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Neal knew how to enjoy the teeming crowds of the city at its busiest, but what he loved the most was the relative quiet of the early morning. He loved the weak sunlight and the uncrowded sidewalks and streets, and he loved the sense of potential, the feeling of the crowds that would come once everybody else woke up. Some mornings it was enough to just sit out on June's beautiful terrace and just absorb the sleepy city from above, but more often if he was awake that early he needed to be on his feet and moving--away from something or toward something, he didn't entirely know.
He'd seen a lot of early mornings since everything fell apart with James and Pratt, since Peter was arrested and then came back home thankfully whole. Neal had kept on his best behavior under the supervision of his temporary handler, and now that Peter was back to being his handler again he was still on guard; the last thing he wanted to do was to make trouble for Peter, not again, not so soon. And Peter was on guard too, being more careful to toe the line. Neal believed that things would get better, that they would all be able to relax, but for now every day carried a kind of tension that made sleeping less than easy.
So Neal woke up early and he walked the early morning streets more days than not, and he had come to know what blocks within his radius were the least populated at that time of day. His favorite area was just at the edge of his radius--grim and industrial and almost entirely deserted at 5am on a Saturday. It wasn't the safest neighborhood, but Neal figured he could take care of himself.
An unusual sound startled Neal out of his thoughts as he neared the point where his anklet would begin to flicker yellow. It was an intermittent squealing, tires on asphalt, and he turned around to see a small SUV careening down the street. It swerved to avoid a cab, then slalomed back in the other direction before continuing down the street. Neal stood, watching in shock as the SUV side-swiped a few parked cars, swerved toward the other side of the street, then overcorrected. Neal was too far away to see exactly how it happened but with a harsh squeal and a crash, the SUV spun and flipped over.
Neal pulled his phone out as he ran toward the car. He called 911 and gave them the cross-streets then dropped to the ground to look inside the half-crushed SUV. The passenger side windows were a shattered into spider web patterns, so he could see only vague shapes inside the car.
"MOM!" a young girl's voice called out from inside the car. "Mom? Brian!"
Neal looked around and didn't see anything else to use so he cleared out the glass with his elbow, feeling the bite of glass through his thin jacket. The girl screamed and Neal stopped and held up his hands. "Hey, it's okay, I'm trying to help. I'm sorry I scared you."
The girl, who looked about eight years old, stopped screaming and nodded. She had a cut on the side of her face and braids that were dangling upside down from where she hung in the seat belt. Next to her was a little boy, maybe five years old, similarly hanging upside down in a booster seat. "I think--I think my mom fell asleep." Her lip trembled and she reached up to undo her seatbelt.
"No, don't." Neal didn't smell gas, and he was pretty sure it was safer to keep everybody where they were until paramedics arrive. "I don't want you to get hurt." Neal crawled in a little farther, the movement made difficult by the crumbled roof underneath him, and reached out to touch the little boy's face. At the touch, he squirmed and then opened his eyes and looked across at his sister.
"Sasha? Why're we upside down?"
Sasha burst into tears, and Neal ached to be able to make the situation better. He maneuvered back and around to look between the seats and saw a woman upside down in the driver's seat, unconscious or worse. "Sasha? Hey Sasha, what's your mom's name?"
"J-Jody. Is she--is she okay?"
Neal couldn't reach through to the driver's seat so he crawled back until he was out of the car. "I'm going to try to find out." Neal did his best to give her a reassuring smile. "Just stay where you are and try to keep your brother calm for now. Okay?"
She nodded, and Neal stood up. There were still no emergency vehicles on site, and though it felt like half an hour had gone by since the crash he reminded himself that it had likely been no more than two or three minutes. As he scrambled around the car and knelt down by the driver's side window, Neal closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. He heard sirens in the distance but they were faint, still minutes away if they were even headed to this accident.
Neal cleared away the glass from the smashed window and saw blood--a lot of blood from a wound on the side of her head and Neal thought there had to be other injuries but he didn't know for sure. He reached around to the unbloodied side of her neck and sighed in relief when he felt a fast but steady pulse. "Jody? Jody?"
"Mom! Mooooom!" Sasha called out, and Jody twitched her head but she didn't wake up.
"She's--she's asleep. The paramedics will be here any minute, Sasha."
