Disclaimer: I do not own white collar.
Finding Neal
"Neal, are you ok?" Peter asked concerned helping his friend up, while the other FBI agents handcuffed the man Neal had just helped them catch for mortgage fraud.
"Ouch," Neal grabbed his stomach as he stood up, "what happened to the good all times when mortgages cases were boring and didn't include people the size of giants beating me up?"
Peter chuckled, "are you ok? Jones call the paramedics."
"Peter, I am fine, I think I can handle a couple of punches to the stomach without dying!" Neal complained, "Jones, I do not need paramedics, I am fine! Lets get out of here!" he said as he walked to his partner's car without giving anyone else a chance to say anything.
Peter noticed how Neal's arms were gently wrapping his mid section and his steps were odd and unbalance as if with each one he was trying a different position that would hurt him less.
He saw Neal's eyes open wide in pain and silently gasp for air when he entered the Taurus.
"Are you sure you don't want to get that checked out?" Peter asked him concern trying to lift Neal's shirt to look at his mid section.
"Keep your hands to yourself!" Neal moved annoyed, wincing in pain when he did so.
"That looks like is going to bruise badly."
"I am FINE, Peter. Cowboy up, right?" Neal sighed exasperated
"Fine, whatever, that is what I get for asking," now it was Peter's turn to be annoyed.
"Right." Neal said firmly but once he didn't feel he was under scrutiny any more, he closed his eyes and tiredly lean his head against the window.
Peter pretended not to see how awkward Neal's movements were and the younger man pretended not to be in pain. It worked for them, this kind of don't ask and I'll pretend I am tough kind of policy.
Though as soon as they arrived to the office the older man got an ice pack and threw it unceremoniously to the consultant that was already sitting in his desk with an "I am so glad I don't have to move any more" smile in his face.
3333333
"Want a ride home?" Peter approached Neal's desk.
Buried in files, the consultant had barely moved or made a sound since they had arrived. Peter figured his stomach was still a little soar from the beating, but since Neal refused to discuss the topic he figured the only thing he could do was offering him a ride home a couple of hours earlier than usual.
Neal looked as his watch surprised, but just nodded, "that would be great, thanks."
This time Peter walked in front of Neal, so he didn't notice that his walk had actually gotten worst and that tears of pain threatened to fill his eyes with every step.
The nausea started at the same time the car did, Neal closed his eyes, he refused to throw up in front of Peter. He hated worrying Peter, he hated Peter smothering him and he hated Peter telling him to cowboy up, so he figured the best solution was to pretend that nothing was wrong.
"I need to stop by the deli over there, get myself something to eat, I just want to rest tonight," Neal lied trying to find an excuse that would allow him to get out of the car and puke. Something that would make sure that Peter didn't see him struggling with the stairs in June's house.
"Do you want me to go get you something?" Peter offered, a hint of concern in his tone.
"No, Peter," Neal's gave him what he could muster of his winning smile, "I am fine, I just want you to leave me here and stop acting like a concerned father, I am not a child and I am ok, I can take care of myself."
"Neal…."
"I'll see you tomorrow Peter," Neal interrupted him, running out of the car.
Neal ran inside the deli, straight to the bathroom and gave free range to the earthquake in his stomach. After what it felt like an eternity, and several knocks from an angry deli customer, he finally managed to stand up, splash his face with icy cold water and with tremendous effort walk the block and a half that separated him from June's house.
The cold air helped him clear his head, which was somehow getting muddled. He felt as if he was walking in the clouds and only the pain of each step and the freezing air seem to help him remember where he was going and why.
Climbing the stairs was the worst part, he was glad June was not home, so he could take his time going up. He had to rest every couple of steps and he virtually crawled the last set of stairs since his legs refused to continue carrying him.
"Woow…these people did do a number on me!" he thought to himself wondering if he should actually allow Peter to take him to a doctor, "I will be ok after some sleep," he mumbled automatically discarding that idea.
So he crawled, almost dragging his body for the last few feet and laid in his bed, gratefully welcoming sleep.
33333333
The phone on his pocket startled him a few hours later. He woke up confused and looked around; he was in his house, his suit still on even if he had fallen asleep. His stomach was on fire, he felt as if someone has stabbed him repeatedly. His thoughts were clouded and he could not think straight. His head was pounding and his body was freezing while his face and abdomen were burning hot.
The phone rang twice more before he understood what that meant.
