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Chapter Four
Nick, or Neal, slept fitfully. He moved about restlessly and often mumbled in such a way that Derek couldn't understand his words. He would roust somewhat but he was distressed; at times he moaned in obvious pain. Derek had tried to get the man to take Tylenol, but he had refused to take the pills. It wasn't much, but anything to combat the fever was better than nothing. After dissolving three tablets in water, the man had obediently drank them upon Derek's insistence. Of course, he hadn't told him there was anything in the glass but water, and in his state of mind, he hadn't noticed the bitter taste or gritty texture. It was fairly easy to fool a semi-conscious man fighting for his life, Derek thought wryly. His intermittent rest, if it could be called such, was marked with sudden awakenings.
"I can take care of that for you," he blurted suddenly. Derek looked at him in surprise; he didn't even know he had awakened. But it was clear from the expression in the man's eyes that he was not lucid, "I just need a few minutes and a place to work." There was a touch of desperation in the tone; an eagerness to please.
"Okay," Derek humored him, taking the cloth from his head, dunking it into the pan of cold water. He had been doing this all night. He twisted the cloth to remove excess water, and then wiped the man's hot forehead, "Just relax-" he stopped, "Neal? Nick?" He felt guilt immediately at the look of panic on the man's face and tried to backtrack, "It's okay, it doesn't matter, just relax."
"Do you want Neal or Nick?" the man implored, becoming more agitated "Why did you take me? What do you want from me?" Derek placed his hand on the man's arm, gently squeezing in an attempt to ease his fear. "I didn't take you," Derek said, "I am trying to help you. You were hurt, do you remember?"
"Yes," he answered, "I remember. I did what they wanted but," his voice dropped to a whisper, blue eyes suddenly filling with tears, "I'm pretty sure they're gonna kill me anyway."
"No," Derek shook his head, trying to assure him, "no one is going to kill you. They are gone. You are safe here."
"Are you sure?' he whispered uncertainly, "It don't feel safe. They might come back for me."
"I'm sure," Derek responded. "There is a terrible storm. No one is out looking for you in this."
"Peter will be," the man answered. "nothing stops him."
"Well this storm would stop even Peter," Derek said. He paused, his law enforcement curiosity getting the better of him "The people who took you, what did they want you to do?"
"Needed some documents," the man answered. "I tried to stall….to buy time until Peter could find me," his voice was growing weaker and Derek could barely hear him, "but the weather….getting worse….they were... impatient."
"Rest," Derek said, still mopping his brow with the cool cloth, "No one is going to bother you here. As soon as the storm breaks, we will get you to the hospital and they will fix you up."
His eyes, which had been closed opened suddenly, "I don't want to go anywhere without Peter," his eyes were distressed, "He needs to be here. Where is he?"
The look of pleading in the man's eyes tugged at a heart that years of police work had hardened. Criminal or not, Peter represented security to this man. Derek looked into the fevered eyes, and gently squeezed his arm again, "He's coming, don't worry. He will be here."
That brought a small sigh of relief from the man, and he quieted. He rested peacefully for almost two hours before he began again to grow restless and mutter. He awakened several times, startled by his surroundings and concerned for his safely. Derek reminded him each time that he was safe and that no one would hurt him. Derek began asking him his name each time he was conscious enough to speak and was fascinated to find that he sometimes answered Nick and at other times Neal. But it didn't matter which one he claimed to be at the time the conversation, sometimes very disjointed and hard to follow, always drifted to the mysterious Peter. Sometimes the man would call out to Peter, at others he would ask for him. But he was always certain that he was coming. On one occasion he had awakened, not afraid of whomever had hurt him, but concerned that the "Marshals" would find him before Peter. Apparently, in the man's fevered mind, Peter could not only protect him from the people who had tried to kill him, but also from the Marshals who would try to take him back into custody. He became agitated but Derek managed to reassure him, and he quieted again. Derek knew that someone was tracking the man; if it was the Marshals he must be in Federal custody. He left the man and refreshed the bowl of water, adding ice to keep it cold. He dipped the cloth, rung it out, folded it and placed it on the man's forehead. He sat himself in the chair and watched the man sleep, wondering what his story was. He was young but Derek knew from experience that even the young could get themselves into a world of trouble. This was apparently the world that Nick, or Neal, lived in.