A very special thank you to Kil_Rain for the original art work

(23 months)

Under the Weather

Neal turned over in bed, his arms spontaneously reaching out for his wife's warm body as he sighed in contentment. He nuzzled closer, instinctively burrowing his face in what used to be her luxuriously soft red hair only to feel the smooth, yet unyielding, wool cap tickle his nose. Even after five months, he still reacted with surprise to the absence of the pillowy curls and he woke, startled, his eyes coming to rest on Sara's sleeping form in the early morning light. Her previously soft, bouncy curls were missing in action and had been for months now and yet, it was still jarring for Neal every single time he snuggled up against her in the darkness of night.

Sara's hair had begun to fall out in mid-September, first in single strands, then in large clumps, and the meagre locks which had somehow managed to survive the exodus had been unceremoniously shaved off in early October only to be replaced by wigs and warm, woolly caps.

Following her last chemotherapy treatment in early December, Sara had been thrilled to discover an eyelash sprouting right around Christmas time - a harbinger of the new life that was returning to her body and, shortly after New Years, new, wispy fine hair had begun to appear on her scalp, at first, soft and feathery although it had quickly turned bristly with unexpectedly dark and tight curls. She still wore a wig during her waking hours, unwilling to parade around in the less than flattering hairstyle - which Neal had heard her curse on more than one occasion. At home, she still favored the woolen caps, especially in these last few days of February, with the weather consistently dipping below zero.

Neal had noticed several other lingering aftereffects of the gruelling treatments Sara had endured for the better part of four months. Even now, weeks after it was all over and done with, she still had limited stamina and she hadn't yet gained back the weight she'd lost during the time her body had been under attack from the toxic chemo drugs. But most notably, she hadn't regained her usual vibrancy and joie de vivre, seemingly making it through the day by the skin of her teeth and Neal knew it would be awhile before he got his wife back - if ever.

Dr. Franklin, Sara's oncologist, had warned that it could take up to a year for her to fully recover from the brutal attack on her body and Neal had refrained from commenting on the fact that she was far from her old self, opting instead to encourage her every time she made small gains - like staying up past 9:30 or surviving a full day at her job - which she'd recently returned to. She was still working up to a full time schedule and had gradually inched up to three days a week and that, in and of itself, was taking everything out of her, considering Sara had never adhered to a regular workweek to begin with. Neal worried she might be pushing it; it was disheartening to watch her drag herself home after a day at Sterling Bosch only to flake out on the couch and nap for a full hour before dinner and follow that up with another ten or so hours when her head finally hit the pillow.

Following her cancer diagnosis, Neal had taken over most of the responsibilities on the home front, often burning the candle at both ends in an effort to keep her from overexerting herself. She still had a long way to go and they were both acutely aware that relapses, which sadly happened much too often in the case of ovarian cancer, most often occurred within a year of the original diagnosis. They'd been meticulous about attending her follow-up appointments and having regular pelvic CT scans, holding their breath each time they were summoned to Dr. Franklin's office for results. So far, so good but the couple continued to live with the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sara startled in the bed next to her husband and she began to moan in her sleep, her head moving back and forth on her pillow as she mumbled.

'No… no… no!' she repeated, her voice growing louder.

'Sara?' Neal said, his voice still thick with sleep.

The nightmares were a relatively recent development but they'd been unrelenting over the past couple of weeks and Neal shook her gently, trying to rise her from her fitful sleep.

'Sara, baby, wake up. You're dreaming' he insisted as her moans grew louder.

She let out a gasp, finally reacting to his pleading voice and her eyes drifted open as she slowly transitioned from deep sleep to semi-wakefulness.

'What?' she mumbled, confused, as she sat up in bed and looked around their bedroom.

'It's okay, it's okay. It's just a bad dream' Neal whispered, his hand running down her back in an attempt to ground her to reality.

'Hey, hey, look at me' he murmured as she let herself fall back onto the bed and settled against his chest.

The recurring dreams had appeared shortly after their friend Janet had passed away. The woman had been a close friend of Sara's during her cancer journey and had finally succumbed on her second go-around at the devastating disease, passing away with just days to go till Christmas.

'Janet again?' Neal asked tenderly.

