I was reading another fanfic story, and this idea just came to me. Neal gets hurt, and needs to go to the hospital. Peter finds out some horrifying things about Neal's medical history, that has him dying for Neal to wake up so that he can find out the truth.
I really need to finish my stories before I start new ones, but this idea just took root in my brain, and I couldn't get rid of it!
Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar or any of its characters. Everything belongs to USA.
"Neal, don't move, you're going to be fine." Peter looked around at the agents surrounding him. "What's the ETA on that ambulance?"
Diana and Jones hurried up to him. "Less than five minutes out, boss," Diana replied, looking down at everyone's favorite conman. She refused to let her fear show through, and her face remained impassive as she continued, "What do you want us to do now?"
Peter looked up at his favorite agent- though he didn't usually play the favorites game, he couldn't deny that he liked Diana the best. He could see the stoic exterior, but he could also see the hidden fear in her eyes. The way she kept glancing briefly down at the unconscious man lying broken on the concrete. He attempted a reassuring smile, though he wasn't certain how it actually came out. "Just make sure everyone does their jobs," he told the two agents.
Diana nodded and turned away briefly, while Jones squatted down next to his boss, staring at the consultant who had captured all of their hearts without them even realizing it. "He's going to be all right, right boss?" he asked tentatively.
Peter looked at the agent next to him. "He'll be fine." He tried to sound positive, but he was certain the man could hear the waver in his voice.
Jones continued, "What happened?"
Peter shook his head. "Neal always has to play the hero." A hard edge crept into his voice as he kept going, "Franceso took me down-" he nodded to the cuffed criminal being held by two agents near the door, "and Neal charged him." He chuckled dryly. "Idiot doesn't even like violence, why on earth would he take on a perp like that?"
Jones looked at his boss. For someone so smart, Peter Burke could be incredibly stupid. "Because he cares about you," he replied quietly.
Peter looked up in surprise, but before he could say anything, the conman in question stirred slightly, and his eyes opened just a little bit. "Peter?" he asked fuzzily.
Peter gripped his upper arm, trying to get him to stop moving. "I'm here, Neal, just hold on, OK?"
Neal blinked slowly, and looked around the room, as much as he was able to. "Wha-" he tried to speak, but wasn't able to string any more words together as he started coughing and gasping for air.
Peter held on tighter, and shook his arm slightly, attempting to get the former criminal to focus on him. When Neal's eyes found his again, and his coughing subsided slightly, he said, "You're going to be fine, Caffrey, don't speak right now, an ambulance is on the way." He managed a smile now, albeit a small one. "You got yourself pretty banged up this time."
Neal attempted to return the smile. "I trust you Peter," he mumbled, before his eyes closed again. And didn't open.
Peter looked at Jones, alarmed. "Where the hell is that ambulance?" he yelled out to the room.
Diana came rushing over, two paramedics in tow. "Right here, boss," she replied, kneeling down next to Jones, watching as the medics got to work.
"What happened?" one of them asked, feeling for a pulse.
"He took a beating. Might have hit his head a few times, and I'm certain there's at least one broken rib," Peter replied quickly.
The second paramedic opened up Neal's shirt, and the three FBI agents surrounding them winced and gasped at the huge bruise spreading across his abdomen. "I'm certain you're right," he commented, raising his eyebrow.
The first medic interrupted anything else that would have been said, as he called out, "Pulse is dropping quickly; he may have a punctured lung."
Peter felt his own heart stop as he heard that. He, Jones, and Diana found themselves pushed back as the two medics got to work, quickly getting Neal strapped to a backboard, and then on the gurney. They wheeled him out of the agent-filled room, followed quickly by the three that mattered the most, all eyes watching them.
Peter used his badge to get information out of the nurses. Their 'family only' policy went out the window once he had flashed the shield and told them that the man in question was, in fact, his partner. They had been the ones to assume that he was also an FBI agent, and had fetched him a doctor immediately. All the MD had told him was that they were still assessing his partner's injuries, and he would let them know when he had a prognosis.
