“That’s it... stay with me... can you look at me, Mr. Caffrey?” the faceless voice continued, shifting to his left and he moved his head slightly, following her with his eyes.
A tissue wiped away his tears and he blinked again, the face becoming clearer. She was smiling wide and he wanted to ask her what was going on, but he felt the familiar tug of sleep pulling at him again. His eyes started to flutter as he heard her voice once more.
“Welcome back, Neal.”
*~*~*~*
When asked later, Neal would not recall the several times he woke up over the next few days, each one progressively longer than the last, but never to the point where regained full consciousness. While disheartening to those who watched, they knew it would just take time. He responded to his name and could track a nurse’s finger, and that was a good sign.
He just wasn’t truly awake.
That day would come almost a week later.
*~*~*~*
Neal opened his eyes and the fog that he’d been in, had cleared. He glanced around, disoriented and confused, with a fleeting sense of panic once he realized he was in a hospital, but it quelled at the sight of Peter off to his side. A stack of folders was dumped on the chair next to him, and one sat in his lap while he scribbled notes on a legal pad. Neal couldn’t say why, but a feeling of relief filled him.
His mind was still fuzzy, but he knew that it was a good thing to see his friend there. Neal tried to get Peter’s attention, opening his mouth and calling out his name. A garbled sound was all he got for his efforts.
But Peter heard him and his head shot up, his whole face alight. A smile stretched from ear to ear and he threw the folder aside.
“Neal!”
Peter was at his side in an instant.
Peter, he mouthed, and if it was even possible, Peter looked even happier with that one word.
Reaching over the bed's railing, Peter squeezed his hand, beaming, and Neal tiredly smiled back. He could barely exert any pressure to squeeze back, but Peter didn't seem to mind.
“Hey there. Can you hear me?” Peter asked, and his eyes danced anxiously over Neal’s face.
Neal nodded.
“Good.” Peter released a deep breath and a nervous laugh escaped him. “That’s good.” He shook his head and smiled widely. “You're in the hospital, but don't worry, you're going to be fine. Just fine.” He patted his arm uncomfortably. “I, uh… I should go get the nurse. You just stay awake, you hear me? Don't close your eyes.”
Neal watched him leave and looked around, taking stock of his surroundings. He was in a private room, with the lights dimmed low and no artwork to be seen on any of the walls. He didn't know if this was a good or bad thing, considering the usual fare hospitals displayed with their meager budgets. All the usual hospital equipment was beeping away, a nasal cannula rested under his nose, and assorted IV's, wires and other things he didn't want to think about were trailing over his arms and chest.
He felt something taped to his stomach and he frowned, trying to remember what had happened. But before he could try to piece anything together, a young woman wearing colorful scrubs walked in, followed by Peter, who quickly reclaimed his spot by Neal’s side.
She stopped at head of the bed and smiled softly. “Mr. Caffrey, it’s good to see you awake again. You probably don’t remember me, but my name's Lucy.” Leaning into him slightly, she shined a light in his eyes. He scrunched up his eyes and turned his head away, grunting.
“Sorry, I know it’s bright. Can you look back at me? I promise not to shine it in your eyes again.”
Neal cautiously turned back and glanced at her wearily. Still smiling, she picked up his right hand and squeezed a finger. He jerked his hand away, and it fell limply to the bed.
Lucy patted his shoulder. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’re doing extremely well, Mr. Caffrey. Now, I bet you’re thirsty. How about we get you some water?”
She pushed a few buttons to his side and he felt the bed raise up slowly. He closed his eyes as dizziness overwhelmed him and moaned as bright lights flashed in his eyes.
“Breathe slowly, Mr. Caffrey. We'll only go a little at a time. In and out,” she instructed softly.
He felt Peter squeeze his hand again and he nodded, taking deep breaths. After a couple of minutes, he opened his eyes and gave them a small smile. Peter was looking at him anxiously, but Lucy appeared pleased with his progress. The bed moved once more and Neal closed his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass again. A cup of water with a straw was waiting for him when he opened them a few minutes later.
“Slowly,” she warned as she held it up to his mouth.
It took more effort than he thought possible to lift his head, and he fell back after only a few sips.
“..anks,” he whispered.
Both Lucy and Peter brightened, and Lucy put down the cup to jot something down on a clipboard at his side.
“It's wonderful to hear your voice, Mr. Caffrey. I have to say, I've heard a lot about you, and your charm and reputation precede you, so just know I've been warned,” she teased lightly as she checked his vitals and wrote some more on her clipboard. “And just remember when you do try to charm me, I've seen all of you. So I hope you aren't too bashful.”
Neal's eyes widened and he felt his face flush at the implication.
Peter laughed. “Oh, Neal usually likes the attention, especially from pretty women.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, winking at him, then glanced over to Peter. “I’m going to go get the doctor. You keep him awake.”
Once Lucy was gone, Peter pulled his chair up closer to the bed. “It is so good to see you, buddy. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to wake up.”
Neal opened his mouth to ask what happened, but Peter pointed to the water glass. “Do you want more water?”
Peter reached over and picked it up before Neal could say anything. He held it in front of him, and Neal reluctantly sipped.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Neal,” Peter said, with a big smile on his face and Neal frowned.
Something didn’t feel right.
Lucy walked back in then, and Peter took the glass back.
“You’re the biggest talk of the floor, Mr. Caffrey. Everyone’s anxious to meet you.” She gave him a bright smile. “I guess I’m the lucky one, aren’t I? Of course, your friend here has been the most anxious. He’s been at your side for a week now.”
Neal turned to Peter and looked at him curiously.
“You’ve been in and out of it,” Peter explained. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”
“Do you remember waking up?” Lucy asked.
Neal shook his head.
“That’s okay.” Lucy patted him on the shoulder once more. “It’s perfectly normal. But I think you’re out of the woods now.”
“Wh…” he tried to talk, but struggled to vocalize the simple word.
“You’re going to be fine, Neal,” Peter quickly reassured him once more.
The doctor walked in at that moment and Lucy stepped aside, moving to stand next to Peter. He was an older gentleman, with salt-and-pepper hair and a few wrinkles around his eyes. There was a relaxed demeanor about him, far from the rushed and frantic doctors seen in an ER.
“Mr. Caffrey, I'm Dr. Sutton. Do you know where you are?” he asked, pulling out a penlight.
Neal nodded. “Hos..p..tal.”
Dr. Sutton clicked on the penlight and waved it across Neal's eyes. He hummed in response when Neal blinked and shut his eyes. “Can you tell me your full name?”
“Neal... Geor...Caf...Caf-rey,” he stuttered.
Holding up his hand, Dr. Sutton asked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Fo-r.”
He nodded. “Good. How do you feel? Does your head hurt?”
Neal shook his head. “Diz-zy. Sick.” Dr. Sutton turned to Lucy and conferred with her softly before she left the room.
“Okay, we'll get you something for that. What's the last thing you remember?”
Neal paused. His head was pounding and everything still felt fuzzy. He glanced at Peter, who was gripping the railing, looking extremely nervous. With his line of work, he knew something bad had happened, but nothing was coming to him. Finally, something flashed in his mind and he saw Mozzie leaning over his kitchen table.
“Ho..m... Moz..e.”
Lucy walked back in and injected something into his IV. Dr. Sutton grabbed a stool from the far wall and sat down. “Mr. Caffrey, I know you're probably confused right now, and that's normal. You were seriously injured and you might never remember that day. Do you feel up to me explaining? If not, we can go through this later.”
“N..ow.”
“Okay, but if you need me to stop, just say so.”
Neal nodded and tried to give him his best Caffrey smile, but knew he was falling short.
“From what I've been told, there was an altercation. You were shot in the abdomen.” Dr. Sutton paused, and Neal frowned. His stomach didn't hurt, but he guessed there were good drugs pumping through him. “You fell and your skull was cracked, and there was bleeding in your brain. All of this trauma caused severe swelling that required surgery.” He stopped once more, observing Neal.
