Oh my god! I AM SO SORRY. This took forever for me to update. I've just started university in January, and moved out of home, and towns, and just - it's so much to get used to. I've tried to write parts of this as often as I can, but I'm studying two degrees at uni (Law and Psychology) and neither are easy, especially law school! Ugh. Haha. I apologize, and I hope now that I have got more back into routine that I will update regularly (I haven't forgotten about this!) Also, please ignore spelling/grammar mistakes with this one - it's 4am when I'm submitting and I wrote it all quite quickly for you guys to have an update.
Please enjoy! :)
Chapter 7 – The Wrong Direction
~Well I could swim, but the river is so wide. I'm scared that I won't make it to the other side. Well God knows that I've failed, but he knows that I've tried. I long for something that's safe and warm - but all I have is all that is gone. I'm as helpless and as hopeless as a feather on the Clyde~
"No. Not about his eating habits, well, actually, they probably could factor in. Look, I don't exactly know how to say this." Peter once again stopped himself mid sentence before continuing. "But I think that Neal is suicidal."
"Suicidal? What?" Diana asked, clearly taken aback from what Peter had just said.
"Wait, Peter, you think that Caffrey – Caffrey is suicidal. The same Caffrey that we've worked with for two years now. That Neal Caffrey? Suicidal?" Jones asked, the shock and disbelief was evidently laced in his voice. "Why on earth do you think that?"
"Peter, I know that he seems more down than usual and distracted, but suicidal? Really? You honestly think that things are that bad for him in his life right now that the guy is actually considering the option of taking his own life? As Jones just said; this is Neal we're talking about here. Neal Caffrey." Diana added, still shocked at Peter's bizarre idea that the young ex-con could even be considering doing such a thing.
"I – I don't know." Peter sighed, "But he's definitely depressed that's for sure. He fits the criteria for depression to the T and you can't tell me that I'm the only one who connected Neal to all of those symptoms that the psychiatrist in there just said regarding the signs of depression."
Peter was sure that the rest of his team members had also noticed the changes in Neal's demeanour as of lately; his ever present Caffrey smile looked too much as if it were forced upon his face, his actions looked like they were too controlled and robotic and every word that slipped from his lips sounded like a well rehearsed speech that he had spent days and days revising over. In all honesty the whole thing just seemed like one huge well rehearsed act – and it seemed that it was starting to become tiresome due to it's daily repetitive nature and Neal was starting to slip up and miss certain parts of his performance that he kept putting on for his colleagues.
"I have to admit I have noticed that he does seem more – unlike his usual Caffrey self." Jones quietly stated, neither of the three of them wanted to think about this; the possibility that somebody who was now regarded as a close friend; quite possibly even as family – could be hurting in such a way. Especially when it was somebody like Neal Caffrey who pretty much detested the thought of emotions; especially negative ones – having any control over a person. Neal was the kind of person who would opt to bury everything that he was feeling instead of acknowledging it, speaking to someone about it and seeking the necessary help. This was definitely going to be a difficult situation for the three of them to tackle and handle delicately.
"Yeah, I agree with you boss there. He certainly did fit the criteria for depression pretty spot on." Diana sighed, not wanting to have to acknowledge in the slightest what she was about to say. "He also did fit some of the criteria for suicidal ideation pretty well. I can see where you are coming from Peter, but just because he relates to a few of those warning signs doesn't mean that he's actually at that point and is considering that option."
"I'm not one hundred percent sure that he's suicidal – hell – I'm not even fifty percent sure that he's ever even considered the option. But then again I can't stand here and say that I'm one hundred percent sure that he's not considering it, that the idea hasn't ever crossed his mind once or twice in the past few weeks. It's been a tough few weeks for him, and as much as he wants to deny that fact, it's blatantly obvious to us all just how badly things seem to be getting for him." Peter sighed, he was glad that his team had also noticed the behavioural changes in Neal and it wasn't just his overactive imagination and worrisome nature for the ex-con getting the best of him.
