Chapter 1 – "sickness is the discord of the elements infused into the living body"

(Leonardo Da Vinci)

It was a rainy Tuesday morning in New York City 9:45 am when Neal walked into the doctors' office. To the rest of the city it was just another day worsened by the downpour slapping against the windows. But to Neal it was a day worsened by the headache, nausea, dizziness and memory loss that had been plaguing him for almost a month. Of course the rain and the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach doctors' offices always gave him weren't exactly helping either.

It had been hard to convince Peter he wasn't up to something when he had asked for the morning off to go to 'a doctor's appointment'. It had been even harder to convince Elizabeth that no, he didn't need to lie down and yes, he was sure he didn't need any paracetamol and though he did look a bit pale he wasn't in need of any herbal tea. Fortunately for Neal though El's Mother-Henning, though quite intrusive, had managed to persuade Peter to give him the whole day off of work after what he was sure was an eventful discussion during a well-timed bathroom trip. And – as he'd known when booking the appointment – they were both too busy at their respective workplaces to come with him, however Peter had to cajole El into going ahead with her client meeting with his Cow-boy up "I'm sure everything's fine" attitude.

The symptoms had started slowly at first; just what he'd suspected to be a migraine during the copycatting case – which was still the highlight of his working with the FBI by the way. Next he had been feeling dizzy if he stood up too fast which soon developed into whenever he stood up, laid down or sat. Over the past couple weeks almost everyday he had woken with a headache and the need to relieve his stomach of its contents which had been plain old frustrating and rather monotonous. However the final straw had been the memory loss; it wasn't that serious at first just a feeling of déjà vu sometimes and being unable to find the word that was on the tip of his tongue. Unfortunately for Neal words were his business so when he was undercover as Mr. Black and couldn't remember the name of his 'employer' or the safe phrase he begun to get stressed; a big deal for the super-suave conman he was. The frequency blocker that had stopped the team from tracking him had turned out to be blessing in disguise as he was sure Peter would have had his head if he'd known about his little mishap.

What had finally convinced Neal to actually go to the doctors though was a shitty (for lack of a better word) day last Thursday. He had been rudely awoken with an extra strong headache and a side order of tossed up cookies as per the new normal. Unfortunately for him though, the dizziness and nausea meant as soon as he tried to sit up off of the floor of the bathroom last night's dinner had made a third appearance. He then had to clean himself up, get dressed and brush his teeth three times (no one likes vomit breath after all ) in just under 10 minutes as throwing up was surprisingly time-consuming. He then had to rush down the stairs to Peter's annoying car horn having forgotten not only his coffee but also his trademark fedora – all before 8:30 in the morning. The day had continued down its disappointing path when he was met by Peter's annoyed and unsympathetic face making fun of him and his supposed hangover, Neal had remembered his sunglasses after all. In all truth – an admittedly rare occurrence - Neal was slightly hurt that Peter hadn't realised he was unwell and had just insisted he "cow-boy up 'cause they had a whole pile of cold case mortgage fraud to work on".

Once they reached the office Neal had gone to his desk and begun working on his pile of mortgage fraud cases 'fantastic(!)' until mid-morning when Peter had asked him up to his office. He walked up the stairs with slightly less bounce than usual and planted himself in his usual seat, without his feet on Peter's desk for once.

"Hey there Benjamin Cooper, looks like we've got a new job for you." Peter begun jovially, once Neal was seated.

After feeling blank on the apparent alias and trying to hide his confusion at not retrieving the reference Neal just decided to see where it led, "Oh yeah?" he replied noncommittally.

"Well it turns out word of Benjamin's good work got around and his services have been requested via e-mail."

Still nothing had sprung to mind and Peter's response wasn't exactly helpful; torn between continuing to feign his understanding or admitting defeat in case the information was important mixed with the jackhammers pounding in his head Neal was surprised when Peter went, "Neal, you clear on what you'll be doing?"

"What?" he replied with uncharacteristic rudeness.

Peter huffed out a breath in carefully contained annoyance, "Neal what's up with you recently, you've seemed miserable for weeks now and you're not even focusing on work anymore. I've let it go but you need to open up about what's going on in that thick skull of yours because the façade is wearing thin. Is it Kate, because there are profess-"

"It's not Kate! And I don't need some shrink to psycho-analyse why mortgage fraud makes me sad, okay?" Neal did not want a meeting with a stuffy psychiatrist to convince everything he'd lost it.

"Well then what is bothering you Neal, is it this case with Timmy Nolan?

"I don't even know what you're talking about, who the heck are Benjamin Cooper and Timmy Nolan?! Urghhh" Neal was getting sick of this confusing conversation and his head had just punished him for shouting 'Oh great just another thing for Peter to be suspicious of'.

Neal couldn't even talk the pain was so intense in his head so he just gently lowered himself into his usual seat, when had he stood up anyways? And he cradled his pounding head in his hands trying to breath through the pain.

"Are you okay, Neal?" asked Peter's protective instincts.

