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elrhiarhodanTitle: Return and Rebuild the Desolate Places – Chapter Twenty-Seven
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Mozzie, Reese Hughes, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Olivia Benson (L&O: SVU), Section Chief Bruce (McKinsey) Original Characters
Spoilers: White Collar, all of Season 5; no specific spoilers for L&O: SVU, but set in Season 15. No spoilers for Season 6, A/U from S5 finale forward.
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Kidnapping, torture (off-camera), rape (off-camera),
Word Count: This chapter – ~2,900 / 90,000
Beta Credit:sinfulslasher
Story Summary: Six months after Neal disappears, Peter still has no answers and his decision not to go to Washington has had significant repercussions for both his career and his marriage.
Chapter Summary: Peter and Elizabeth make plans for their future, and Peter has to do something that he doesn't want to do. Neal continues to deal with the process of healing.
__________________
Previous Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty-One | Chapter Twenty-Two | Chapter Twenty-Three | Chapter Twenty-Four | Chapter Twenty-Five | Chapter Twenty-Six |
A/N: Title from Alan Hovhaness’ wind concerto, which takes it from the Old Testament. New chapters will be posted to my LJ every Thursday and to the relevant communities on Fridays.
Art bykanarek13
Sometime in Late January – Saturday Morning
Peter woke slowly and sighed in happiness. Elizabeth was using him like a pillow. It had been too long since he'd had that pleasure. When El had been home – so infrequently during the past few months – the gulf between them was never more fully evident than at night, when they'd clung to the opposite sides of the mattress, barely able to stand the sound of each other's breathing.
El stirred, her hair tickling his nose, and he couldn't stop a small sneeze. She opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile. "Hey, hon."
"Hey, hon." He kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, and as she leaned over him, he captured her lips. He smiled into the kiss as her small, hot hand snaked under the waistband of the worn out running shorts he wore to bed and found his cock.
"Mmmm, yes." He sighed in pleasure as she slowly jacked him. They'd made love three times last night – love, not the mechanical sex they'd both barely enjoyed over the past few months – and Peter was frankly astounded at his body's ready response this morning.
Elizabeth worked him, her strokes slow and no matter how he jerked his hips, she didn't speed up. Peter heard himself begging, cursing, words of love and adoration spilling from his lips until his cock spilled over her hand.
She kissed him again and he murmured against her lips, "What a nice way to wake up."
"It most certainly is."
A half-hour later, showered and dressed, they shared kitchen duties – cleaning up from last night, putting together breakfast from the meager contents of the fridge. But as pleasurable as these domestic moments were, reality crept in.
El had just let Satchmo in and finished toweling him off – it had started snowing again – when Peter asked her to join him at the dining table.
"We need to talk."
"I know."
El licked her lips and opened her mouth, but Peter raised a hand, cutting her off. "Can I go first?"
She nodded.
He had so many things to say, he wasn't sure where to start. Maybe with the easy one. "I made a deal with the devil."
El blinked. "Hon?"
"Remember Landon Shepherd?"
She nodded. "The fixer? The woman who was Sara's friend – the one where we made those pictures?"
Peter chuckled and felt his cheeks burn. "Yeah, her."
El gave him a look, more cautious than concerned. "What did you do?"
"Last week, when it looked like Neal was going to be sent back to prison, I called her."
El nodded, but didn't say anything.
"We met for lunch and I asked for her some assistance." Peter took a sip of now-cold coffee to cover his nervousness. "I would have promised her anything if she could help."
"Anything?"
"Yeah. I was … desperate."
El wasn't shocked or angry or even puzzled. She just sort of smiled. "I hope you haven't agreed to be her sex slave. I might have a hard time sharing."
Peter tried to laugh, but he needed to tell Elizabeth everything. "If she'd asked, I would have promised to throw a case. I would have agreed to kill someone. To keep Neal safe." Peter put his hands flat on the table, they were shaking so badly.
"And did you?"
"You don't sound shocked."
"Peter – I know all too well what you've been going through. I should have seen it long ago, and I'll never forgive myself for that. You were desperate. And where Neal is concerned, nothing is easy."
If he ever had any doubts that they'd get past the trauma of the last six months, he didn't anymore. "She didn't want anything like that."
"Oh? Then what was her price?"
"A hefty donation to a favorite charity – for rape and incest survivors. Ten thousand dollars."
"We'll double that."