However the fact that Jones and Diana had also noticed the changes wasn't completely a good thing. Neal Caffrey was skilled at hiding anything and making people believe whatever it was that he wanted them to believe – but he wasn't fooling anybody right now and that fact alone set off thousands of alarm bells inside Peter's head.
"I don't know Peter, depressed – sure, maybe. Suicidal? I don't… I mean… It's Neal." Jones said, as if that simple fact alone spoke volumes. Jones couldn't even begin to address what it was that Peter was insinuating. Neal Caffrey – master con artist – suicidal? No. Peter surely had to be mistaken.
Didn't he?
"Okay well we've all at least agreed on the fact that Neal's quite possibly suffering from some form of depression. I mean I haven't seen the man smile in weeks, and by smile I mean an actual, genuine smile – not flash us that well practised con-man smile that he thinks we're all too stupid to see through. I mean that's just plain insulting. But to think that Neal is contemplating suicide though, I just – I cannot see it. Not Neal." Diana said, adding her two cents on the matter, she also along with Jones was refusing to believe that their favourite ex-con could even be considering committing suicide. It was such an unnatural thought – Neal Caffrey – suicidal? No.
"As I said, I don't have any hard evidence at this point in time that even remotely suggests that he is, or that proves that he isn't. But now that we're all aware of each other's suspicions and observations I'm hoping that the three of us can discreetly of course, keep an eye on him and just … watch him more carefully and the second that one of us notices something just slightly off with him – well tell one another, and the three of us can all deal with this together as a team. We all try and figure out what's going on and we all try and help him together if the need arises. Agreed?" Peter knew that his team members wouldn't object in the slightest, over the past two years that they had all been working together with Neal, Jones and Diana had both grown to like the ex-con a great deal, and it seemed that somehow, Neal Caffrey had managed to wiggle his way into their hearts as well, even though neither of them would ever admit to that fact out loud. They both cared for him though, and the last thing that any of them wanted to see was Neal to hit rock bottom and have nobody there to turn to at all and help him back up.
"Agreed." Jones said nodding.
"Definitely boss." Diana added.
"Alright, well that's settled. Now how about we go and get that lunch and try and think of anything besides Neal Caffrey for at least the next hour." Peter said, heading off towards the closest food outlet, Diana and Jones followed alongside him in silent agreement.
Neal could feel Peter's eyes burning into the back of his head as he walked away from the group that now stood huddled together outside the exit to the building that they had all previously just occupied. Neal felt a twinge of guilt coursing through his body as he walked away from them. He felt bad for turning down their offer for lunch – it was a rare occasion for all four of them to have an opportunity to eat outside of the office for lunch at a nice restaurant instead of over a cardboard noddle box in the conference room whilst looking over case files.
The mere thought of food however made Neal feel sick to his stomach, and thus caused a frown to begin to form on his face. He really needed to start eating more – scratch that – he needed to start actually consuming some amount of food in general. It had gotten to the point where Neal had lost count of how many days had gone by without him consuming anything at all, and that was not a comforting thought. Neal knew that he was starting to lose weight at a drastic pace and he was sure as hell that the rest of the team had also noticed his sudden decline in weight. He was actually half expecting Peter to show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night and ask him if he was suffering from some form of an eating disorder that he was keeping secret from the agent.
Neal chuckled to himself at the absurdity of that thought; he wasn't deliberately starving himself or restricting the amount of calories that his body consumed. He wasn't set out to lose weight, or even care what his weight was for that matter. It just happened – involuntarily. He didn't feel like eating, half the time the thought of food itself in general made him feel physically ill and the other half of the time he just honestly couldn't be bothered going to the effort of putting food into his mouth. It just seemed like such a tiring ordeal to go through and he would rather just not have to bother with the simple day-to-day task more than what was absolutely necessary – and apparently he hadn't yet gotten to the point where it was becoming life threatening – so the absolutely necessary point still hadn't been reached yet.
Extreme changes in eating habits, such as either a loss or increase in appetite and weight.
The sentence from earlier on in the seminar flashed through his mind as he remembered the speaker rattle off the symptoms of depression and suicidal ideation.
