Those Haunts That Linger: Chapter 21
Sick, tired, but happy cause I'm officially done with all things high school! It was great to hear that people have read the first chap of my story and couldn't stop reading. :) Authors love hearing that kind of stuff. So keep it comin'! ;)
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!
Places to Be, Devils to See
They had been able to coax Neal onto the coach, where he eventually passed out, after they got some more medicine into him. Satchmo was curled up at their feet, and Sally pulled her own feet up under her in the armchair she was occupying. The Burkes were currently pinned to the couch by Neal, who had his head in El's lap and his feet in Peter's. El ran her fingers through Neal's hair and looked down on his peaceful face. The rain beat against the windows, and the wind propelled it even harder against the street.
Unfortunately, the peace could only last for so long, after another hour or so, Neal started to whimper and fist his hands. Peter laid a strong hand on the young man's ankle, and El started to hum while she petted Neal. However, their combined efforts were not enough, and Neal was soon in a full blown nightmare. He thrashed and whimpered, held his hands up as though he was fighting someone off.
"Please….Please! I don't…no no No NO!" Then Neal started crying, not sobbing as he had been earlier, but the tears flowed freely down his face, and his eyes were clenched shut. Sally came up and knelt by El's knees and Neal's head. She felt his forehead, which made Neal flinch back and fight harder, and it was still very warm though not as warm as earlier. Her brow furrowed.
"Damn. It feels like his fever broke, but it's spiking again with this nightmare. Neal, it's just a dream. Wake up, Neal. Wake u- Ah!" In his struggling one of Neal's fists connected with Sally's cheek. It was only a glancing blow, but it still knocked her back and would be leaving a nice bruise. Peter got up from his spot by Neal's feet to help El get a hold of his arms. Satchmo, meanwhile, trotted over to her and sniffed her face. He whined then turned to Neal. The dog carefully crept forward and, avoiding Neal's fists, stuck his nose right in Neal's face.
Surprisingly, this did almost nothing to calm Neal down. In fact, Neal flinched back again and started crying harder. Satchmo was not one to give up, though. He repeated his actions and whined even louder. The whine seemed to do it. Neal froze, hands still high and arms and legs as tense as bowstrings. Unhappy with seeing his human in such a way, Satchmo whined again, and Neal slowly began to relax. His glazed blue eyes fluttered open and focussed right on the dog, as he went almost completely limp in Peter and El's holds. Neal's breathing was still heavy and his sweated matted his curls to his forehead, but he was a lot more calm.
"Hey," he croaked out at Satchmo. The dog scooted forward, tail wagging, and licked Neal's face. The young man smiled and wrinkled his nose. The other adults let out their collectively held breaths.
Then Neal's blue eyes drifted up and took in his surroundings. Sally tried to turn away, but it was too late; Neal saw. His eyes grew wide, and he sat up quickly. Neal kept staring at the bruise on her cheek.
"Neal, it's fine. It was an accident. You didn't mean to do it." He was staring at his shaking hands in horror that they would have done such a thing.
"Neal, Bud, it's okay-" Next thing they knew, Neal was running upstairs, and they heard the bathroom door slam shut. The Burkes were about to follow, but Sally motioned for them to stay.
"Wait. Let me talk to him." Peter and El didn't seem happy about it, but they stayed where they were. Sally, meanwhile, slowly walked up the stairs and stopped outside the bathroom door. Sally wasn't surprised when she heard retching coming from the other side. She knocked gently on the door.
"Neal? Can I come in?" More retching, and groaning. Instead of waiting for answer, she opened the door. A whine sounded from behind her, and Sally saw Satchmo waiting behind her to follow her in. She gave the dog a rueful smile.
"Sorry, Satch. Not now." Satchmo whined once more, but sat guard outside, waiting for her to allow him access to his human.
