The Gift of Fever Part Three
Prisoners called out and the flushing of toilets was a dull roar in the background. “Is this where I belong?” He called out to nobody.
There wasn’t an answer but a hand fell heavy on his shoulder. Neal jumped and whirled around. “You.”
The man behind him just grinned and lit the cigar dangling from his lips with a flick of a lighter. He blew the smoke in Neal’s face and crooked his finger, beckoning Neal to follow.
“Adler.” Neal called after him. “This… this isn’t right. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. This isn’t where I end up!” He was frantic. “This can’t be.”
Adler just walked away. Neal followed behind, eyes on his shoes, anger and fear rolling in his belly. When the echoing footsteps in front of him stopped, Neal looked up. Adler was watching him, that horrible little grin on his face. He blew smoke rings toward the ceiling before turning glowing eyes on the cell before them. When Neal refused to look, he pointed and his grin grew.
“No.” Neal squeezed his eyes shut. “You can’t make me look.”
But he could. And he did. He stepped close to Neal and wrapped cold fingers around his chin, turning his face and forcing him to take in the scene. Neal choked on a sob as he recognized himself; wearing convict orange, huddled knees to chest on a bare mattress. The walls were covered in tallys and sketches that were curled at the corners, faded and yellow with age. His hair was too short and sprinkled with grey, the lines around his eyes; deep.
There was a sketch pad and a box of colored pencils, down to their last nubs, on the bed with him and Neal knew exactly how much of his soul he had to sell to get those items from the prison commissary. There was half a sketch on the first page; a Christmas scene. A tree lit up in a living room he recognized with an ache.
“Hey Caffrey!” He jumped and so did the Him in the cell. “Christmas dinner.” Two guards showed up from nowhere and slid a tray through the bars. The first guard laughed. “Merry Christmas!”
As the two walked away Neal caught the last of their conversation. The other spoke as they disappeared around the corner. “This is his 8th Christmas in here, Joe. It’s not funny anymore. Poor guy hasn’t had so much as a visitor in years. You could cut him a break today of all days.”
There was rude laughter again and then they were gone and the hall darkened behind them.
“Eight years?” Neal turned to Adler with horror on his face. “Nobody has missed me for years? What did I do?”
But the spirit was busy, head tipped back and his soundless cackling filling the silence better than a trumpet. Neal dropped to his knees and watched as the him inside the cage picked at the food before curling back into himself, a cold kind of stoniness settling over his features. His words were bitter when he spoke for the first time. “Merry Christmas.”
"I won't do this to you. I swear I won't." Neal gripped the cold bars. "Where did you go so wrong? Where did I go so wrong?" If this moment grew quiet, he couldn't tell. An oppressing feeling settled over him and he fell further, squeezing his eyes tight and curling up. "I want to stay. I'm happy, I'm loved and I love and that's what I want." He was choking on his cries. "I don't want to be alone."
"Neal?" There were cold hands prying at him. "Neal, c'mon buddy, wake up." The voice was urgent and familiar. "He's burning up, El."
He didn't hear an answer but stopped fighting the pull and landed on his back, one cool hand on his chest, the other pressed to his forehead. He cracked an eyelid. "Hi, Peter ghost." The scratch in his throat turned into a tickle and he coughed.
"Ghost?" Peter was manhandling him into an upright position, trying to help him breathe. "Not a ghost, sweetcheeks." He stood and maneuvered so Neal was against his shoulder, upright and wheezing.
Neal blinked so slow that Peter wasn't sure his eyes were going come open each time the slid closed. "Notta spirit?" He looked genuinely confused. Peter was frowning in a way that sent a pleased tickle through Neal and his face split into a grin. He dropped his head to Peter's shoulder.
Then Peter was tugging at him, pulling him to his feet and pushing his clothes off. "Cold, Peter ghost!" He fought back with what little strength he could find.
"Gotta get your fever down, Neal. Also, still not a ghost." Peter huffed a laugh because really what else could he do? He was dragging his belligerent partner towards the bathroom and a cool shower and the man was fighting him every step of the way. "C'mon Neal. Elizabeth's going to be mad if I let your brain boil."
That got Neal to stop trying to swat his hands away. "Liz'beths here?"
"She's parking the car." Peter finally got them into the bathroom and deposited Neal onto the toilet lid and finished undressing him before he stripped of his own clothes.
"Kinky, Peter ghost." Neal looked down at himself and shivered. "It's too cold to be naked though."
"That's the idea." He turned the shower on and hoisted Neal to his feet alarmed again at the heat radiating off of him.
Neal managed to help a little as Peter stepped into the spray and pulled him in behind him. He gave Neal a minute to adjust and then turned them so they were chest to chest with Neal's back under the cool water. "You're one too many." Neal was shivering already, fingers gripping Peter hard and his head heavy against his shoulder. "Only supposed to be three." He raised his head and his eyes were bright with fever under the cascading water. "What comes after the future?"