Neal was afraid to do any more than lightly touch the unconscious woman for fear of exacerbating any existing injuries. Her cheek felt cool and clammy, and Neal didn't know what had caused her to pass out behind the wheel but he didn't smell any alcohol. "Jody?" He tried again, tapping lightly on her cheek, and this time she made a small sound and opened her eyes. They were a warm brown that reminded him of his mother, but Neal pushed that thought away.
"What?" Her eyes dropped closed, then opened again. "Who?"
"My name is Neal. You were in an accident, but your children are okay." I think. She started to try to turn around, and Neal stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Try not to move around," Neal said, keeping his voice smooth and calm. He could see flashing red and blue lights through the shattered windshield, and he gave Jody a smile. "Help is here."
When Neal stood, he saw a swarm of lights--two ambulances and at least two police cars. He was forced to leave the side of the car, and he did his best to describe what had happened to the police, distracted as he was with watching the paramedics working around the SUV. After he gave the officer his contact information, he stood leaning back against the edge of a bus shelter and watched as first Brian and then Sasha were removed from the back seat. The children were strapped down, their small heads immobilized, both of them awake and crying; Neal had to hope that was a good sign. Minutes went by as he watched paramedics and cops confer near the front of the SUV, and he waited to see them get Jody out.
Both ambulances left, though a paramedic from a fire truck remained at the side of the car and Neal felt his stomach drop as one of the cops walked back toward him. "Excuse me sir, are you Neal?"
"Yes. What's going on?"
"We're waiting on another ambulance and truck with the equipment we need to remove the driver from the car but they're tied up, maybe 20 minutes out. The lady in the car, she's asking for you. You a friend?"
Neal shook his head. "I never met her before."
"Well, she's kind of out of it, and, uh, Swenson's a good medic but she's not the most comforting human being. Would you be willing to go back over and keep the driver company?"
"Of course."
The paramedic looked up as Neal approached. "Go around to the passenger side. I have to stay over here."
The glass had already been broken out of that window, and when Neal crouched down next to it he could see that Jody's neck was in a brace now and she'd never be able to see him from that angle. He got down further, and that corner of the SUV's roof was crushed more than the others so he had to nearly flatten himself to wriggle inside. He winced as something pinched through the thin fabric of his shirt but then Jody saw him and gave him a small, foggy smile. She blinked and tears trickled from her eyes and down her forehead.
"Do you know where Sasha and Brian are?"
"I told her but she keeps getting confused," the paramedic murmured.
"They went to the hospital but they're okay." Neal saw Jody blink like she'd lost the thread of the conversation, and he looked over at the paramedic. "Will it hurt her if I take her hand?" The paramedic shook her head, so Neal wiggled in closer and wrapped his fingers around her hand which felt cold and small in his.
"Did something bad happen?" Jody asked. "Something bad happened."
Neal wanted to know what was wrong with her, but he was certain the paramedic wouldn't tell him. For all he knew, these were the woman's last moments, and he didn't want her to be scared. He swallowed hard and squeezed her hand lightly. "You had an accident, but Sasha and Brian are okay." The calm, persuasive voice and steady, imploring eyes that had helped Neal through dozens of cons both large and small were the same talents that could keep an injured, confused woman calm, and Neal wasn't sure if that was a horrible thing or a good one.
Focused as he was on making eye contact with Jody to keep her attention, Neal couldn't ignore the way she resembled his mother. Beyond her eyes, Jody had dark hair hanging long and loose and slender, soft fingers that seemed too familiar. He had held her hand sometimes, too, held her hand and smiled and told her happy things to try to make her less sad. His mother had been a law-abiding woman but she'd taught him to be a conman all the same.
Neal did his best to look away from the blood soaking into Jody's pants where her leg was trapped against the mangled door. She cried in helpless despair, and Neal squeezed her hand gently and told her she would be okay. He knew how to do this; he'd been putting a pretty face on an ugly world for as long as he could remember. Neal lost track of time, feeling stuck in an endless loop of reassuring Jody, of maintaining a connection with her even as she tried to drift into panic and confusion. A not-quite-gentle tap on his leg jolted Neal and he looked up, realizing that a cop was talking to him. "The truck is here to get her out. You need to get clear."
