Work Text:
It all started after Neal had been babysitting Theo. Diana had asked Mozzie to babysit Theo while she was on a stakeout and Neal had volunteered to spent some time with both of them. Theo had been fussy and whiny and it was clear that he was coming down with something.
The whole White Collar unit had been working hard to crack their current case and Neal had had a tough week. He had gone undercover and the guy they were after was so paranoid that he had kept Neal in his vicinity around the clock. It had worked out in the end and Neal had gotten the guy to incriminate himself, but it had been a couple of stressful days. When the case was finally closed and the guy was arrested, Neal was glad he could go home and crawl into bed.
Peter asked him to join the team for a celebratory drink, but Neal hadn´t been feeling too hot and he just wanted to sleep. So he took a cab to June´s, had a hot shower and got into bed.
He woke up in the middle of the night in a sweat and generally feeling unwell. He was hot and itchy and he couldn´t bring himself to get out of bed and look for a thermometer.
* * *
The next morning his telephone rang and he blearily looked at it before letting it go to voicemail. He would listen to it later. But after a couple of minutes staring at the ceiling, he noticed he had to come out of bed, to take care of business. He stumbled to the bathroom, slowly making his way to the toilet. When he looked into the mirror, he startled, what was that? He had a red sort of rash on his face and chest. Not good.
So he looked in the cabinet for the thermometer and put it in his mouth while we walked back to the bed. When it beeped, he looked, 101 degrees, OK, so he had a fever. He would drink water and get some Tylenols, right after he had a nap.
* * *
“You´ve reached Neal, remember, big brother is listening.”
“Hi, this is Peter, are you OK? You weren´t looking so hot yesterday. Give me a call when you get this message.”
Peter hung up the phone and was contemplating what he would do, drive over to June´s? Neal was a grown up, so if he needed help, he would call, wouldn´t he?
Peter turned to El. “Can you contact Mozzie? I´m worried about Neal.”
Within a couple of minutes, Peter´s telephone rang.
“Suit?”
“Hi Mozzie, have you seen Neal last night?”
“No, should I´ve seen him?”
“ I´m just worried, maybe you can check on him to see if he is sick?”
“And expose myself to his germs, I don´t think so, suit. You check up on him if you think he is sick.” Mozzie was already on another phone calling June to ask her if she could check up on Neal. If necessary he could always go down there himself. He had to get some bacterial disinfectant before going over, though.
“Fine, I will take care of it.” Peter sighed.
“You better, suit.”
Another call came in before Peter had time to get his coat.
“Peter, it´s June. I think you should come over.” Her voice was light, so it couldn´t be that bad, could it?
“OK, I´m on my way.” How had June known to check on Neal. Right, Mozzie. Peter picked up his keys and drove up to June´s.
He was led in by the maid and quickly walked over to Neal´s apartment where he was met by June.
“How is he?”
“He is running a fever, he hasn´t woken yet, but by the looks of it, he´s having chickenpox. Did you have it before?” June asked smiling.
“Yeah, as a kid.”
“ Well, I guess, Neal was never exposed to the virus before, because look at him.”
Peter walked over to the bed and it was clear as day. Neal had chickenpox. Peter was relieved, nothing serious.
“I asked my physician to make a house call, because we need some medication, I know that chickenpox in adults is much worse than in children.”
With that, Neal startled awake and was looking confused at June and Peter.
“What are you doing here?” Absently, he started scratching his belly.
“Neal, sweetie, you have to stop scratching, or you will get scars.” June gently pulled his hand away from his stomach.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not well, my joints hurt, do I have the flu?” Neal looked like he could scratch himself everywhere and that he needed all his will power to prevent himself doing so.
“No, we think you have chickenpox.”
“Chickenpox? That isn´t bad is it?” Neal looked like he could keel over any minute.
“Why don´t you rest a bit, the doctor will stop by later today.” June gently pushed Neal back down and tucked him in.
“I will watch him, June, you go on with your business, I will stay here and take care of him until the doctor comes.” Peter took of his coat.
“OK, I will send up some coffee and sandwiches for you and some applesauce and ginger ale for Neal. Oh, and a pair of mittens.”
Peter settled down on the couch with Neal asleep and soon joined him. He woke up when he heard Neal moan. He quickly made his way over to the bed and saw that Neal was having a labored breathing. Where was that doctor?
When Peter touched Neal, he was surprised by how cold his hands were, while the fever had returned. He took the thermometer out and placed it in Neal´s mouth, waking Neal in the process.
“Shh, Neal, I just want to know your temperature.”
“103, this is not good Neal. I want you to drink some water and take these Tylenols.”