Fear gripped Neal and his arm shook as he tried to raise his hand to his head. But it didn't respond to his command, and his heart started beating rapidly as the doctor's words started to sink in. He glanced at Peter with a terrified expression, not used to being so out of control. Peter took his hand again and squeezed tight, giving him a big smile. “Don't worry, Neal, you still have a full head of hair.”
Peter's joke did nothing to calm Neal and he turned to the doctor. “Ho...how bad?”
Dr. Sutton seemed to understand his alarm, and he crossed his arms over his chest, his face pulled tight. “Initial scans didn’t show any brain damage, and once the swelling reduced, all the tests confirmed no physical damage. Everyone was optimistic that you would recover. But then, you didn’t wake up, and slipped into a coma.”
Neal’s eyes widened.
“While this is a normal reaction to considerable head trauma since the body needs time to heal, there was concern that something else was wrong. We still have no clear answer as to why your coma persisted, but it is a good sign that you are awake now and talking. It may simply be that your body decided it needed a longer time to heal.”
Neal wasn't quite reassured by the doctor's words, and even more confused by the looks Peter was shooting him. His body didn't feel like his own, but they weren't telling him anything different. He told himself not to panic just yet. He looked to Peter again, the unasked question in his eyes and Peter took a deep breath.
“Three years, Neal. You've been in a coma for three years.”
*~*~*~*
After a few hours of explanations, questions and more tests, Neal fell asleep. Elizabeth joined Peter at his bedside, a familiar vigil for both of them, and they wordlessly held each other as they watched over him. It was a sight they were used to, and they worried that today was somehow a fluke, that he wouldn't wake up again. The doctor reassured them that Neal was back with them for good, but until they saw his eyes open again, they were afraid to believe it.
They knew it was a miracle that he woke up to begin with, but it was hard to believe in miracles when they'd been wishing for one for so long. The road ahead for Neal was long and it was going to be a struggle to get back to where they left off-if that was even possible. There would be weeks, if not months, of physical and occupational therapy. Only time would tell if there was any lingering damage, but for now his body was like a baby, newly born and not quite functioning. He had no strength, no stamina, and his muscles were atrophied. His brain was still trying to wake up and restart, and it was very likely that he would have to relearn basic skills all over again.
And that was just the physical. Peter had seen the fear and anguish in Neal's eyes and knew the emotional toll would be even harder to overcome.
The world had moved on without Neal Caffrey.
*~*~*~*
When he woke up that evening, Elizabeth was all over him, crying and hugging him. Peter held back, a quiet smile on his face as he watched them. Neal glanced between them, the burning question in his eyes, but Peter just shook his head and said, “Later.”
They talked until Elizabeth yawned, and Neal could barely keep his eyes open. Conversation was kept light, catching him up on the goings-on in the Burke household, Elizabeth’s job and New York. Neal, for his part, mostly listened, but talked as much as he could. His voice was slow and hesitant, and several times he had to just stop and try to find the right word. Elizabeth jumped in, chatting away with a smile, obviously trying to keep him from getting too worked up or frustrated.
The next morning, Peter returned without Elizabeth. Neal was awake and sitting up when he walked in, and hoping for answers. Peter gave him a tired smile as he pulled the chair up to the bed. The railings were down now that he was awake, and not at risk of falling, which had been a cause for concern during the previous days as his body had begun to wake up with frantic and uncontrolled movements.
“How are you doing, Neal?”
Neal scrunched his face and shrugged. “Tired.” His right hand jerked towards his stomach, where the hospital gown bulged and his left hand rested. “Hungry.”
Peter visibly winced.
What had been explained to him, was that a month after his coma had persisted, they’d had to put in a feeding tube. While it had been a medical necessity for the long term, it didn't mean they had given up hope that he would wake up. It was only after four months and he had been off the ventilator for a month, that they finally faced reality and made the decision to move him to a long-term facility.
Neal nodded absently and fingered the fabric of his hospital gown. He wanted to ask what happened. His memories were fuzzy. The last thing he remembered was talking with Mozzie, but that didn't tell him much. Peter had been in jail, but obviously that had been cleared up.
“Peter…”
A nurse chose that time to come in and Peter looked relieved at the interruption. Neal frowned as the nurse started talking about more tests, and an orderly came in to take him somewhere. Peter hung back as they moved his bed and Neal closed his eyes in resignation. Answers would not be coming yet.
The following few days were long, filled with more tests, physical therapy and, slowly, Neal started to feel signs of being the man he was before the accident. He was able to stay awake for longer periods of time, though everything still took a lot out of him. His voice grew stronger and, while he still had to pause to gather his thoughts, he was starting to be able to hold full conversations.
After four days of avoiding the conversation, when Peter arrived in the morning, Neal finally addressed the elephant in the room. He knew his friend had been waiting for him to get stronger, but he couldn't wait any longer.
“What happened, Peter?” he asked the moment Peter sat down. “I need to know. You were in jail.”
Peter took a deep breath. “James put a hit on me.” Neal’s eyes widened. “It was supposed to take place at the courthouse at my hearing. Mozzie found out and the two of you came up with this harebrained scheme to save me and catch him all at once. You realized that James would still want to do it himself, but he would need me outside. So, some guys were hired to make an attempt inside, knowing you would intervene.”
He paused and chuckled. “When it happened, I had no idea what was going on. I thought it was all your doing-that it was an escape plan.” Neal smiled weakly. It did sound like him, but he knew that Peter wouldn’t like it, that he wanted his name cleared the right way.
“I tried to stop you, but then you told me about the hit. Of course, not the part about James wanting me outside, but I guess you were afraid I wouldn’t go along with it. James was waiting outside at the loading dock when we got there, and put a gun to my head. You played along, got him talking. But the whole time, Mozzie was filming it.”
Peter stopped and looked away, and brushed a tear from his eye. “James wasn’t happy when you told him. He tried to shoot Mozzie, then turned back towards me. You pushed me out of the way and went after James. The two of you went down fighting and James shot you in the stomach. You went tumbling down the dock and fell off, hitting your head.” He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.
His voice trembled when he looked back at Neal. “I will never forget that moment. Agents were everywhere, yelling, shouting, but all I heard was that sound when you landed on the ground. I ran over to you and you were bleeding, and…and-”
Gasping, Peter stood up and turned around, unable to look Neal in the face. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, the tears flowing freely as he worked to calm himself. The room was silent, save for the sound of Peter’s ragged breathing.
“Peter…”
He shook his head. “I thought you were dead, Neal. Your eyes…”
“Look at me, Peter.”
“They took me away…”
“PETER! Look at me!” Neal called out as loudly as he could.
Finally turning around, Peter didn’t bother hiding his tears. He collapsed in the chair and buried his face in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.
“I’m still here,” Neal said quietly. “Sure, I’m a little late, but you know I always appreciate making a good entrance.”
Peter choked out a laugh and glanced back up, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “You always had to do things your way.”
Neal grinned. “Coloring inside the lines is never fun anyway.”
Shaking his head, Peter laughed bitterly. “I’ve had enough of playing outside.”
Neal’s grin faded and his mouth tightened. “I’m sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have dragged you into the mess with my father. If I hadn’t…”
Peter pointed a finger at him. “No, don’t even go there. It was my choice. A choice I accepted a long time ago and have had to live with since. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. I was the agent-I should have taken James down. You shouldn’t have been the one needing to save me.”
“I had to, Peter.”
Peter smiled softly and nodded. “I know.”
“So what happened to James?” Neal asked, changing the subject, knowing they couldn't get past their feelings of guilt in one day.
Settling back in his chair, Peter exhaled slowly. “He was shot twice, trying to run away. He died on the scene.”