Neal nodded then caught Jody's bleary gaze again. "I'm leaving, but they're going to get you out of here and I'll be close by. Okay?"
"Thank you," she whispered, looking like she was on the edge of passing out, and Neal reluctantly let go of her hand. Squirming back out of the car was less than pleasant, and Neal's head swam when he stood up, but he figured it was just the change in elevation. He didn't want to go anywhere until Jody was free, but the cop standing next to the car told him to move away and he needed some space to catch his breath anyway. He walked over to the curb and sat down between two unoccupied police cars where he had a clear view of the SUV.
Neal wasn't sure what the time was, but he thought it had to still be very early in the morning--too early to feel as worn out as he did. He leaned sideways against the bumper of the closest car and watched the fire department and paramedics work to get Jody free from the pile of metal and glass around her.
~~~
Peter woke to the sound of his phone beeping stridently. He'd only heard that particular beep once, when he and Neal had tested the new phone app the Marshals had developed for tracking anklet surveillance. The reality of understaffing meant that Neal would have to be well out of his radius for as long as half an hour before the Marshals were likely to mobilize to track him down, but Peter only had one man to keep an eye on, and the new app was set to alert him any time Neal's anklet went red.
"Hon?" El asked, and Peter sighed. He hated giving his wife cause to lose sleep yet again.
"It seems that Neal decided to take a stroll outside of his radius at 6am. Damn it, he knows we're under scrutiny." Peter stood and dressed quickly then leaned over the bed to give El a kiss. "If he doesn't have a damn good reason for this, we're going to find out how much he likes spending next weekend on house arrest."
"You tell him." El said, giving him a small smile.
"I'll be back as soon as I can." Peter dialed Neal's number as he jogged down the stairs, but it just rang until it went through to voicemail. He grabbed his keys and left, locking the door behind him, then dialed again with the same result. "Damn it, Neal. Call me. Get back inside your radius and call me."
As soon as Peter was out of the neighborhood, he put the bubble light on and made good time through the light morning traffic. He tried Neal three more times as he drove, but there was still no answer. Peter didn't want to think about whys and hows that would lead to Neal being taken outside of his radius against his will, and that didn't even make sense. The anklet wasn't easy to hide, and anybody who would go to the effort to take Neal would surely cut the anklet. Unless it was a trap. Damn it, Peter thought. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
Neal's location stayed the same through Peter's drive, and he felt his stomach clench when he turned the corner a few blocks away from the anklet's location and saw a cluster of police and emergency vehicles blocking the street. Peter parked as close as he could get to the mess and jogged down the block. He saw a flipped over SUV and a waiting ambulance, and he was imagining Neal hit by that car, Neal trapped underneath crumpled metal, when he saw a familiar face in his peripheral vision.
Neal was sitting on the curb next to a police car, his arms leaning on his knees as he watched the first responders work like it was some kind of reality show--too distracted to even answer his phone, apparently. Peter tried to shake off his anger, but damn it, it was way too early on a Saturday morning for all the stress and worry he'd felt since the alert from Neal's anklet woke him up. Neal should know that this was serious business, and Peter couldn't keep himself from charging over and shouting, "Neal!"
Neal looked up, blinking innocently like he was actually surprised to see Peter, and Peter grabbed the front of his jacket and hoisted him to his feet, only just resisting the urge to shake him. "What's wrong with you?"
Neal blinked again. "I'm fine."
"You're fine. Right. You went out of your radius, you stayed out of your radius, and you didn't answer your goddamn phone when I called you. That is not fine." Peter sighed, his anger seeping away, and let go of Neal's jacket. "I need to call the Marshals, and then we're going to get out of here."
"No, I--" Neal shook his head and swayed in place, and it dawned on Peter that Neal looked drawn and pale, more than what Peter could blame on lack of sleep or the dim morning light. Peter pushed him down to sit on the hood of the police car next to them and held onto Neal's shoulders, bending down to look in his eyes.
"What's going on with you?" Peter asked, his anger gone.
"There a problem over here?"
Peter turned to see a uniformed police officer standing a few feet away.
"Sorry, Officer, I'm with the FBI." Peter pulled his badge out of his pocket and held it up. "And I'm not sure exactly what's going on." He looked over at Neal who seemed to still be paying more attention to the accident scene than to the people talking next to him.
