The shrill sound of his alarm had Neal jolting awake and it took his muddled brain a moment to remember why he was in so much pain. Very slowly he sat up willing the room stop its slow spin around him. His head was aching horribly from being vertical and every breath was causing his ribs to throb.
Neal hobbled slowly to the bathroom in search of pain relief and after swallowing a couple of pills decided he'd better take a shower. He was shocked at the state of his chest, the bruises looked even worse this morning. It felt good standing under the warm water and he scrubbed his body fiercely, trying futilely to wash away all signs of his attack.
After carefully dressing he made his way downstairs to wait for Peter. Neal had awoken with a somewhat fresh perspective and realized that Peter's behavior was rather concerning. Neal wanted desperately to trust Peter and be able to count on him as a friend. He had been sure that Peter wanted the same so he was planning to get to the bottom of Peter's odd behavior.
The small walk down the stairs left Neal winded and his headache seemed to double. He sank down into one of the dining room chairs and tried to massage some of the pain away. He was also feeling slightly dizzy. He knew he should probably just stay in bed but he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts all day. Being attacked by those men had left the usually confident man feeling quite vulnerable.
Neal was a bit surprised when he found he was being addressed by June. "Good morning Neal," she said with a smile. When she got close enough to get a good look at him she asked, "Is everything alright? You don't look well."
Neal gave her what he hoped was a charming smile, "I'm fine June, just a little tired this morning."
"Would you like to come out on the patio for some breakfast?" she asked.
The thought of food made his stomach turn. "No thank you, Peter should be by soon to pick me up."
She gave him a searching look like she knew he was hiding something but said, "Alright, try and have a nice day Neal."
He thanked her and when she was out of sight went back to rubbing his aching head. He hoped that the pills he had taken would start working soon. The pain was making it hard to form coherent thoughts.
He soon heard a sharp knock and made his way over to the door as quickly as his battered body would allow. Peter stood on the other side looking disheveled and tired. Neal's desire to know what was going on with the agent increased. "Long night?" Neal asked him.
"Something like that," Peter answered vaguely, barely looking at Neal. Peter turned back towards his car and Neal followed slowly realizing it was going to be harder than he thought getting Peter to open up. He wasn't sure he even had the strength to work on it. He clenched his teeth, not allowing a moan of pain to escape him as he got into the passenger seat.
Riding to the FBI building was not a pleasant experience for Neal. He spent the entire ride trying to quell the nausea that had attacked him as soon as the car started moving. He kept his eyes closed most of the ride and breathed slowly through his nose. He thought Peter would notice this strange behavior but the man didn't even look in his direction for the duration of the ride. Neal was grateful to get out of the car but was rather disconcerted when he realized the world still seemed to be noticeably moving around him.
Neal was shuffling towards his desk, feeling as though he'd better sit down before he fell down. He'd lost all hope that the acetaminophen he had taken was going to kick in. He was about to collapse in his chair when he heard Peter calling him towards the briefing room. All of Peter's team was already gathered there and they seemed to be waiting for him.
He smiled at them all and hoped that he looked much better than he felt. He spotted an empty chair and could not hide the sigh of relief that escaped him when he was off his feet. He had quickly learned that walking equaled intense pain for him. "What's going on?" he asked Peter.
"Looks like we could use you on this case after all. We need you to pose as a potential buyer for a painting that we believe was stolen. Really, we just need you to authenticate the painting while you're in there. Pretty straight forward, think you can handle that?" Peter asked.
"Of course," Neal said with a nod that sent sharp bolts of pain through his head and made black spots dance in front of his eyes. He couldn't help but wince at the pain as he vowed to never nod again. "When are we setting it up?"
"The seller, Mr. Walker, is expecting you at 3pm this afternoon," Peter said as he handed Neal a small file, "this is your alias, Tom Stanton, read up on it, all the details are there."