Neal gave an almost imperceptible nod and looked down at his hands. “Good. Prison would have been too good for him.”
“Neal…”
He looked up at Peter and gave him a shaky smile. “It’s okay. He wasn’t my father.”
“I’m sorry.”
Neal shook his head. “I’m not. As long as you’re okay and free, that’s all that matters.”
“But it's not okay, Neal. It shouldn't have come to this. We should have been able to clean up the whole mess without you getting hurt or James dying.”
“Peter, what's done is done. You once told me to man up to my mistakes, right? Well, I am, and I regret them, but we can't do anything more but go on with life. I get that.”
Peter frowned and stared out the window, but said nothing.
Neal watched him silently, wondering if they could move on. His friend was still plagued with guilt and it didn't seem to matter that he was awake now. For three years, Peter had blamed himself, so it was going to take time for Neal to make him see things differently. Stubbornness aside, the agent had always felt responsible for him, and that wouldn’t change overnight.
“I don't suppose my sentence is up now, is it?” he asked, putting on an impish smile. “I know I was sleeping and all, but three years should count for something, right?”
Glancing back, Peter chuckled and nodded. “Yes, you are a free man, Neal. Technically you haven't had the anklet since that day. I think even the US Marshals realized you weren't going to run.”
“I'm good, but I'm not that good. Faking a coma would be Oscar-worthy though.” Neal grinned. “Mozzie would be proud.”
Peter's face pinched in a grimace. “Yeah, he would.”
“How is he? I know Mozzie's deathly allergic to hospitals, but I figured I'd have heard from him by now, trying to rescue me from the government's clutches, claiming they're going to brainwash me or something now that I'm awake.”
“Um,” Peter hesitated and sighed loudly. “I don't know.” He ducked his head and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “He, uh, left New York a year after the accident.” Peter glanced back up and smiled sadly. “Said it was too hard to stick around watching and waiting for a miracle. I'm pretty sure he left an email address with Elizabeth and she's contacted him. But I'll bet he already heard the news. You know Moz...”
Neal swallowed hard and nodded absently. “Yeah, probably...”
The nurse came in then and both men looked away, relieved at the interruption. The past was just that- the rest could wait for another day.
*~*~*~*
The next morning Peter brought in a container full of blueberry orange muffins that Elizabeth had baked the night before. They hadn't talked since the previous morning, since Neal had been too tired after physical therapy and had fallen asleep before Peter left for the day.
Peter knew they had to finish their conversation. He couldn't stall anymore.
“El wanted to come see you today, but she had an early meeting. She said she'll try to come tonight if you're still up to it.”
Neal gave him a small smile. “Sure, I'd like that.”
“Good, good...” Peter motioned to the muffins. “Want one? El baked them last night. I think she's going to try to make up for missing out on feeding you for three years.”
“Umm... maybe later. Thanks, though.” Neal shifted restlessly and tugged at his blanket. It was a sure sign to Peter that there was something he didn’t want to say. And it was pretty obvious.
Neal had never liked to ask for help, and now he found himself in a situation he couldn’t control, where he needed help to do just about everything. Peter understood how hard that was for him, and it wasn’t any easier for him to watch, but he wasn’t going to back down just because it made either of them uncomfortable.
“Are you sure? I can, you know...” Peter shrugged. “I don't mind, really.”
Without waiting for a response, he walked to the other side of the room and the pump of hand sanitizer that sat on the small counter with other medical supplies. He quickly cleaned his hands, then came back and plucked a muffin out of the container. In seconds, he had the colorful wrapper off and had broken off a small piece.
Neal eyed him warily. “Peter, you don't have to...”
Peter gave him a stern glare. “I want to-don't you dare feel embarrassed about this, Neal. I know it's going to take time to get back on your feet. We're going to be here for you, whether you like it or not.”
Sighing, Neal gave in and nodded. “Fine. Thank you.”
The doctors were weaning him off the formula he’d been on for the past three years, and Neal had been ecstatic when they’d let him have solid food. Not that anything they’d given him had been exciting, unfortunately. El had commiserated, and took it upon herself to bring him something better than bland hospital food.
Peter also suspected she had an ulterior motive to fatten him up. Eyeing the unnatural sight of Neal’s thin frame, Peter knew it was a good idea.
He held out his hand, hovering near Neal’s mouth. After a couple fumbling attempts, he managed to find a rhythm and the appropriate bite size for Neal, and the muffin disappeared in a flash. But Neal still wouldn't look him in the eye as Peter brushed crumbs off his mouth with a napkin.
After throwing away the napkin, Peter sat down and awkwardly ran his hands down his thighs to grip his knees. There was still a lot to talk about, and the knot in his stomach would not go away until they got through it. Cowboy up, he told himself.
“You know, you don't have to keep me company every day. I'm sure you're needed at the office,” Neal remarked casually, and brushed a crumb away with an air of nonchalance.
Only Peter knew better.
As painful as he knew it would be, Neal obviously wanted to finish their talk, but he wasn’t going to push Peter. His guilt still hung heavy in the air, and Neal was trying to let Peter get through it on his own terms, which Peter respected. However, it was going to be a long time before Peter could find peace with what had happened.
Now, though, he had to think of Neal.
“Oh, they're getting along fine without me,” he replied, leaning back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, I have plenty of work with me and I have my phone.”
Peter smiled widely, but it felt forced and he couldn’t hold it. Sighing, he dropped his hands in his lap. “I'm in charge now-I have Hughes' old position.”
Neal blinked, and after a beat, grinned. “Congratulations! You deserve it. How long?”
“Three months.” Peter chuckled and shook his head. “I should have known things were going too smoothly and you'd wake up.”
“Awww, admit it Peter-you missed me. It's more fun with me around.”
Peter was ready to disagree, then rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe.”
Neal beamed. “I bet your closure rate wasn't as good without me, either.”
“Modesty doesn't become you, Neal.”
He just shrugged, and the familiar Cheshire grin-that Peter wouldn't admit to missing-stretched across his face.
“So has Callaway been around all this time or was there enough dirt to get rid of her?”
Peter grimaced, remembering that bitter fight. “No, after how everything went down and the dirt Hughes dug up-she was connected to Pratt, by the way-Callaway pled out. She didn't get any time, but she no longer works for the government.”
Neal frowned. “I guess that's better than nothing.”
“Yeah, it all worked out for the best.... well, aside from-you know...” Peter trailed off and his eyes fell to the floor.
“Right...” Neal fell silent.
Peter hadn’t been happy with the way it had turned out, but he hadn’t been in a position to do anything at the time. Hughes and his team had fought most of the battle, and Peter had just been happy that she didn’t win. She might not have been the one to shoot Neal, but that afternoon would not even have happened if it hadn’t been for her flagrant disregard.
“You were cleared, right? I mean, Moz's video helped?”
Peter glanced back up, and cleared his throat. “Yeah, it just took a few days. Worst days of my life, though. When they took me away at the courthouse, I thought you were dead. El stayed with you at the hospital, and Diana finally managed to come see me the next day to let me know your condition, which wasn't good; you'd been in surgery for over ten hours, and were still critical.”
He watched as Neal brought a shaky arm up to his head, and fingered the scars left behind. A piece of his skull had been cut out to relive the pressure on his brain. Dr. Sutton had given Neal a high-level overview of what had happened, which hadn’t been easy for Neal to hear, but it had been harder for Peter to relive.
“I barely saw the inside of my house for a week after I was released,” Peter continued. “El and I practically lived at the hospital. There was so much going on, between James, Callaway, and the huge fall-out because of what was found in the evidence box.”
Jones had kept him updated, but Peter was actually relieved that he didn’t have to deal with it. He hadn’t been allowed to touch the case, and that was fine with him. There were too many higher ups and people in positions of power affected, and going after them wasn’t easy or without risk. Peter had learned that the hard way.