"El – "
"It's a small enough price to pay, Peter. And we can afford it."
Peter reached out and took his wife's hand. "Thank you."
"But I don't think this is all of it."
"No. There's more." This was the part that Peter wasn't sure about – it still wasn't sorted out in his head. "But I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it."
"Okay." El fiddled with her hair.
Peter watched here, eyes narrowed. "Hon, what's the matter? Are you okay?"
"Why? Why do you think something's wrong?"
"When you play with your hair like that, it's a sure sign that you're nervous about something. It's like Mozzie wiping his glasses."
El laughed and dropped the lock of hair. "I thought I'd stopped doing that."
"Well? What's going on?" Peter was pretty sure it was important, but not bad in the way that so many things had been bad for the past six months.
"I'm thinking about quitting. About leaving the National Gallery and coming home, for good."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
El hadn't really been sure what she was going to say. The words just kind of popped out of her mouth. But once she had spoken them, she couldn't pull them back. "It's not worth it. It's not worth being apart from you. Your job's here and Neal's here and I need to be here, with you."
Peter got a strange look on his face.
"Hon?" El wasn't sure what her husband was thinking.
He huffed out a sigh. "What if I told you that I was thinking about retiring from the FBI?"
El should have been surprised, but she wasn't. "Peter – "
"I don't think I can go on there for much longer. I've burned a lot of bridges – when Neal first went missing and since he was found."
"Do you think that they'll fire you?"
Peter shook his head. "I don't know. It could be a risk. But to be honest, I've lost my love for the work and maybe it's time to look at new horizons. I've been an agent for more than two decades – I'm at the point that they'll be asking me to go under the seniority rules."
"You've always said that there are always exceptions to the mandatory retirement rule – and you're an ASAC, I thought that meant you were exempt, anyway." They'd had this discussion a few times, as Peter's seniority crept up.
"Yeah, but." He sighed again. "It's not the same, El."
"It's Neal." Of course, it's Neal. It's always Neal. But there was no rancor in that thought. Just resignation.
"Yeah. I don't know what's going to happen in the short term. Landon's still working on getting him completely free, and after that – Neal's not going to stay in New York. And even if she doesn't get him an early release, Neal's done in six months. He'll be gone after that."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I sure about what?"
"That Neal will take off?" El was pretty certain that Neal wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"Why wouldn't he? Why would he stay?"
"Because he's been through hell, because he needs his friends – the people who have become his family. Because he needs you, hon."
Peter didn't answer.
"Remember our telephone conversation the other night?"
"Yeah. We were in a bad place then."
"And we're better now. But what I said is still the truth. Neal needs you, you protect him. You'd sacrifice everything for him."
"Anything but you."
El had doubts, but she also knew that Peter would sacrifice Neal to protect her, so it was a zero-sum game.
"I don't want you to quit your job, El."
"But this two-city deal isn't really working. You need me. And that's a hell of a lot more important than a job."
"What if …" Peter trailed off, he looked so torn.
"What if, what?"
"What if I moved to D.C.? Took a job there."
El shook her head. "What about Neal?"
Peter licked his lips. "What if he came with me? What if we gave him a home?" He laughed a little derisively. "I know he's not a puppy or a child, but he's just as vulnerable. What if we gave him a base, a safe haven? Maybe find a place with a guest house?" The words tumbled out of Peter and it was clear that he hadn't really thought about this before, but now that he'd mentioned it, he seemed to be falling in love with the idea.
And so was she, which surprised her. After everything, it seemed a bit odd to be so willing to make Neal a permanent part of her life. But she understood that Peter could never leave Neal behind and she knew – after the debacle of the past few months – that she couldn't leave Peter behind, either. Giving Neal a place to roost, temporarily or permanently, could be the ideal solution. "Do you think Neal would leave New York for Washington?"
"If, as you say, he doesn't want to leave me, then maybe he would. But first things first. You're not quitting the National Gallery, and I'm not leaving the FBI until Neal's released or his sentence is done. After that …"
But Elizabeth still wasn't sure that spending her weeks in another city was such a wise idea. "Hon, you need me. I can't let what happened to us before happen again."
"I know – and I do need you. But things are different now, right?"
El nodded. "Of course, but – "
"I love you even more than you know for wanting to come home, but I don't want you to close a door prematurely." Peter gave her a sad smile. "I need you. I've missed you and I'll miss you every moment that we're apart, but I think we can make it work now. You can always resign, but you can't undo that once it's done."
