CHAPTER 10
Neal forgot to show up to work a day later.
Neal had shot up four times in one day.
Neal slept through his alarm.
Neal woke up with a needle stuck in his arm.
Neal woke up alone, on the floor of his apartment, with a needle stuck in his arm, and his alarm ringing violently loud in his ear. He winced, pushing himself up off the ground and plucked the syringe from his skin. He leaned over towards the phone and shut it off, then just lay on the ground for a moment, staring at the ceiling. He shut his eyes, exhaling sharply, then climbed off the floor, staggering into a wall. He slammed into the thing, holding himself up and breathing heavily, then squeezed his eyes shut again.
He had spent the entire day previous in a stoned haze. And now he was being punished for it: he could barely stay standing, his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest, his hands shook furiously... he felt like he was going to die.
His phone started ringing again... he could swear he had turned it off, not just on snooze... until he realized it was a call. He grabbed the thing, bringing it to his ear and answering it, out of breath. "Yeah?"
"It's Peter, where the hell are you?"
Neal sighed into the phone, shutting his eyes. "I know, I'm sorry, I... slept through my alarm."
It was true, after all.
Peter groaned into the phone. "I swear to God, Neal... just get here, okay? We have a lot of work to do."
"I got it."
Neal hung up, climbed into the shower, quickly scrubbed off, and stopped when he reached his forearm with the loofah. He stared at his arm for a moment... how were there already so many scars? It didn't seem possible for his skin to be so torn already, but here he was.
He finished and climbed out of the shower, dressing and going to work with little enthusiasm.
Once he arrived, Peter was waiting for him in the conference room, tapping his foot. "Been waiting."
Neal held up his hands. "I know, I'm really sorry, I just slept through my alarm. My mistake, I'm sorry."
Peter studied him for a moment. "You're clean, right, Neal? You promised me."
Neal looked straight at Peter when he spoke. "Yes, Peter. I am. I promise."
Peter studied Neal a bit longer, then whirled around, throwing his hands up. "I wish I could believe you, Neal."
Neal shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to trust me."
Peter thought about this, then nodded. "I guess I will."
They began to work, and as they did, Neal noticed his hands progressively shaking more and more. He studied them, then winced, shutting his eyes and curling up his hands into fists at his desk. He couldn't do this.
He sighed, then unclenched his fist. He stood, went to the restroom, locked himself into a stall, and cried.
Neal Caffrey didn't cry, it just wasn't his thing, but in this moment, all he needed was release. He sank to the closed toilet seat and ran his hands through his hair and cried, sobbed, choked on the tears. He bit his lip and sniffled, and squeezed his eyes shut and gasped.
Peter came through the door, knocking his knuckles once against the stall door. He listened as Neal cried. "Neal?"
Neal opened his eyes and tried to become silent. "Yeah?" he managed.
Peter shut his eyes. "Neal, are you okay?"
Neal took an inhale, a shuddering breath. "I'm good. I'll be fine."
"You're upset," Peter noted. Neal shook his head vigorously, even though Peter couldn't see him.
"I'm fine, really."
"Neal?"
"What, Peter."
Peter took a deep breath, then asked the question he already knew the answer to. "You're still using, aren't you?"
The stall door suddenly opened, and Neal appeared in the doorway, staring at Peter, looking like a lost deer caught in headlights. "What?"
"You're still using. Aren't you?" Neal looked down, and Peter stepped a little closer, close enough to put a hand on Neal's shoulder. "It's okay, Neal. It's okay."
Neal broke. He sank into Peter's grip, holding him and sobbing, letting all the remorse, all the pain, out at once. He let it out in the form of those sobs he took while Peter hugged him, and it seemed they would never end. Neal gasped, and finally, finally, pulled away, brushing at his suit and looking down. Peter cleared his throat. "Neal?" Neal looked up, sniffling. "Neal, you know I can't keep you on this team, knowing this." Neal nodded, looking away. "But I have faith, that you can do this, that you can kick this. Just let Jake help you." Neal took another shuddering inhale, then nodded, fixing his jacket.
"I'll be fine."
"With Jake's help."
Neal nodded. "With Jake's help."
Peter nodded, then hesitated. "Why now, Neal. What happened, that compelled you to do this?"
Neal took a deep breath, looking away again. "I miss her. So much."
Peter swallowed, looking down. "Kate." Neal nodded. "Listen, Neal. She wouldn't want this for you-"
"That's what Jake said."
"-And I have to believe you know you deserve more."
Neal nodded, looking down. "I'm sorry."
Peter shook his head, resting a hand on Neal's shoulder. "Don't be. Just... just fix this. You'll be okay. I promise." Neal nodded. "Go see Jake." Neal nodded, and he did.
In Jake's office, Neal sank into the sofa, studying the younger man, who looked down at his clipboard. "You're still using." Neal nodded. "And Peter knows." Neal nodded. "What does it mean for you, now that Peter knows? Now that your secret is no longer safe?"
Neal hesitated, then clenched his jaw, then spoke. "I feel like a massive disappointment. I just wanted to prove to him that I could do it."
"But you couldn't do it."
"No. I couldn't."
Jake tilted his head. "Why is that?"
"Because..." Neal looked down. "Because I think I'm addicted."
Jake nodded. "And how does it feel to say that out loud?"
Neal looked away. "Shameful."
"It shouldn't be. Sometimes, people, looking for escape, find themselves deeper in that awful place of darkness than they ever were before. That place is called addiction, and it's almost impossible to get out of. But we can figure out a way out for you, Neal. We can get you through this."
Neal nodded, running his hands through his hair. "Okay."
"First step is not using at all today. Don't think about tomorrow, or the next day. Just worry about staying clean for one day. Just today." Neal nodded. "You think you can do that?" Neal shrugged.
"I guess so."
"So do it."
Neal tried. He really tried. But when he got home and the gear was there in front of him, and the shaking began to take hold and the memories of Kate began to haunt him, he had to make it all stop somehow. He knew of a way to do that. He injected, and he didn't regret it. At least, he didn't, until morning, when rational thought kicked back in and he realized what he had done.