Peter, Diana, and Jones were now sitting in the waiting room, along with the newly arrived Elizabeth and June, who had both come as quickly as they were able after receiving Peter's phone call. If Peter had to hazard a guess, he would imagine that Mozzie was also lurking around somewhere, waiting in the shadows until he could visit his friend in private, to find out how bad the injuries were.
"Agent Burke?"
Peter looked up at the nurse who had called his name.
The nurse continued, "Doctor Carlson would like to talk to you. Follow me?"
Peter stood up quickly. "Is Neal OK?" he asked fearfully.
The nurse turned back around. "I'm not sure, Agent Burke, all I know is that Doctor Carlson wants to see you."
Peter nodded and looked back at the small group. They all had questioning looks. "I'll be right back," Peter told them, before following the nurse to an empty exam room, where Doctor Carlson was waiting for him, studying several X-rays that were displayed on light boards on the wall.
"Doctor?" the nurse got the man's attention, and he nodded with a strained smile. "Thank you Jenny," he replied. "Agent Burke, please come in," he addressed his visitor, as the nurse headed back towards the Emergency Room.
Peter complied, closing the door behind him. "Are those Neal's?" he asked, nodding towards the X-rays. Doctor Carlson nodded absentmindedly. "What's wrong?" Peter continued, looking worried at the doctor's attitude.
The doctor finally turned to look at the agent directly. "How long has Mr. Caffrey been an FBI agent?" he asked curiously.
Peter winced slightly. He needed to tell the truth, here and now, because he couldn't outright lie. All the other assumptions had been just that: assumptions. Now that he was being directly asked, he couldn't mislead them anymore. "He's actually not," Peter confessed. "He's a consultant, he works with us, but he's not an agent."
Doctor Carlson nodded, furrowing his brow as he turned once again to the X-rays. Peter felt his own eyes drawn towards them as well. "What's this all about?" he asked.
The doctor moved closer, and ran his fingers lightly over each X-ray as he began to explain the extent of Neal's injuries. "Your friend has been through quite an ordeal," he began. "Three broken ribs, and the paramedic was right, one of them punctured his lung." He saw the fear in Peter's eyes, and hurried to reassure him. "We were able to repair the damage, but he's on a ventilator for now until the lung gets stronger." Doctor Carlson moved over to the second X-ray, and continued, "He's got a small skull fracture, and a larger concussion, which is cause for some worry, but we're monitoring him closely." He went to the third X-ray. "Broken wrist in two places, should heal fine." The fourth X-ray now. "Fractured collar bone." The doctor looked back at Peter now. "He's going to be fine, Agent Burke, but what I'm more interested in are all these older injuries."
"What?" Peter asked, confused, as he looked at the X-rays and tried to see what the doctor saw.
Doctor Carlson ran his finger over the rib cage X-ray. "These older breaks, looks like every rib has been broken or fractured at least once, and judging from the calcification, it happened at least two decades ago." Moving through the line once more, he focused now on the skull. "See this line right here? And this one, and this one?" He looked over and waited for Peter's nod before continuing, "They're older cracks and fractures, probably happened around the same time as the rib breaks." Moving on once more, he kept going, "This arm has been broken before. So has the other one," he said, looking at the agent once more. He moved over to the table, where a small pile of X-rays were stacked. He shuffled them around for a moment, before pulling out several more. "His leg's been broken twice, his shoulder once-" he put the X-rays back down and looked at Peter, "and he's got some pretty nasty-looking scars. The nurses noticed them while getting him into a gown."
Peter listened to all of this in stunned silence. The extent of these injuries was horrifying. He tried to imagine what had happened to the con artist. He tried to come up with reasons behind it, but he couldn't imagine it all happening during the man's criminal career. He knew very little of the younger man's life before he became a criminal; just that he was an only child, and that his mother had died when he was five. Neal had gone through great lengths to hide that part of his past.
After a few minutes, he noticed that the doctor was trying to get his attention. "Hmm? Oh, sorry," he said distractedly.
Doctor Carlson half smiled. "So, I assume you know nothing about it?"