In the end, most of it had been swept under the rug. A few people connected to Pratt became the fall guys, but by that point, Neal had been in the coma for months, and Peter’s anger had nowhere to go. The one person truly responsible was dead.
“But you got your badge back.”
Peter nodded. “I did. I was suspended for a while, but honestly, I didn't care. I wouldn't have left the hospital anyway.”
“You had to go back eventually,” Neal pointed out.
“I know, and I did-two months later. We were still hopeful you'd wake up at that point, but we all had to start moving on, getting back to normal.”
“It's okay, Peter. I understand,” he said softly.
Peter shook his head and slapped his hands on his legs. “Right. Anyway, life went on. We got a new guy to fill in after they booted Callaway. He was nearing retirement, so we knew it wouldn't be permanent. They just needed someone to come in and clean things up. I kept my head down and nose clean, and six months ago they asked me if I wanted the position.
“I figured it was the right time. Elizabeth had gone through enough over the years, she didn't need to worry about me anymore. Jones was promoted as well; he runs the team now.”
Neal smiled. “That's great. I'm happy for you, and Jones, too.”
“Thank you. It was good timing for Jones. He got married just over a year ago.” Peter’s face lit up. “They're expecting a baby in a few months.”
“Wow.” Neal's eyes widened. “A lot has happened.”
His stomach dropped and Peter hesitated. “Yeah, a lot has.”
“Diana?”
“She's in Boston, actually, with Christie. They got back together a couple of years ago. Then last year they moved to Boston after Christie accepted a position heading up the ER department.” Peter paused. “They got married a few months ago.”
On the surface, Neal was stoic, but Peter saw the pain in his eyes. It was telling, because he so rarely let anyone see how he truly felt. Only now, he wasn’t in control and that had to hurt even more.
“I guess I won't be planning her bachelorette party after all,” he said sadly.
“Actually, Diana didn't want one-said it didn't feel right.” Peter shrugged his shoulder lightly and offered him a small smile. “Maybe now would be a good time to throw one. I'm sure she'd appreciate it.”
Neal’s face was pulled tight, but he tried to smile. “Maybe...” He looked down at his hands and was quiet.
Peter felt a pang in his heart at the sight of the broken man in front of him. This was not the Neal Caffrey he knew. But how many times had life beaten him down? How many people had he loved and lost? While they had been the ones to grieve the past three years, now it was Neal’s turn, and this time it was going to be a long road to healing.
Taking a deep breath, Neal looked Peter in the eyes. “And Sara?”
Peter's face crumbled slightly. To Neal, it had only been a few weeks since she had left. Elizabeth had told him how Neal had barely spoken of Sara after Peter’s arrest. Neal had pushed aside his own pain to help Peter. He knew Neal had finally found something good with Sara at the end, but he had been selfless, letting her go.
Would they have found a way to make it work? Peter liked to think so.
“She's still in London. Busy as ever,” he said finally.
“Married?”
“Oh no,” Peter shook his head. “She says she's too busy for that.”
Neal nodded and relaxed just a bit. “Married to her work.”
“Yeah, yeah she is,” Peter agreed, letting out a nervous chuckle. “She visits, though.”
“Really?” Neal looked at him surprised.
Peter shifted in his seat. “New York, that is. She has meetings twice a year. Elizabeth and I meet up with her for dinner.”
“Oh, right.” Neal sighed and nodded slowly. “That's... nice of her.”
“She was here, after the accident.”
Neal eyes shot up and he gripped the blanket covering his lap. “She was?”
“Elizabeth called her, and she flew back that night. Stayed a few weeks, but...” Peter bit his lip. No one had known what to do back then. It had been difficult to go back to their lives, but they had no choice.
“She had a life, a job.” Neal smiled bitterly. “I get it, Peter, don't worry.”
Peter sighed. “I'm sorry, Neal. I mean it. I wish it all could have gone differently. I wish there had been some other way to get James... to clean up this mess, so that you didn't have to go through this.”
“But there wasn’t.”
Peter shook his head. “No, there wasn’t.”
*~*~*~*
“I'm so sorry I'm late,” Elizabeth apologized as she hurried into Neal's room that evening carrying several bags. “I had to go home and let Maggie out.”
She carefully set the bags down next to the chair along the wall and sat down with a big sigh. “How are you doing, Neal?” she asked with a bright smile on her face.
Neal frowned. “I'm good. Did you get another dog?”
Elizabeth glanced at Peter, a worried look in her eyes, and he shook his head. She nodded towards Neal and the two of them communicated silently, ending with a firm glare on Elizabeth’s part and a grimace by Peter. The silent by-play between the two would have been funny any other time, but not today. Neal knew whatever they had to say was not good.
She stood up and walked to his side while Peter took a deep breath. “Neal, Satchmo's gone. He died last year.”
He knew it shouldn't have hit him so hard, but Neal felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. “What?”
“Oh, sweetie, he was sick, and we didn't want him to be in pain anymore. He was already twelve, he'd lived a long life.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand.
Peter leaned forward. “We got him just before I started chasing you. Can you believe it's been that long? If anyone told me back then that this was where we'd end up, I would have called them crazy.”
“Yeah... crazy,” Neal echoed softly.
“Anyway, we got a new puppy-a black lab. She's so cute, you're going to love her.” Elizabeth beamed.
“Just please try not to corrupt her, Neal,” Peter cut in. “We're still training her.”
“Why would I corrupt your dog, Peter?”
Peter gave him a look. “You think I don't know that you had Satchmo doing whatever you wanted?”
Neal playfully shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Who, me?”
“Well, you can meet her later. Right now, I brought you stuff to keep you entertained.” Elizabeth turned back around and started emptying the bags she'd brought in. “I know you must be bored. We have cards, board games, and some new books that I'd thought you'd like. I also have a laptop and DVDs for you. A couple new shows came out that I think you'll love. Plus, I figure you'll want to catch up on news and such.”
“Thanks, Elizabeth. That's great.” Neal smiled honestly, momentarily feeling the weight of everything disappear. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth paused in her efforts to arrange everything on the table and glanced over her shoulder. “I just remembered how restless Peter gets when he's laid up, and I figured you'd be the same.”
Peter stood up and stretched his arms. “So, how about a game of Clue, Neal? See if that mind of yours is still sharp.”
“Clue, Peter-really?” Neal raised an eyebrow. “Isn't that a little clichéd? Don't you get enough of it at work?”
“I'll have you know this was my favorite game as a kid.”
“Now that's a surprise,” he replied dryly.
“Oh, be quiet.” Peter unearthed the game from the stack and walked back to the bed. He laid the box on Neal’s lap and started to set it up on the over-bed table. “Who do you want to be? Mr. Green or Professor Plum?”
“What, I can't be Colonel Mustard?”
Peter shuffled the cards and shrugged. “I figured with your background, you'd want to be Mr. Green since he was a crook and a playboy, or the Professor. After all, you did pose as a teacher before.”
“You do realize that Green is a Reverend in the original UK version, right?” Neal asked, giving him a pointed look.
Peter rolled his eyes, and sighed in exasperation. Elizabeth giggled and pulled her chair closer to the bed. “Well, I want to be Mrs. Peacock.”
Part Two
Artist: aragarna
Author: reve_silencieux
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Peter, James, Elizabeth, Mozzie, Jones, June, Sara, Neal/Sara
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 6,991
Beta: sherylyn
Summary: In the blink of an eye, life can change, and all your plans crumble to pieces. An alternate beginning to S5 after Peter is arrested, but Neal saves the day-which is not without major consequences that everyone will have to learn how to deal with.
Author's Note: Written for White Collar Big Bang 2016.
Neal felt as if someone was holding him down. He couldn’t move. Struggling against the unknown, he fought hard, but it was too strong. His limbs felt heavy when he tried to pick up his arms, wanting to push it away, but they wouldn’t respond. He wanted to scream, but nothing came out and soon he felt himself drifting back into the abyss, forgetting that anything had ever happened.
