A/N: The big confrontation chapter is here. I may put the whole thing, I may break it into two. But either way it isn't finished yet, don't worry. There is still plenty comfort to come.
Warning: This chapter contains mention of sexual abuse. It will not go into much detail but I suggest that if you are too young to read that sort of thing that you should skip those scenes or this chapter in general. Just a warning.
Hope you enjoy!
Peter climbed into bed next to Elizabeth. She was clad in one of his button-up dress-shirts, always her first choice in sleepwear. She was leaning against the head board, finishing a chapter of the book she was reading. After reading the final word she stuck in her make-shift bookmark (one of Peter's business cards) and placed the book on the nightstand.
"Did Neal fall asleep yet?" Elizabeth asked her husband, sinking into a lying-down position.
"Yeah I just checked on him. He's out like a light. We don't have to worry about any more singing tonight." Peter said, leaning over to kiss his wife on the forehead.
"That's good. I hope he sleeps okay. He's had a rough few days."
"Don't worry, he'll be fine." Peter said as he leaned over to switch off his bedside lamp. El did the same, and within minutes they were asleep. Both of them were worn out after dealing with Neal all day.
…
It was 2:22am exactly, and all was quiet in the Burke house. Peter snored lightly in his bed, his wife in a silent slumber next to him. Even Satchmo was quiet, sleeping like a log at the foot of the bed.
A noise stirred in one of the rooms. It was faint at first, but grew slightly louder as minutes passed. Peter's eyes blinked open, his keen sense of hearing picking up on the sound before his wife's. He couldn't quite tell what it was until about a minute later. When he did decipher the noise, he was swept with shock. It was Neal. He was screaming. The bed could be heard creaking, probably from Neal tossing and turning. Peter was out of his bed in a second, careful not to disturb his wife, and ran into the guest room.
…
Neal awoke slowly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. It all seemed so familiar, yet he couldn't determine exactly where he was. The room was very dark, only adding to his confusion. As his eyes adjusted, several aspects of the room came into focus. First he saw a nightstand, then a desk. It wasn't until one of the photos on the desk came into view that he realized where he was. The photograph was of Neal and his mother, taken when he was several years old. Neal was in his old bedroom, nestled deep inside his father's mansion.
Neal sensed another presence in the large mansion. He shifted his vision over to the door. A dim ray of light shone in from the hallway, casting two shadows where the light was blocked by feet. The door swung open silently, the feet now developing a full body. It was not just any body, it was his father's body.
Neal's father took several steps forward until he was beside his son's bed. He leaned over, rubbing the back of his index finger down Neal's cheek; caressing it. Neal shuddered at the touch, fully remembering what it always led to.
"Evening, Neal…" his father said, the stench of expensive scotch mixed with bad cologne filling his nostrils. He stayed quiet as his father's finger slipped down his cheek, over his neck, and on top of the bed spread. He slowly peeled the blanket off his son, whispering, "Turn onto your stomach, Neal, be a good boy…"
…
Neal was mangled in a sheet, his body twisting in turning as he screamed in terror. Peter ran to the bed, grabbing his partner's shoulder. He shook it violently, trying to snap the younger man out of his nightmare. When Neal finally awoke, he shot up to a sitting position, his eyes wide and his breathing erratic and heavy. A cold sweat had broken out on his chest, and he was trembling terribly.
"Neal, what happened?" Peter asked frantically, frightened by his condition.
Neal didn't respond, instead he clutched a hand to his chest, trying desperately to get his breathing under control. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the headboard.
Peter reached out to put a hand on Neal's shoulder, but the con flinched away from the touch, his eyes snapping open.
"Talk to me, Neal. Tell me what just happened." Peter said.
Neal looked away, almost seeming aggravated. "I'm fine, Peter. Just a nightmare."
"That was not just a nightmare. Screaming at the top of your lungs and thrashing around like the bed is on fire is not just a nightmare."
Neal looked embarrassed for a moment, still not looking at Peter.
"Neal, don't shut me out. Talk for once! I can help you!" Peter said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
When Neal remained silent, his jaw visibly clenching in frustration, Peter said, "At least just tell me what the dream was about, Neal. You don't have to go into specifics, just tell me the basics. Was it about your dad?"
"Yes, you happy? It was about my dad. Now drop it. Elizabeth is probably waiting." Neal said, now definitely irritated.
Peter knew it was against his better judgment to leave Neal after an episode like this, but if they were going to have a talk it wouldn't be at 2:30 in the morning. He'd wait until morning, then confront him. In the back of his mind Peter knew he was procrastinating, but he was still clueless. Neal was always the self-reliant one. He often took advantage of the idea that Kate was Neal's only problem. And even though he now knew that was far from true, he tried to keep the illusion in his head.
"Alright, but since we're awake there's something else we need to do. I forgot about it earlier."
Neal leaned back slightly, his eyebrows scrunching together in suspicion.
"And what might that be?"
