So before turning off the FDR onto Brooklynn Bridge he decides it's time to swallow his pride.
"Neal," he waits patiently, until the dark-hair lifts ever so slightly in what Peter believes is reluctant compliance. "I'm sorry."
He's sorry?
Neal allows an audible huff to escape but nothing more. Instead he turns his gaze to watch the sky scrapers whizz by as they make their way out of Manhattan.
"When I got back and you weren't there, I mean I understand, I do, but I told you to stay put and…" Peter continues regardless, driving in his usual way, concentration everywhere except on the road.
More words are said, but Neal doesn't listen. He's in no mood to hear excuses and justifications. Being dragged out of the men's room by Peter, in full view of everyone, isn't the worst thing that's happened to him today, but it's the one he's going to hold onto. His mind feels… absent… like he's floating somewhere on the outside, watching himself from a distance and his irritation at Peter's completely irrational behaviour is all that's keeping him tethered to the earth. He knows he's been in the hospital for the better part of the day and he remembers why – sort of – but when he tries to remember specifics, everything is … fuzzy.
"What did they give me?" Neal says suddenly, sometime later over the Brooklynn Bridge, his soft voice cutting over the car radio and Pink Floyd's repeated attempts to call him out as a fellow lost soul in the world.
"Huh?" Is Peter's less than eloquent response, looking startled and failing to hid the fact as he captures Neal in his rear-view mirror. "You mean the doctors?"
"I mean-" Neal pauses, frowns, the thought floats around his mind but he can't quite grab hold, as soon as he thinks he has it, it's gone again. "What did they give me?" He repeats, an edge to his words he fails to conceal.
Peter stares at him, only his eyes visible in the little mirror which is conspicuously pointed directly at him. Floyd continues to play softly in the background, now reaching the realisation that the wall he's erected around his life is too high to climb. Neal tries not to apply that sentiment to his own life.
"You'll feel better after a good night's sleep." Peter declares eventually, after some hemming and hawing about blood tests and results not back yet.
"I don't… feel right." Neal breathes steadily, finding he has to concentrate on every word. But then, "I'm tired" slips out, and for once Peter keeps his eyes fixed on the road and doesn't comment.
In fact Neal doesn't say or hear Peter say another word after that, not until –
"Alright, enough!"
The words, terse and angry, they travel through his mind, tickling a memory. Neal considers if he should respond…
"Neal!"
His name. Said with a familiar inflection of frustration.
"Look, I'm sorry. You know me. I don't apologise easily." In his peripheral vision Neal sees the shadow that he assumes is Peter move, "I was scared and I jumped to the wrong conclusion." No longer looming over him, he's crouched at his side, hand held out towards him - "Forgive me?"
That snaps something inside Neal. The voice is gentle and not at all like the one which came before. It breaks through the comfortable numbness he's been indulging in, enough to see beyond the open car door and recognise the street on which they've parked.
"Come on." The voice has grown hands that grab hold of his, they don't wait for him to act or adjust to the fact Peter has brought him to his home, they simply pull him out of the car and drag him towards the house.
Neal doesn't have the energy to fight it and anyway what's the point? He's rubbish at fighting… running away is his forte, but he can't right now. Running away also requires energy… and a plan... a plan is the most important part. Without a plan he's no better than a moody teenage, kicking off at the inherent unfairness of life. A plan is what makes running an art, something he can be proud of when he's gotten away clean. So, with that settled, letting Peter take him wherever he wants him to go for now, Neal drifts into a state of uncaringness. His body going through the motions while his mind retreats back into a comfortable state of knowing nothing.
Awareness comes slowly back some indeterminable time later. The blinds are drawn, the living room lowly lit and Elizabeth is sitting next to him on the couch, the remains of a mostly-eaten cheese pizza lying discarded on the plate between them. His immediate attention is commanded by the brightness of the television, but then a noise, something unfamiliar and not common draws his focus away from the lives of Big and Little Edie and their many cats over to the dining room, where seated at the table was Peter, hunched over, seemingly finding it very hard to breath. Neal looks down at the scene as he has done since leaving the hospital, from above, like his body is an empty vessel and he can no longer have an impact on the world around him.