Peter seemed so passionate about this, so full of life, so much like the man he'd been before – before Neal had been kidnapped. Elizabeth felt like she had to agree, for his sake if not for her own. "Okay – but we'll play this on a month to month basis. The moment you want me back here, you tell me. No more suffering in silence, Peter. For both our sakes."
He picked up her hand and kissed it, right above her wedding ring. She cupped her hand around his cheek.
Yes, they were going to be able to make this work.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The visiting nurse arrived a little after nine, but Neal wasn't ready to see her. He wasn't ready to see anyone.
June brought her up, but Neal didn't want to get out of bed.
"Neal, darling? Is everything all right?"
He sighed and the intense desire – almost need – to be left alone battled with his love and respect for June. "I'm okay. Just moving a little slowly this morning."
"Ah. We'll go back downstairs and just let me know when you're ready."
"No. Just give me a second." Neal pushed back the covers and managed to get to his feet without too much trouble.
"Let me help you." The nurse rushed over.
"NO!" Neal shouted and then immediately apologized. "Just let me …" He winced as his various injuries made themselves known, "do for myself."
The nurse backed off, but she didn't seem offended. "Sorry. We should probably set up a protocol for my visits."
Neal nodded. "What are you going to do to me?"
"Check your vitals, change your bandages, run the IV antibiotics, clean out your PICC line. Run through some standard questions."
"Okay." Neal looked over at June, who was still hovering by the door. "Is Mozzie around?"
"Yes, he's being a sweetheart and has taken Bugsy out. He should be back soon."
Neal ground his teeth together and told himself to cowboy up. He hadn't had problems with the medical staff at the hospital and this nurse, who looked like she was old enough to be his grandmother, was no threat. "Okay – can you ask him to come up when he gets back?"
June gave him a searching look, like she understood everything going on in his head. "You'll be okay?"
"I think so. You don't have to hang around and deal with this ickiness."
"It's not icky. I've had three daughters and two granddaughters. I nursed Byron through six years of lung cancer. I could probably clean that PICC line myself. There are some things you never quite forget how to do."
"So, you don't mind staying?"
"No, Neal. Not at all." June took one of her romance novels from the bookcase and settled herself on the couch.
Relieved, Neal turned back to the nurse. She was the soul of patience. "What is your name?"
"Ida Wilson. I've been a nurse for over forty years."
Neal figured she offered that as a way to quell his unreasonable anxiety.
"You've read my file?"
"Nothing more than your recent medical history. I know you were hospitalized for a variety of trauma, and I'm being paid out of the Crime Victims Relief Fund, so I can put two and two together."
Neal gave Ida a thin smile and said, "Shall we get this party started?"
Ida asked Neal about his medical history, drug usage, any allergies he had – all usual questions. She asked about his alcohol consumption and Neal replied, "Moderate." June let out a ladylike snort of disbelief that Ida thankfully ignored.
"Okay, let's check out those bandages."
Neal glanced over at June, who was absorbed in her book. He unbuttoned the pajama top and slipped it off. He didn't meet Ida's eyes as she looked him over. And to his great relief, she didn't comment about the assortment of bruises and scabs that decorated his torso.
"Let's check the surgical wounds." She peeled back the bandages and he hissed as the tape pulled at his skin. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay."
She cleaned the incisions and when Neal shivered from the cold liquid, Ida apologized again. "Sorry, but it can't be helped."
"I know, I know."
"Everything seems to be healing nicely. No sign of infection." After checking his blood pressure and taking his vitals, she took out a bag of IV fluid and a portable infusing unit. "This will take about an hour and a half to finish. Where will you be the most comfortable?"
"The bed, I think."
"Good choice for today."
Ida set up the IV, checked the infuser unit and, once everything was working, told him she'd be back in about ninety minutes. "Here's my cell phone number in case you start having problems. I have a patient to see on 86th and Broadway, so I'm no more than five minutes away." She put the card down on the bedside table.
"Okay, thanks." Neal tried to calm the building panic, taking deep breaths, focusing on the dust motes dancing in the weak winter sunlight.
Ida turned to June, who had joined her at Neal's bedside. "He should eat something; will that be a problem to arrange?"
"No, not at all. I was just going to ask if I could have a tray sent up for Neal."
"That would be perfect." Ida packed her bag, put on her coat and checked Neal's IV one more time. "See you in a bit. Don't move around if you don't have to."
