Taking his hands in hers, Brigid guided Neal through the minefield that was his apartment, taking care to avoid the shards of glass and roughly shoving fallen furniture out of their way when needs be. She stopped at the entrance to his bathroom, "Why don't you shower and I'll take care of the rest of the mess?" She assumed he would acquiesce and leave her to cleaning things as best she could. However, her assumption was wrong. Neal refused to let go of her, keeping her with him with the strength of the grief stricken.
"Please stay. I can't..." His voice trailed off before he finished in whisper, "I can't be alone."
"But you're not alone," Brigid protested, attempting to free her hands from his as gently as possible. As she did so, a light went on in her mind. She was a talisman to him in this moment, a way to stay anchored when everything was yanked out from under him. With that realization, she ceased her efforts and agreed to stay with him while he showered.
With Brigid's agreement to stay, Neal released her hands began to strip out of his clothes without a trace of self-consciousness. Brigid averted her eyes, a blush finding its way back on to her cheeks. This was not on her list of things she thought she'd being doing today. She hovered at the door to the bathroom while Neal busied himself with preparing for a shower, confident in the knowledge that Brigid would not simply disappear and leave him alone. His shower was a swift affair instead of the longer production it normally was. He simply didn't have the energy to do more then wash his hair and run a soapy washcloth over his body. Emerging from the shower, Neal found to his relief, that Brigid was still there.
"Feeling a little better?" she asked.
Neal nodded, not trusting his voice lest it betray him. The shower had made him feel more human but that was where its benefits had ended. Kate was still gone. He was still lost and Brigid was the closest thing to an anchor that he had next to Peter.
Silence came over the pair, this time it was an awkward one with Brigid turning a flagrant shade of crimson knowing that only the towel wrapped around Neal's waist was the only thing that kept him from full nudity. Brigid was the first to break the quiet. "Um, clothes. Yes, you need clothes." She spun on her heel and left Neal gaping after her. She had taken her leave of the bathroom more quickly then perhaps was polite or prudent but she needed to get a handle on her raging hormones before she did something she regretted.
Taking deep cleansing breaths, she did her best to banish the images that floated before her mind's eye. Neal, taking her from behind, those slim artist's fingers caressing her clit as he drove ever deeper into her. On her knees, sucking his cock, tasting in him in the most delectable and intimate ways. "Focus, damn it," she muttered to herself. "Clothes. For. Neal." She ground each word out as if it were its own sentence. Sliding down the hall, she pushed open the second door down.
Opening it, she wasn't sure what to expect but a walk-in closet was definitely the furthest thing from her mind. Intellectually speaking, she should have expected it given the spaciousness of the house but it still caught her off guard. Recovering quickly from her surprise, Brigid picked an outfit for Neal and hurried back to the bathroom. Knocking to announce herself, she slipped back inside and set the clothes on the bathroom counter. "I'll wait for you out here while you get dressed, okay?"
Neal nodded. He waited until she stepped out and closed the door behind her. Dressing quickly, he couldn't help but notice her resemblance to Kate. She possessed the same dark hair, the same curvy figure, and the same fire in her spirit. His grief nearly toppled him as he thought about Kate, his beloved Kate, who was taken from him in a ball of fire and twisted metal mere hours ago. It wasn't fair. He leaned his head against the wall, fighting against the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. Brigid most certainly was not Kate but at the same time, did it really matter? She was the closest thing. Surely she wouldn't mind for just one night.
Pulling himself together, Neal opened the door and offered Brigid a wan smile. "Lead on, oh fearless leader." After a shower and fresh clothes, Neal felt something closer to human but still was ready to collapse at any given moment. Brigid guided Neal back to where the short hall met his kitchenette and opened into the main room of the apartment.
"There's still glass everywhere. Got a broom and dustpan?" she queried. Cleaning up the shards was first on her list of priorities. Papers and stray furniture was secondary to making sure it was safe to walk about within those four walls without risking having one's foot slit open.
"Over there, near the kitchen." Neal pointed from the safety of the doorway, "You don't have to do this. Really, I can take care of it." He attempted to step out only to be stopped cold by the daggers in Brigid's eyes.
"If you want to get your feet cut to ribbons, be my guest but let me remind you who has shoes on, mister." The protective streak was back and smothering all lusty thoughts that dared to raise their head. She was grateful for it. She did not need to be constantly desiring to rip Neal's clothes off and servicing him with her hands and mouth while he reciprocated with those talented fingers and nimble tongue. Brigid shook her head. Damn it, woman. You need to focus!
Neal was forced to concede Brigid's rather pointed assertion. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you involved…"
Brigid dismissed his apology with a snort as she worked her way around the room, carefully picking up the fallen pieces of paper and sweeping up the glittering bits of glass that lay in wait. Depositing the papers on his dining table, she looked at him with every ounce of determination that she possessed. "You didn't. I involved myself and I don't regret it. You're my friend and you're hurting. That's all that really matters to me." She made a second and third circuit of the room, capturing stray shards in the dustpan before determining it safe for Neal to emerge in his barefoot state.
They worked together to get the apartment back into something resembling order. With Neal's help, she put furniture back to rights and moved to take care of the slashed canvases. As she went to lift one of them, she gasped. Her face gazed back at her from the canvas. It was her face but not her face at the same time. The left half was definitely her, she recognized the shape of her eye and the scar that ran down her cheek but the right side was another woman. She had a bright blue eye where Brigid's was a deep brown and no scar marred her complexion.
"Neal?" His name hung as a question as she stared at the eerie portrait in front of her. Who was this girl who shared Brigid's face? Why would Neal paint this?