"Hon!" El calls when Peter starts to resemble a drowning man, only Peter isn't drowning and there's no water in sight. "Peter?"
It's over as fast as it started. Peter chokes, takes a deep breath and leaves the room. Neal just watches. El's gaze meets his. She tells him everything's fine, offering a watery smile that wouldn't fool a fool and follows her husband into the kitchen. He can hear them whispering, not the words but the sounds. They clearly don't want him to know what's being said, so Neal stays seated. He waits and waits until –
Peter appears first, heading straight for him. Fear spikes in his chest but nothing's visible on the outside, he makes sure of it this time.
"Bedtime" Peter pulls him up, making it clear this is a no choice scenario.
Although he's more aware than he has been all day, Neal chooses to continue ignoring life around him and allows Peter to take away his autonomy.
"You planning on talking anytime soon?" Neal hears as they reach the bathroom, but doesn't respond, because he really doesn't know the answer.
Shutting the bathroom door behind him without looking back it's a quick change into the blue t-shirt and cotton sleep pants he finds folded over the towel rail, the ones he recognises as his. He doesn't bother with anything else and quickly leaves, opening the door only to experience surprise at finding the hallway empty. That surprise quickly transforms, fear spiking suddenly, a sharp pain straight through the centre of his chest. It's the first real emotion to cut through the numb indifference he's experienced since leaving the hospital. He didn't need Peter in the bathroom and yeah, he guesses he can go to bed by himself, but looking around the darkened hallway panic sets in. He doesn't know who maybe hiding in the shadows. Neal eyes the guest bedroom door, open just a crack revealing nothing but more darkness beyond. His gaze quickly travels the length of the corridor, drawn to the only source of light…
"I need him safe El." Peter's words hit his ears the second he reaches the threshold of their bedroom.
Neal speaks the thought as it enters his mind, "I'm safe."
Their eyes meet and all of a sudden Neal sees what's been before him the entire time. What's been there since day one, before and after all of his heists and shenanigans. Neal hadn't realised, hadn't considered the impact his silence would have on the one man who's invested so much of his own time and energy into not maintaining his own wellbeing, but in keeping him, the incomparable Neal Caffrey, safe. Irritation and annoyance from Peter is normal, but seeing Peter's wet eyes, hearing the desperation in his voice as he lays his fears out to woman he loves -
"I know you are." Peter breathes finally and gets up, "Come on-"
Neal sees him coming, knows despite all hope and a touch of disbelief, he plans to take him back into the dark.
Peter?
"Neal it's late."
Thoughts of being alone in that room. In the dark. He can't. He won't. He shouldn't. It's not safe.
"Neal honey, do you need something to help you sleep?"
Neal looks hopelessly at Elizabeth. Yes. Yes, he does. He needs to not be alone in the dark. Neal's about to say just that, because despite the fear he still feels slightly numb, like nothing he says will really matter-
"What?"
Anger, irritation... normalcy. Neal slams his mouth shut and stumbles backwards, retreating until he reaches his room at the end of the hall. Bile rises quickly, burning his throat before he can even think about shutting the door. He can't stay here. Not even bothering to flick on the light which is well within his reach, Neal quickly leaves and ducks into the bathroom again. He's still alone but there's light at least-
A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts-
"Neal," a pause. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you. Really, if there's anything we can do to help, just ask ok?"
Standing in the harsh white light, no longer numb, no longer calm, Neal considers a response. He's confused and frightened and completely out of his depth. Opening his mouth Neal thinks he's going to tell Peter all of this, but "Yeah okay, I'll… let you know" slips out. "I'm just going to have a shower and go to bed." To make it not a lie he flicks on the shower and stripping his recently clad nightwear sits under the spray waiting for Peter to leave.
Whatever Neal had been thinking, whatever state of peacefulness he'd found by arriving at the Burke's it's gone now. All that's left is facing the darkness alone and hoping he can survive until morning.
A/N:
Thank you everyone for your patience's. All reviews, faves and follows are greatly appreciated😊
Pop-culture references:
The song on the radio is Pink Floyds 'Hey You'
The film El makes Neal watch is 'Grey Gardens.'