Unfinished Business
Chapter 3:
Neal swallowed hard and blinked a couple times. Everything was so out of focus. He closed his eyes a long moment and instantly felt himself drifting off. He wanted to answer Peter but he was so exhausted. He vaguely heard Peter say, "Neal? Come on buddy, stay with me," before sleep consumed him.
Peter felt Neal's grasp go limp in his hand and gently tucked his arm back under the blanket.
"It's the sedative, Sir," Tish informed Peter. "I gave him enough to knock a hippo out," she joked. "He should be out of it for awhile." Her words couldn't have been truer. Neal slept the remainder of the ride to the hospital and didn't even budge when they unloaded him from the back of the bus and wheeled him through the emergency room doors.
Peter followed closely behind. The hallway opened up to a large area full of white curtains. Some were closed clearly in use. He could hear all kinds of commotion going on including some guy yelling at the top of his lungs in pain and a baby crying. They rolled Neal into one of the sectioned off areas and a nurse appeared and began to close a small white curtain in the little area that was cropped off.
"I'm with him," Peter stated, ready to side step the curtain.
"You will have to wait in the waiting room, Sir," she responded flatly.
"I'm FBI," Peter said reaching for his badge.
"Good for you. I bet your mother is proud," she said in an irritated tone. "The doctor will have some questions for you. He will find you in the waiting room when he's ready."
Peter opened his mouth to protest. She cut him off, "It's 5 doors down to the left." She turned her back to him and began talking with Tish. "What do we got?"
Tish held up her clipboard and began to discuss her patient's name and known condition.
Peter closed his mouth and let his shoulders slump. He could still see Neal through the small gap that remained in the makeshift door and he briefly watched as the nurse removed the blanket from Neal. His eyes scanned the numerous bruises on his partner's body and he felt his blood pressure rising at a rapid pace.
Who would do this to Neal? He supposed the real questions was, who wouldn't want to do this to Neal? The con man had been ripping people off since he was in diapers. The list of possible suspects had to be ten miles wide. One thing was for certain, he wasn't going to waste anymore time.
Suddenly the nurse appeared directly in front of him and grabbed the curtain, forcing it all the way closed in one swift yank. Like a kicked dog, he turned and headed towards the waiting room. As he passed a police officer the cop nodded and said, "How's it going?"
"Just peachy," Peter replied, adding, "can't beat the friendly staff around here." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit #3 on his speed dial. Maybe Diana was making some kind of progress.
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When Neal's eyes came into focus he blinked a couple times in confusion. Mozzie was sitting next to him wearing some type of surgical mask. He looked like a total freak with his nose and mouth covered and his glasses on. He had some weird blue hat with white trim on that reminded him of the TV show Scrubs. He wasn't a fan of the show by any means. It just happened to be a favorite for most the guys back in prison. Sitting through it was better than staring at his walls in his cell. More importantly it took his mind of Kate for a short half hour.
He cleared his throat. "Moz?" His voice was hoarse and he attempted to clear his throat again.
"Oh thank God!" Mozzie scooted the chair closer to Neal so he was inches from his face. "You had me scared, man. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to enter this germ infested building? I can practically feel them crawling all over me. I'm going to have to go home and scrub myself with a scrub brush and a whole bottle of bleach. And your room number... 777... what's up with that?"
Neal let out a slight chuckle at Mozzie's silliness and instantly regretted it. "Ouch," he whined, running his hand over his sore torso. "Remind me not to do that again."
Neal licked his dry lips and noted they were extremely puffy and felt rough. "How did you know I was here?" Neal asked as he squinted and rubbed the gauze above his left eyebrow with his fingers. He continued to take physical inventory as Mozzie rambled away.
"Lady Suit stopped by June's and happened to catch me there. I was sampling some of your vintage 1980 red wine. That stuff has some kick by the way. It is superb. Better than the other 4 bottles in that collection. Luckily she caught me on my first glass because I had full intentions of finishing off that entire bad girl..." Mozzie watched Neal wince and it pulled at his heart strings. "Speaking of June, she's still on vacation with her granddaughter. I didn't bother informing her of your little predicament because I didn't want to worry her."
"Thanks," Neal slowly nodded his approval, running his fingers lightly over his swollen eyelid he hissed in discomfort. "Arrggghhhh damn it!"
"You okay?"
"Do I look okay?"
"Touche. Doc ordered some X-Rays while you were out of it. It appears you have a fractured bone in your arm," Mozzie said.
Neal held up the appendage that was already in a white cast with the name 'MOZZIE' written in bold black sharpie across the top of it. "I figured that one out all on my own, Moz."
"You always have been super quick on the uptake," Mozzie added, "I took the liberty of signing your cast already. What can I say... I got bored."
