Oh my gosh, I can't believe I've been spelling Neal's last name wrong this whole time! I just figured this out! The r was supposed to go before the e!
Here's a quote from a relatively smart person that I think fits the situation: "A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new." - Albert Einstein.
Thank you guy's for all the feedback, it means a lot to me to hear people like my story!
Anyway, to the story!
It was hard, but Neal managed to go twelve minutes without thinking about what happened, about what Keller did to him, about his nightmares. He focused on anything and everything besides that.
He thought of Van Goghe and The Starry Night, how the stars shone bright and beautiful in the sky; and he thought about Da Vinci and the Mona Lisa, about her smile, like she had a secret she wanted to tell the world but would never do so; and about Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel, The Creation Of Adam and the endless hours of work put into it, But he stopped himself before thinking of Raphael and his masterpieces - well, one in particular.
A terrifyingly familiar beeping sound shattered Neal's carefully constructed state of mind in an instant. Keller was coming. He was coming and he was going to inflict some sort of new pain on him, put him through a different kind of hell.
Neal curled up more under the blankets like it could save him from his fate. Wait, blankets? Neal peeked his head out of the blankets to see that he was, in fact, safe. He let out a sigh of relief when he realized where he was again. The sound was just the alarm clock he set last night without thinking. He reached over and turned it off.
A sudden knock on the door took Neal away from his brief reprieve, and he froze. What if...? He could be... When was the door even shut? Wait, why would he be knocking?
Neal closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 'This is the Burkes house, not that factory,' he said, reminding himself that he was safe. 'He's not here.'
Even though he knew that, he didn't think he could just answer it, so he called out "who is it?" and tried not to let the fear he felt seep into his voice. Damn environmentally triggered flashbacks.
"It's Peter. Open up." It was just Peter. Neal sighed in relief. Of course it was Peter, who else would it be?
He still didn't want to open the door, but he didn't think he really had a choice. He got out of bed and opened the door with shaking hands.
Peter stood in the doorway, a smile on his face. Not like the one in his nightmare last night, it was a genuine one that warmed Neal's heart.
"Hey, breakfast will be ready in twenty. If you hurry, you could shower before it gets too cold," Peter said.
"I don't take that long to get ready, Peter," Neal said.
"You don't have to, you just choose to when I'm waiting on you," Peter said.
Neal didn't deny what Peter said and walked back into the bedroom, then stopped and looked at Peter. "I have nothing to wear."
"You can borrow some more of my clothes for now," Peter said. "I already picked some out. They're in the bathroom."
"Ok, thanks," Neal said and headed to the bathroom. A t-shirt and jeans were neatly folded on the toilet seat.
Neal showered (not easy with two splints and an array of bandages) then put the clothes on. They were a bit too big and were obviously not Peter's favorite, but they smelled like Peter and that strangely comforted him. He didn't really have anything to help tame his mane, so he just let it do it's thing.
By that time, he could smell hash browns and bacon so he quickly headed towards the stairs, but when he moved too fast his ribs protested the movement by shooting pain across his whole abdomen. He put one hand on the wall and the other around his waist and rode out the pain. When it died down to more acceptable levels, he made his way down the stairs and into the dining room after a small detour, much slower this time.
When Peter saw Neal he looked at his watch. Neal knew he took about twelve minutes. "You just hurried to make a point," Peter accused.
"Peter, I had no idea that you were timing me. In fact, it's a little strange. Don't you have something better to do, like crosswords?" Neal said as he sat down catty-corner to Peter who was at the head of the table.
"The newspaper is always late on Sunday," Peter said. He looked annoyed about that, but Elizabeth, who was in the kitchen tending to the bacon, just rolled her eyes. It was probably a common thing for Peter to grump about.
"So, what's the plans for today?" Neal asked. "Roam Central Park aimlessly? Go to the mall and max your credit card? Steal a Degas from the MET?" He said, the mischievous quirk of his lips getting bigger as he talked.