Loss in appetite.
Loss in weight.
Neal furrowed his brow slightly at that thought, the fact that he wasn't hungry had nothing to do with his mood or his emotions. He wasn't depressed – Neal Caffrey did not get depressed. He just .. was not hungry, that was all.
Right.
That's what it was that he would tell himself.
That's what he would spend the next few hours, even days, trying to convince himself of. That this, sudden, unexplainable lack of appetite and weight loss was just some random, spontaneous, unrelated happening in his life. They were not symptoms of depression; they did not mean that he was quite possibly emotionally unstable currently – because no, Neal Caffrey did not suffer from depression or any mood disorder for that matter. Neal Caffrey was not a man who let his emotions control him; he did not allow such negative emotions to have such a controlling impact on his life, and such a dominant role. He was not that man. No – he was Neal Caffrey.
Neal Caffrey did not get depressed.
Again, that was another thing that he would spend days upon days trying to convince himself of. He would try as hard as possible to wipe all of the memories of the past few weeks from his mind; he would desperately try to erase any indication that last night's mental breakdown had ever taken place. That the sheer agony that he had experienced last night did not actually exist, that he didn't almost lose himself last night once he allowed his mind to enter that dark place, that by just trying to allow himself to feel some of those buried emotions he almost lost his mind. Neal would refuse to acknowledge that there was a part inside of his mind, a part where he had stored every bad thought, every negative emotion – a place where he had spent months upon months and years upon years, hiding away all of these negative thoughts, burying them into the deep secluded corners of his mind.
That was a place that he had sworn to himself that he would never try and visit, a place that he would never in a thousand years muster the courage to try and face. He'd never try to open the doors to what he had closed and locked away inside of there, because sometimes – when a door gets opened, especially one that hasn't been used in decades – the hinges can stick and refuse to move, the locks can break and rust apart and thus cause the door to refuse to shut again – allowing it to remain open. Allowing every single thing that was ever locked away in there, thrown in there to never be seen or acknowledged again – the chance to escape and be free. That – that right there; that was one of the most dangerous things that Neal could ever allow to happen to himself.
Because once that door opened, and once those things inside escaped and had the chance to take over – there was no going back for Neal Caffrey.
Once everything had crawled its way out of the dark recesses of his mind, it wouldn't be long until his entire mind, his entire being was flooded with nothing but this dark, black cloud of negativity and it would consume him and his every waking action. It would eat away at him, slowly and painfully, until any remaining light was destroyed and the dark abyss, leaving behind nothing but emptiness, darkness and pure and utter sheer agony, swallowed up everything pure and hopeful.
What was locked away inside of Neal Caffrey's mind had enough power to destroy him, to utterly cripple him and throw him off of his feet. That's why it had to stay locked away, once it was released, there was no turning back, no chance of fending it off, there was no chance of survival once that door was opened and everything inside was released and started swarming around him. Everything that he had spent so long building on top of this darkness would crumble and fall to pieces around him – his entire world would collapse around him and there would be no chance of salvation. It could be thought of as that gust of wind that would knock his perfectly structured world built on top of a deck of cards over – literally destroyed in the blink of an eye.
Ever since Neal was a young adult he had started pushing aside all of the dark thoughts into this corner in the back of his mind, at first the thoughts were capable of dealing with under the right circumstances – but Neal just didn't want, nor have the time to deal with such emotions, and so instead he opted for the easy way out – he pushed them aside and tried to ignore them. This was the biggest mistake that he would have ever made, because over time, it wasn't just an option that he had if he didn't want to focus on something painful or deal with it. This became his first reaction to everything and anything negative, anything emotionally draining, anything that had the possibility of hurting him or causing him to be upset – anything that he didn't want to deal with he pushed aside.
