CHAPTER 11
Neal woke up to another phone call. He woke up in bed, on top of the covers, fully clothed, and he sighed as he reached for his phone on the end table. "Yeah?"
"Neal, it's Jake. I just wanted to check in on you. How'd you do?"
Neal sighed again. "I, uh... I couldn't do it."
A brief silence. "I see." More silence. "You know, Neal, I think you being sent home all the time is just making this more difficult for you, it's giving you too much free time-"
"I agree."
"-so I think I'll talk to Agent Burke and we'll see about getting you back on a regular work schedule."
Neal exhaled a sigh of relief, shutting his eyes and running a hand through his hair. "Thank you," he nearly whispered.
"I need to ask you something, Neal."
"Yeah."
"Do you want to quit?"
Neal went silent. He just stared around his apartment for a moment as he paced, then suddenly stopped in front of a mirror. He studied himself for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out where he went wrong. "I'm not ready," he said, quietly again. He could damn near hear Jake shaking his head.
"I get that. I really do."
"Do you?" Neal suddenly snapped.
"Yeah, Neal. I do. I stopped drinking 5 years ago, quit drugs 3 years ago. I've been where you are. I know what it's like to know that what you're doing is wrong, but you just don't see how living without it is possible yet."
Neal shut his eyes. "It's exactly that."
"Neal, I need you to acknowledge that you're an addict, and that you need help, and that you want help, before we can get anywhere."
Neal nodded into it. "I understand."
"Until then, I can't help you." Neal took in a deep breath. "I will talk to Agent Burke about getting you back to work, though. How does that sound?"
"It sounds... good," Neal said, hesitating first. Jake was silent for a moment, then spoke.
"You're about to use, aren't you?"
Neal shut his eyes. "Yes," he whispered.
"Be safe, Neal."
"I will," he said, voice cracking. They hung up, and with that, Neal's hope went out the window. He climbed out of bed, stretching out his arms and yawning, then went to grab his gear. He held the syringe between his teeth as Kate's voice rang in his head. He mixed the drug up and drew it up through the cotton, then held the needle against his skin.
"Don't do this, Neal," she said. "Don't be weak," she said. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and slid the needle into his skin, drawing the blood into the syringe and watching with fascination as it blossomed together with the murky liquid. He sighed as he pushed it all in, and sat back on the sofa, letting his head drop back. He dropped the syringe and pulled his knees up against his chest, shutting his eyes. He got lost as the high drew him away from reality and brought him into another world free of pain and hurt and loss and sorrow. He couldn't remember her smile, he couldn't remember her eyes, and all that was better than the pain of remembering.
Minutes later, once the initial high faded, he opened his eyes and looked around. The world was still the same. The drug hadn't made things better. It hadn't. It had simply muted everything for a few minutes. It wasn't worth it. He had to remember that it wasn't worth it. In the shower, he scrubbed off, scrubbed away all the shame and pain and regret, and once again, stopped at his inner elbow. He studied the pockmarks, and shut his eyes as the water poured over him and washed away the small spot of blood from his most recent injection.
He shut the water off. He swore under his breath at the cold, and wandered out in his towel, getting dressed. It was pointless to keep doing it, but it didn't stop him from doing it one more time before he headed into work anyway.
At the office, Neal was visibly relaxed, but not obviously high. Peter sighed upon seeing him. "I just got a call from Jake. He wants you to come back to your regular work schedule."
Neal shifted, crossing his arms, protecting himself. "And what do you think of that?"
"I think it's a terrible idea, to be perfectly honest, Neal. I can't have you high out of your mind while you're out on the field, and I need your brain to be at its sharpest when we're in the office."
Neal shut his eyes for a moment. "I understand why you feel that way, but I am still a responsible, living, breathing, person, Peter. I know what I need to do, I won't let this get in the way, and I had hoped you would know me better than that."
Peter raised his brows. "When's the last time you used?"
Neal stared straight at Peter. "Last night."
Peter shook his head. "I don't believe you, Neal."
In Jake's office, Jake asked the same question. "When's the last time you used?"
Neal sighed. "Twice this morning."
Jake raised his eyebrows. "Did you tell Peter that?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I need him to trust me."
"Why make him trust you if you're not deserving of his trust?"
"I'm still the same man, Jake," Neal began to assert, but Jake shook his head, interrupting.
"No, you're not. Your priorities are different, your strength is weakened, your heart is cold. You've become a selfish being, only worried about satisfying your own needs."
"That's not true," Neal started, but Jake held up a hand.
"I've been there, Neal. I know how this works." Neal looked down. "When will you understand that you are not the only person this hurts? This has impacts, Neal, on other people, people you care about. This has consequences beyond your control, things you may not see yet, but that will come to haunt you for the rest of your life. I'm still realizing those consequences, years later. There are people who don't speak to me anymore, despite me getting my life back together, and I just have to deal with that. This will ruin you, Neal, and you're only getting worse."
Neal looked away. He didn't have anything to say to that.
Back at the office, Peter studied Neal as he walked in. He approached carefully, as Neal looked worn, beaten-down, exhausted. "What did he say?"
Neal shook his head, hands shoved into his pockets. "Let's just... let's get to work."
Peter nodded, and led Neal into the conference room, hand on Neal's shoulder.
"Sounds good, kid. Let's get to work."