He wasn’t aware of the erratic beeping that filled the air with his frantic attempts to move as his heart started beating rapidly. Or the hurried footsteps of the nurse rushing to his side just as he sank back into a restful sleep.
The next time Neal started to rouse, his arms were lighter, but still he jerked around and fought to free himself.
“Come on, open your eyes... I want to see those famous baby blues I’ve heard so much about, Mr. Caffrey,” a soft voice filtered through his head.
He didn’t recognize the voice. Faceless names swam through his head and it felt like he was battling a raging current, the water taking him away.
A blurry face hovered over him and he blinked several times, tears filling his eyes as he tried to focus.
“That’s it... stay with me... can you look at me, Mr. Caffrey?” the faceless voice continued, shifting to his left and he moved his head slightly, following her with his eyes.
A tissue wiped away his tears and he blinked again, the face becoming clearer. She was smiling wide and he wanted to ask her what was going on, but he felt the familiar tug of sleep pulling at him again. His eyes started to flutter as he heard her voice once more.
“Welcome back, Neal.”
*~*~*~*
When asked later, Neal would not recall the several times he woke up over the next few days, each one progressively longer than the last, but never to the point where regained full consciousness. While disheartening to those who watched, they knew it would just take time. He responded to his name and could track a nurse’s finger, and that was a good sign.
He just wasn’t truly awake.
That day would come almost a week later.
*~*~*~*
Neal opened his eyes and the fog that he’d been in, had cleared. He glanced around, disoriented and confused, with a fleeting sense of panic once he realized he was in a hospital, but it quelled at the sight of Peter off to his side. A stack of folders was dumped on the chair next to him, and one sat in his lap while he scribbled notes on a legal pad. Neal couldn’t say why, but a feeling of relief filled him.
His mind was still fuzzy, but he knew that it was a good thing to see his friend there. Neal tried to get Peter’s attention, opening his mouth and calling out his name. A garbled sound was all he got for his efforts.
But Peter heard him and his head shot up, his whole face alight. A smile stretched from ear to ear and he threw the folder aside.
“Neal!”
Peter was at his side in an instant.
Peter, he mouthed, and if it was even possible, Peter looked even happier with that one word.
Reaching over the bed's railing, Peter squeezed his hand, beaming, and Neal tiredly smiled back. He could barely exert any pressure to squeeze back, but Peter didn't seem to mind.
“Hey there. Can you hear me?” Peter asked, and his eyes danced anxiously over Neal’s face.
Neal nodded.
“Good.” Peter released a deep breath and a nervous laugh escaped him. “That’s good.” He shook his head and smiled widely. “You're in the hospital, but don't worry, you're going to be fine. Just fine.” He patted his arm uncomfortably. “I, uh… I should go get the nurse. You just stay awake, you hear me? Don't close your eyes.”
Neal watched him leave and looked around, taking stock of his surroundings. He was in a private room, with the lights dimmed low and no artwork to be seen on any of the walls. He didn't know if this was a good or bad thing, considering the usual fare hospitals displayed with their meager budgets. All the usual hospital equipment was beeping away, a nasal cannula rested under his nose, and assorted IV's, wires and other things he didn't want to think about were trailing over his arms and chest.
He felt something taped to his stomach and he frowned, trying to remember what had happened. But before he could try to piece anything together, a young woman wearing colorful scrubs walked in, followed by Peter, who quickly reclaimed his spot by Neal’s side.
She stopped at head of the bed and smiled softly. “Mr. Caffrey, it’s good to see you awake again. You probably don’t remember me, but my name's Lucy.” Leaning into him slightly, she shined a light in his eyes. He scrunched up his eyes and turned his head away, grunting.
“Sorry, I know it’s bright. Can you look back at me? I promise not to shine it in your eyes again.”
Neal cautiously turned back and glanced at her wearily. Still smiling, she picked up his right hand and squeezed a finger. He jerked his hand away, and it fell limply to the bed.
Lucy patted his shoulder. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’re doing extremely well, Mr. Caffrey. Now, I bet you’re thirsty. How about we get you some water?”
She pushed a few buttons to his side and he felt the bed raise up slowly. He closed his eyes as dizziness overwhelmed him and moaned as bright lights flashed in his eyes.
“Breathe slowly, Mr. Caffrey. We'll only go a little at a time. In and out,” she instructed softly.
He felt Peter squeeze his hand again and he nodded, taking deep breaths. After a couple of minutes, he opened his eyes and gave them a small smile. Peter was looking at him anxiously, but Lucy appeared pleased with his progress. The bed moved once more and Neal closed his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass again. A cup of water with a straw was waiting for him when he opened them a few minutes later.
“Slowly,” she warned as she held it up to his mouth.
It took more effort than he thought possible to lift his head, and he fell back after only a few sips.
“..anks,” he whispered.
Both Lucy and Peter brightened, and Lucy put down the cup to jot something down on a clipboard at his side.
“It's wonderful to hear your voice, Mr. Caffrey. I have to say, I've heard a lot about you, and your charm and reputation precede you, so just know I've been warned,” she teased lightly as she checked his vitals and wrote some more on her clipboard. “And just remember when you do try to charm me, I've seen all of you. So I hope you aren't too bashful.”
Neal's eyes widened and he felt his face flush at the implication.
Peter laughed. “Oh, Neal usually likes the attention, especially from pretty women.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, winking at him, then glanced over to Peter. “I’m going to go get the doctor. You keep him awake.”
Once Lucy was gone, Peter pulled his chair up closer to the bed. “It is so good to see you, buddy. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to wake up.”
Neal opened his mouth to ask what happened, but Peter pointed to the water glass. “Do you want more water?”
Peter reached over and picked it up before Neal could say anything. He held it in front of him, and Neal reluctantly sipped.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Neal,” Peter said, with a big smile on his face and Neal frowned.
Something didn’t feel right.
Lucy walked back in then, and Peter took the glass back.
“You’re the biggest talk of the floor, Mr. Caffrey. Everyone’s anxious to meet you.” She gave him a bright smile. “I guess I’m the lucky one, aren’t I? Of course, your friend here has been the most anxious. He’s been at your side for a week now.”
Neal turned to Peter and looked at him curiously.
“You’ve been in and out of it,” Peter explained. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”
“Do you remember waking up?” Lucy asked.
Neal shook his head.
“That’s okay.” Lucy patted him on the shoulder once more. “It’s perfectly normal. But I think you’re out of the woods now.”
“Wh…” he tried to talk, but struggled to vocalize the simple word.
“You’re going to be fine, Neal,” Peter quickly reassured him once more.
The doctor walked in at that moment and Lucy stepped aside, moving to stand next to Peter. He was an older gentleman, with salt-and-pepper hair and a few wrinkles around his eyes. There was a relaxed demeanor about him, far from the rushed and frantic doctors seen in an ER.
“Mr. Caffrey, I'm Dr. Sutton. Do you know where you are?” he asked, pulling out a penlight.
Neal nodded. “Hos..p..tal.”
Dr. Sutton clicked on the penlight and waved it across Neal's eyes. He hummed in response when Neal blinked and shut his eyes. “Can you tell me your full name?”
“Neal... Geor...Caf...Caf-rey,” he stuttered.
Holding up his hand, Dr. Sutton asked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Fo-r.”
He nodded. “Good. How do you feel? Does your head hurt?”
Neal shook his head. “Diz-zy. Sick.” Dr. Sutton turned to Lucy and conferred with her softly before she left the room.
“Okay, we'll get you something for that. What's the last thing you remember?”
Neal paused. His head was pounding and everything still felt fuzzy. He glanced at Peter, who was gripping the railing, looking extremely nervous. With his line of work, he knew something bad had happened, but nothing was coming to him. Finally, something flashed in his mind and he saw Mozzie leaning over his kitchen table.
