Those Haunts That Linger: Chapter 14
Glad my lack of research doesn't seem to be very apparent and detrimental to the story. Well, instead of Neal angst here, we get to see Peter angst! Yay!
Enjoy :)
WARNINGS: Please see chapters one and two for the warnings.
PS! I don't own anything other than the plot! This is meant for reading not suing!
Is that a Good thing?
El and Peter sat together in silence for a few minutes. Their hands were clasped together tightly, neither growing uncomfortable. Thoughts swirled about in their heads at an alarming rate. They would be lying if they said that this last session had shaken them. But what it had shaken was that little bit of false hope that was clinging on saying, 'Neal is really okay. This is just a quick fix. Nothing to worry about.' From the beginning, they had known that to be wrong, but...it had found a way inside without any real proof of it being wrong, until today. However, as they sat on their cozy couch, Peter's pursed lips began to relax, and El's foot finally stopped tapping.
After a good while of just letting everything settle around them, El stirred, lifting her head off of Peter's shoulder where it had fallen. They turned to give each other small, encouraging smiles, and then El patted Peter's shoulder and stood.
"I'm going to check on Neal. I just...want to see him." Peter nodded his understanding, and watched his wife tread quietly up the stairs.
He couldn't tell her that he didn't want to see his son.
It wasn't anything Neal had done really...in all honesty it was Peter's fault, but...he couldn't get the sharp, intense fear in Neal's eyes when he had looked at Peter. Peter knew it was because Neal had had a flashback, and Peter had invaded his space, just becoming a threat to his calm. After that look and their little talk with Dr. Jenkins, he would never make that mistake again.
That had hurt more than almost anything he had ever felt before. Having your own son look at you...so scared...no father ever wants to see that.
But...I'm not really his father, am I? I'm just another presiding male figure in Neal's life, and one that put him in prison to boot. Both of Neal's other father figures were either killed or had hurt him in unimaginable ways.
Peter put his head in his hands and took deep, calming breaths. He felt like a father to Neal, but he didn't want to put himself in that skewed view for his son. Peter was afraid that Neal would think he would just leave or stoop to 'handling' him in some other way, that Peter would never in a million years do.
Deciding to seek answers from the ceiling, he pulled his hands away, but then his eyes caught something peeking from underneath the chair Neal had been sitting in. In all of the excitement, Neal's sketchbook must have gotten shoved under the furniture. Peter went over and pulled it out from its hiding place.
It was still open to the page Neal had flipped to, and Peter's eyes widened at what he saw. There was a young man, fallen to his knees, who appeared very obviously distressed over whatever he was seeing. A large pool of...blood soaked the boy's knees and seemed to be dripping from his hands. Peter's hands started to tremble. The worst part, however, was the dark figure looming behind the boy. He wasn't terribly detailed, but there was no way you could mistake the sickeningly satisfied grin across its face for anything else. A knife was held carelessly in one of its hands, while the other was laid in a 'comforting' manner on the young man's shoulder.
Peter practically threw the sketchbook away from himself in his haste to distance himself from the images he had just burned into his brain. The urge to punch, shoot and kill many things came back with a vengeance, and once again, he had to fight it back, along with a rising nausea. Instead, he tried deep, calming breaths. It took a few tries, but the rage and sense of failure finally abated. He let the quiet in the house seep into him; let it calm him.
Then the phone rang.
Peter groaned, but not wanting the shrill sound to disturb Neal, he quickly picked it up, despite his intense dislike of the thought of having a conversation with anyone at that point in time. There was a reason his work phone was no where near him for these days off. If someone at the office had something so terribly important to tell him, they could come tell him in person. Not expecting much out of the phone call anyway, he answered.
"Hello?" He realized that his voice would sound rough and abused to whoever was on the other end, but at the moment, he really didn't give a damn.
"Peter? Oh my, you sound dreadful! Is everything alright over there?" Peter was caught off guard by the familiar, and concerned voice on the other end of the line.
"June? Uh, yeah. We're...well, we're not dead, so I guess it's going well." The agent cringed at how that sounded. Sure enough, June grew more worried and frantic.
"Well, that's not comforting at all! I think I should come over. Make sure it's all-"
"No! No no. Seriously, we're...working through some things. El and I...decided to get some professional help for Neal and ourselves. Neal was not doing well coping, and we honestly had no idea how to help him. Right now, we're just tired. Promise." It was quiet on the other end for a few moments, and Peter suspected that June had left the phone on and had run right over to their house to take Neal away. So, her response was rather unexpected.
"Thank you, Peter. Thank you." Peter really wasn't sure how to respond to that. It hadn't been his idea, and it wasn't like he was the therapist.
"Um..." June decided to explain her gratitude a bit more to save Peter from a long, awkward moment.
"Ever since that horrible man had been caught and Neal returned to his apartment upstairs, he hasn't been the same. I tried to get him to talk to me or someone, but he always insisted that he was fine. Neal hasn't been himself in a long time, and I really didn't know how to help him. So, thank you, Peter, for helping our boy open up and allow someone in. Thank you, and Elizabeth, for caring for him." Peter nodded, still a bit stunned, before he remembered that she couldn't see him. He cleared his throat before answering.
"We're just...doing the best we can. He's..I don't want to say better, but he's heading in the right direction. This is the most I have ever seen Neal open up, and I think that this really was our best option. Did you want to come over or-?"
"Oh no, dear. Unfortunately, my granddaughter is sick, and needs help taking care of the baby. I just wanted to check in, before I left town. Please give Neal my regards and best wishes."
"Sure thing. Have a safe trip."
"Thank you, Peter. Goodbye." Peter hung up the phone, then set it gently back in its cradle. He physically shuddered at the thought of turning around and seeing the drawing again, but he couldn't just leave it laying out in the open the way it was. So, pushing down his reluctance, Peter walked over, picked it up without looking as best he could, then closed it, blocking it all from view. It was just in time too, because El was coming down the stairs, and Peter really wasn't sure whether he should show her or not.
Looking back at what he had felt when he saw the drawing, he opted for not.
Wonder when that will come back to bite him in the ass. :/ Next chap will be some El angst and what she was up to while Peter was downstairs.
Ciao for now! :)
I do enjoy taking prompts, and I don't bite, so don't be afraid to throw something out there for me to take a gander at. :)