Overtime the amount of dark things that Neal was storing in the back of his mind had gotten to the point where he wasn't just hiding and storing negative emotions; he was building a beast within with the thoughts and feelings without intending to. After awhile everything that was pushed aside was fuel to the growing fire, and it just made the beast within stronger and more powerful. Until every single dark thing that had ever happened to Neal Caffrey had balled together and turned into this raging monster, hell bent on destruction and utter emotional chaos that needed to be locked away for good and chained into the back of his mind. Because if this thing ever got the chance to escape, to take over the controls inside his mind, to let it have free control of him – it would surely eat him alive. It would destroy him slowly from the inside out, and the wave of emotions that would be released would be enough to emotionally cripple him for years.
The amount of pain, sorrow, anger and hopelessness that the beast contained was enough to cripple Neal for good, and hold him down and drown him alive, and then swallow him whole. That is, of course, why Neal refused to even acknowledge the presence of such a creature, of such dark emotions that he contained locked away inside of himself.
Until last night that is.
Neal had unconsciously opened the door last night to the backs of his mind when the death of Brenner had happened, and everything else that had happened just became too much. He tried to shove aside all of the thoughts he was having, but didn't quite manage to shut the door fully in the emotional state that he was in and a small glimpse of what was inside managed to sneak its way out and wreak havoc upon his mind and body for a small period of time.
Thankfully, he managed to rid his mind of its presence by subconsciously making his body cast an extreme amount of physical pain upon itself. The physical pain somehow worked and Neal managed to successfully shove everything back inside that corner of his mind and avoid a full-scale emotional break. However once that small amount had been released, even only for that split moment before being locked back up, it was stirred and it wanted now more than ever before to be released again. Once it got that taste of destruction it could cause upon Neal's mentality and emotions, it wanted nothing more than to be given that chance again and do just that.
It wanted to break him, it wanted to crush him, it wanted to cause unimaginable amounts of pain. It wanted to bend Neal as far as he could go emotionally – and then break him. It wanted to take over, it wanted to destroy every single little thing in its wake, it wanted to do nothing but cause absolute and utter emotional agony onto the man who refused to acknowledge it, the man who had locked it away for years and fed it nothing but negativity. The man who had hid it from the light for so long that the only emotions that it had ever had a taste of were that of anger, pain, heartache and sorrow. Now that's what it ached for, what it longed for, that's what it wanted to get a taste of all over again. Though this time it wanted to be the sole purpose for such emotions – it wanted to be in full control when they washed over his mind, it wanted to be the one to break him. It longed to destroy the man who made it who it was today. It wanted to destroy anything that it came into contact with, and unfortunately for Neal – that happened to mean his sanity.
Neal shook his head in an attempt to make himself stop heading down the dangerous path that his thoughts were currently travelling along. He didn't want to think about this and just how close he actually was to breaking down and losing everything that he had spent so long attaining. It was obvious as hell that Peter was suspicious of him; Neal tried his hardest to pretend not to notice the glares that Peter shot him every time the speaker on the stage had said something that could be related back towards himself and his current situation. He knew that Peter was also relating all of those symptoms, those theories – back to him. He knew that blowing off their lunch invitation would just make Peter even more suspicious – he was fairly certain that Peter believed him to be depressed.
As much as Neal wanted to deny it – and boy did he want to deny it – he had to admit to himself that there did seem to be a fairly high likelihood that he was in fact suffering from some form of depression. After everything that had happened in the past few weeks he didn't blame himself for feeling the way that he did – but to let Peter realize that he was feeling this way was what he hated and mentally kicked himself over.
Neal would allow himself to feel depressed, he would allow himself to cry, he would even allow himself to hate every single fibre of his being – that was all fine. Well, as fine as it could be. But to let another person know that he was struggling, that he was feeling this way – that's what he hated. If another person knew that he was depressed, that he was emotionally unstable, they knew your weakness and it was a show of a lack of strength. That's what he despised more than ever – he hated the fact that he had let Peter see such a side of him; he hated Peter knowing that right now he couldn't emotionally handle certain situations – that he was emotionally weak.
Neal absolutely, more than anything, hated losing his normally stoic composure in front of Peter. He hated the fact that he got these intense mood swings out of nowhere in front of Peter that required almost every single fibre of his being to control and not let bubble to the surface and erupt. He also hated the fact that he had to use every ounce of his control in his body to stop himself from just collapsing on the ground in a heap and just screaming – screaming at the top of his lungs that he was not okay – just completely breaking down and begging for understanding, for compassion and screaming that he needed the older man to help him, to fix him.