Neal would have rolled his eyes if he didn't know it would cause him great physical suffering. He was still having problems opening one eye up all the way. He shuttered at the thought of looking in a mirror. If he looked half as bad as he felt... "What else?"
"They taped up your ribs. You have 2 cracked ones but nothing major."
Neal unconsciously rubbed at his ribs. "Feels pretty major to me."
"Besides 6 stitches above your eye you have a crap load of bruising. Doc said you are going to be sore for awhile but you are free to go when you wake up. Suit said they weren't even going to assign you a room but he insisted." Mozzie said. "And since you are up... think we can get out of this hellhole? I can feel sickness entering my body as I speak!"
"Sure thing Moz," Neal smiled softly at his old friend. "Where's Peter?"
"Oh he was here to get the scoop from the doc then stepped out into the hall for a private phone conversation. He didn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep." Mozzie frowned at his choice of words. "Considering your current appearance I don't think beauty sleep is the correct terminology."
"Thanks Moz... really... " Neal replied in a sarcastic tone.
Mozzie got suddenly serious. "Who did this to you, Neal?"
"That's what I would like to know."
Both men glanced over to the door where Peter was leaning against the doorframe. "You look like hell, Neal."
"So I've been told. It's nice to see you too, Peter."
"I have Diana checking out all your old cons we have on record but it would make things a lot simpler if you dropped a name in my lap." Peter slowly walked into the hospital room and around the bed to stand by Neal's side. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh just fine," Neal stated rubbing again at his ribs, "you know it only hurts to blink or breathe." Neal shut his eyes briefly and mumbled, "My head is killing me and my mouth is so... dry."
Peter noticed that Neal's words were thick and his lips kept sticking together when he spoke. At least he wasn't slurring anymore. "Would you like a glass of water?" Peter offered. Without waiting for an answer he grabbed a cup off the night stand and proceeded into the small bathroom to fill it up. He returned with the plastic cup and handed it to Neal who accepted and drank greedily. "Thanks," he said handing the cup back to Peter who set it back on the stand.
Peter pointed down to the signature on Neal's cast then looked at Mozzie. "What are you in third grade?"
"Second, actually," Mozzie snapped back.
"Is that mask really necessary?" Peter asked then shook his head, "Forget it. I don't want to know."
"So how 'bout it, Neal?" Peter focused his attention back to his injured partner. "Gotta name for this old FBI guy out for some good ole fashion justice?"
"It all happened so fast, Peter," Neal clipped. He wasn't lying. It really did happen fast. Truth be told, he wasn't in the mood to burst Peter's bubble and let him know it was someone who held a grudge against him. Peter would take it very personal if he knew the men that beat the crap out of him were in fact from Peter's past... not his.
"How many of them were there?"
"Um, 2 I believe," Neal stated. "One of them held my arms while the other used me as a human punching bag. Look, can we not do this now? I'm really tired, Peter. I just want to go home and get some rest and forget this day ever happened.." He knew he was going to have to tell Peter. What if these guys came after Peter himself? Or worse, Elizabeth? It was a good thing she was still out of town for a couple more days. He just didn't want to do it right here and now.
Peter sighed in slight frustration. He could tell Neal was hiding something from him. Why would he protect the persons responsible for causing him a world of hurt? Deciding to let it go for now, he nodded in acceptance. "Fine. But this conversation ain't over."
"Shocker."
"Ok smart ass, let's get you out of here. But you are NOT going home. You are coming to my place tonight."
"I can keep him company at June's," Mozzie piped in.
"I'm sure you can. However, I'm not letting Neal out of my sight. These guys are dangerous and might decide to pay Neal a second visit and finish off what they started if it's personal. It was personal, right Neal? Your wallet wasn't stolen so I'm assuming this wasn't a random mugging? And why the hell did they dump you off at the FBI headquarters?" A sudden light bulb hit Peter. If they dumped him there, could that possibly mean they had revenge set for someone with the bureau? That someone being him?
"I appreciate the invite, Peter. Really though... I just want to go home to my own bed. I'm sure I'll be fine." Neal began to sit up and instantly regretted it. "Ahhhh that smarts," he hissed as his ribs protested.
"It's non negotiable Neal," Peter replied, instantly bending over he placed one hand on Neal's small of his back and one hand wrapped around his bicep. He gently helped ease Neal up to a full sitting position and held on to him until Neal flung both legs over the side of his bed.
"You okay? You got it?" Peter asked with concern.
"Yeah thanks," Neal said looking around confused. "Um... where are my clothes?"
Peter clicked his tongue. "Oh... about that..."