"Hello?" he picked up.
"Hey buddy, is me."
"Peter?" Neal asked groggy.
"Yeah, did I wake you up?"
"Yes, sorry, I must have passed out. I was tired." Neal fought with every fiber of his body to regain his composure.
"Well that is probably for the best. How is your stomach?"
"My stomach?" Neal asked confused, his stomach felt as if someone had ripped it open and was throwing acid in his open wound. Why was he in so much pain? What had happened?
"Well, I guess if you can't even remember it means that you are fine. That is good to know. I just called to let you know that we need to be at work early tomorrow, I'll come pick you up at 7, don't be late."
"Peter?" Neal asked, wondering if he should tell him he was in agony. He hated worrying Peter and he was scared Peter was going to say he was whining out of nothing, but he was no masochist.
"Yeah?"
But Neal was so tired… all he wanted to do was sleep, talking to his friend would mean that he was going to come and take him to the doctor and that would imply waking up and moving, and Neal didn't want to even think about that right now.
"Nothing, see you tomorrow at 7"
Yet, Neal's plans for a long restful sleep were interrupted seconds later by an urge to get rid of all the contents of his stomach.
He struggled to get out of bed, falling limply to the floor and pushing his body to the rest room, he barely made it, retching his guts out, half on the toilet, the other half ended in the floor and all over himself. If he could have remember all he had puked early on, he would have been surprised by the fact that there was more to come out of his body.
After what he knew was forever, the stomach spasms subsided. He could feel his entrails burning with acidity of the bile and his stomach felt as if it was raw open and soar.
He whimpered out of impotence and looked around him. The bathroom floor was dirty, his clothes were soaked with sweat and puke and he barely had the strength to move. He stretched to the tub and open the cold water, forcing his head to go under it and took the few second of clarity that that gave him to get rid of his dirty clothes. He would clean them and the bathroom tomorrow; right now he needed a nap.
Shivering, only in his underwear and with his hair soaked, he used the walls to steady himself up.
He managed to take five unsteady steps before passing out in his living room.
3333333
Peter hanged up his phone furious and a little worried. He had call his partner three times to tell him he was downstairs waiting for him and each time it had gone straight to voicemail.
He looked at his phone 7.15 am, he had clearly told Neal to be ready to be picked up at 7! He sighed and parked his car.
"I am going to kill him for making me go up there looking for him. Who does he thinks he is? Am I his maid or something? God, I am sending him straight back to jail!" He mumbled angrily to himself as he walked up the stairs to get Neal.
The door to his apartment was closed, Peter was about to forget his manners and open it unceremoniously, but he was scared he might find more than he bargained on the other side of the door. What if Neal was naked with woman in his bed?
Nonetheless, he made sure to knock the door in a way that denoted his frustration.
Neal opened his eyes with effort. Why did his head hurt so badly? Why was his stomach on fire? He felt as if he had drank all the alcohol bottles in the world and someone had decided to break those bottles in his head and cut his stomach with them.
Moving his head required evident effort and he barely managed to lift it enough to look around his apartment confused. All he knew was that he was lying on the floor on his underwear, and he felt as if a bulldozer had run him over.
"Neal, open up this door immediately!" he heard Peter's voice yell angrily, "open up or swear to god I will knock this door down!"
Neal groaned in pain and, gathering strength he didn't have, he managed to crawl to the door.
"NEAAALLL" he heard his headache inducer yell one more time when he wasn't fast enough.
"It's open," Neal stopped where he was and used all his strength to shout back, praying that it was true.
"Neal I told you to be ready at 7!" Peter told him angrily. "What are you doing sitting on the floor on your underwear?"
"I am sorry, give me two minutes." Neal said sheepishly, he voice barely audible. He hoped Peter thought it was because he was ashamed, the truth, speaking required too much effort.
He forced himself to stand up and stumbled to the bathroom.
Peter watched as Neal stood up with obvious effort, he flinched when he saw his partner's stomach was black and blue and suddenly remembered what had happened yesterday. His anger automatically turned to concern when he saw Neal stumbling trying to grab something, anything, to keep his balance.
"Neal, are you ok?" Peter said running to him, making sure he didn't fell. Neal shook him off and took the last four steps to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar.
"Yeah." The conman said dazed while he splashed cold water on his face. "I guess yesterdays beating was worst than I thought at first."
Neal didn't remember what had happened last night and he was too out of it to take in the mess in the bathroom.