“Ho..m... Moz..e.”
Lucy walked back in and injected something into his IV. Dr. Sutton grabbed a stool from the far wall and sat down. “Mr. Caffrey, I know you're probably confused right now, and that's normal. You were seriously injured and you might never remember that day. Do you feel up to me explaining? If not, we can go through this later.”
“N..ow.”
“Okay, but if you need me to stop, just say so.”
Neal nodded and tried to give him his best Caffrey smile, but knew he was falling short.
“From what I've been told, there was an altercation. You were shot in the abdomen.” Dr. Sutton paused, and Neal frowned. His stomach didn't hurt, but he guessed there were good drugs pumping through him. “You fell and your skull was cracked, and there was bleeding in your brain. All of this trauma caused severe swelling that required surgery.” He stopped once more, observing Neal.
Fear gripped Neal and his arm shook as he tried to raise his hand to his head. But it didn't respond to his command, and his heart started beating rapidly as the doctor's words started to sink in. He glanced at Peter with a terrified expression, not used to being so out of control. Peter took his hand again and squeezed tight, giving him a big smile. “Don't worry, Neal, you still have a full head of hair.”
Peter's joke did nothing to calm Neal and he turned to the doctor. “Ho...how bad?”
Dr. Sutton seemed to understand his alarm, and he crossed his arms over his chest, his face pulled tight. “Initial scans didn’t show any brain damage, and once the swelling reduced, all the tests confirmed no physical damage. Everyone was optimistic that you would recover. But then, you didn’t wake up, and slipped into a coma.”
Neal’s eyes widened.
“While this is a normal reaction to considerable head trauma since the body needs time to heal, there was concern that something else was wrong. We still have no clear answer as to why your coma persisted, but it is a good sign that you are awake now and talking. It may simply be that your body decided it needed a longer time to heal.”
Neal wasn't quite reassured by the doctor's words, and even more confused by the looks Peter was shooting him. His body didn't feel like his own, but they weren't telling him anything different. He told himself not to panic just yet. He looked to Peter again, the unasked question in his eyes and Peter took a deep breath.
“Three years, Neal. You've been in a coma for three years.”
*~*~*~*
After a few hours of explanations, questions and more tests, Neal fell asleep. Elizabeth joined Peter at his bedside, a familiar vigil for both of them, and they wordlessly held each other as they watched over him. It was a sight they were used to, and they worried that today was somehow a fluke, that he wouldn't wake up again. The doctor reassured them that Neal was back with them for good, but until they saw his eyes open again, they were afraid to believe it.
They knew it was a miracle that he woke up to begin with, but it was hard to believe in miracles when they'd been wishing for one for so long. The road ahead for Neal was long and it was going to be a struggle to get back to where they left off-if that was even possible. There would be weeks, if not months, of physical and occupational therapy. Only time would tell if there was any lingering damage, but for now his body was like a baby, newly born and not quite functioning. He had no strength, no stamina, and his muscles were atrophied. His brain was still trying to wake up and restart, and it was very likely that he would have to relearn basic skills all over again.
And that was just the physical. Peter had seen the fear and anguish in Neal's eyes and knew the emotional toll would be even harder to overcome.
The world had moved on without Neal Caffrey.
*~*~*~*
When he woke up that evening, Elizabeth was all over him, crying and hugging him. Peter held back, a quiet smile on his face as he watched them. Neal glanced between them, the burning question in his eyes, but Peter just shook his head and said, “Later.”
They talked until Elizabeth yawned, and Neal could barely keep his eyes open. Conversation was kept light, catching him up on the goings-on in the Burke household, Elizabeth’s job and New York. Neal, for his part, mostly listened, but talked as much as he could. His voice was slow and hesitant, and several times he had to just stop and try to find the right word. Elizabeth jumped in, chatting away with a smile, obviously trying to keep him from getting too worked up or frustrated.
The next morning, Peter returned without Elizabeth. Neal was awake and sitting up when he walked in, and hoping for answers. Peter gave him a tired smile as he pulled the chair up to the bed. The railings were down now that he was awake, and not at risk of falling, which had been a cause for concern during the previous days as his body had begun to wake up with frantic and uncontrolled movements.
“How are you doing, Neal?”
Neal scrunched his face and shrugged. “Tired.” His right hand jerked towards his stomach, where the hospital gown bulged and his left hand rested. “Hungry.”
Peter visibly winced.
What had been explained to him, was that a month after his coma had persisted, they’d had to put in a feeding tube. While it had been a medical necessity for the long term, it didn't mean they had given up hope that he would wake up. It was only after four months and he had been off the ventilator for a month, that they finally faced reality and made the decision to move him to a long-term facility.
Neal nodded absently and fingered the fabric of his hospital gown. He wanted to ask what happened. His memories were fuzzy. The last thing he remembered was talking with Mozzie, but that didn't tell him much. Peter had been in jail, but obviously that had been cleared up.
“Peter…”
A nurse chose that time to come in and Peter looked relieved at the interruption. Neal frowned as the nurse started talking about more tests, and an orderly came in to take him somewhere. Peter hung back as they moved his bed and Neal closed his eyes in resignation. Answers would not be coming yet.
The following few days were long, filled with more tests, physical therapy and, slowly, Neal started to feel signs of being the man he was before the accident. He was able to stay awake for longer periods of time, though everything still took a lot out of him. His voice grew stronger and, while he still had to pause to gather his thoughts, he was starting to be able to hold full conversations.
After four days of avoiding the conversation, when Peter arrived in the morning, Neal finally addressed the elephant in the room. He knew his friend had been waiting for him to get stronger, but he couldn't wait any longer.
“What happened, Peter?” he asked the moment Peter sat down. “I need to know. You were in jail.”
Peter took a deep breath. “James put a hit on me.” Neal’s eyes widened. “It was supposed to take place at the courthouse at my hearing. Mozzie found out and the two of you came up with this harebrained scheme to save me and catch him all at once. You realized that James would still want to do it himself, but he would need me outside. So, some guys were hired to make an attempt inside, knowing you would intervene.”
He paused and chuckled. “When it happened, I had no idea what was going on. I thought it was all your doing-that it was an escape plan.” Neal smiled weakly. It did sound like him, but he knew that Peter wouldn’t like it, that he wanted his name cleared the right way.
“I tried to stop you, but then you told me about the hit. Of course, not the part about James wanting me outside, but I guess you were afraid I wouldn’t go along with it. James was waiting outside at the loading dock when we got there, and put a gun to my head. You played along, got him talking. But the whole time, Mozzie was filming it.”
Peter stopped and looked away, and brushed a tear from his eye. “James wasn’t happy when you told him. He tried to shoot Mozzie, then turned back towards me. You pushed me out of the way and went after James. The two of you went down fighting and James shot you in the stomach. You went tumbling down the dock and fell off, hitting your head.” He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.
His voice trembled when he looked back at Neal. “I will never forget that moment. Agents were everywhere, yelling, shouting, but all I heard was that sound when you landed on the ground. I ran over to you and you were bleeding, and…and-”
Gasping, Peter stood up and turned around, unable to look Neal in the face. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, the tears flowing freely as he worked to calm himself. The room was silent, save for the sound of Peter’s ragged breathing.
“Peter…”
He shook his head. “I thought you were dead, Neal. Your eyes…”
“Look at me, Peter.”
“They took me away…”
“PETER! Look at me!” Neal called out as loudly as he could.
Finally turning around, Peter didn’t bother hiding his tears. He collapsed in the chair and buried his face in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.
“I’m still here,” Neal said quietly. “Sure, I’m a little late, but you know I always appreciate making a good entrance.”
Peter choked out a laugh and glanced back up, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “You always had to do things your way.”
Neal grinned. “Coloring inside the lines is never fun anyway.”
Shaking his head, Peter laughed bitterly. “I’ve had enough of playing outside.”
