"Hmm?" Neal made a questioning noise, his back to Brigid and the object in her hands. She repeated his name, her voice a mixture of curiosity and confusion. He turned around, his heart dropping. The ruined portrait Brigid held in her hands was one he hoped that she would never see. It had started out as yet another portrait of Kate but somehow had turned into an amalgam of these two very different and very similar women: Brigid with her lack of interest in the finer nuances of art and the world it inhabited. Then there was Kate who was, well, Kate. He bit his lip. Kate was gone and he saw her staring at him from ripped canvas.
He knew he had to say something; the silence had stretched on too long. Steeling himself, Neal spoke. "Her name is, was, Kate. She…" His voice failed him, silent tears beginning to find their way down his cheeks. Brigid dropped the canvas, her questions stilled in the face of Neal's grief. He sobbed, the pain growing too much for words. Brigid wrapped her arms around his tall frame, feeling small in the face of his grief. She did what she could in being an anchor for him while his heart ached with each tear that fell. After what seemed like an eternity, Neal found his voice again. It was smaller, more vulnerable then she'd heard before. "She was…murdered. We were supposed to leave today on a plane. She was there. I saw her and then it…" Neal closed his eyes against the scene that played out in his mind, reliving the horror of Kate's death yet again. "It exploded." He looked down at Brigid, his eyes too wide and too bright. "I should have been on that plane. I should have died with her." Sobs shook him, stealing away the small measure of composure that he was attempting to build within himself.
"But you didn't." Brigid replied. "You didn't die. Lord and Lady only know why but you lived. Look, we can leave off picking the rest of this up. There isn't anything that can't wait until tomorrow." She fretted about Neal's state of mind. His focus was inward, on the scene of Kate's demise and not here in the apartment with Brigid. Weighing her options, she decided to call for back up since there was no way she could handle Neal in his grief alone. "Look, Neal. Why don't you lay down for a bit? I can take care of a couple of things for you."
"I can't. Every time I close my eyes, I see it happening all over again." He turned those too bright eyes on her. "Please. Don't make me." Neal pled with Brigid with every fiber of his being. The explosion was seared into his mind's eye. Sleep was not something he could face when all he could see was Kate's face consumed by a ball of fire and all he could feel were Kate's ashes falling on him from the twisted wreckage of the private plane.
Brigid reached up and stroked Neal's face, a small smile meant to comfort Neal on her face. "I'll be here, I promise. I won't leave you to face the nightmares alone." Her reassurance held close to his heart, he acquiesced and turned to walk over to his bed where the covers were turned down just like in a hotel.
"Will you…" Neal cast his eyes to the floor, embarrassed to ask. "Will you lay with me? At least until I fall asleep?"
"Of course." Brigid stripped her pants off, leaving herself clad only in her panties and a black shirt. Normally, she would be self-conscious of how she looked in front of the man who inspired many a late night fantasy but this was anything but normal. Allowing Neal to lead the way into his bed, she pillowed his head on her breasts and carded her fingers through his wavy hair, allowing the movements and the beating of her heart to lull Neal to sleep. As soon as she was confident that he was in a deep sleep, she wriggled her way out of his arms and began to hunt for his cell phone.
It was nowhere to be found in the main area of the apartment so she went to the bathroom where she found it in the discarded pile of clothing that Neal had left from his shower. Picking it up, she began to go through his contacts and found the one she was looking for: Agent Peter Burke. Dialing the number, she prayed for an answer and that he wouldn't turn her down out of hand. She had seen both him join Neal many times for coffee and could tell he cared for him deeply. If there were anyone who could help her get Neal on solid footing, surely it would be him.
It rang only once before being answered. "Neal! Is that you?" Brigid could hear the concern that rolled off of Peter's voice in waves. She let go of the breath that she was holding without realizing it. He would help her help Neal.
"No. He's sleeping. My name is Brigid O'Hara." She was about to explain the situation when she was interrupted.
"How did you get the phone? Where is Neal?" Suspicion warred with concern in Peter's voice as he fired off the questions.
"Look, I fished it out of his pants where he left them on the floor after his shower," Brigid replied indignantly. "He's in a bad way and I got him to finally shower and sleep. We're at his apartment and I need your help. Please, I can't help him alone. He's grieving and I can't pull him out of it myself."
Something in Brigid's voice clicked with Peter. He finally recognized it as the barista that often waited on him and Neal. What was she doing in Neal's apartment? Had he gone to her after the plane exploded? How had he managed to get away from the EMTs at the scene? Too many questions dogged Peter. "I'll be right there. If he wakes up, don't let him leave."
Brigid agreed, glad for back up in helping Neal. Replacing the phone in Neal's pants, she slipped back into the bed where Neal moaned, caught in a nightmare. "Shhh," she murmured, stroking his bangs back from his forehead. "Help's on the way."
A/N: I apologize for the shortness of the chapter. It was written in a bit of a hurry on my way to get ready for a family event. Please let me know if I took Neal or Peter too OOC. Thanks!