"Nope, I've got no plans to go anywhere." Neal smiled, and he hoped he didn't look too freakish.
Ida left and Mozzie arrived at the same moment, carrying a breakfast tray. Neal tried to summon an appetite, but all he could manage was a few sips of orange juice and a bite of a croissant. His friends looked like they were about to push at him and he prevaricated, "It's the antibiotics. I'll probably be starving in a couple of hours." That might be true, but he wasn't going to count on it.
Neal must have dozed off because the next thing he felt was a hand on him. Half-asleep and panicked, he screamed and tried to strike out.
"Hey, hey. It's just me, Ida."
Sick to his stomach from the residual adrenaline, Neal tried to focus on the elderly face leaning over him. "Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I should have announced my presence, but I didn't want to wake you. I'll do that in the future, okay?"
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Nah, I'm a tough old bird."
"Where's Moz?"
"Your friend, the bald guy?"
"Yeah."
"He gave me a strange look and took off when I got here. I get the feeling he doesn't care for medical professionals."
"Yeah. He has some issues." That barely began to describe it.
Ida detached the IV bag and packed up the infuser unit. "I'll be back around five o'clock. And don't forget to set up your appointments for respiratory therapy. Got to get your lungs back in shape."
Neal nodded absently. He was supposed to see all sorts of therapists and doctors, but the very idea of leaving the apartment made him antsy.
TO BE CONTINUED - Go to Chapter Twenty-Eight
Author:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Mozzie, Reese Hughes, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Olivia Benson (L&O: SVU), Section Chief Bruce (McKinsey) Original Characters
Spoilers: White Collar, all of Season 5; no specific spoilers for L&O: SVU, but set in Season 15. No spoilers for Season 6, A/U from S5 finale forward.
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Kidnapping, torture (off-camera), rape (off-camera),
Word Count: This chapter – ~2,900 / 90,000
Beta Credit:
sinfulslasher Story Summary: Six months after Neal disappears, Peter still has no answers and his decision not to go to Washington has had significant repercussions for both his career and his marriage.
Chapter Summary: Peter and Elizabeth make plans for their future, and Peter has to do something that he doesn't want to do. Neal continues to deal with the process of healing.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty-One | Chapter Twenty-Two | Chapter Twenty-Three | Chapter Twenty-Four | Chapter Twenty-Five | Chapter Twenty-Six |
A/N: Title from Alan Hovhaness’ wind concerto, which takes it from the Old Testament. New chapters will be posted to my LJ every Thursday and to the relevant communities on Fridays.
Art by
kanarek13Sometime in Late January – Saturday Morning
Peter woke slowly and sighed in happiness. Elizabeth was using him like a pillow. It had been too long since he'd had that pleasure. When El had been home – so infrequently during the past few months – the gulf between them was never more fully evident than at night, when they'd clung to the opposite sides of the mattress, barely able to stand the sound of each other's breathing.
El stirred, her hair tickling his nose, and he couldn't stop a small sneeze. She opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile. "Hey, hon."
"Hey, hon." He kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, and as she leaned over him, he captured her lips. He smiled into the kiss as her small, hot hand snaked under the waistband of the worn out running shorts he wore to bed and found his cock.
"Mmmm, yes." He sighed in pleasure as she slowly jacked him. They'd made love three times last night – love, not the mechanical sex they'd both barely enjoyed over the past few months – and Peter was frankly astounded at his body's ready response this morning.
Elizabeth worked him, her strokes slow and no matter how he jerked his hips, she didn't speed up. Peter heard himself begging, cursing, words of love and adoration spilling from his lips until his cock spilled over her hand.
She kissed him again and he murmured against her lips, "What a nice way to wake up."
"It most certainly is."
A half-hour later, showered and dressed, they shared kitchen duties – cleaning up from last night, putting together breakfast from the meager contents of the fridge. But as pleasurable as these domestic moments were, reality crept in.
El had just let Satchmo in and finished toweling him off – it had started snowing again – when Peter asked her to join him at the dining table.
"We need to talk."
"I know."
El licked her lips and opened her mouth, but Peter raised a hand, cutting her off. "Can I go first?"
She nodded.
He had so many things to say, he wasn't sure where to start. Maybe with the easy one. "I made a deal with the devil."
El blinked. "Hon?"
"Remember Landon Shepherd?"