Sara's breathing began to slow down as she connected with reality. 'It was so real this time. She was calling out to me…'

Neal ran his hand up and down Sara's arm as he cradled her, urging her back to the here and now.

'It's just a dream, honey. You're fine, you're safe' he whispered, doing his best to sound reassuring.

'But that's just it' Sara murmured, her voice shaky. 'I don't understand why I'm still here… and she's not.'

Sara's seemingly strange musings had begun shortly after her treatments had ended and she'd been given the all clear. She was a smart, level-headed woman and Neal had been curious as to why she'd been entertaining such irrational thoughts of guilt. He'd researched the phenomenon, surprised to read about something called 'survivor's guilt' which Sara seemed to be suffering from, following the death of her beloved chemo friend. He'd even discussed it with Dr. Franklin as he'd begun to notice the increasingly frequent nightmares Sara was having as well as the feelings of culpability she'd shared with him following Janet's passing.

He'd been surprised to discover that survivor's guilt was all too common in such situations as some cancer patients succumbed to the disease while others survived and eventually went into remission.

'Sara, we've talked about this. Janet passing away and you getting better are two totally unrelated things. You need to let this go' Neal began patiently, the same old refrain he'd uttered several times before.

'Why me? Why am I still here? Maybe if…' Sara began, unable to clearly articulate what she was feeling.

'Honey… you're not doing yourself any good thinking like that' Neal said, his voice tentative. He hesitated for an instant before continuing. 'Do you think… maybe it would help if you talked to someone about how you're feeling?'

He'd made the suggestion once before only to have her dismiss it out of hand; but this was becoming a recurring theme and maybe it was time for him to push back a little harder.

'No!' Sara said adamantly. It was bad enough she was having these unexplainable feelings of guilt, she wasn't about to spend time and money navel gazing about it.

'I just… well, I hate to see you like this…' Neal added.

His last comment was received with an icy silence and he brought his lips to her forehead, kissing her softly.

'Alright, alright' he finally relented. 'Why don't you try to get some sleep? Hope will be up in another hour.'

He felt Sara's body tensing against his and he knew full well, she wouldn't be falling back to sleep before morning. The dreams were always disturbing and he knew she worried about drifting off again for fear of having another one.

He thought of the days and weeks ahead; Sara would be increasing her work schedule to four days a week in early March, stretching her even more and he hoped she wasn't pushing too hard, too fast. On top of that, they were expecting the results from her latest CT scan by week's end, always a more stressful time for both of them.

Neal gazed down at Sara's face, noticing her eyes narrowing with worry and his lips moved to kiss her forehead once more, his hand gently tracing the outline of the warm, wooly cap.

'It's okay, baby. You're okay' he repeated as her breathing finally evened out.

WCWCWC

'You look like you slept in those clothes' Peter commented as Neal took a seat across from him in a booth at their regular weekend haunt.

'Well, good morning to you too' Neal shot back, obviously annoyed.

'Sorry… did I hit a nerve?' Peter asked, trying to sound a little more empathetic.

'No, I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep. Sara's still having those nightmares… about our friend, Janet.'

Peter frowned.

'It's called 'survivor's guilt' Neal continued. 'It happens sometimes when you're lucky enough to survive something that someone else doesn't. You know… a traumatic event like… a natural disaster or an accident. Dr. Franklin says it happens with cancer survivors… patients wonder why they've survived when the person next to them didn't.'

'But what does one have to do with the other? Sara getting better isn't the reason her friend Janet died' Peter asked.

Neal raised his eyebrows in response. 'I didn't say it was logical, Peter' Neal responded with a shrug. 'But it's real for Sara and apparently, it happens a lot.'

Peter listened intently; the past eight months since the diagnosis had been rough on the Caffreys and Peter and Elizabeth had been there all along, supporting both Neal and Sara, helping out with their goddaughter whenever possible, anything they could do to make things easier for them in their time of need. It appeared the fallout from the painful experience extended well past the actual surgery and chemotherapy treatments.

'She hasn't said so but I know she's worried about our follow-up appointment with Dr. Franklin on Friday. We'll get the results of the scan she had last week' Neal added, staring into his coffee cup.