He hated not being able to be considered and thought of as the strong, calm and collected con man that he used to be. He instead was now referred to as the broken, depressed, ex con artist who couldn't emotionally handle anything that was thrown his away – the one who probably went home every night and broke down alone. He was regarded as the depressed one, the one who was quite possibly even regarded as being suicidal.
Suicidal.
No.
Neal Caffrey was not suicidal.
He didn't deserve to be.
Neal did not deserve such an easy escape. Sure, there were countless times where he wanted more than nothing to just end all of the misery and the pain – but he didn't deserve to get to do that. He didn't deserve to be free of everything. He deserved to suffer, he deserved all of the pain, and he deserved to have to face the consequences of the actions that he had carried out. He deserved to be in pain and to wallow in his own self-misery for the rest of his days – he did not deserve happiness. Men like him did not get a happy ending – and Neal surely did not think that he deserved one.
Closing his eyes tightly shut he willed all of his thoughts to just come to a halt. He didn't want them heading down this path, if Peter was becoming suspicious of his behaviour than he needed to keep himself composed, and thinking these kinds of things on his way back to work and mulling over them was definitely not the way to go if he wanted everybody to think that he was the same old Neal Caffrey and that he was in a sane, happy mind frame and not this.
No matter how far off from the truth that was.
It wasn't long before Neal had arrived back at the federal plaza and was on his way up to the White Collar Division. Once inside the building he headed straight towards his desk and took out the first file that his eyes laid on – he needed something to distract him if he wanted to keep composed for when the rest of the team made their way back in.
After a few minutes Neal was certain that he wasn't paying attention to the file in his hands; and after reading the same sentence for the sixth time he decided that case reviewing was probably not one of his specialties at the moment. No longer mentally paying attention to what he was reading, he decided to give off the impression that he at least was. As he was no longer actually reading the words on the pages in front of him he was now focused on the words floating around inside of his mind instead. Exactly what he wanted not to happen.
Neal outwardly sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, today was definitely going to be one hell of a long excruciating day.
It was roughly an hour later that Peter, Diana and Jones had arrived back at the office. He heard Peter and Diana laughing at something Jones must've said as they walked off the elevator and into the bullpen. Neal glanced up at them from the file in front of him as they entered, making eye contact with Peter as he walked past. Neal could have sworn that when his eyes connected with Peter's he saw the agent's smile falter slightly. But Neal ignored it, pushed the thought aside and dragged his gaze back down onto the blur of words on the file in front of him.
"Caffrey – Peter wants you in the conference room now." Diana's voice broke him out of his poor attempt at concentrating on the words written in front him. He looked up to find her retreating form heading towards the conference room where Peter, Jones and some of the Harvard crew were all sitting – waiting for him to make his appearance.
Neal sighed, closed the file that he had long forgotten about and headed up the stairs towards the others. When he walked into the conference room he tried his hardest to ignore all the eyes upon him as he joined the rest of the team at the table and quickly grabbed one of the case files that were sitting in front of him. He willed his brain to be able to concentrate on the file this time, and what it was that Peter wanted to talk to them all about. Quickly scanning through the summary at the top he realized that this was the file on the surveillance on Michael Holt.
"Alright, as all of you know, we have been collecting information on Holts for awhile now to find out what he gets up to when he's not with Pierson. It seems that he has a routine he likes to stick to on Saturday nights – it seems the Jade Buddha is a club he likes to frequent regularly. We assumed that a meeting at a club or bar would have to have been our best attacking point – what we need to do now is find out a way to use this information to our advantage and get Neal and Holts to communicate." Peter said, finishing his statement by locking his eyes onto the faded blue of Neal's. It almost seemed like Peter was staring at him, waiting for him to speak up with some brilliant idea.