"Buddy, I don't know what your talking about." Peter tightened his hold.
"I know." He smiled and it looked a little sad to Peter. "Will you be my Ghost of Christmas Forever?"
Peter frowned a little. "Have you been dreaming in shades of Dickens?" He reached up and brushed water off Neal's face.
The smile fell and the sadness remained. "Peter? Will you be my forever ghost?" He dropped his head back to Peter's shoulder and murmured the last into his neck. "Will you stay?"
"Oh, Neal." Peter ran a hand down his back and pressed his lips to his temple, he was still warm but nowhere near the horrifyingly hot that he had been. "Always."
They stood there, Peter supporting Neal's shivering frame until Elizabeth's voice echoed through the space. "Peter?"
"In here!" Peter called back and Neal jumped against him. "It's El." Peter spoke low in his ear.
"Honey," El pushed the door open. "You guys doing ok?"
"I forgot to grab towels. Want to help me get him out and back in bed?" He was getting heavy.
El grabbed towels from the closet and entered the bathroom. She shut off the water and Peter shifted Neal's weight towards her. "Neal, sweetie? You need to help me out here." El laughed as he leaned toward her and stumbled over the edge of the tub.
Neal smiled at her. "Hi." Peter got out behind him and tied the first towel around his own waist before using the other to rub Neal down. "Your husband is a handsy ghost."
El smiled with confusion in her eyes and Peter chuckled. "I'll explain later. Let's get him-" Peter was doing most of the supporting again, Neal's arm was draped across his back. He nodded back toward the bedroom and El stepped under Neal's other arm. Together they made short work of getting him dressed, medicated, and back under the blankets.
"Maybe we should take him to the hospital." El was sitting beside Neal with a hand to his forehead. "He's so warm."
"Let's give the medication time to work. If it's still this high in a few hours, we'll go in." Peter dropped into a chair and closed his eyes. It had been the longest 24 hours in recent history. "I know he'd rather not spend Christmas in the ER."
They settled in, staying close, keeping watch. Neal woke periodically to drink and swallow the pills that the hands he reached for provided. His temperature fell steadily through the night.
--
Neal woke quickly but didn't move, he blinked his eyes open, listening carefully to the sound of laughter floating from somewhere near. He struggled into a seated position and was relieved when his head followed and his stomach didn't rebel. He got slowly to his feet and shuffled his way toward the voices.
Peter and Elizabeth were sitting at the table in front of the terrace, a board game between them. Peter looked over and got to his feet as Neal approached. "Hey! You're up." Then he was there, guiding Neal to the couch. "How're you feeling?"
"You're here?" He frowned and tried to remember. There was some sort of haze over his memories. "You left."
"We came back." Elizabeth ran her hand over his hair as she came around to sit beside him. "We wanted to spend Christmas with you."
And that was all it took. Memories bobbed to the surface and Neal closed his eyes against the onslaught of images. "I had the most incredible dream."
"Was there, perchance, a lesson in this dream?" Peter's mouth was turned up in a smirk.
"How did you...?"
"I, sweetcheeks, am a handsy forever type of ghost. Apparently."
Neal smiled. He might not be up for dancing in the streets but he knew a gift when he was given one. "I love you. And I wanted to spend Christmas with you, I just didn't know how to ask. I’m sorry I let us miss that chance." He took a breath.
"Neal." Peter interrupted. "You haven't missed Christmas." He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and displayed the clock. It was just after 10am Christmas morning.
Joy bloomed from somewhere inside and suddenly dancing in the street didn’t seem wholly out of the question. Neal got to his feet and pulled both of them along with him. "And you're here. We're together. And you love me. Both of you." He pulled them into an awkward three way hug and laughed as their heads bonked together lightly. "We need to be celebrating."
He kissed them both and then pulled away. He disappeared into his closet and came back with gifts. He handed them over and they all sat, Neal leaning against Peter's shoulder. "Open them." He was picking nervously at his nails.
Elizabeth peeled back the first corner and Neal switched sides, letting his head rest against her shoulder as she pulled the paper free. He flushed when she gasped. "Oh, baby. It's gorgeous." The entire thing was a Caffrey original, from the handmade frame to the dozen or so tiny artworks that filled the space. She was quiet for a minute while her eyes skimmed the comic. "Oh, Neal." When she looked his way again there were tears bright in her eyes. "This is amazing."
He kissed her lips and turned back to Peter. "You were supposed to open them at the same time." Peter smiled and ripped at the paper. He ran a finger along the comic as he read. "It's a story." Neal explained. "There's a third part."