"You are on medical leave and will not be doing any of that," Peter said with a stern point of his finger. "You wouldn't even be doing any of that if you weren't on medical leave."
"Not even roam Central Park aimlessly? What's the harm in that?"
"You could always find a way to get in trouble," Peter grumbled.
"Well, maxing out your credit card sounds like fun, but we can do it somewhere else if you want. I'm open to suggestions," Neal said.
"You're not getting ahold of my credit card, so you can just give that up," Peter said and unconsciously looked over to where his wallet was. "Caffrey, if my wallet isn't in my hands in five seconds you don't get any bacon," he warned as he held out his hand and gave Neal his most intimidating look.
"I don't know what your talking about, Peter. Besides, Elizabeth wouldn't let you withhold bacon from me," Neal said with a feigned innocent smile. Peter's wallet was on the bookshelf behind Neal, but Peter didn't need to know that yet.
Further investigations into the wallet theft was put on hold when the doorbell rang. A jolt of fear shot through Neal and he whipped his head around to stare at the door apprehensively.
Peter noticed, of course, and went to reassure him. "It's ok, Neal. It's just Diana. I wanted to look through some cold cases, so I had her bring some over," he said and went to open the door.
Rationally, he knew who was at the door, but it still didn't stop his heart rate from increasing and his 'flight' instinct to kick in, telling him to run, run, run!
"Hey, Diana," Peter said to the agent. It was just Diana, just like Peter said it would be. Neal let himself relax.
"Hey, boss, here's the files you wanted," she said and handed him a large box full of boring files.
"Thanks, Diana," he said.
Diana looked around Peter to look at Neal. "How is he?" She asked quietly enough that Neal couldn't hear, but Neal could still read her lips. Peter responded but he wasn't facing Neal so he couldn't see his lips move.
"See you later, Di," Peter said loud enough for Neal to hear this time. He closed the door and put the box on the coffee table in the living room and sat back down in the seat he just vacated.
"Now back to the matter at hand," Peter said and gave Neal an unwavering stare.
"Right," Neal said and put his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. "What would be acceptable for me to do today then?"
"That's not what we're talking about and you know it," Peter said.
"If we're not talking about that, then what would we be talking about?" Neal asked innocently.
Peter sighed in exasperation. "My wallet, Neal. Where is it?" Peter said.
"Did you check on the table by your keys?" Neal asked.
"Of course I checked there," Peter said, but looked there anyway. The wallet was right where Peter left it. "Ok, how'd you do that?" He asked, amused now.
"A magician never reveals their tricks," Elizabeth said as she brought over a large serving plate full of hash browns and bacon on the side. She gave Neal a wink, one that Peter didn't see as he was too focused on the food. She's a good co-conspirator.
They ate their breakfast while talking about Elizabeth's new client she was meeting today. It was just going to be Neal and Peter most of the day.
After they finished eating and Elizabeth left, Neal decided to try to get Peter to let him do something besides watching TV and reading cold cases. "Come on, Peter. I'm not an invalid. I don't-" he said and chose the wrong moment to reposition himself. He let out a small gasp and hugged his ribs.
Peter hovered uncertainly while Neal rode out the pain. When he looked up at Peter, he could see concern in his kind brown eyes. "You ok?" He asked.
"Yeah, just moved wrong," Neal said, waving it off.
"Where's the pain medication the hospital gave you?" Peter asked. He went into the kitchen and found the bag with the medication. Neal took them without argument, to Peter's amazement.
After a long discussion (June was going to bring Neal's clothes tomorrow so Peter said there wasn't a point in going to get them), instead of doing the fun things Neal wanted to do, Peter and Neal stayed home and watched TV and looked through old case files. It was menial, but Neal had it admit to himself he didn't think he could do too much anyway. And it was nice to just spend some one-on-one time with Peter. Somehow this whole ordeal brought them closer together and Neal was happy to see there was a silver lining to it all.
Reveiws make me smile!