'But you don't think there's anything wrong, do you?' Peter asked, concerned.

Neal shrugged. 'There's a forty percent chance of relapse with the type of cancer Sara had and when there's a recurrence, it usually happens in the first year after the treatments end…'

Peter remained silent as he watched the deep creases appearing on Neal's forehead. Apparently, Sara wasn't the only one concerned about the upcoming appointment.

Neal seemed to snap out of it and he plastered a smile on his face as he looked up at his best friend. 'But it's going to be fine, I'm sure.'

Peter waited a moment before speaking; he knew Neal wasn't going to like what he had to say.

'Well, I hate to add to what you've already got on your plate but I just got this from the district attorney's office in Lansing, Michigan' Peter said as he pulled out a few sheets of paper stapled together. 'You should be getting one too, any day now.'

Neal struggled to read what was written on the piece of paper, noting the letterhead from the City of Lansing.

'What is it?' he asked, giving up on trying to read the official looking document upside down.

'Remember Ryan Wilkes?' Peter asked as Neal frowned.

'He's kind of hard to forget' Neal commented as he thought back to the man he'd once had an unholy alliance with.

'Well, he was arrested last year in connection with a murder following a kidnapping gone bad. His trial starts in Lansing week after next' Peter explained.

Neal continued to frown, unsure what any of that had to do with him - or Peter, for that matter. He brought his hands up in question and Peter raised his eyebrows in response; Neal wasn't going to like this, of that he was sure.

'We've both been subpoenaed to testify at his trial' he finally said.

'Testify?' Neal repeated. 'Why?'

'The prosecutor says you and I have unique insight into his character following the Lindsay Gless kidnapping' Peter answered. 'Kimberly Rice has been subpoenaed too.'

Neal thought back to the case in question, going back several years. Following the kidnapping of the young girl, Neal had been abducted by his ex-associate to act as front man in his diabolical plot to obtain loaded credit cards, the young woman having been used as leverage to ensure Neal's cooperation. Unfortunately, Neal had been well acquainted with Wilkes in his younger days and had collaborated on a couple of capers only to walk away when he'd witnessed the man's propensity for violence. Neal had broken ties with him and had never looked back - well, not until that night he'd been abducted at a nightclub where he'd been once again lured into Wilkes' web of deceit.

The man was scum and the Bureau had gotten him on kidnapping charges but he'd walked away after a couple of years in the slammer and apparently had continued with his wicked ways, landing him on trial for murder this time.

'So? What? We don't have a choice?' Neal asked rhetorically.

'The DA says you know his MO better than anyone else. They've got circumstantial evidence but our testimony - well yours, really - is at the centre of the prosecution's case' Peter explained.

Neal thought ahead to the practicalities of having to leave town, even for a couple of days. Sara was already struggling as it was; being left on her own to tend to Hope would likely be more than she could handle.

'So, how long would we be gone?' he asked.

Peter shrugged. 'You know how this works, Neal. We go up there and they prep us and then, we wait to be called in to testify. I can work hard to get our testimony moved up but the prosecution has complete latitude on how it will present its case.'

'This is not a good time, Peter. Sara's still struggling; I don't want to leave her on her own. She's still settling in at work… and then, there's Hope…' Neal complained.

'I can see if El can help out' Peter mused. 'I know she has a big event coming up but I'm sure she'll help as much as she can.'

Neal shook his head. 'So you think I'll get one of these?' he asked, pointing to the subpoena.

'Count on it. I'm surprised they haven't contacted you yet.'

'I don't suppose hiding out for the next few days and avoiding strangers carrying briefcases would be ideal in this type of situation' Neal said, only half-joking.

Peter scoffed. 'Afraid not.'

'So, when does the trial start?' Neal asked, resigned to the fact Peter and he would be taking a road trip.

'Week after next' Peter responded. 'I'm hoping the Bureau will spring to fly us out…' he began.

'You're kidding!' Neal said, cutting him off. 'Peter, we are not driving 11 hours to Lansing in early March!'

Peter sighed. 'I'll do my best, Neal. But you know as well as I do that we're dealing with budget cuts.'

Neal glared back at his best friend and shook his head; Michigan in early March… lovely!

TBC