"I am ready," he said coming out of the bathroom, "we can go now."
"Neal, you are only wearing your underwear," Peter tone denoted a hint of amusement and a bit of concern.
"Oh… right," Neal said obviously beyond the realm of coherence, "No wonder I was so cold. I think I am going to sit for a second if you don't mind," saying that he threw himself in the first chair around him.
"You don't look too good, Neal, why don't you rest for a while?"
"But I need to go to the office, Peter, I don't want to go back to jail."
"You are not going back to jail just because you don't feel good, Neal," Peter sighed, thinking Neal's reactions seemed to exceed the expected ones for a beating.
"Good, because my stomach hurts, Peter," his hand covered the affected area, without really touching it, "real bad… and I am cold."
Peter grabbed a throw that was lying on the sofa and threw it a Neal, "of course you are cold! You are half naked!"
Neal covered himself with the blanket, looking utterly confused, his eyes fighting to close. Peter sighed.
"I am going to call Hughes and let him know that you are calling in sick."
"Tell him I don't want to go to jail, Peter, tell him… I can work." Neal was scared.
"Neal, calm down, Hughes is not going to put you back in jail." Peter explained calmly as he dialed the number.
"Tell him…." Neal pleaded
"I'll take care of everything, don't worry, ok, buddy?"
Neal relaxed sinking more in the chair and closing his eyes, he was fast asleep a few seconds later when Peter finished his call.
"Let's take you to bed," he offered Neal a hand to stand up and he took it, but as soon as his body made a move, Neal screamed in pain and lay back down.
"What is wrong?" Peter was starting to panic.
"No moving… hurts!" Neal was taking short shallow breath, trying to stop the pain.
"Come on, Neal," Peter got closer to him and Neal moved as far back as he could in the chair.
"Nooo…." Neal was scared and Peter could see it.
He cursed mentally, the wound had to hurt a lot to cause Neal's reaction. "Neal," he said getting closer to the kid and grabbing his upper arm, ready to carry Neal if necessary, "Crap! Neal you are burning up."
As soon as his skin touched Neal's the heat emanating from the con's body was obvious and scary, Peter was no expert in detecting a fever, but he was sure human flesh should not burn to the touch.
Neal just looked at him as if he couldn't comprehend his words any more. "I think I am going to be sick, Peter," he said after a minute.
"You are sick, buddy, we need to take you…" Peter was interrupted by Neal's gagging. "Ohhh, that sick!" he said, running to grab the trash can and watched Neal dry heave for a while, until the young man's body gave up in exhaustion and went limp.
"Neal, Neal…" Peter tried to reanimate the kid unsuccessfully. "Oh crap…" he said as he dialed 911.
333333
In a small town in California...
"Good night Jenny, take this, we won't be able to sell them before they expire." The old woman told her.
Jenny looked at the milk cartons; they weren't going to expire any time soon. She know the Jones wanted to give her a raise but not could afford it and they had always been like parents to her, they were actually way better parents than her real ones.
"Thank you, Gracey. Good night," she kissed the woman's cheek.
"Don't forget the lottery ticket," Gracey's husband, Robert, came running to the door, carrying young Cassy on his shoulder, a lottery ticket in her tinny hand. " 04 23 09 17 05 25, as always."
"Well, at least that makes sure that we never forget your birthday, dear," the older woman smiled.
"Or your brother's," the old man sighed slightly disapproving, letting the little girl down and she ran to her mother.
"Or the last time I saw him," Jenny replied sadly, picking up the four year old.
"Don't worry, mom," Cassy's childish voice tried her best to reassure her mom, "we will win the lottery soon and then we will hire THE BEST private investigator and he will find uncle Neal," she kissed her mom's cheek, "I can feel it here," she touched her heart.
Jenny smiled at her child and looking into her big blue eyes, caressed her golden hair.
"Neal… let's go, it's late."
"I am almost done, mom, give me one second," the sixteen year old finished re-arranging the merchandising and walked back to the cashier section where the other people were. He had been working for the Jones after school for almost two years now. The Jones were like the grandparents he never had and he would have done anything for them and that meant he took his job extremely serious.
Jenny looked at her oldest walking towards them; he looked exactly like her brother had at his age. Her eyes fought against the tears, realizing that her brother had been even younger that his namesake the last time she had seen him, that fatal day when their father had forced him to run almost 17 years ago.