Chapter Two
Peter would have gone in alone, but he knew that unless Elizabeth saw for herself that Neal was fine, she wouldn't be satisfied. It also brought him a twinge of satisfaction to imagine Neal, looking less than his usual dapper self, opening the door and seeing the two of them dressed for an evening on the town. Always one to present himself well groomed, cool and collected, Neal would be mortified to be seen rumpled, red-nosed and wheezy. Even though it wasn't fair, the thoughts of catching Neal off his game did make the thoughts of the detour a little more palatable.
Janet seemed relieved when she opened the door."Mr. Burke," she said, then nodded at Elizabeth. "It's good that you are here. I've been very worried about Mr. Caffrey today."
Of course she had been. And so had June, and so had Elizabeth. Neal brought out the protective side in the ladies. Peter guessed it was that boyish charm of his; something Neal knew how to use to his benefit when necessary.
"Yeah," Peter said, stepping inside, "June told me he's under the weather," At her glance at his and Elizabeth's rather formal wear, he smiled, "We are going to dinner, but thought we'd stop on the way to check on him."
"Very good, Mr. Burke," she replied. "If you need anything, let me know."
She gestured towards the stairway, then made her exit as he and Elizabeth made their way up to Neal's apartment. Peter knocked on the door, but there was no response.
"Neal," he called out, "It's Peter." When there was still no answer, he tested the doorknob and found the door unlocked.
"He's probably asleep," he said to Elizabeth, lowering his voice. If they discovered him sleeping peacefully, they could be on their way in moments. He pushed the door open and he and Elizabeth entered. A little disappointed to have missed the opportunity to see Neal speechless at the door, he didn't want to take a chance of being left speechless himself if Elizabeth discovered Neal sleeping in the nude. "I'll go check his room," he volunteered.
"Peter," her voice interrupted his progress and he stopped, following her gaze to the sofa. Neal was not in his room, and thankfully, if he was nude his state of being was hidden under a blanket, more than one from the look of it. Elizabeth removed her jacket, discarding it across the table as she quickly crossed the space to where Neal lay.
"Crap," Peter breathed, Elizabeth's removal of her jacket did not support the quick check scenario Peter had planned on. Upon a closer inspection, Peter understood her concern. Lying on his side, Neal's face was flushed and shining with sweat; he was not sleeping peacefully. Even beneath blankets, Peter could see he was shivering. Elizabeth, already at Neal's side, knelt down. His eyes were closed, and her hand smoothed his hair away from where it clung damply to his forehead.
"Neal, sweetie," she said softly, "Are you okay?" She looked back at Peter, worry now stamped on her face as her hand rested on his head. "He's burning up, Peter."
Her touch rousted Neal from his feverish slumber and the blue eyes opened. He looked at her in confusion. "lizabeth, what…?" his voice was hoarse, uncertain. His question was interrupted by a fit of coughing; a painful experience by his reaction. Eyes clenched, his hands appeared from beneath the blanket, and he gripped his head in both hands. Holding it tightly, his body curled slightly upon itself in his discomfort.
June had not exaggerated; he was sick and not only sounded terrible but looked it as well. Respiratory spasm over, Neal's eyes opened again, still confused at having Elizabeth in his apartment. Then he saw Peter.
"Peter?" his confusion clearly growing, "Why are you here? Is it Monday?"
He was clearly disoriented if he thought Peter would show up, with Elizabeth and dressed like this, to pick him up for work. Even though Peter had thought catching Neal off his game would be minimally entertaining, this was not what he had expected. There was an unnatural shine in his blue eyes and an edginess in this voice that Peter knew was fever induced. This was more than sneezing and a red nose; Neal was really sick.
"No, Neal," Peter explained, "It's Saturday. June called. She said you were sick, and Elizabeth and I just came by to check on you."
"That's really nice of you," he sounded surprised and looked at Peter questioningly. "You usually just check up on me." His foot moved slightly beneath the blankets, "and you do that remotely."
"Well, yeah," Peter admitted, "but this is different. It took an eyes-on visit, and I must say, Neal, you aren't looking too good."
"I'm not feeling too good, either," he conceded, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "It hurts when I breathe," His hand went to his chest and he closed his eyes, "and my head hurts really bad." His honesty took them both by surprise and Elizabeth met Peter's eyes in concern. Even she realized that any response from Neal other than "I'm fine" indicated the seriousness of his condition.
"It's okay, Neal," She responded, her hand again stroking his forehead. "That's why we're here; to help you get to feeling better. Peter," she instructed, "Check and see if he has anything in his bathroom cabinet that will bring his fever down. Tylenol, Ibuprofen. If not, run downstairs and ask Janet to check to see if June has anything." Peter started towards Neal's bedroom. "If you find a thermometer, bring that, too," she called after him.