As Neal made his way back to his desk he could not help but feel a little apprehensive about what he had to do that afternoon. He knew it was one of the easiest assignments he'd ever been given but he was beginning to wonder if he'd been hurt worse than he thought. He was starting to think he was concussed; the pain, dizziness and nausea seemed to be getting worse.
He didn't want to ruin the sting operation because he wasn't up to his usual standards but he also didn't want to tell Peter that he could not do it. Peter's stony faced silence had carried over from yesterday and Neal didn't want to add to whatever else Peter seemed to be dealing with. Neal also couldn't help but be afraid that the whole thing would go terribly wrong and he'd end up as a punching bag again. Neal did not enjoy his loss of confidence and a wave of anger at the men who had beaten him crashed over him.
Neal read the file noticing that his vision seemed to be a bit blurry as well. Just add it to the list he thought bitterly. Squinting seemed to help him get through the file and he quickly memorized his cover ID. Unfortunately, reading the small file had made his head ache even worse...he didn't even know how that was possible. He gripped his head with both hands in an attempt to ease some of the pain.
Desperate for relief he reached into his desk and grabbed some aspirin. He knew it had not been long enough between doses but found that he did not care much. He grabbed a bottle of water from the break room and noticing the room was empty, sank down onto the couch. After drinking some of the water he simply sat and rested the cool bottle against his pounding head. His back and ribs were aching fiercely as well. An intense desire to lay down for just awhile came over him and he relented. It wouldn't hurt to rest for just a bit.
"Neal! Neal, come on wake up!" The distressed voice of Agent Lauren Cruz was what woke Neal. He opened his eyes and blinked at her confusedly.
"What happened?" he asked groggily.
"You tell me. Peter sent me to find you and here you are sleeping; how long have you been in here?" she asked.
Neal looked at his watch and was shocked to find he'd been out for three hours. He chose not to share that with the annoyed looking agent. "Just a few minutes," he lied coolly.
"It took me forever to wake you. I was starting to get a little concerned," Agent Cruz admitted.
Neal slowly sat up noticing that he still felt completely lousy. "Sorry about that, didn't sleep much last night. You said Peter's looking for me?" he asked with his voice still heavy with sleep.
"Yes, he's ready to go," she said looking expectantly at Neal.
Neal stood up much too quickly resulting in vicious pain in his ribs and head and vertigo that had him dropping back to the couch with a painful thud. He could not control the moan that escaped his lips. He raised both hands to his head praying that the spinning would stop. Agent Cruz was asking him what was wrong in a much too loud voice. Neal squeezed his eyes shut and begged her to be quiet.
She dropped onto the couch next to him until he slowly got himself under control again. He looked over at her with a tired smile. "Sorry about that," he mumbled quietly.
"What happened to you Neal? Are you hurt?"
He thought about making up some lie but he didn't have the energy to think of one. He told her about the men that had attacked him. He was expecting a little bit of sympathy he realized because he was a bit shocked when he saw an angry look on her face.
"And you just went home? You didn't call Peter...or go to the hospital? Are you out of your mind?" She asked angrily. "Those men should have had charges brought against them! What were you thinking?"
Neal was starting to get angry, "I was thinking that I had just had the shit beaten out of me and I wanted to go home! And why would I have called Peter? He's obviously too wrapped up in his own personal drama to even notice anything else that's going on around him! Besides, I'm fine...just a few bruises," he added.
"Oh yes, you're the picture of perfect health. You should be at home, or at the hospital...not about to go under cover for us. I'm going to have to tell Peter about this," she added.
Neal tried to look normal through the pain that was raging through his body. "Please, just let me do my job. It's an easy assignment and I'll be just fine. I just want to help Peter get this case wrapped up. I'm worried about him and he won't talk to me while he's so distracted. Please, just let me do this."
Agent Cruz looked at him for a long moment. There was concern in her eyes and something else he could not discern. "You're no good to us dead Neal," she finally added, "don't screw this up."
To be continued