The police officer raised his eyebrows. "To what do we owe the honor of the FBI's presence?"
"This man works for me, and I came to check on his status."
"Oh, the anklet? Yeah, I saw it but I figured it didn't have anything to do with this."
"What is 'this' exactly? What happened?"
"Car accident. Lady passed out, crashed her car with the kids in the back. Your guy says he saw it happen. He kept the kids calm until the EMTs got here then stayed with the lady until the truck came to get her out of there. We just kicked him out of the car not too long ago."
Peter glanced over at Neal and didn't like what he saw. "He was in the car?"
"The lady was asking for him. Guess she liked his smile or something."
"But he didn't get hurt?"
The cop shook his head and then frowned. "I don't think so."
Peter looked down at Neal and started to see the details that were off. Neal was dressed for a break-in, his t-shirt, jeans and jacket all black, but that was common enough casual wear for Neal. Looking closer, Peter noticed that the clothes were dirty, the shirt tattered in spots, and Neal was hunched in his jacket, his hands shoved in the pockets. Peter put one hand on Neal's shoulder and started looking him over more closely. "What happened to your shirt?"
Neal didn't answer but Peter thought about the way the SUV was crushed down on its roof and imagined Neal crawling inside that mess. When Peter touched the dark fabric and felt the sticky dampness he tugged the shirt up and swore at the sight of several shallow scratches and scrapes along with a few deeper cuts that were steadily bleeding. "Can you get a medic over here?" Peter looked at the police officer and kept his voice calm, but a scream of tearing metal came from behind Peter and Neal jumped, almost falling off the car.
Peter held Neal steady while the police officer stepped away to make a call on his radio. To Peter's relief, a paramedic came their way a minute later, his kit bouncing against his side as he walked. "Hey, what's going on?"
Peter looked down at Neal's pale face and then back at the paramedic. "He was helping out the crash victims before anyone else was on the scene, and he has some pretty bad cuts. I'm not sure if there are any other injuries, but I think he's in shock."
"Okay. Let's get him sitting down on the ground."
Peter levered Neal down to sit with his back leaning against the police car's bumper then moved aside to let the paramedic closer. "His name is Neal."
"Neal?" The paramedic took Neal's wrist in his hand and turned his head away from the direction of the accident scene to shine a light into his eyes. "Neal, my name is Carlos. I need you to tell me how you're feeling."
Neal blinked heavily, then finally responded. "I'm tired."
"Okay. You're in shock, Neal. Not too bad, but we need to keep you warm." Carlos pulled a blanket out of his bag and nudged Neal forward to wrap it around his back before helping Neal rest back against the car again. "Can you tell me what hurts?"
Neal didn't say anything so Peter crouched down and gestured at his midsection. "He's all cut up under his shirt. Like I said, I don't know if there's anything else."
Carlos nodded. "Neal, I'm going to pull your shirt up. Oh yeah, you're going to need some stitches there."
"I'm fine," Neal said, his voice dry and distant.
"I don't think so, man." Carlos worked while he talked, wiping some disinfectant over Neal's cuts and applying bandages to the ones that were still bleeding. Neal didn't resist as Carlos checked him over, looking for a head injury or other bleeding, but he also didn't continue to insist on being fine.
"So what's going on here?" Peter asked, impatient to know.
"If we had another unit here, I'd put him in an ambulance and take him in for stitches and to be evaluated at the hospital. The way things are this morning, it would be faster to take him by car. He really should go to the ER though."
"I can do that. I left my car a couple blocks away--I'll go bring it closer."
Neal sighed and Peter turned to see him looked more alert than he had before. "I can walk. But I'm staying until they get her out." He nodded over at the mess of cut-open metal in the middle of the street.
Carlos shrugged. "It looks like they're close to being finished over there, which means I need to get going. Neal, I think you're okay but you do need stitches. If you start feeling worse, let somebody know."
Neal nodded, and the paramedic packed up his gear and hurried back over to the ambulance. Neal shivered, wrapping his arms around himself and then wincing, and Peter couldn't help taking off his jacket and wrapping it around Neal. He sat down on the street next to Neal and watched Neal watch the SUV being pulled apart. Neal could be difficult to read at times, and Peter was well aware that he wasn't the most adept person at dealing with emotional complexities, but some of the artifice that Neal covered himself with on a day-to-day basis had fallen away. Peter wasn't sure what true facet of Neal was being exposed, but he hoped he could figure it out.