She nodded. "The fixer? The woman who was Sara's friend – the one where we made those pictures?"
Peter chuckled and felt his cheeks burn. "Yeah, her."
El gave him a look, more cautious than concerned. "What did you do?"
"Last week, when it looked like Neal was going to be sent back to prison, I called her."
El nodded, but didn't say anything.
"We met for lunch and I asked for her some assistance." Peter took a sip of now-cold coffee to cover his nervousness. "I would have promised her anything if she could help."
"Anything?"
"Yeah. I was … desperate."
El wasn't shocked or angry or even puzzled. She just sort of smiled. "I hope you haven't agreed to be her sex slave. I might have a hard time sharing."
Peter tried to laugh, but he needed to tell Elizabeth everything. "If she'd asked, I would have promised to throw a case. I would have agreed to kill someone. To keep Neal safe." Peter put his hands flat on the table, they were shaking so badly.
"And did you?"
"You don't sound shocked."
"Peter – I know all too well what you've been going through. I should have seen it long ago, and I'll never forgive myself for that. You were desperate. And where Neal is concerned, nothing is easy."
If he ever had any doubts that they'd get past the trauma of the last six months, he didn't anymore. "She didn't want anything like that."
"Oh? Then what was her price?"
"A hefty donation to a favorite charity – for rape and incest survivors. Ten thousand dollars."
"We'll double that."
"El – "
"It's a small enough price to pay, Peter. And we can afford it."
Peter reached out and took his wife's hand. "Thank you."
"But I don't think this is all of it."
"No. There's more." This was the part that Peter wasn't sure about – it still wasn't sorted out in his head. "But I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it."
"Okay." El fiddled with her hair.
Peter watched here, eyes narrowed. "Hon, what's the matter? Are you okay?"
"Why? Why do you think something's wrong?"
"When you play with your hair like that, it's a sure sign that you're nervous about something. It's like Mozzie wiping his glasses."
El laughed and dropped the lock of hair. "I thought I'd stopped doing that."
"Well? What's going on?" Peter was pretty sure it was important, but not bad in the way that so many things had been bad for the past six months.
"I'm thinking about quitting. About leaving the National Gallery and coming home, for good."
El hadn't really been sure what she was going to say. The words just kind of popped out of her mouth. But once she had spoken them, she couldn't pull them back. "It's not worth it. It's not worth being apart from you. Your job's here and Neal's here and I need to be here, with you."
Peter got a strange look on his face.
"Hon?" El wasn't sure what her husband was thinking.
He huffed out a sigh. "What if I told you that I was thinking about retiring from the FBI?"
El should have been surprised, but she wasn't. "Peter – "
"I don't think I can go on there for much longer. I've burned a lot of bridges – when Neal first went missing and since he was found."
"Do you think that they'll fire you?"
Peter shook his head. "I don't know. It could be a risk. But to be honest, I've lost my love for the work and maybe it's time to look at new horizons. I've been an agent for more than two decades – I'm at the point that they'll be asking me to go under the seniority rules."
"You've always said that there are always exceptions to the mandatory retirement rule – and you're an ASAC, I thought that meant you were exempt, anyway." They'd had this discussion a few times, as Peter's seniority crept up.
"Yeah, but." He sighed again. "It's not the same, El."
"It's Neal." Of course, it's Neal. It's always Neal. But there was no rancor in that thought. Just resignation.
"Yeah. I don't know what's going to happen in the short term. Landon's still working on getting him completely free, and after that – Neal's not going to stay in New York. And even if she doesn't get him an early release, Neal's done in six months. He'll be gone after that."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I sure about what?"
"That Neal will take off?" El was pretty certain that Neal wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"Why wouldn't he? Why would he stay?"
"Because he's been through hell, because he needs his friends – the people who have become his family. Because he needs you, hon."
Peter didn't answer.
"Remember our telephone conversation the other night?"
"Yeah. We were in a bad place then."
"And we're better now. But what I said is still the truth. Neal needs you, you protect him. You'd sacrifice everything for him."
"Anything but you."
El had doubts, but she also knew that Peter would sacrifice Neal to protect her, so it was a zero-sum game.
"I don't want you to quit your job, El."
"But this two-city deal isn't really working. You need me. And that's a hell of a lot more important than a job."
"What if …" Peter trailed off, he looked so torn.
"What if, what?"
"What if I moved to D.C.? Took a job there."
El shook her head. "What about Neal?"
