CHAPTER 25
Days eight and nine went much of the same, with the symptoms quietly retreating bit by bit, yet Neal still didn't feel any better. He got worse. He continued to lose weight, he didn't sleep, he shook all the time. He retreated within himself, no one could get him to talk. He wouldn't speak at meetings, he wouldn't speak to his counselors, and he wouldn't speak to Peter.
It wasn't out of self-righteousness or somehow believing he was above this; it was really the exact opposite. He knew he wasn't above this, he was nothing, he was worthless, he was weak. He had let this monster take over his life and now he needed help from other people just to get back to normal. Neal didn't like accepting help, he never had. He had always been a lone wolf, eager to do his own things his own way.
He guessed, that was where he messed up. He never let anyone in close enough and had always thought of himself as better, but now he needed help, and he had pushed everyone away. And admitting he needed help wasn't easy, either. It was a task that had taken a lot of building of his self-confidence, and of course it had taken a long time to realize help was exactly what he needed. Even when it was bad, Neal wasn't ready to ask for help, he wasn't ready to hit defeat. It was like he had told Peter before, "You have to hit rock bottom before you can change."
Peter had said, "When did you hit bottom?" and Neal had responded with, "I never said I did."
But now he had. Not in the way that was expected of him, no, not involvement in a con with the wrong kinds of people. Neal had found himself in the deep end another way. A worse way. The worst way imaginable.
And now he needed help.
Peter showed up a few days later, and asked if he could see Neal, but he was told that Neal wasn't taking visitors. He sighed, and left. He came back on the 11th day, and on the 12th, and the 13th, only to be told to go away, and finally, on the 14th day, he demanded he be let in. He flashed his badge and demanded to see Caffrey.
Neal wandered into the lounge reluctantly, hesitantly. He sank into the sofa across from Peter, and sighed. "Don't go flashing your badge around here, you'll scare the other patients. Most of us aren't exactly saints," Neal said. He sounded tired, almost bored. Peter sighed, but didn't say anything, and Neal shifted. "Am I in trouble or something?"
Peter hesitated again, then sat up a little straighter. "No, Neal. I just wanted to check in with you."
Neal shrugged. "I'm alive." He started to stand. "If you'll excuse me-"
"Sit down, Neal." Neal did, glaring at Peter. "I need to tell you something." Neal nodded once, in silence, knowing that whatever was coming wasn't good news. "Hadley died yesterday, Neal. She overdosed."
Neal let that sink in for a moment. He stared at Peter for a moment, then swallowed, nodded, and looked down. "Thanks for letting me know."
Peter tried to be cautious. "You... okay? Neal?"
Neal nodded, looked up again, plastered on a weak smile. "Yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm good."
Peter pursed his lips. "Good." He stayed silent for a moment, then spoke the words he really came here to say. "That could have been you."
Neal glanced up. "Is that what you came here to say? To guilt me? To strangle me into submission? You do not get to make an example out of her, Peter. Especially not to me."
Peter nodded, he had expected a response like that, but he needed to get the words out regardless. "That's not why. I just want you to realize how proud I am of you, for being here. And that that's what would have happened to you, if you had kept going."
"You think I didn't know that, Peter? Of course I knew that, I'm not an idiot. I knew exactly what I was doing every time I pushed that needle through my skin. I knew what was at stake. I just didn't care enough about the repercussions. The good outweighed the bad."
Peter cocked his head. "Do you still feel that way?"
Honestly, Neal didn't know. He didn't know how he felt, because he was still getting used to having feelings again. His heart was still in the process of softening, his scars were still healing. He needed to rebuild himself, as man, before he could even begin to make definitive statements about his feelings again. He really didn't know. He verbalized this. "I don't know yet, Peter."
"Hm."
Neal looked up at that, and studied Peter, who was now looking down. "What's on your mind?"
Peter sighed. "You. You're all that's ever on my mind these days, Neal. Wondering how you are, praying you'll make it out of this alive, thinking about what you could have possibly thought was okay about what you were doing. S'all I think about."
Neal stilled at this. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten to care about himself, but he was quickly realizing that didn't mean no one else cared. "I don't want to be a burden to you anymore, Peter."
"You're not a burden. You're my friend. And I'm tired of seeing you hurt."
Neal nodded, looking away, unable to face his closest friend now. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly.
"Don't be." Neal nodded again, this time looking down. "I brought someone else today. I hope you don't mind."
Neal glanced up, and she walked in. She was beautiful, so beautiful in that moment, the greatest relief to his symptoms and pain. Sara walked in and stopped when she saw Neal. He stood, and she took a few steps closer again, before Neal closed the gap between them and wrapped her up in his arms, burying his face against her shoulder and shutting his eyes.
"It's so good to see you, Caffrey," she said quietly, and behind them, Peter looked on, smiling. "It's so good to see you."
Neal smiled softly, then lifted his head, cupping her face with his hands and kissing her, long and hard. She shut her eyes and it felt so perfect in that moment, so absolutely perfect, he almost forgot where he was.
When they finally separated, he remembered, and the shame suddenly wounded him so deep... he couldn't bear for her to see him like this. "Thank you for coming, Sara. Really. But you should go."
"I don't want to go, Caffrey, I want to stay here, with you."
"I know," he whispered. "That's what I want, too."
"Then why should I go?"
Neal winced. "I never wanted you to see me like this."
She looked sad. "I've already seen you at your worst, Neal. This is far from it. Just let me be here for you." He nodded, looking down again. "Thank you."
"Yeah," he said, quietly.
This wasn't easy for him, for them to see him this way, but he thought about how hard this must have been for them, seeing him this way. He honestly couldn't believe his friends were still there for him, after all he had put them through. It didn't seem real, it really didn't, but here they were. Here, ready, and willing to be whatever Neal needed.
He knew he didn't deserve this kind of kindness, but they insisted on providing it anyway. That left Neal thinking about what life might have been like if he didn't have such a wonderful support system. What would he be doing with his life?
He had an idea. He would be on the streets, doing whatever he could for the money to shoot up as often as he could. Another option was simply... dead. Just... not a part of this world anymore. Neal wasn't ready to leave this world, he was quickly realizing.
He had a few more things he wanted to do first.
And when Sara left that day, after whispering, "I love you," to him, he had frozen, before replying.
"I love you, too."
That was when he realized he definitely wasn't ready to leave these people behind, the people that he loved.