When a stretcher was wheeled up to the side of the peeled-open SUV and a woman was pulled out, Neal clambered to his feet and Peter rushed to steady him. Neal started to walk toward the stretcher, but the cop from earlier headed him off.
"Sir, she's unconscious. You should go get yourself looked at."
Neal tensed, looking torn. "But--"
"We'll go. Thank you, officer." With a hand on Neal's back, Peter started down the block toward his car. Neal had gone quiet again, but when Peter plugged Lennox Hill into the GPS Neal cleared his throat.
"I'd rather just go home." He sounded exhausted, and Peter sympathized with the desire to avoid the ER, but he wasn't about to let that happen today.
"I don't think so."
Neal didn't talk for the rest of the drive, and he looked distant as Peter filled out the paperwork to get Neal registered. Peter was expecting to have to wait a while, but the woman behind the admissions desk called him back as he started to walk away. "Mr. Caffrey can come back now."
"Really?"
"One of the paramedics asked me to keep an eye out for him. We've got a curtain open for him."
"Thank you." Peter collected Neal and kept a hand on him as they walked back through the door and down the hall to a small curtained-off cubicle. Neal sat on the side of the gurney and didn't protest as the nurse took his vitals. He also didn't flirt with her or interact with her in any significant way, and Peter couldn't quite push away his worry. The nurse put a folded blanket and a hospital gown on the bed, told Neal he could leave his underwear on and left with a promise that a doctor would be in soon.
"I'll step out to let you change."
"You don't have to." Neal took off his jacket then crossed his arms and winced as he pulled up his t-shirt. The worst of his cuts had bled into the bandages, but Peter was relieved to see they weren't soaked and at the same time unhappy to see more small cuts on Neal's arms. Neal moved to stand up, and Peter started to turn around until he saw Neal close his eyes and steady himself with a hand on the gurney.
"Damn it." Peter stepped closer and put his hand on Neal's shoulder. "Let me help you?"
Neal nodded silently then let go of the bed, unzipped his jeans and shoved them down until he could step out of both his shoes and his jeans. Peter helped him keep his balance as he pulled on the thin gown and climbed back onto the gurney, and to Peter's surprise Neal sank down to rest on his back, his eyes closed. He looked pale and exhausted, and Peter didn't know what to do other than cover him with the white blanket the nurse had left. He picked up Neal's jeans, frowning at the sticky feel of blood on the black denim, then folded them along with Neal's other clothes.
The jeans at least would wash up fine, but Peter didn't think Neal would want to pull them back on when it was time to go home. He sent a few texts to El letting her know what had happened, and she offered to bring out some clothes for Neal to wear home. That taken care of, Peter looked back at Neal. His eyes were still closed, but he was breathing with a kind of forced regularity that betrayed his waking state.
"I'm not sure what's going on in your head," Peter said, "but you did a really good thing today. I'm sorry I was hard on you when I first got there." Peter ducked his head and ran a hand over his face. "I just got that alert, and then you weren't answering your phone." Peter sighed. "I didn't know whether to be more worried or more angry."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I imagine your phone fell out of your pocket while you were climbing around in that car. I'll call the PD and ask them to keep an eye out for it."
"Thanks."
Peter sighed and stood close enough to the side of the gurney that his arm brushed Neal's. "What happened in there?"
Neal opened his eyes but then looked away. "Nothing, really."
Peter didn't believe that for one moment, but before he could ask any more questions the doctor came in. Peter hung back and stayed quiet while the doctor evaluated Neal. Neal seemed to pass the neuro check and the doctor didn't seem very worried overall.
"Okay, Mr. Caffrey," the doctor said after a few minutes, "I'm going to have a nurse come in and give you an IV with some saline just because I think it'll help you feel better. Most of these lacerations should heal well as long as you keep them clean, but you do need a few stitches. Are you allergic to any medications?"
"No."
"Good. I'll give you a little bit of local anesthesia to numb the area, and by the time the nurse is done starting you on the saline you should be ready for those sutures."