Neal’s grin faded and his mouth tightened. “I’m sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have dragged you into the mess with my father. If I hadn’t…”
Peter pointed a finger at him. “No, don’t even go there. It was my choice. A choice I accepted a long time ago and have had to live with since. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. I was the agent-I should have taken James down. You shouldn’t have been the one needing to save me.”
“I had to, Peter.”
Peter smiled softly and nodded. “I know.”
“So what happened to James?” Neal asked, changing the subject, knowing they couldn't get past their feelings of guilt in one day.
Settling back in his chair, Peter exhaled slowly. “He was shot twice, trying to run away. He died on the scene.”
Neal gave an almost imperceptible nod and looked down at his hands. “Good. Prison would have been too good for him.”
“Neal…”
He looked up at Peter and gave him a shaky smile. “It’s okay. He wasn’t my father.”
“I’m sorry.”
Neal shook his head. “I’m not. As long as you’re okay and free, that’s all that matters.”
“But it's not okay, Neal. It shouldn't have come to this. We should have been able to clean up the whole mess without you getting hurt or James dying.”
“Peter, what's done is done. You once told me to man up to my mistakes, right? Well, I am, and I regret them, but we can't do anything more but go on with life. I get that.”
Peter frowned and stared out the window, but said nothing.
Neal watched him silently, wondering if they could move on. His friend was still plagued with guilt and it didn't seem to matter that he was awake now. For three years, Peter had blamed himself, so it was going to take time for Neal to make him see things differently. Stubbornness aside, the agent had always felt responsible for him, and that wouldn’t change overnight.
“I don't suppose my sentence is up now, is it?” he asked, putting on an impish smile. “I know I was sleeping and all, but three years should count for something, right?”
Glancing back, Peter chuckled and nodded. “Yes, you are a free man, Neal. Technically you haven't had the anklet since that day. I think even the US Marshals realized you weren't going to run.”
“I'm good, but I'm not that good. Faking a coma would be Oscar-worthy though.” Neal grinned. “Mozzie would be proud.”
Peter's face pinched in a grimace. “Yeah, he would.”
“How is he? I know Mozzie's deathly allergic to hospitals, but I figured I'd have heard from him by now, trying to rescue me from the government's clutches, claiming they're going to brainwash me or something now that I'm awake.”
“Um,” Peter hesitated and sighed loudly. “I don't know.” He ducked his head and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “He, uh, left New York a year after the accident.” Peter glanced back up and smiled sadly. “Said it was too hard to stick around watching and waiting for a miracle. I'm pretty sure he left an email address with Elizabeth and she's contacted him. But I'll bet he already heard the news. You know Moz...”
Neal swallowed hard and nodded absently. “Yeah, probably...”
The nurse came in then and both men looked away, relieved at the interruption. The past was just that- the rest could wait for another day.
*~*~*~*
The next morning Peter brought in a container full of blueberry orange muffins that Elizabeth had baked the night before. They hadn't talked since the previous morning, since Neal had been too tired after physical therapy and had fallen asleep before Peter left for the day.
Peter knew they had to finish their conversation. He couldn't stall anymore.
“El wanted to come see you today, but she had an early meeting. She said she'll try to come tonight if you're still up to it.”
Neal gave him a small smile. “Sure, I'd like that.”
“Good, good...” Peter motioned to the muffins. “Want one? El baked them last night. I think she's going to try to make up for missing out on feeding you for three years.”
“Umm... maybe later. Thanks, though.” Neal shifted restlessly and tugged at his blanket. It was a sure sign to Peter that there was something he didn’t want to say. And it was pretty obvious.
Neal had never liked to ask for help, and now he found himself in a situation he couldn’t control, where he needed help to do just about everything. Peter understood how hard that was for him, and it wasn’t any easier for him to watch, but he wasn’t going to back down just because it made either of them uncomfortable.
“Are you sure? I can, you know...” Peter shrugged. “I don't mind, really.”
Without waiting for a response, he walked to the other side of the room and the pump of hand sanitizer that sat on the small counter with other medical supplies. He quickly cleaned his hands, then came back and plucked a muffin out of the container. In seconds, he had the colorful wrapper off and had broken off a small piece.
Neal eyed him warily. “Peter, you don't have to...”
Peter gave him a stern glare. “I want to-don't you dare feel embarrassed about this, Neal. I know it's going to take time to get back on your feet. We're going to be here for you, whether you like it or not.”
Sighing, Neal gave in and nodded. “Fine. Thank you.”
The doctors were weaning him off the formula he’d been on for the past three years, and Neal had been ecstatic when they’d let him have solid food. Not that anything they’d given him had been exciting, unfortunately. El had commiserated, and took it upon herself to bring him something better than bland hospital food.
Peter also suspected she had an ulterior motive to fatten him up. Eyeing the unnatural sight of Neal’s thin frame, Peter knew it was a good idea.
He held out his hand, hovering near Neal’s mouth. After a couple fumbling attempts, he managed to find a rhythm and the appropriate bite size for Neal, and the muffin disappeared in a flash. But Neal still wouldn't look him in the eye as Peter brushed crumbs off his mouth with a napkin.
After throwing away the napkin, Peter sat down and awkwardly ran his hands down his thighs to grip his knees. There was still a lot to talk about, and the knot in his stomach would not go away until they got through it. Cowboy up, he told himself.
“You know, you don't have to keep me company every day. I'm sure you're needed at the office,” Neal remarked casually, and brushed a crumb away with an air of nonchalance.
Only Peter knew better.
As painful as he knew it would be, Neal obviously wanted to finish their talk, but he wasn’t going to push Peter. His guilt still hung heavy in the air, and Neal was trying to let Peter get through it on his own terms, which Peter respected. However, it was going to be a long time before Peter could find peace with what had happened.
Now, though, he had to think of Neal.
“Oh, they're getting along fine without me,” he replied, leaning back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, I have plenty of work with me and I have my phone.”
Peter smiled widely, but it felt forced and he couldn’t hold it. Sighing, he dropped his hands in his lap. “I'm in charge now-I have Hughes' old position.”
Neal blinked, and after a beat, grinned. “Congratulations! You deserve it. How long?”
“Three months.” Peter chuckled and shook his head. “I should have known things were going too smoothly and you'd wake up.”
“Awww, admit it Peter-you missed me. It's more fun with me around.”
Peter was ready to disagree, then rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe.”
Neal beamed. “I bet your closure rate wasn't as good without me, either.”
“Modesty doesn't become you, Neal.”
He just shrugged, and the familiar Cheshire grin-that Peter wouldn't admit to missing-stretched across his face.
“So has Callaway been around all this time or was there enough dirt to get rid of her?”
Peter grimaced, remembering that bitter fight. “No, after how everything went down and the dirt Hughes dug up-she was connected to Pratt, by the way-Callaway pled out. She didn't get any time, but she no longer works for the government.”
Neal frowned. “I guess that's better than nothing.”
“Yeah, it all worked out for the best.... well, aside from-you know...” Peter trailed off and his eyes fell to the floor.
“Right...” Neal fell silent.
Peter hadn’t been happy with the way it had turned out, but he hadn’t been in a position to do anything at the time. Hughes and his team had fought most of the battle, and Peter had just been happy that she didn’t win. She might not have been the one to shoot Neal, but that afternoon would not even have happened if it hadn’t been for her flagrant disregard.
“You were cleared, right? I mean, Moz's video helped?”
Peter glanced back up, and cleared his throat. “Yeah, it just took a few days. Worst days of my life, though. When they took me away at the courthouse, I thought you were dead. El stayed with you at the hospital, and Diana finally managed to come see me the next day to let me know your condition, which wasn't good; you'd been in surgery for over ten hours, and were still critical.”