Neal meekly swallowed the pills and lay back down, and was out again before his head reached the pillow.
Peter was getting worried; this looked a lot worse than he could remember what he went through as a kid. But while he was thinking on what to do next, there was a knock on the door. Peter walked over to answer it. It turned out to be Doctor Morrison, June´s physician. Peter showed the doctor where Neal was sleeping in his bed.
The doctor quickly took his vitals and then checked the rash. When he lifted Neal´s T-shirt, Neal woke with a startle.
“Hi Neal, I´m Doctor Morrison, June asked me to come over and have a look at you. I´m not happy with the development of the rash, It is pretty bad, so I´m going to prescribe you a medicine that is called Acyclovir, it should help.”
Peter took the prescription from the doctor and promised to fill it. He also needed more Tylenol to control the fever and make sure Neal drank plenty of fluids.
When June arrived back at the house, Peter quickly went to the pharmacist to fill the prescription and called El to tell her he would be home late. She promised to come over to keep him company as she also had chickenpox when she was a kid.
Peter made sure Neal took his pills and drank his fluids. Somewhere during the night Neal´s fever broke and he slept more peacefully.
Over the days, the poxes were getting less noticeable and Neal took the Acyclovir as the doctor had told him. Eventually, the rash was gone and Neal went back to work.
* * *
Peter had been checking on Neal´s tracking data and saw that he spent a lot of time at Second Cemetery of Congregation and New York State Cemetery. It was odd, why would Neal spent so much time there? Ellen and Kate where not buried at any of them, so why go there?
When he invited Neal with him for lunch, he called El and asked her to join them. They had a pleasant lunch and Neal kept up a good facade, but Peter noticed that he had hardly eaten anything. Later at home, El told him how pale Neal looked and that he had lost weight. Peter had suspected it, which is why he had asked El to join them, seeing Neal every day made it hard to assess the situation objectively. He made a mental note to talk to Neal the next day.
Before he went to bed, he checked Neal´s location and again he was located at Second Cemetery. He had to find out what was going on. Maybe Neal was casing something or someone. He told El he was going to talk to Neal and grabbed his phone and keys.
When he arrived at the cemetery, Peter had a creepy feeling, but discarded it. He was a grown man for god sake.
He found Neal laying down on a tombstone.
“Hey, what are you doing, Neal?” Peter saw Neal cringe. He slowly walked over and crouched down next to Neal, who was cold to the touch. “Aren´t you cold?”.
“No, I´m fine.”
“Why are you here instead of in your warm bed?”
“Dead men don´t need a bed, Peter.”
“What do you mean? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Peter instinctively reached for his gun.
“No, I´m fine, can you give me lift home?” Neal got up from the tombstone.
“Yeah, sure, better, why don´t you come with me to my place? June is out of town, remember?”
Peter could see Neal thinking about it and he gently pulled Neal towards the car. He decided to take Neal home with him, so he could keep an eye out for him.
“Have you eaten yet? El made some tuna casserole. I can reheat some for you.”
“Naa, not hungry.” Neal shrugged.
“When was the last time you ate, Neal?” Peter was getting concerned.
“I don´t know, but I don´t need to eat.”
“What do you mean, you don´t need to eat?”
“Why would I need to eat, it is not that I would die or anything?” Neal sounded like he was stating an obvious fact.
“Neal, you are starting to worry me, why would you say that?”
“What am I stating? I can´t die, Peter. I told you before.” Neal looked like he was getting bored with this conversation.
“Humor me, Neal, let´s go.” Peter took Neal gently by the arm and Neal let himself be led out of the graveyard.
Peter placed Neal in his car and drove to Brooklyn, even though Neal wanted to go back to June´s, but Peter was now genuinely worried. When they arrived, he took Neal into the kitchen and placed a glass of water in front of him. In the kitchen light, Peter could see that Neal´s face looked gaunt and unhealthy. How long had he not been eating or drinking?
Peter looked for the tuna casserole, but also found some soup in the fridge. He was in doubt, but finally decided for the soup, it would be easier on Neal, and heated it up. The aroma of chicken soup quickly filled the kitchen, Peter´s stomach growled at the scent of it, but Neal was completely stoic. Peter poured Neal and himself a bowl and placed the steaming bowl in front of Neal.
“I told you Peter, I …”
“Just humor me, please.”
“I can´t, I…”
“Why can´t you eat Neal?” Peter sounded desperate.
“Because I have no brain and without my brain, there is no reason for me to eat. Can´t you understand?”
Peter´s eyes widened in alarm on hearing Neal´s statement.