Neal could hear the worry and concern in Peter's voice and quickly looked up with his baby blues to silently communicate how much he didn't want medical assistance right now.

"It's nothing, just a migraine. I'm fine Peter" he said with much more conviction than he actually felt.

"Okay…well do you need the rest of the day off – I don't want you infecting the rest of the office after all" Peter offered as a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"Migraines aren't contagious Peter, now what was this case you wanted to discuss" Neal dodged Peter's offer of the afternoon off work masterfully and lucky for him his memory loss appeared to have been forgotten (pardon the pun) in the path of the conversation.

"Well, it appears the Mayor's right-hand man has been doing some deals behind his back and got into contact with your Cooper alias to try to hide the funds and the scandal from the press" Peter passed him a file, which he started to flick through, "what do you think?" Peter had gone from concerned friend to lawman in moments and had that twinkle in his eyes when he was handed a new puzzle and wanted to see Neal impress him with his take on it.

"He's probably been using the money for his affair with the Mayor's secretary and doesn't want his wife or boss to find out about all of the campaign-funded flowers." Neal replied matter-of-factly a few minutes later after reading the file and being reminded of Benjamin Cooper through his report of the other case. It was clear the secretary and right-hand man were having an affair from their statements which matched too much and included just a little too much information to be true, besides the secretary was considerably attractive. As well as this the guy had no previous record and the funds disappearance ended with him instead of going off to a fence – the feds just didn't seem to grasp the obvious emotional sides to cons sometimes.

Peter's previous worries appeared to dissipate at the return of the Caffrey charm and arrogance – he got these endearing little lines near his eyes and would play with his pen when he was concerned about Neal.

The case was wrapped up without the need for him to go undercover as the secretary was quick to turn on her lover once the threats of jail time were dished out and Peter forgot about Caffrey's slip and just moved on to the next case, with Neal working even harder to hide his illness and booking the doctor's appointment to hopefully put it behind him.

That day however hadn't ended with just a little slip-up for Neal. His head had determinedly remained at its pounding and he had had to excuse himself three times at the office to toss the measly crumbs he had left – having not been well enough to eat since the night before.

None of the days since had been as bad, but none had been exactly peachy either. So it was this shitty day that persuaded Neal to call up his local doctor's and book his appointment, he wanted to know what was causing him to feel this way so he could tell it to damn well stop.

So that was how the Great Neal Caffrey found himself in a bland doctor's office looking across at a stereotypical middle-aged guy in a suit and white coat. Hell, the guy even had a stethoscope and glasses – how more stereotypical could he get?

"So, Mr. Campbell what appears to be the problem?" the man asked in a friendly yet objective tone.

"Please, call me James." At this Neal applied his charismatic and professional smile, "Well, for the past few weeks I've been having migraines, feeling sick and dizzy. Oh, and I've been forgetting things that I only did recently."

James Campbell was the alias he used on the very rare occasion he had to go to the doctors; he had taken great care to conceal this name because if it were looked up people would be able to view his weaknesses – allergies, blood type, any medical problems and his past. James Campbell was Neal's real name and he didn't want anyone, not even Mozzie or Peter to know this, there was just too much history and he didn't want to deal with the repercussions of them discovering he'd basically been lying to them for years so he just stuck to Neal George Caffrey, he liked Neal anyways.

"Hmm... how often do you have these dizzy spells and the memory loss, Mr. Campbell?" the doctor continued, ignoring his assurance to call him James, which he didn't mind – the guy was just staying professional.

"Well the memory loss has only happened on a couple of occasions but the dizziness is almost constant whenever I move from sitting to lying down or to standing." Neal replied concisely.

"Okay Mr. Campbell, have you been hearing any voices that aren't there or experiencing any other symptoms?" he questioned

"No… I don't think so, I am more tired than usual but that's probably just from not being able to keep much down." He answered slightly cautiously; the comment about hearing voices was kind of worrying.

"Alright, where is the pain in your head?" the doctor kept on seemingly oblivious to Neal's discomfort about the last question.

"Umm…around here." Neal said whilst gesturing to the area above and around his left ear.

"Hmmm… okay. I'm going to prescribe you some painkillers for the headache and medicine which should help with the nausea and hopefully the dizziness. I'm afraid I can't do anything about the memory loss but I want you to book an appointment before you leave to have an MRI scan at Mount Sinai within the next week and I will call you once I have the results and we know how we need to proceed."

"Ok, thank you Dr. Reynolds" Neal said, only now glancing at the doctor's name badge.

As Neal was leaving the doctor's office, booking his appointment at Mount Sinai and retrieving his prescriptions many thoughts were going through his mind. He thought of how lucky he was Mount Sinai and the doctor's office were within his radius, he worried over the need to have an MRI scan and the ominous feeling this gave him. He was nervous about the question of hearing voices and anxious if this symptom was going to develop for him. But most of all he was puzzling over how he was going to have an MRI scan with an electronic tracking anklet on.