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Neal would have been there if Peter had gotten hurt in any circumstance. But taking two bullets in the chest and shoulder, sacrificing himself to shield Neal…well, the survivor’s guilt was strong.
Peter had survived. He was himself, but he would never be the same. Today was not a good day. Days when Elizabeth was out of town rarely were.
Peter was in bed, listlessly picking at his dinner. Neal had made chili cheese tater tots at Peter’s suggestion. Peter had no appetite, so they thought maybe something vaguely addictive might help. It did not seem to have worked.
“Sorry,” said Peter, using his left hand to hold the bowl out to Neal. His right, paralyzed arm hung in a sling. He was watching Neal with dull eyes, all mischief and joy gone.
Neal bit his lip. He knew they could do better than this.
“Hey. I’m gonna call Mozzie. I’ll be right back.
Peter nodded, and turned his head to look tiredly out the window.
Nial dialed Mozzie’s current burned phone number. Two hours later, Neal entered the bedroom in the one level apartment Peter and Elizabeth had moved to. Peter was awake, still looking out the window listlessly.
“Hey,” said Neal, sitting beside Peter on the bed, “wanna stage a prison break?”
Peter blinked at Neal, and asked with the tiniest of chuckles, “be more specific?”
“Come in,” called Neal.
Mozzie and Jones came in, with a rolling stretcher for an ambulance. Peter stared at them. Then he looked at Neal again.
“I booked a campsite upstate. Jones already had a tent, it’s big enough for three people. Mozzie can handle driving and then go to a hotel. Jones and I will make sure you’re okay in the back, and overnight.”
Peter chewed his bottom lip. Neal looked at him, pleadingly. Peter finally relented, “okay. Let’s try it.”
The medical transport company that took Peter to his appointments was much better than the three of them. However, they did get Peter onto the stretcher, strapped in, and into the transport ambulance. Peter, lying flat in the back brace and sling, just panted for a minute.
Neal leaned over him, ducking his head to avoid hitting the low ceiling. Peter gave Neal a shaky thumbs up with his left hand. Neal grinned.
“Let’s stage this prison break,” rasped Peter.
Nean beamed, and banged on the front to tell Mozzie to go.
The highways were clear and moving steadily. Peter was doing well enough they propped the head of the gurney up so he could see out the back window.
Mozzie did his best, but as they got off the highway the roads got rough. They had to stop and get Peter laying back down, and tighten the stretcher straps and check the back brace.
Neal held Peter's hand as they started moving again, and reached across, hand on Peter's hip, stabilizing his body more. Jones grabbed one of the sleeping bags and stuffed it between Peter's side and the rail.
Peter just shut his eyes, and tried to ride it out until they got there.
When they arrived, Jones set up the tent. Neal and Mozzie very carefully pulled the stretcher out, Jones coming over to help make sure they could be as smooth as possible.
Peter was in a lot of pain. But he was looking around at the wooded site with something between interest and relief.
Neal took Peter’s good hand. Peter looked up at him, grinning, “this was an amazing idea. Thank you.”
Neal nodded, and pecked Peter on the forehead, “you are a simple man, Peter. You’re easy to impress.”
Jones started a fire. Mozzie poured wine into plastic glasses. He opened a beer for Peter and plopped a bendy straw in it so it was easy to drink lying down. They carefully rolled the stretcher by the fire, and lowered it down so Peter was close enough to feel the welcome heat.
Neal set up the grate of the fire for grilling, and got the four inch-and-a-half thick steaks Mozzie had acquired and salted before arriving in the ambulance. Neal threw some corn on the grate in its husks.
It was getting dark by the time the fire was ready to cook the steaks. The corn was ready, and the steaks ended up gorgeously seared, the fat cap rendered and the inside a perfect medium rare.
Under a clear sky, stars so thick you could make out the milky way, Neal cut up the steak and peeled and buttered the corn for Peter. Neal watched, trying not to be too obvious, as Peter tried the steak. Peter closed his eyes, and moaned in pleasure.
Neal, Mozzie, and Jones all looked at each other, gratified that Peter was actually enjoying himself. Peter continued eating as he looked up at the starry sky through the dark shapes of trees, putting away more food in one go than he usually did in a day. Neal was thrilled.
After Peter finished eating, he just rotated between watching the fire, the sky, and his people, a big smile growing on his face.
Neal supposed would be pretty bummed out if he was stuck in bed unable to do the things he loved. If all he had to do to make Peter happy was rent a medical transport and sleep on the ground…well that was a sacrifice he was very willing to make.