Neal barely reacted when the doctor injected him with the anesthetic, and he ignored the nurse's friendly chatter as she put a needle in his arm and hung the bag of saline. The doctor finished the stitches quickly, and then Neal had new, clean bandages. They'd discharge him when the IV finished, but until then Neal was stuck and Peter hoped he could use that time to find out what was going on inside his head.
"You don't have to stay," Neal said when they'd been alone in relative silence for a few minutes.
"Maybe not, but I'm going to."
Neal shrugged.
"So, here are the things I know: you ran up to a car that had just crashed, checked on the driver and passengers, and kept those two kids and their mother calm until the first responders arrived. Right?"
Neal shrugged again.
"And then you went back inside--injured--and stayed with the driver until they chased you away?"
"She asked me to."
"It's that calming smile of yours," Peter said, trying to draw Neal out, but Neal's mouth twisted into a frown and he turned his head to look at the curtain on the other side of the gurney. "Neal?"
He breathed out a humorless laugh. "You want to know how I learned to use that calming smile?"
"Trying to charm girls into kissing you on the school bus?"
"I wish. Well, I mean, that too." A flash of a smile crossed Neal's face, and Peter felt the knot of worry in his gut loosen just a fraction even once the smile was gone.
"So what came before that?"
Neal didn't answer at first but then he looked steadily up at Peter. When he spoke, his words were slow and deliberate, a laying out of facts. "Before that, I figured out that if I talked the right way and looked at her the right way I could do things like convince my mother to get out of bed and go to work or get her to stop crying. Things like that." Neal raised his eyebrows, the rest of his face tense, shut down.
These pieces of Neal's past were so rare, and Peter knew that an emotional reaction on his part would only make Neal close down further. He swallowed back the hurt he felt for the child Neal had been and just nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. But you need to know you did a good thing today. You helped those people."
"I don't know," Neal said, looking away again.
Peter wanted to argue, but he decided he wasn't going to do anything but make Neal retreat further if he kept it up. Instead, he just sat down and checked his phone. When El texted him that she had arrived, Peter excused himself and went to meet her in the ER waiting room. She greeted him with a hug and a kiss then handed over the paper shopping bag she was carrying.
"I couldn't reach June so I brought one of your smaller henleys and those drawstring-waist pants that were always too short."
"The ones your mother sent?"
El rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yes, hon. They should be fine for Neal. Or better than dirty clothes, anyway."
"I would bring you back to see him but I don't know. He's not very sociable right now."
El frowned sympathetically and nodded. "It's okay. You should see if you can get him to come back to the house with you. It's been a while."
"It has." Neal hadn't been to the house since Peter's awkward welcome-home party. While Neal was still under the supervision of another agent, Peter hadn't wanted to cause problems for either of them by encouraging Neal to ask for an exception to his radius. Since then, Peter hadn't extended the invitation and Neal was too conscious of following the rules to just show up on their doorstep. Peter asked himself whether Neal would have expected to be welcome in the Burke house, but he didn't have a good answer for that question.
"Hon?"
Peter blinked and realized he'd been woolgathering. "Sorry, it's been a crazy morning. I'll do my best."
"Of course you will." El leaned in for another quick kiss then turned and left.
When Peter made his way back to Neal's spot in the treatment area, he found Neal sitting up on the side of the bed, holding out his arm while the nurse removed the IV. She put a band-aid over the drop of blood that welled up then handed Neal a collection of papers. "You should take it easy for the rest of the day, and your discharge instructions are in here. Have you had stitches before?"
"More than once."
"Well, then you know what to do. I'll leave you to get changed." The nurse left and Neal looked unhappily at the clothes he'd been wearing earlier.
"These might help." Peter put the bag on the gurney next to Neal who examined the contents dubiously. "Yes, they're mine, but my wife picked them out for you so they should fit. I'm sorry I didn't have a Devore in your size in my closet."
Neal didn't take the bait. "This is fine. At least they're clean." Neal shrugged out of the hospital gown and pulled on the shirt.
Peter cleared his throat. "Speaking of that, what would you think about coming home with me? El asked me to invite you, and I think it would be a good idea."
"I'm okay. I'm not going to bleed out or anything if you leave me alone."
"I know you're not going to bleed out." Peter wasn't about to agree with the idea of Neal being okay. "I'd like it if you came. Satchmo misses you, and I swear I'll leave you alone if you want me to. Of course I can't make any promises for El."