Peter licked his lips. "What if he came with me? What if we gave him a home?" He laughed a little derisively. "I know he's not a puppy or a child, but he's just as vulnerable. What if we gave him a base, a safe haven? Maybe find a place with a guest house?" The words tumbled out of Peter and it was clear that he hadn't really thought about this before, but now that he'd mentioned it, he seemed to be falling in love with the idea.
And so was she, which surprised her. After everything, it seemed a bit odd to be so willing to make Neal a permanent part of her life. But she understood that Peter could never leave Neal behind and she knew – after the debacle of the past few months – that she couldn't leave Peter behind, either. Giving Neal a place to roost, temporarily or permanently, could be the ideal solution. "Do you think Neal would leave New York for Washington?"
"If, as you say, he doesn't want to leave me, then maybe he would. But first things first. You're not quitting the National Gallery, and I'm not leaving the FBI until Neal's released or his sentence is done. After that …"
But Elizabeth still wasn't sure that spending her weeks in another city was such a wise idea. "Hon, you need me. I can't let what happened to us before happen again."
"I know – and I do need you. But things are different now, right?"
El nodded. "Of course, but – "
"I love you even more than you know for wanting to come home, but I don't want you to close a door prematurely." Peter gave her a sad smile. "I need you. I've missed you and I'll miss you every moment that we're apart, but I think we can make it work now. You can always resign, but you can't undo that once it's done."
Peter seemed so passionate about this, so full of life, so much like the man he'd been before – before Neal had been kidnapped. Elizabeth felt like she had to agree, for his sake if not for her own. "Okay – but we'll play this on a month to month basis. The moment you want me back here, you tell me. No more suffering in silence, Peter. For both our sakes."
He picked up her hand and kissed it, right above her wedding ring. She cupped her hand around his cheek.
Yes, they were going to be able to make this work.
The visiting nurse arrived a little after nine, but Neal wasn't ready to see her. He wasn't ready to see anyone.
June brought her up, but Neal didn't want to get out of bed.
"Neal, darling? Is everything all right?"
He sighed and the intense desire – almost need – to be left alone battled with his love and respect for June. "I'm okay. Just moving a little slowly this morning."
"Ah. We'll go back downstairs and just let me know when you're ready."
"No. Just give me a second." Neal pushed back the covers and managed to get to his feet without too much trouble.
"Let me help you." The nurse rushed over.
"NO!" Neal shouted and then immediately apologized. "Just let me …" He winced as his various injuries made themselves known, "do for myself."
The nurse backed off, but she didn't seem offended. "Sorry. We should probably set up a protocol for my visits."
Neal nodded. "What are you going to do to me?"
"Check your vitals, change your bandages, run the IV antibiotics, clean out your PICC line. Run through some standard questions."
"Okay." Neal looked over at June, who was still hovering by the door. "Is Mozzie around?"
"Yes, he's being a sweetheart and has taken Bugsy out. He should be back soon."
Neal ground his teeth together and told himself to cowboy up. He hadn't had problems with the medical staff at the hospital and this nurse, who looked like she was old enough to be his grandmother, was no threat. "Okay – can you ask him to come up when he gets back?"
June gave him a searching look, like she understood everything going on in his head. "You'll be okay?"
"I think so. You don't have to hang around and deal with this ickiness."
"It's not icky. I've had three daughters and two granddaughters. I nursed Byron through six years of lung cancer. I could probably clean that PICC line myself. There are some things you never quite forget how to do."
"So, you don't mind staying?"
"No, Neal. Not at all." June took one of her romance novels from the bookcase and settled herself on the couch.
Relieved, Neal turned back to the nurse. She was the soul of patience. "What is your name?"
"Ida Wilson. I've been a nurse for over forty years."
Neal figured she offered that as a way to quell his unreasonable anxiety.
"You've read my file?"
"Nothing more than your recent medical history. I know you were hospitalized for a variety of trauma, and I'm being paid out of the Crime Victims Relief Fund, so I can put two and two together."
Neal gave Ida a thin smile and said, "Shall we get this party started?"
Ida asked Neal about his medical history, drug usage, any allergies he had – all usual questions. She asked about his alcohol consumption and Neal replied, "Moderate." June let out a ladylike snort of disbelief that Ida thankfully ignored.
"Okay, let's check out those bandages."