Peter shook his head. "He never told me anything," the agent whispered, feeling horrible. Clearly, the man had suffered greatly, and there was nothing Peter could do about it. He had never even asked. Looking back, he could remember times, few and far between, but there were definitely times when he would catch the former criminal massaging his wrist or shoulder absentmindedly, as if the limb ached. He would see the man limping slightly as he walked into the office. He remembered seeing the con artist frequently lifting his hand to touch a faint scar on his neck, running from underneath his chin up to his ear. And he had never asked how Neal had gotten that scar.
Peter felt horrible. What kind of friend was he? Neal had a past, a childhood, a life, and all Peter cared about was the part that was his business, as a white collar FBI agent. He had never asked about anything else, had never assumed that there was anything else to know. But wasn't it his job to never assume anything?
He needed to get away from this room, and these X-rays on display that all seemed to be mocking him. He forced himself to meet the doctor's eyes. "When can we see Neal?" he asked, his tight voice giving his distress away.
Doctor Carlson could see some of the guilt and anguish in the man's voice and on his face, but he ignored it, and answered the question. "The nurses are getting him settled now, I'll have one of them come get you when they're done."
Peter nodded his thanks, and abruptly left the room.
They all looked up when Peter rejoined them. El got up to kiss her husband lightly. Pulling back, she smiled, and then frowned when she saw the glazed over expression. He seemed to be looking through, rather than at, any of them.
"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.
Peter finally managed to focus his gaze, and noticed that his wife was in his arms, looking scared. He attempted a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Neal's going to be fine," he reassured the group.
Diana stood up now. She saw the expression, and knew that something was wrong. She had never seen Peter look this way, and it was starting to scare her. "How bad is it?" she asked, taking a tentative step forward.
Peter looked at the female agent in front of him, and spoke to the group. "Some broken bones, a concussion…" he shrugged. "One of the broken ribs punctured his lung, but they were able to fix it."
He was interrupted by the same nurse, Jenny, coming to tell them all that Neal's room was ready, and they could go see him. "But only two at a time," she said sternly, before walking away.
Everyone looked at Peter. "Why don't you go first, boss?" Diana said hesitantly.
Peter looked at all of the people nodding, and he turned around without a word, heading into the depths of the hospital. To Neal.
The group watched him leave in silence. It was Jones who finally spoke. "Is it just me, or is there something wrong with him?" he asked, looking around.
Peter peered around the door frame cautiously, afraid of what he might see. Moving forward, he stopped in surprise. Neal looked so…peaceful. Quiet, serene. It just wasn't Neal.
The agent took a seat next to the bed, and just stared at the man lying before him. No words came for several minutes, and when they did, it was just a simple, "I'm sorry." Peter didn't know what he was apologizing for: the fact that Neal had been hurt trying to help him, or for the horrible torture he had endured, a torture that was invisible, except for the healed injuries, the old scars, and once in a while a flinch, a distant look, or a flash of fear in his eyes that was gone when anyone stopped to get a better look.
Peter looked at his consultant, his partner, his friend. He needed the man to wake up. He needed to tell him how glad he was to have him in his life. He needed the younger man to know that he cared. That he trusted him. He had never told the consultant how much he meant, not just as an asset, but as a man.
Peter didn't know how long he sat there, just staring at his friend. Part of him noticed when the door opened slightly, and Neal's other friends- no, his family- peeked in briefly one at a time, before backing out and leaving him alone once more.
All through the night, he kept watch. He waited. He wanted to be the first thing Neal saw when he woke up. He wanted the man to know that he cared. That he didn't see him as just a consultant, or a criminal. He wanted Neal to know that he loved him, like a brother, or even- sometimes- as a father.
The nurses left him alone, not bothering to point out that visiting hours had ended, knowing that he would just flash his badge and demand to stay.
Peter watched. And he waited.
So, how's that for a first chapter? This is my first White Collar fic, so go easy! I love the show, and I hope I'm doing the characters justice.
So, next up: Neal wakes up, and he and Peter have a talk. Where did Neal get all those injuries?
Reviews are my friend!