In Neal's bathroom cabinet, he found Tylenol but no thermometer. With medicine in hand and a cup of water from the tap, he returned to the living area. There he found Neal and Elizabeth engaged in a verbal tug of war regarding a blanket. She had removed two of them; they were now in a pile on the floor, but Neal was refusing to surrender the last one.
"Neal, we need to cool you down," Elizabeth spoke gently, "You don't need to be under blankets." Neal's arms were visible; he seemed not only to be under blankets but wearing a sweatshirt. Peter hoped he was wearing the matching bottoms since Elizabeth was intent on removing his remaining blanket.
"But I'm so cold," Neal protested, shivering as he spoke. He was holding the blanket tightly in fear that she would take it away as well.
"It's the fever, Neal," she explained, "You're not cold; you are hot. We need to bring your body temperature down."
"Please, Elizabeth," his tone was so forlorn, his eyes so pleading that Elizabeth had to relent.
"Okay," she said, and instead of taking the blanket she actually tucked it in under his chin. "You can keep it, Neal." She looked up hopefully when she realized Peter had returned.
"I found Tylenol," He said. "No thermometer, though."
"Good," she said, obviously relieved. She stood up. "Make him take it," she said, "I'm going to round up a basin and a wash cloth; we've got to cool him down. He's probably dehydrated, too." She glanced towards the kitchen, "I'll see what he has to drink."
She was off and left Peter to his task. He had never seen Neal like this and he knew that Neal wouldn't have wanted him too, either. That is why he hadn't called. The whole situation made Peter uncomfortable, on Neal's behalf as much as his own, but in spite of that, he did what Elizabeth asked.
"Neal," Peter said, presenting him with the tablets in his outstretched hand, "I have medicine Elizabeth says will bring your fever down, raise up and take it." Neal tried to obey, but a fit of coughing stopped his effort. When he finally was able to breath again, he collapsed against the sofa pillow, sweat covered and exhausted. Peter moved closer, reached down and helped him up so he could take the medicine. In proximity, he now better understood Elizabeth's concern about his fever. Even though Neal was trembling, heat radiated from his body.
Peter eased him back down; Neal's hand still holding tightly to his forearm. "Thanks," He whispered, his eyes meeting Peter's, "It's good to see you, Peter, I missed you." He relaxed his grip on Peter's arm and settled back, eyes closing. Neal's words were heartfelt and sincere; fever apparently lowered his defenses. This was the second admission that a healthy Neal would have never made. At a momentary loss, Peter busied himself repositioning the blanket.
Elizabeth returned and set a bowl of water on the table. Having heard Neal's fevered admission, she was amused by her husband's behavior. He obviously didn't know what to do with an honest and open Neal Caffrey; It made him uncomfortable.
"He missed you," she remarked simply.
"He's obviously out of his mind," Peter minimized, moving a chair over for Elizabeth to sit in. "Hallucinating even."
Neal seemed to have resumed the state they had found him in; eyes closed, face flushed, hair again clinging to his damp forehead. Ever so often, he moved restlessly beneath the blanket. Elizabeth took the seat Peter had provided.
"I don't think so," she said softly, dipping a cloth into the bowl. "I think he's just too sick to pretend to be tough." She looked at Peter. "He's just being honest with you, Peter." She looked back at Neal, wringing the extra water from the cloth. "It's good we are here; no one should have to be sick alone."
She gently wiped Neal's face; his breath caught as the cloth touched his skin, and his eyes flew open. Even though the water was only lukewarm, it probably felt cold to his fevered skin. She expected a protest, but he didn't make one. After his initial look of alarm, he saw Elizabeth and relaxed. "Mmm," he mumbled, eyes closing again, "feels good. Thanks."
"At least he's sweet when he's sick," Elizabeth said with a knowing look at Peter. Peter was somewhat less than sweet when he was sick; he was downright irritable. Leave it to Neal, Peter thought, boyish charm and sweet when he was sick. The chances of getting Elizabeth to budge from her mother hen perch was growing more unlikely by the minute.
He looked at his watch: 6:50. Elizabeth freshened the cloth, and again wiped Neal's face, this time moving it to his neck. He turned his head slightly, mumbling softly. His words were mostly indistinct, but Peter picked up the consistent theme of gratitude; Neal was glad they were there.
He sighed in resignation. The truth was he was glad Elizabeth had made him come even if it meant their evening plans had changed. Neal would have never asked for it, but he needed their help. And Elizabeth had been right about something else, too; No one should have to be sick alone. He reached up and unfastened his tie.
"I think we're here for the long haul," he said, removing his jacket and throwing it across the chair. "Want me to order pizza?"
"That sounds really good," Relieved, her smile at Peter was warm. "Can they deliver?"
"I'm sure they can," he said, pulling out his phone. "It's not Basso56, but at least it's Italian."