He got up and went back to the closet and Peter and El moved together on the couch, finding the place where their stories overlapped. But it wasn't until Neal returned with the third piece that they were truly awed. "It's..." Peter touched the vein of thoughts that ran through all three.
"Your story of us?" Elizabeth tore her eyes away. "Neal..."
"Each part stands alone just fine. It’s good on it's own." Neal touched each one. "A story of you. And you. And of me. But when they're put together, just two, it's a love story." He put one hand on each of their pieces. "But it’s not truly complete until-" He ran a hand across the top of all three. He shrugged a little. "I also bought tickets to the theater." He winked at Elizabeth. "And some sporting event." To Peter. "In case this tanks."
"This is perfect. Neal, I can't even find the right words." Elizabeth set everything aside and pulled Neal in. "You did good."
"You did wonderful." Peter's voice was a little thick and he cleared his throat. "I love it."
"Oh!" El pulled away from Neal. "The present!" She looked around and spotted the little box sitting on the table. "I'm glad you didn't open it without us."
Neal took it and gave it a little shake. He slid his finger under the tape.
"Wait. Neal, did you mean it?" Peter suddenly spoke up, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "When you asked if I'd stay. If I'd be your..."
"Forever Ghost." Neal smiled, blushing just a little. "I did."
"Ok." Peter leaned back again and took El's hand. "Then open it."
Neal undid the edges and tipped the paper, dumping a small wooden box into his hand. He looked up at the two of them, watching him carefully. His pulse doubled. "Guys..." He flipped the lid of the box and it took Peter's hand on his knee before he started breathing again.
"We can't make it officially official...." Peter's voice was apologetic. "But we need you to know it's not you and us. It's just... Us."
Neal pulled the ring from the box. "It's perfect."
"It's engraved." Elizabeth spoke up. "All of ours are."
Neal flipped it and brought it closer to his face. "Pari Passu."
"It's Latin-" Peter started.
"Equals Together." Neal finished. When he looked up again his eyes shone.
"Merry Christmas, Neal." The Burkes rang out in unison. And they laughed.
"Merry Christmas, Peter. Elizabeth." He slipped the ring onto his left hand and fitted himself between them more snuggly, kisses shared. "Merry Christmas."
--
Peter found him later, standing still on the terrace, a cold wind biting and snowflakes landing in his hair. “Neal?” He came up beside him.
“Hm?” Neal jumped when Peter covered his hand. “Hey, Peter.” He leaned into him.
“Whatcha thinkin about?” Peter leaned back, nudging gently. “And why are you doing it in the bitter cold?”
Neal held up a piece of paper, just a scrap really. A corner torn off a larger piece. It looked like it had been balled up once or twice and folded repeatedly. “She wasn’t that hard to find.” He handed the paper over. “They didn’t change her name.”
“Who?” Peter took the paper. It wasn’t a New York area code.
“My mom.” Neal took the paper back and balled it up in his fist. “When I got out of prison, I looked her up.” He laughed. “Do you know that when you’re son turns his back on you while you’re in witsec, your life gets turned upside down? She spent 6 months in a WitSec safe house while they tried to decide if I was a risk to her. She lost her home. Her job. The life she’d been building. They just took it away from her. Again. But at least they didn’t change her name.”
“Neal…” Peter was regretting this conversation. “I didn’t mean to…”
“I saw her, Peter. In my - dream or, or hallucination or vision quest, or whatever it was.” He took a long breath and blew it out in a cloud. “I need to know.”
“Ok.” Peter wrapped an arm around him. He produced a cell phone from his pocket and handed it over. “Let’s do it then.”
Neal looked at him with tears freezing in his eyes. He took the phone with a hand that shook and dialed the number without glancing at the paper. It rang three times and he almost hung up but a voice he almost remembered suddenly warmed the line. “Hello?”
“M-mom?” He cleared his throat. “It’s Neal.”
Peter didn’t hear the next words, but the smile that spread across Neal’s face was enough. He touched his elbow and turned them back into the apartment. He dropped Neal at the couch and went to fetch blankets and the hot coco El was busy making on the stove. He kissed her and mouthed ‘mom’ at her raised eyebrow. Her eyes widened just a little as she pressed mugs into Peter’s hands.
By the time he got back to the couch he was just catching the end of the conversation. “Merry Christmas, mom.” Neal wiped a tear off his cheek and the light caught the glint of his ring and he smiled. He hung up and handed the phone back to Peter. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve… this.” Peter dropped to one side, El came around and filled the empty space on the other. “But thank you.”
He looked over at Peter and shared a wink. “And God Bless us, everyone.” Peter smirked for a minute before he laughed, then Neal laughed. Elizabeth looked on like they’d lost it. “I am going to get the rest of the story, right? Someone’s going to fill me in?”
Her boys just laughed a little harder. It was a pretty Merry Christmas after all.
END