Neal was at a loss. It was painfully obvious that Peter was waiting for him to speak up – to say something – to say anything like he usually does. His mind wasn't running the way that it usually did on these types of cases, and the only things that were rushing inside his mind were things that he would rather not share with the older man. The silence that fell over the conference room was deafening, and the sound of his own heartbeat was making him incredibly nauseous.
Someone make this stop.
"We can send Caffrey in to the club as a gambling addict. I hear the place is known for its excessive amount of poker machines and gambling tables. We can have him pretend to be drunk and call somebody – loudly – expressing how he lost a lot of money and urgently needs a lot. Have him announce this near Holts and make him state that he is willing to sacrifice a lot of money if it means the return of a lot more – illegal or not. Pretty much just convince Holts to invest in Caffrey." Diana said, noticing Neal's obvious discomfort at Peter not so subtly addressing the question towards him.
"That may work. What do you think Neal? Can you pull it off?" The agent asked, still not removing his gaze from Neal.
"Uh. Yeah – Yeah of course I can." Neal added his signature thousand watt Caffrey smile up at the agent, but Peter didn't return the gesture. He hated that smile. He knew that when it was plastered across Neal's face it meant one thing – the exact opposite. The smile was beyond fake, and it was only used when Neal refused to show his true emotions.
"Good. We'll brief more on the smaller details tomorrow afternoon so you're ready to meet with Holts tomorrow night. I think that's all for today, Jones – I want you to continue monitoring Holt's activity and see if anything changes in his usual routine. As for the rest of you, continue with your smaller priority cases and take an early leave it nothing else comes up before then. Neal – stay behind." Peter dismissed the rest of the group and walked over towards where Neal remained seated behind the conference table, file still in hand.
"Yes?" Neal asked sheepishly, looking up at Peter who was now standing above him.
"Are you sure that you can handle this?" Peter asked, straight to the point.
"Is there a reason why I couldn't? This doesn't seem any more difficult than any other undercover operation that I've done in the past." Neal leaned back in the chair, throwing the file onto the table, trying to act as nonchalant about the whole thing as much as possible.
Honestly – he wasn't sure that he could pull this off in his current state of mind. But he was damned to let Peter know that, Peter knew enough of his secrets – he wasn't going to know anything else. He also was damned to let them all down by not going through with this simple task.
"I don't know Neal – is there?" Peter asked, sliding into a seat across from Neal at the conference table, staring straight ahead at the ex-con.
"No. Peter. There isn't." Neal said locking his gaze with Peter's.
"Good. I was just making sure." Peter said, keeping his eyes still fixed directly onto Neal's. It was if they were having an unspoken conversation with their eyes – seeing which one of them would back down first, which one would surrender and admit defeat to the other.
"Is there anything else I can do for you? Or can I go home early also?" Neal questioned.
"Do you have any other case files to read over? Any mortgage fraud cases?" Peter asked, still holding his gaze with the younger man across from him.
Neal immediately dragged his gaze away from Peter's, ending the game and looking down at the stack of files in front of him regarding Holts. He looked back up at Peter again, "No." He lied. "I'm finished with all of my case files."
Peter didn't look convinced, but he let it slide nonetheless. "Well then you're free to leave. Make sure that you're here on time tomorrow. We can't waste any more time with this investigation Neal." Peter said, standing up and heading towards his own office – dismissing Neal.
Neal just clenched his jaw tightly shut and followed Peter's retreating form out of the conference room. He walked over to his desk, grabbed his things and proceeded to leave the building and head home for the day as quickly as he possibly could – he didn't want to be there a second longer.
He was halfway home when it happened. When his mind just refused to cooperate with him no matter how hard he tried, how hard he willed himself to not go there – he couldn't stop his mind from heading down that dark path. The emotions flooded through him like a tidal wave and it took all his strength to not collapse on the sidewalk and yell out in frustration.
He squeezed his fists into tiny balls and dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He couldn't deal with this, not again – not one night after the other. He didn't have the strength – physically or mentally to fight off these obtrusive thoughts. Tonight he was going to need help.
He needed a special kind of help for this.
