WHITE COLLAR KINK MEME ROUND 3
THE RULES HAVE CHANGED - Please read them.
* If you post a prompt, post a fill. It's only fair. Prompts can be responded to an infinite number of times.
* Post prompts / requests anonymously. <- This will be enforced.
* If you like a fill, say so.
* No bashing. no bashing means NO BASHING: no judgmental comments, *hints* at judgmental comments, or ( Read more... )
* If you post a prompt, post a fill. It's only fair. Prompts can be responded to an infinite number of times.
* Post prompts / requests anonymously. <- This will be enforced.
* If you like a fill, say so.
* No bashing. no bashing means NO BASHING: no judgmental comments, *hints* at judgmental comments, or ( Read more... )
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So I'm going to end up leaving you a rather long review on this because let's face it, you certainly deserve it!
Oh my god, I have to admit that when I first read the prompt for this I thought "Ehh, this could be real good or real bad..." You blew me away. While this is rather long (wonderfully long) so far, I feel like you've done so much in very few words. You managed to show us how lost and changed and different Neal is without telling us about it. You showed it. From his perspective, from Peter's and El's and everyone. The sacrifices Peter and Elizabeth are willing to make for Neal is just heartbreaking as is watching him learn to live again. Not quite sure how I feel about Brad right now because I'm praying this fic will go in a Peter/Neal/Elizabeth direction, but if you decide that Brad is the one for Neal then I'll ship Brad/Neal. I wish I could properly explain to you, my dear anon author, how much I adore this fic but I'm not sure I can. I'm going to try anyway... You' ( ... )
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He wanted his voice, even though he could barely recall what it sounded like. The memory of it echoed down the silent years to him like a bad outgoing message, tinny and distorted, a stranger’s voice saying hello you’ve reached Neal Caffrey.
He was starting to taste them again. The words. Starting to feel them surface inside of him. Elizabeth said good morning and he held his coffee and his reply on his tongue, lukewarm Italian roast and good morning to you too, savoring them both, relearning the taste of them.
He wanted his words and his voice and his-not his old life back, not the life he’d had before, but-well. His life or something like it.
And when he needed the words the most, needed no and Neal Caffrey and Peter, Peter where are you?, they did not magically surface like a phoenix from the ashes, desperation did not draw them closer; he and his silence were left alone ( ... )
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He heard them before he saw them. The cop retrieved them from his belt and unsnapped them too quickly, the metal grating against itself. He heard the cuffs jangling and then there was a hand around his wrist, pulling his arm forward, moving him like a mannequin, fastening-cold metal. Cold grey metal clicking into place. One wrist secured. The cop reached for Neal’s other hand.
He couldn’t do this again. He just-he couldn’t. Sickness spread through every fiber in his body, nausea like a plea you will not survive this again.
So Neal fought.
He was losing almost before he started, one arm twisted in the cop’s grasp, the other pinwheeling desperately in an attempt to push himself away. He fought with more terror than skill, bile building in his throat, fighting memories more than he was fighting this man (this man who was just doing his job, the man who haunted one-too-many of Neal’s nightmaresThe cop was yelling and Neal was trying to. Trying to scream or cry or laugh, laugh because he could taste blood but not ( ... )
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I didn’t have my ID, he wrote, his letters stuttering across the page. It’s not his fault.
“Peter’d arrest somebody for giving you so much as a dirty look, Neal, you think he’s going to let this guy go with a slap on the wrist?”
He was just doing his job, Neal replied, breathing deeply, reclaiming each shaking limb in turn ( ... )
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Neal curled up tighter underneath his blanket. “The next step is to try therapy,” Peter said softly, setting the cup of coffee down on the low dresser by Neal’s bed. Steam was rising from it. “I’ve got some names, and I can figure out who’s covered by our insurance. I just need to know if you have a preference for a man or a woman.”
Neal snaked one hand out from under the covers to grab his notebook. Woman, he wrote, but he pulled the notebook out of Peter’s hands to add another sentence. Anyone who doesn’t work at the hospital.“Got it,” Peter said, giving him back his notebook and leaving the coffee behind ( ... )
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Thanks for writing! :)
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I love how Neal is slowly getting himself back but that it's all in fits and starts, two steps forward and one back. It's so realistic! And the hospital was heartbreaking but I can see how that'd happen!!
I love that Brad wants to help and is trying but that Neal clings to Peter too as his first and foremost protector.
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