He watched as Neal brought a shaky arm up to his head, and fingered the scars left behind. A piece of his skull had been cut out to relive the pressure on his brain. Dr. Sutton had given Neal a high-level overview of what had happened, which hadn’t been easy for Neal to hear, but it had been harder for Peter to relive.
“I barely saw the inside of my house for a week after I was released,” Peter continued. “El and I practically lived at the hospital. There was so much going on, between James, Callaway, and the huge fall-out because of what was found in the evidence box.”
Jones had kept him updated, but Peter was actually relieved that he didn’t have to deal with it. He hadn’t been allowed to touch the case, and that was fine with him. There were too many higher ups and people in positions of power affected, and going after them wasn’t easy or without risk. Peter had learned that the hard way.
In the end, most of it had been swept under the rug. A few people connected to Pratt became the fall guys, but by that point, Neal had been in the coma for months, and Peter’s anger had nowhere to go. The one person truly responsible was dead.
“But you got your badge back.”
Peter nodded. “I did. I was suspended for a while, but honestly, I didn't care. I wouldn't have left the hospital anyway.”
“You had to go back eventually,” Neal pointed out.
“I know, and I did-two months later. We were still hopeful you'd wake up at that point, but we all had to start moving on, getting back to normal.”
“It's okay, Peter. I understand,” he said softly.
Peter shook his head and slapped his hands on his legs. “Right. Anyway, life went on. We got a new guy to fill in after they booted Callaway. He was nearing retirement, so we knew it wouldn't be permanent. They just needed someone to come in and clean things up. I kept my head down and nose clean, and six months ago they asked me if I wanted the position.
“I figured it was the right time. Elizabeth had gone through enough over the years, she didn't need to worry about me anymore. Jones was promoted as well; he runs the team now.”
Neal smiled. “That's great. I'm happy for you, and Jones, too.”
“Thank you. It was good timing for Jones. He got married just over a year ago.” Peter’s face lit up. “They're expecting a baby in a few months.”
“Wow.” Neal's eyes widened. “A lot has happened.”
His stomach dropped and Peter hesitated. “Yeah, a lot has.”
“Diana?”
“She's in Boston, actually, with Christie. They got back together a couple of years ago. Then last year they moved to Boston after Christie accepted a position heading up the ER department.” Peter paused. “They got married a few months ago.”
On the surface, Neal was stoic, but Peter saw the pain in his eyes. It was telling, because he so rarely let anyone see how he truly felt. Only now, he wasn’t in control and that had to hurt even more.
“I guess I won't be planning her bachelorette party after all,” he said sadly.
“Actually, Diana didn't want one-said it didn't feel right.” Peter shrugged his shoulder lightly and offered him a small smile. “Maybe now would be a good time to throw one. I'm sure she'd appreciate it.”
Neal’s face was pulled tight, but he tried to smile. “Maybe...” He looked down at his hands and was quiet.
Peter felt a pang in his heart at the sight of the broken man in front of him. This was not the Neal Caffrey he knew. But how many times had life beaten him down? How many people had he loved and lost? While they had been the ones to grieve the past three years, now it was Neal’s turn, and this time it was going to be a long road to healing.
Taking a deep breath, Neal looked Peter in the eyes. “And Sara?”
Peter's face crumbled slightly. To Neal, it had only been a few weeks since she had left. Elizabeth had told him how Neal had barely spoken of Sara after Peter’s arrest. Neal had pushed aside his own pain to help Peter. He knew Neal had finally found something good with Sara at the end, but he had been selfless, letting her go.
Would they have found a way to make it work? Peter liked to think so.
“She's still in London. Busy as ever,” he said finally.
“Married?”
“Oh no,” Peter shook his head. “She says she's too busy for that.”
Neal nodded and relaxed just a bit. “Married to her work.”
“Yeah, yeah she is,” Peter agreed, letting out a nervous chuckle. “She visits, though.”
“Really?” Neal looked at him surprised.
Peter shifted in his seat. “New York, that is. She has meetings twice a year. Elizabeth and I meet up with her for dinner.”
“Oh, right.” Neal sighed and nodded slowly. “That's... nice of her.”
“She was here, after the accident.”
Neal eyes shot up and he gripped the blanket covering his lap. “She was?”
“Elizabeth called her, and she flew back that night. Stayed a few weeks, but...” Peter bit his lip. No one had known what to do back then. It had been difficult to go back to their lives, but they had no choice.
“She had a life, a job.” Neal smiled bitterly. “I get it, Peter, don't worry.”
Peter sighed. “I'm sorry, Neal. I mean it. I wish it all could have gone differently. I wish there had been some other way to get James... to clean up this mess, so that you didn't have to go through this.”
“But there wasn’t.”
Peter shook his head. “No, there wasn’t.”
*~*~*~*
“I'm so sorry I'm late,” Elizabeth apologized as she hurried into Neal's room that evening carrying several bags. “I had to go home and let Maggie out.”
She carefully set the bags down next to the chair along the wall and sat down with a big sigh. “How are you doing, Neal?” she asked with a bright smile on her face.
Neal frowned. “I'm good. Did you get another dog?”
Elizabeth glanced at Peter, a worried look in her eyes, and he shook his head. She nodded towards Neal and the two of them communicated silently, ending with a firm glare on Elizabeth’s part and a grimace by Peter. The silent by-play between the two would have been funny any other time, but not today. Neal knew whatever they had to say was not good.
She stood up and walked to his side while Peter took a deep breath. “Neal, Satchmo's gone. He died last year.”
He knew it shouldn't have hit him so hard, but Neal felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. “What?”
“Oh, sweetie, he was sick, and we didn't want him to be in pain anymore. He was already twelve, he'd lived a long life.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand.
Peter leaned forward. “We got him just before I started chasing you. Can you believe it's been that long? If anyone told me back then that this was where we'd end up, I would have called them crazy.”
“Yeah... crazy,” Neal echoed softly.
“Anyway, we got a new puppy-a black lab. She's so cute, you're going to love her.” Elizabeth beamed.
“Just please try not to corrupt her, Neal,” Peter cut in. “We're still training her.”
“Why would I corrupt your dog, Peter?”
Peter gave him a look. “You think I don't know that you had Satchmo doing whatever you wanted?”
Neal playfully shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Who, me?”
“Well, you can meet her later. Right now, I brought you stuff to keep you entertained.” Elizabeth turned back around and started emptying the bags she'd brought in. “I know you must be bored. We have cards, board games, and some new books that I'd thought you'd like. I also have a laptop and DVDs for you. A couple new shows came out that I think you'll love. Plus, I figure you'll want to catch up on news and such.”
“Thanks, Elizabeth. That's great.” Neal smiled honestly, momentarily feeling the weight of everything disappear. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth paused in her efforts to arrange everything on the table and glanced over her shoulder. “I just remembered how restless Peter gets when he's laid up, and I figured you'd be the same.”
Peter stood up and stretched his arms. “So, how about a game of Clue, Neal? See if that mind of yours is still sharp.”
“Clue, Peter-really?” Neal raised an eyebrow. “Isn't that a little clichéd? Don't you get enough of it at work?”
“I'll have you know this was my favorite game as a kid.”
“Now that's a surprise,” he replied dryly.
“Oh, be quiet.” Peter unearthed the game from the stack and walked back to the bed. He laid the box on Neal’s lap and started to set it up on the over-bed table. “Who do you want to be? Mr. Green or Professor Plum?”
“What, I can't be Colonel Mustard?”
Peter shuffled the cards and shrugged. “I figured with your background, you'd want to be Mr. Green since he was a crook and a playboy, or the Professor. After all, you did pose as a teacher before.”
“You do realize that Green is a Reverend in the original UK version, right?” Neal asked, giving him a pointed look.
Peter rolled his eyes, and sighed in exasperation. Elizabeth giggled and pulled her chair closer to the bed. “Well, I want to be Mrs. Peacock.”
Part Two