Neal was quiet for a minute as he finished getting dressed, but then he nodded. "I need to go back to June's to pick up some things, but okay. I miss Satchmo, too."
Peter turned to hide the pleased smile he couldn't quite contain then ushered Neal out through the maze of the treatment area and into the waiting room. He would be glad to leave the place behind.
~~~
Neal was doing his best to tune out the low-level chaos of the emergency room when he heard his name and turned to see a little girl running toward him. Sasha. Before Neal could figure out what to say, a harried-looking man came up behind her and pulled her close to his side. "Please don't run away from me like that," he said.
"But Dad, it's Neal. Remember, I told you?" She looked up at Neal and, despite the small bandage on her cheek and the redness around her eyes that told Neal she'd been crying, she gave him a bright smile. "He was nice." Neal felt a lump in his throat at the trust in her eyes.
"I remember, sweetheart." He held out his hand to shake with Neal. "Hi, I'm Dan Ballard. Thank you so much. I--were you hurt?"
"Just a couple of scratches, I'm fine. Can I ask, how is Jody? And Brian?"
Dan sighed and squeezed Sasha's shoulder. "They're going to be okay. The doctor wants to keep Brian until tomorrow for observation, but he was chatting up a storm half an hour ago so I think he's just fine. My wife is going to be here for a little longer, but she should be okay. Thank God."
"I'm glad to hear that."
Dan nodded. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Before Neal could answer, he looked down at his daughter. "Sasha, can you go sit in that chair for a minute and wait for me?" He pointed to a seat several feet away but clearly in sight of where they stood.
"Okay." With another smile for Neal she went and sat down.
Dan moved to stand where he could talk to Neal and keep an eye on Sasha at the same time. "I didn't want to say this in front of Sasha because it would scare her, but I want to let you know what a big thing you did for my family."
"I really didn't do anything."
"No, listen. The doctors said that if Jody had tried to get out to check on the kids she probably would have injured her leg worse, maybe beyond what they could have fixed. And Sasha doesn't know this, but Jody has an injury to her neck. It should heal, but if she had moved around--" Dan rubbed at the back of his own neck. "I mean, her blood sugar crashed on the drive home from her sister's house, and she could have ended up paralyzed. And my children would've been alone and completely terrified until help got there. I can't possible thank you enough, and I'm sorry you got hurt in the middle of it all."
Neal didn't know what to say. His chest felt heavy and tight and he turned away from Dan's earnestly grateful face. Behind him, he heard a murmur of Peter talking to Dan, and after a minute or two he felt Peter's hand on his back. "You ready to go?" Peter's voice was gentle in a way that told Neal he was still a mess.
"Did they--"
"They left. I think everyone was a little overwhelmed."
Neal nodded and decided to focus on the present--walking with Peter to the parking garage, the pull of the stitches on his belly, the pleasant sting of cool fall air on his face. He appreciated the space Peter was giving him, even if there wasn't any literal space, what with Peter driving him home and shadowing him up the stairs. As always, it was difficult not to regret having shared something about his past. There was a strange comfort in feeling like he could be known and accepted for what he really was, but at the same time he couldn't shake the instinct to keep his weak spots protected.
Inside his apartment, Neal shivered and turned to face Peter. "What I told you earlier, I don't suppose you can forget about that?"
Peter blinked slowly. "I won't bring it up if you don't want me to, but forget? No."
Neal hadn't expected anything else. "I get it." Neal sat down at the table and put his head in his hands, feeling the grit and tiny crumbles of glass in his hair. "All I really want to do is take a shower but I have to wait at least a day because of the stitches."
"I think we can work around it some. Why don't you pack what you need, and you can get clean and change at my house." Peter squeezed Neal's shoulder and the weight of his hand there felt grounding. "And then you can get some rest. You look exhausted."
Neal didn't answer; he just pushed himself to his feet and went off to gather the clothes and toiletries and other things he'd need.
"You've looked tired a lot lately," Peter said as Neal pass him on his way across the apartment. "You might consider sleeping instead of wandering the streets."
"Sure. No problem. We're under more scrutiny than ever and the one thing--" Neal felt his emotions starting to slip out of control and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The one thing I worry about more than being sent back to prison myself is the idea of causing more problems for you and Elizabeth."