"We have to change that bandage." Peter said, his eyes focusing on Neal's shoulder. Neal turned to look in the same direction, his neck craning awkwardly. He remember the lacerations from his father. He'd never noticed the thick gauze taped there.
"I can manage myself, Peter." Neal said, embarrassed at his lack of ability. He knew there was no way he could reach that part of his shoulder.
"You can barely see there, let alone change a bandage. I can help, just trust me." Peter said.
At the word trust, Neal stiffen, but sighed in defeat.
"Fine."
"Good." Peter said with a small smile, going downstairs to get the equipment needed.
When he had come back upstairs, Neal had changed from his white t-shirt to a white tank top.
"Neal, you're gonna have to take your shirt off." Peter said, wondering why the con was suddenly shy. Usually he had no problem removing his shirt, especially when in the presence of women. Not that that had any relevance here.
Neal was about to protest, but knew it was true. He slowly pulled the beater off, revealing his soft, sculpted chest and torso. Neal really was the whole package. No wonder he had women lined up at his doorstep.
"Turn around." Peter said, readying several pieces of medical tape, gauze, and anti-bacterial ointment.
Neal reluctantly turned, his equally-sculpted back now facing Peter.
Peter took the bandage off slowly, careful not to disturb the area or hurt Neal. He didn't want to lose his trust from something as simple as ripping a band-aid off too fast.
As the dirtied gauze tore away, the tally marks were made evident. The sight was almost gruesome. The wounds were only partially closed, leaving a mess of dried blood surrounding them. Peter took a washcloth he had brought from the bathroom and squirted a bit of ointment on it, gently rubbing it in circles on the inflicted area.
"Ah! Peter that stuff stings!" Neal complained, wincing in pain as the cream made contact.
"Cowboy up, I've seen five-year-olds take this stuff without complaining."
Peter couldn't see it, but Neal rolled his eyes.
Just as Peter secured the new gauze into place, he noticed an imperfection in the man's skin. Not too far from the bandaged area, there was another set of lines. They were extremely faint, white lines. There were four of them, all parallel to eachother. They were old scars. Peter tried to pretend he was still working on the bandage, poking his fingers across the material as he searched Neal's back for further injuries. He found three more areas with similar markings, with tally-count ranging from two to eight. They were all very old. If it weren't for the slight tan Neal had developed this recent autumn (it had been like a second summer this year, temperatures rising above ninety degrees), he wouldn't have even known they were there.
Neal seemed to notice Peter's lack of movement, and abruptly turned around.
"Is it all set?" Neal asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh, yeah, it's all set." Peter replied, trying unsuccessfully to return his expression to normal.
"Ok… Thanks, Peter…" Neal said, grabbing the tank top and pulling it back over his head.
"Any time…" Peter said before leaving the room to return to his wife.
When he climbed back into bed, Elizabeth was awake waiting.
"What did he say?" she asked, curious at why it had been so short.
"He was having a nightmare. Avoided my questions as usual. But there was something else."
"What?" El asked, ignoring (for now) the fact that her husband hadn't offered Neal comfort.
"I helped him change his bandage on his shoulder, the one from the knife cuts,"
El nodded, grimacing when she remembered Neal's father inflicting the tally marks into her favorite criminal.
"and I noticed these old scars. There were white and faded, but they were in exactly the same position as the tally marks. It's like a trade mark."
El sighed, "So this definitely isn't the first time?"
"Nope. I have a feeling this kid's been to Hell and back. I just wish he would talk to me."
"Well next time maybe you should try a little harder." El said, referring to her husband's failure to comfort Neal only moments ago.
"Yeah, I know. Tomorrow, I promise." Peter said, knowing he had made similar promises to her before.
Elizabeth only smiled and turned onto her side, snuggling into Peter's embrace.
…
At 4:35am Peter awoke to a retching sound coming from through the wall. He got up slowly and went out into the hallway, finding Neal's door open. Down the hall he saw a light in the bathroom. When he peered into the room, his eyes quickly adjusted to the light. He saw Neal, hunched over the toilet, violently emptying the contents of his stomach.
A/N: Again, really sorry it took a week to update! I thought my life would slow down this week but its turning out to be the opposite. And about that ending scene, don't worry, it's not a medical issue. I, for one, am not a fan of major hospitalization time in stories. It is more-so panic attack type symptoms mixed with his already-present dizziness. I will not say anything more than that, it has to be a surprise. :)
Thank you again to all my amazing reviewers and I hope you all continue to share your opinions and comments with me! I very much enjoy them and try to incorporate almost all ideas into my story as long as they coincide with the plot and my direction. So be sure to throw out any ideas you would like to see and I'll see if I can fit it in!
P.S. No White Collar this week :( but supposedly a good one next week! Yay!
And a shout-out to JennyLB for all her help and support for this story. Her comments and criticism are greatly appreciated! In fact, you can thank her for the section about changing Neal's bandage. She gave me the idea for that, although I'm sure both she and all of you out there don't know why I chose to make it at 2:30 in the morning. I don't really know why myself!
Well anyway, until next time!
-AgentDiNozzo13