Sally walked into the small bathroom and closed the door quietly behind her. Neal was still crouched in front of the toilet, face in the bowl. His body was racked with tremors and covered in sweat, and his knuckles were white from gripping the rim of the toilet. Sally knelt down beside him, and called his name softly.
"Neal?" He shied away from the hand she reached out to rub his back. Neal whimpered a bit before dry retching into the bowl, all of his stomach contents being emptied out moments before. Tears and snot ran down his face, and once he was finished retching, he sat up, flushed, and backed away from the toilet, back resting against the wall. Sally grabbed a small cloth, wet it with cool water, and gently wiped his face. Neal let her do it, though he shook more when she moved closer and wouldn't look at her face. Once she was done, Sally set the cloth aside and put a crooked finger under his chin to lift his face up.
He still felt warm, but his fever had definitely gone down. His blue eyes were no longer hazed with fever, but they now swam with tears he fought back.
"Neal, please look at me." He tried to turn his face away, but she wouldn't let him.
"Neal." With a great deal of strength and shaking, Neal finally looked her in the eye, studiously avoiding looking at the bruise as much as he could. Sally smiled at him and laid her palm on his cheek, rubbing her thumb across his cheek bone in soothing motions.
"Neal, you are not like him." This made him look directly at the bruise and start to shake his head. Sally brought her other hand up and held his face to make him keep eye contact.
"This was an accident. You were having a nightmare, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a glancing blow, Neal. There was no intention or motivation behind it. You are not him." A few tears escaped Neal's eyes, and Sally brushed them away with her thumbs.
"You are a smart, talented young man, with a big heart. Frank took you and hurt you in ways no child should ever be hurt, but you didn't let it turn you into something bitter and angry. Yes, you made mistakes along the way. But you have been trying to make up for them; you let yourself open up and let people in that care about you. Most people that have been through half of what you have aren't anywhere near as caring and kind as you are, Neal. This," she motioned to her bruise, "This is nothing. A mistake; nothing to be sorry for or require forgiveness. Because, Neal, you are nothing like Frank. He didn't change you. You won."
Neal sat silent throughout Sally's speech, and more tears fell from his eyes. But this time they weren't sad tears, or frightened tears; they were happy tears. Tears that contained an immense relief and happiness at realizing she was right. He wasn't like Frank, and he never would be. He smiled at Sally, and with almost no hesitation, wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back, holding him tight, as he whispered in her ear.
"Thank you." After holding each other for a few minutes, they eventually let go and Sally helped Neal shakily to his feet.
"Come on. You've got Peter and El worried." He chuckled a bit.
"When has that ever not been the case?" He croaked. Sally laughed, and Satchmo stood happily when they exited the bathroom. Neal patted his head.
"Thanks, Satch." The dog barked happily and led them downstairs to where Peter and El were waiting anxiously on the couch. The obvious tension in their shoulders disappeared, upon seeing the two walking out smiling.
"How are you, Buddy?" Peter stood and led Neal back to his spot on the couch. Neal shrugged.
"Ugh. My throats sore, my head is pounding, and I just threw up everything I ate in the last year." El jumped up and ran to get Neal a glass of water, and came back with ibuprofen, a cool, wet cloth and a glass of water. She handed the first and last item to her boy.
"Take these and then slow sips. I'm going to watch you eat some crackers later, and I'll make some soup later as well." Neal nodded and couldn't help smiling at El's mother mode. Peter sat beside him, rubbing his back, and once he had taken the medicine and had his fill of water, Peter had him lay down and put the cloth on his forehead. Neal sighed in comfort as the cloth touched his forehead, and he would have been embarrassed with the way he pushed into Peter's hand when the man pet his face and hair, if he wasn't so exhausted physically and emotionally. After a few minutes of silence, letting them all relax after the exciting morning, they were all surprised when Neal broke it.
"So, how did I get down here? Were my, were my nightmares bad? I don't usually get this sick, but when I do…it's pretty bad." Peter and El weren't sure if they should talk about it, but Sally nodded for them to do so. El sighed and pulled a chair closer to the end of the couch Neal's head was on.