"I appreciate that," Peter said, his voice low and steady, "but you need to take care of yourself, too."
Neal didn't have a response for that. He zipped up his bag and turned to look at Peter. "I'm ready to go."
The truth was that Neal was tired. The interior of Peter's car was pleasantly sun-warmed, and Neal let himself drift off to sleep before they'd traveled more than a few blocks. He was safe and there was nothing else he needed to do.
~~~
The house was quiet when Peter ushered Neal in through the front door. El was still out taking care of a client's event, and as much as it would've been easier to turn Neal over to his wife he thought that this time away from work and other distractions was what they needed. Satchmo loped over to greet them, and Peter held his hand out for Neal's bag.
"I'll take it up for you. I need to get a few things anyway, then I'll be right down."
Neal shrugged. "Thanks."
Upstairs, Peter dropped Neal's bag on the bed in the guest room then grabbed a bath towel and a bottle of shampoo and headed back downstairs. He found the black folding stool in the coat closet and walked back to the kitchen with Neal following behind.
Neal lifted one eyebrow. "What exactly is going on?"
"I'm going to wash your hair."
"Are you serious?"
"Of course." Peter unfolded the stool and placed it in front of the sink. "You don't want to go to bed with your hair like that, but you can't take a shower, and if you try to wash it in the sink yourself you'll pull your stitches."
Neal still looked skeptical. "I could probably manage it."
Peter pointed at Neal and then pointed at the seat. "It's okay to let somebody take care of you for a few minutes."
"I let people take care of me."
"Sure you do--when you don't actually need help."
Neal looked unhappy at that, but he acquiesced. Peter wrapped the towel around Neal's shoulders then realized he needed something to pad the edge of the counter. A pair of folded up dish towels did the job, and Peter pulled Neal's shoulders back until his head was leaned back over the sink. He ran the water until it was at the right temperature then used the spray head to wet down Neal's hair.
There really was a lot of debris in the thick waves of Neal's hair, so Peter took time to rinse it well first, removing tiny pieces of plastic and safety glass and whatever else was in there. Neal sighed heavily, and Peter looked at his face, drawn from exhaustion and the excitement of the day, eyes closed, vulnerable in a way Peter rarely saw. "You doing okay?"
Neal nodded.
"Okay. If I get shampoo in your eyes, I'm apologizing ahead of time." Peter poured the shampoo into his hand then started working it through Neal's hair. Neal relaxed more, and Peter thought that this might be the right time to talk. "I remember saying something to you one time, years ago now about the choice you needed to make, the choice to be a con or a man."
"I remember," Neal said, his eyes still closed.
"It's pretty clear to me that you made a choice and that you're sticking with it. You're a man I'm proud to know. And not just today. Today you were superman, but you don't have to be superman to be a good man." Neal didn't say anything, but Peter knew he'd been heard from the hint of dampness around Neal's eyelashes. Peter picked up the spray head again and started rinsing the shampoo out of Neal's hair. He carefully directed a small stream of clean water past Neal's hairline to his forehead. "Oh damn, sorry about that."
Neal took the excuse Peter had given him and wiped at his eyes. He squinted up at Peter. "Almost done?"
"Just about." Peter checked to make sure there wasn't anymore soap or debris in Neal's hair then squeezed out the worst of the water and nudged Neal to sit up straight. He picked up the towel from Neal's shoulders and rubbed it over Neal's hair until it was dry enough to not drip. "Okay, I left a washcloth on the sink upstairs so you can clean up before you go rest. Let me know if there's anything else you need."
Neal nodded then turned to go. Peter was wiping up the water he'd splashed on the countertops when he heard Neal stop in the doorway. "Peter? Thank you."
"You're welcome. Now go."
Neal went. Peter listened as he ran the water in the upstairs bathroom, and after he heard the guest room door shut Peter went to find his calendar and make some notes. In a couple of weeks or so, when the Ballard family would hopefully be recovering from their crisis, Peter was going to make some calls. Neal deserved to have another shot at commutation, and a family's testimony about a man who became a little girl's hero and kept an injured woman safe could be his best chance at being free of the anklet and the constant threat of consequences.
Peter didn't know if he could make that happen, but he was sure as hell going to try.