Neal glanced over at June, who was absorbed in her book. He unbuttoned the pajama top and slipped it off. He didn't meet Ida's eyes as she looked him over. And to his great relief, she didn't comment about the assortment of bruises and scabs that decorated his torso.
"Let's check the surgical wounds." She peeled back the bandages and he hissed as the tape pulled at his skin. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay."
She cleaned the incisions and when Neal shivered from the cold liquid, Ida apologized again. "Sorry, but it can't be helped."
"I know, I know."
"Everything seems to be healing nicely. No sign of infection." After checking his blood pressure and taking his vitals, she took out a bag of IV fluid and a portable infusing unit. "This will take about an hour and a half to finish. Where will you be the most comfortable?"
"The bed, I think."
"Good choice for today."
Ida set up the IV, checked the infuser unit and, once everything was working, told him she'd be back in about ninety minutes. "Here's my cell phone number in case you start having problems. I have a patient to see on 86th and Broadway, so I'm no more than five minutes away." She put the card down on the bedside table.
"Okay, thanks." Neal tried to calm the building panic, taking deep breaths, focusing on the dust motes dancing in the weak winter sunlight.
Ida turned to June, who had joined her at Neal's bedside. "He should eat something; will that be a problem to arrange?"
"No, not at all. I was just going to ask if I could have a tray sent up for Neal."
"That would be perfect." Ida packed her bag, put on her coat and checked Neal's IV one more time. "See you in a bit. Don't move around if you don't have to."
"Nope, I've got no plans to go anywhere." Neal smiled, and he hoped he didn't look too freakish.
Ida left and Mozzie arrived at the same moment, carrying a breakfast tray. Neal tried to summon an appetite, but all he could manage was a few sips of orange juice and a bite of a croissant. His friends looked like they were about to push at him and he prevaricated, "It's the antibiotics. I'll probably be starving in a couple of hours." That might be true, but he wasn't going to count on it.
Neal must have dozed off because the next thing he felt was a hand on him. Half-asleep and panicked, he screamed and tried to strike out.
"Hey, hey. It's just me, Ida."
Sick to his stomach from the residual adrenaline, Neal tried to focus on the elderly face leaning over him. "Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I should have announced my presence, but I didn't want to wake you. I'll do that in the future, okay?"
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Nah, I'm a tough old bird."
"Where's Moz?"
"Your friend, the bald guy?"
"Yeah."
"He gave me a strange look and took off when I got here. I get the feeling he doesn't care for medical professionals."
"Yeah. He has some issues." That barely began to describe it.
Ida detached the IV bag and packed up the infuser unit. "I'll be back around five o'clock. And don't forget to set up your appointments for respiratory therapy. Got to get your lungs back in shape."
Neal nodded absently. He was supposed to see all sorts of therapists and doctors, but the very idea of leaving the apartment made him antsy.
Tags:
- character: clinton jones,
- character: diana berrigan,
- character: elizabeth burke,
- character: june ellington,
- character: landon shepherd,
- character: mozzie,
- character: neal caffrey,
- character: ofc,
- character: olivia benson,
- character: omc,
- character: peter burke,
- character: theo berrigan,
- crossover: law and order: svu,
- genre: abuse,
- genre: angst,
- genre: emotional trauma,
- genre: friendship,
- genre: future fic,
- genre: hurt/comfort,
- genre: violence,
- pairing: peter/elizabeth,
- type: fan fiction,
- type: longfic,
- wc verse: return and rebuild,
- white collar,
- year: 2014
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-05-07 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-07 03:33 pm (UTC)Thank you! I keep re-reading these last few chapters and the feels just roll over me.
no subject
Date: 2015-05-07 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-07 03:34 pm (UTC)Thank you so very much. They do get better, and will be stronger for their pain.
no subject
Date: 2015-05-08 07:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-18 01:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-08 07:13 pm (UTC)Ida sounds like just what Neal needs. Her no-nonsense competence will make it easier for Neal not to be ashamed or embarrassed.
It's such a good thing that Neal is back home, but I hope it doesn't become a prison of his own making.
no subject
Date: 2015-05-18 01:10 pm (UTC)Healing will take a while - hopefully the road won't be TOO bumpy.
no subject
Date: 2015-05-09 02:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-18 01:11 pm (UTC)I hope you find the last few chapters to be equally satisfying.
no subject
Date: 2015-05-14 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-18 01:12 pm (UTC)Ida and her fellow nurses are often the unsung heroes of the medical world.