Fists still tightly balled together he headed off with one destination set in mind; it wasn't long before he was standing outside of the liquor store. This was an option that he had hoped he would never have to rely on – drinking excessive amounts of alcohol until his entire body no longer felt anything and was numb and he could finally forget about everything.
Neal didn't want to become one of those people who relied on alcohol when they had problems, although he couldn't say that his current method of coping was much better – heck, it was a hell of a lot worse. Drinking alcohol seemed like the better alternative to what he would usually do in this situation. He entered the store and headed straight towards the spirits section, he grabbed up a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of Vodka. If he was going to shut everything up inside of his mind he was going to need a hell of a lot of alcohol.
He purchased the bottles and exited the store; his mind was already racing, his thoughts already going haywire. The bottles felt like fire in his hands, it was as if he was holding onto a burning hot piece of iron. He desperately needed to feel the alcohol coursing through his body.
He quickly made his way back to June's and headed upstairs to his room. Once inside his eyes locked onto the bathroom door and Neal lost it. Everything he buried about last night came back; the guilt he felt over causing Brenner's death was enough to push him to the floor. The bottles clanked loudly alongside of him as they made contact with the hardwood floor – thankfully they didn't break.
Not even bothering to get a glass he opened the bottle of Jack Daniels and took a whiff of the smell, the strong scent of the whisky assaulted his senses and he closed his eyes tightly as he took a swig of the amber liquid. It burned his throat as he continuously drank from the bottle, but it was a welcomed pain to the thoughts running through his mind.
Before long three-fourths of the bottle was emptied and Neal's head was starting to spin, his vision was dancing in front of him – and he was well on his way to becoming intoxicated. The thoughts were long gone from his mind; it took a fair amount of effort for him to focus onto anything, let alone form coherent thoughts in his mind. Neal smiled lopsidedly at this.
He rolled onto his side and stared at the bottle that sat in front of his face – this was his new best friend. This made everything go away, this made the hurt disappear and the happiness that he had lost come crawling back into his life – even if only for a short period of time. Neal loved this moment more than anything – he finally felt alive for the first time in the past three weeks.
Neal took one more swig from the bottle before his vision faded into a welcomed black haze.
He didn't know how long he had been lying on the floor, but his back sure protested against the stupid idea once he became conscious again. His head was pounding ruthlessly and it was still swimming, his vision still assaulted him and he had no idea what time it was. The only thing that he was aware of was the annoying shrilling noising coming from alongside of him – he shot daggers towards the offending object, and then noticed that it was his cellphone. His face paled at that realisation. He outwardly groaned and grabbed onto the object that was alongside of him and answered the call without checking to see who it was.
"Hullooo." He slurred.
"Neal? Is that you?" Peter asked.
"Pet - erh." Neal stated.
"Yes. Neal. It's Peter. Look, I know I said you could have the night off, but thing is Pierson made a meeting with Holts for tomorrow night and apparently whatever it is that Holts does at this club is important enough for him to change his plans to accommodate it into his routine tonight. He's there now – we need you to go in now." Peter quickly rattled off.
"What." Neal stated. Dumbfounded.
"Look – Caffrey – I know I said you'd have tonight off, but Neal, this is important. This is our only point of attack. I need you to come in and get briefed. Can you be here in 20 minutes?" Peter asked, the urgency was evident in his voice, if he could tell Neal was drunk he didn't show it.
"Sure." Neal quickly said hanging up the phone, not allowing for Peter to say anything else on the matter.
Neal dropped the phone beside him and quickly pushed himself up off of the floor. He immediately regretted it as everything around him began to pulsate together into a blur of colours. He felt the ground get yanked out from underneath him and the colours start to dance in circles around him. He couldn't focus his vision onto anything for longer than a second – and even standing was becoming hard to continuously do.
He only just made it to the kitchen sink before he violently emptied the contents of his stomach.
His head was pounding mercilessly and he was now greeted with a loud ringing noise echoing in his ears.
He was so beyond fucked when he got to the Bureau.
I hope you enjoyed! Poor Neal :c
Please R&R !