"Well, Sweetie, your fever was so high, that you had a bit of, um, well Sally called it delirium. It was like you were stuck in memories and dreams and were sleepwalking." Neal opened his eyes and his brow furrowed.
"What did I say?" He asked, nervously wetting his lips. Peter patted his ankle.
"Well, we went into your room, because we thought you were having a bad nightmare. You were frightened, curled up under the covers, and flinched when we came near you or tried to touch you. Your eyes were wide open too. Satchmo fetched Sally and brought her up. She started talking to you, and…you didn't recognize us or know who we were." El nodded.
"Sally asked for your name and you told us…you told us to call you Ponyboy." Neal's eyes widened and his breaths got faster and shallower. Sally leaned forward.
"It's alright, Neal. We know the general facts about that part of your past, but not specifics. Those are for you to tell us in your own time." Neal visibly tried to calm down, and when he succeeded he motioned for them to continue.
"What else?"
"Well, after that, Satchmo forced his way forward, and he seemed to calm you down a bit. Once you calmed, Sally, El and I left so she could explain what was going on. When we came back you were completely different. Sitting up, smiling. When you saw us, well, you…you thought we were…clients. You might have mentioned something about a foursome." Neal's cheeks turned bright red, as did Peter's. The agent seemed unable to continue, so El picked up for him.
"When we introduced ourselves again, though, you relaxed and asked us if Reese's Pieces sent us." Neal cracked a smile then.
"I did? Oh geez." El smiled and nodded.
"Yes, you did." Peter quirked a brow then.
"Wait, Neal, did you recognize Hughes when you first came on as my consultant?" Neal shook his head, gently so as not to dislodge the cloth.
"No. When I only saw him, no, but then I heard his name, and I could see it better. It had been a few years. He got old, Peter." Peter nodded, biting down a smile.
"Well, we helped you downstairs, because you were hungry, fed you and we talked a bit.
We asked about your home life, how much you ate, and the like. You got defensive and emotional. You said that Reese's understood. Understood that you had to do things you didn't want to do." Neal nodded in remembrance.
"Yeah. Other cops 'round then all thought they should either get some for free or that we were garbage and trash and spit on us when they went by. I thought Hughes was like that too, but he actually cared. He knew why we would work the corners, and…he even tried to get me out a few times. I..I was too scared though." Neal got quiet at the end, his eyes downcast and far away. Peter and El each had a hand on their son and offered him silent strength and support.
"We understand, Neal. We don't think your a whore or anything other than our son. An amazing young man that's stronger than anyone we've ever met. We are so proud of you." Neal smiled at the Burkes, his family, and felt the cracks in his duct taped heart start to mend. He would need to be strong for the storm that was coming.
"We got you out. Now where's our money?" The large man shoved Frank back into a wall, but he wasn't intimidated in the least. He just looked bored. Shaking his head at the thugs, he smirked and started laughing. The men looked at each other, confused, then back at Frank getting angry.
"What's so funny?" Frank shook his head again, and ran a hand through his hair.
"I'm just picturing the look on your face when you realize what's going to happen." One of the men was, wisely, growing wary and started to back away. The other just got closer and clenched his hands into fists.
"Oh yeah? And what is that?" Frank gave him a condescending smile and reached behind him.
"This." He pulled out a gun and shot the first man right between the eyes. The other man turned tail and ran, but he wasn't fast enough. He got two in the back. Frank sighed and put the gun back into his waistband. He walked over the bodies, not giving a second thought to stepping on the dead men.
"Sorry, boys. But I've got places to be." A smile crawled onto his face, one that made you want to rip your skin off. If someone saw him walking out of the alley, they would have sworn they saw a smiling demon walking out into the night.
Neal is on the mend, and we all know that that means a monkey wrench will get thrown in the plot! Stay tuned for next week's chapter of Those Haunts That Linger. :)
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. :)