"Never fear!" Mozzie shouted so loud it startled both men. They both looked to him as he held up a small black bag. "I took the liberty of bringing you some fresh ones from home being the awesome caring friend that I am."
Peter looked impressed. "You thought of that all by yourself?"
Mozzie's face twitched. "Well it was with the recommendation from one Lady Suit but I picked them out."
"Uh huh," Peter grinned.
"Thanks Moz," Neal said sheepishly as he accepted the bag.
Peter pointed to the bag. "You need some help with that?"
"What? How about a big fat no," Neal replied unzipping the bag, pulling out a pair of neatly folded sweat pants, boxers, socks and plain white t-shirt.
"Fine. We'll be in the hall when you are ready," Peter motioned for Mozzie to clear the room. "You going to want a ride home?"
Mozzie mocked Neal's prior statement. "That will be an even bigger big fat no."
"Fine. Suit yourself."
"You got that right, Suit."
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"I can't believe they cut my coat off," Neal grumbled as he positioned himself as comfortably as he could in Peter's passenger seat. This whole situation was embarrassing. Firstly, he was forced into a wheelchair and was wheeled down to the parking garage by some good looking nurse like some kind of crippled. Secondly, Peter rambled the whole way about how they cut his clothing off in front of half of New York. Peter assured him they got it all on surveillance video and would broadcast it on the news to let the other half of New York that missed out get a peek. Right now he just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. In fact he would if he had the strength to dig one.
"Oh stop your complaining," Peter half joked. "Besides... your hat was spared."
"You are enjoying this, aren't you?" Neal looked at him questionably.
Peter leaned over Neal to help buckle him in. "There's nothing enjoyable about seeing your friend hurt," he said flatly. "I'm just trying to lighten the moment."
"Peter— my ribs hurt is this seatbelt really necessary?" Neal tugged on it in frustration.
"It's the law," was his reply.
The ride was made mostly in silence outside of Neal hissing and yelling a "this really sucks" when Peter had to slam on his brakes and the seatbelt tightened up around him. Peter said he was sorry three times then unsnapped the buckle to give Neal some breathing room and said "screw the law today" which made Neal smile.
Finally the silence was broken. "Level with me, Neal," Peter said glancing over at his injured friend.
"What do you mean?" Neal chose the 'play dumb' route. It worked...sometimes.
"I know you know who did this to you. Out with it. What are you hiding?"
Neal sighed in resignation. "I don't want you to get upset."
"What?" Peter grinded his teeth. "Neal. I promise you I won't get upset with you. But I am clearly already upset at the fact someone did this to you. Have you looked in the mirror lately?"
"Not yet..."
"Neal this isn't a game! This is your life! I want an answer and I want it now!"
"Okay," Neal replied. "The guy gave me a message when he was beating me to a bloody pulp."
"And?"
"He said to tell you Al Polanski says hi." Neal watched Peter's hands tighten around the steering wheel and turn a shade of white. His face, on the other hand, turned a dark shade of red, his jaw bones flinching in and out.
Neal decided to just spit the rest out. "He said he was just warming up and next time he's going to...um he said he is going to kill me."
Peter swerved the vehicle over to the side of the street and slammed it in park, stepping out he left the door wide open and began pacing back and forth with his fingers locked behind his head.
"Peter?" When all he got was a low growl from him he leaned over regretting his action as a stabbing pain shot through his entire core. "Arrgghhhhhhhhhh!"
Peter stopped his pacing and leaned in. "Neal?" He looked at his friend who was hunched forward, his face a very pale shade around all the dark bruises. "Neal? Talk to me?"
Neal held up a finger as his breathing got under control. "I'm... I'm fine... I just... need a second."
After several minutes Neal leaned slowly back and tilted his head back against the headrest, eyes closed. "Are you upset with me?"
Peter slid back into the driver's seat. "No. God no... I'm sorry Neal. I'm not upset with you. I'm super pissed but not at you."
Neal slid one eye open. "At this Al guy? Who is he?"
"He's a guy I put away for five years," Peter responded. "He's been out of prison for almost a full year now. I thought he was reformed but apparently there's no such thing!"
A flash of pain crossed Neal's face then disappeared a second later.
Peter regretted his words. "I mean, in his case there's no such thing as reform. Damn it!"
"Why would he come after me?"
"I don't know," Peter placed a hand on Neal's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I don't know. Maybe to get back at me by hurting someone I care about. Neal... I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry for treating you like crap all week and I'm sorry you were walking when you were jumped and I put you in this mess!"
"Peter, this isn't your fault," Neal said.
"It may or may not be but I feel responsible. I AM responsible. I promise you Neal... nothing else will happen to you. Not on my watch. Damn it!"
If only that were true.
TBC...