“What are you on, Neal? Did you take something? Where you dozed?” Peter was getting his phone out to call 911.
“What are you talking about Peter, of course I didn´t take anything. Why would I, I´m already dead, it is not like it is going to change anything.” Neal looked at Peter with a strange look.
Peter could see in his eyes that Neal meant what he said. It wasn´t a con. Neal was convinced that he was dead.
“I would feel better if you would let me take you to a hospital so I can make sure for myself that you are death.”
“OK, if that would convince you.” Neal just shrugged his shoulders.
* * *
The doctor that saw Neal in the ER, immediately called a psych consult and Neal was committed. Peter was still filling in forms when he was told to report to the psychiatric ward. He was told that Neal had resisted and they had given him some sedation. By the time Peter saw him; Neal was lying on his back on a bed in soft restraints.
“What is going on? Neal wouldn´t hurt anybody, so why would you sedate him?” Peter looked angry at the doctor.
“Mister Burke, is it? When Neal was talking to our psychiatrist, he had the feeling that he wasn´t taken seriously and he wanted to prove that he was death, so took a scalpel to prove that he wouldn´t bleed because he was already dead. We could prevent him harming himself by sedating Mister Caffrey. He will be placed under suicide watch until we can diagnose him. Is there anything we need to know?”
“Not that I know of. Do we know if he was drugged? He is a CI for the FBI, so maybe someone wanted to harm him?”
“I ordered a tox screen, so we will know more when I have the results back. But is there anything else? Is Mr. Caffrey depressed? Taking medication? Was he sick recently?”
“Neal had chickenpox a couple of weeks ago.”
“OK, that could be relevant. I will check it out.” The doctor left Peter, who sat down in the chair next to Neal´s bed.
Peter had gotten himself some coffee and a news paper when Neal started stirring. When he felt that he was tied down, Peter could hear his breathing picking up in speed.
“Hey, Hey, you´re OK, Neal. I´m here.”
Neal opened his eyes and looked blearily at Peter.
“What happened?”
“You were trying to make a point to the doctor and he didn´t take it too well.” Peter explained.
“Oh, right, the scalpel. Did they see that I don´t have a brain?”
“Well, not exactly, they are still trying to find out what is wrong with you.”
A couple of hours later, another doctor entered the room wearing a big smile.
“Mister Caffrey, we have good news, we contacted your physician and it turns out that he treated your chickenpox with Acyclovir. This medicine can cause Cotard´s Delusion and we are fairly sure that you are suffering from it.” The doctor looked expectantly at Neal.
When Neal didn´t say anything, Peter addressed the doctor.
“Can it be reversed? Is there a treatment?”
“Yes, there is, normally Cotard is treated with ECT as it normally manifest itself as a mental illness, but Mister Caffrey contracted the symptoms due to his body´s inability to process the principal metabolite of the drug Acyclovir. We want to perform a hemodialysis so that the metabolite is filtered from Mister Caffrey´s blood. We will transfer him to the dialysis ward where he will get a CVC and dialysis can be started as soon as possible. If this works, he will feel better within hours. I understand you are Mister Caffrey´s medical proxy? ”
Neal hadn´t really been paying attention, only looking at Peter. When Peter gave his consent, he turned to face Neal.
“Do you understand what the doctors want to do?”
“Peter, please, just let them bring me to the morgue, that is where I belong, I shouldn´t be in a hospital bed.”
Peter sighed; Neal was too far gone in his delusion. Peter just squeezed his hand.
“Can I stay with him?”
“Of course, you seem to have a relaxing effect on Mister Caffrey.” The nurse told him.
Neal was transferred to the dialysis ward, where a team was already waiting for him. He was given a light sedation, so he was still conscious, but to out to really interact with anybody. An intern quickly placed the catheter into his femoral vein and connected it to the dialysis machine. Neal was just dozing while the machine filtered his blood. Peter was too anxious to do anything else, he kept on reassuring Neal, even when he wasn´t sure he was getting through to Neal. But it felt like he was doing something and it helped in reassuring himself.
Later that evening, Neal became more aware. He had been disconnected from the dialysis machine and the doctors had tested his blood. They couldn´t detect the metabolite anymore, so they were pretty sure, Neal would be OK.
“Hey, back with us?” Peter asked gently.
“What happened?”
“You don´t remember? Should I take you to the morgue?” Peter looked at Neal waiting for an answer.
“The morgue? What aren´t you telling me?” Neal looked strangely at Peter.
“Are you dead?”
“No, I don´t think so. Are you?”
Peter smiled up to Neal. “Welcome back Neal.”