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The Best Laid Plans
by Olivia Sutton
Peter sat at his desk at the White Collar Crimes Division of the FBI's New York City office, putting the finishing touches on the paperwork from the bust of Dr. Powell. This particular case felt really good to crack and put to bed.
Neal walked in and pulled a chair up to Peter's desk. He plopped himself down. "Hi, there."
"Hi, yourself," said Peter, grinning widely.
Neal propped his legs on the corner of Peter's desk, crossing his ankles. "What?"
Peter slapped Neal's feet off his desk, still grinning mysteriously. He said nothing.
"Oh, come on, you're dying to tell me something. What?" said Neal, straightening up in the chair and checking his tie with his long fingers.
Peter smiled wider, "Elizabeth had some news for me a couple of days ago. She told me the same day I picked you up from the hospital, in fact."
"Oh? What news?"
Peter couldn't stand stringing Neal along any longer. "It seems I'm going to be a father, Neal. El's pregnant."
Neal studied Peter's joyous face. "I take it, this is a good thing?"
"Of course it's a good thing. We put off having children while she went back to school and started her business, and I established myself at the Bureau, but now... it's the perfect time. We can start a family."
"Well, congratulations!" He stood, slapping Peter on the back and giving him a half-hug.
Peter hugged Neal back, "You can be 'Uncle Neal' as long as you don't teach my child too many bad habits."
Neal grinned. Uncle Neal, he liked the sound of that.
*****
Three months later
*****
Peter woke and stretched his arm out on the bed. But the space next to him was empty. Where is El? He flipped on the light, suddenly worried. The red glowing lights of the clock on the nightstand read 12:45 a.m. and the bedroom was empty. He picked up a robe and slipped it on, intent on checking the house for his wife, when he heard a scream of pain. Peter's heart thudded with fear and he ran towards the sound.
His gun was in the safe in the downstairs office, Peter knew he didn't have time to get it. That scream had ripped through him, he needed to find El - now! He ran in slipper-clad feet down the hall to the upstairs bathroom, and opened the door.
A thin layer of blood covered the white tile bathroom floor, and El was lying there, moaning.
Horrified, Peter fell to his knees at his wife's side, "El! Oh, god, honey? El, What happened? Speak to me, El!" He became more and more panicked, when El failed to respond. He checked her for wounds, trying to find out where the blood was coming from. The lower half of her nightie was stained red, and she was sitting in a pool of blood. He grabbed towels off the bathroom rack and stuck them between his wife's legs. "No, oh no, NO!" Peter yelled, as he checked her vital signs. Her pulse was weak, and she was breathing fast, almost panting.
"El? El, come on, wake up," he said, shaking her.
"Peter?" she mumbled, opening her eyes. Her blue eyes were glazed with pain.
He kissed her forehead. "El, I'm going to get a phone, and I'll be right back. I'll be right back, honey, ok? Try to stay awake."
Unwilling to leave his wife, but knowing he had to, Peter ran to the bedroom. He snatched up the cordless phone, then dropped his cell in his bathrobe pocket as well.
He dialed 911 on the cordless phone while running back to the bathroom. He snatched a bathrobe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, and covered Elizabeth from the chest down, when the phone connected.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"Peter Burke. I need an ambulance at my home immediately." He gave the dispatcher his address. "Something's happened to my wife, she's bleeding all over the place."
"Are there any signs of violence?"
"No. I can't find any wounds. But she's six months pregnant."
"Ok, sir, are you with her now?"
Peter had just settled back down next to El and was holding her hand with his right hand, his left juggling phone, "Yeah. I found her a few seconds ago." He checked her pulse and breathing again. "She has a weak pulse and she's breathing hard and fast."
"I've dispatched an ambulance, sir. Is your wife conscious?"
"El? El?" Peter shook her again, but her eyes were closed and she didn't wake up. "No, oh god, no. She's not responding when I talk to her or shake her."
"How much blood has she lost?"
"I... I don't know. There's a lot. It's all over the floor!"
"Sir, try to stay calm. Try to keep your wife calm as well. I know this is difficult, but does it look like her water has broken?"
"What? Oh, um," Peter looked closely at the floor, then nearly threw up into the nearby toilet. "I... I can't tell, I suppose some of this could be her... oh, god."
"Is the blood thick or watery?"
"Watery," answered Peter. Suddenly it dawned on him what might be going on with Elizabeth, and he didn't want to believe it. "Oh, no."
"Sir, the ambulance should be there soon. Try to stay calm. Try to wake up your wife, if you can, and keep her conscious."
Peter nodded, and realized what he was doing, then answered, "Yes, ma'am."
Peter kept the emergency dispatcher on the line, afraid to lose contact. He stroked Elizabeth's hair with his right hand. "Honey, when did this start? Why didn't you wake me up when you knew you were bleeding?"
Elizabeth didn't answer his questions.
Peter tried to get his wife to regain consciousness, shaking her shoulder and talking to her.
El's eyes slid open, but she looked shocky and disoriented. Peter patted her cheek, "El, honey? Don't try to talk, just try to stay awake, please."
El nodded, groaning in pain.
"Sir," asked the emergency dispatcher, "Is she having contractions?"
Peter repeated the question to El.
El shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know!" she whimpered, tears in her eyes.
"She said she doesn't know. This is our first child. We haven't even started Lamaze classes yet!"
"Are the pains coming regularly, every few minutes?" asked the dispatcher.
Peter repeated the question to Elizabeth who nodded. He reported the information to the dispatcher.
From outside he could hear the squeal of an approaching siren.
"I can hear the ambulance! I need to go let the paramedics in the house. I'll give you to my wife." Peter handed the phone to El.
"Elizabeth Burke," she said, in response to a question that Peter didn't hear. Reluctant to leave El on the floor, but knowing he had to let the emergency crew into the house, Peter hurried down the stairs as quickly as possible.
Someone was pounding on the door. Peter swung it open impatiently. A man and a women dressed in paramedic uniforms stood there, carrying shoulder bags of equipment. The woman also carried a collapsible gurney. "Thank god! My wife, she's upstairs. She's bleeding, and I don't know..." Peter blurted out.
"Are you Peter Burke? I'm Sean Collins, NYC Fire Department. Where's your wife, sir?"
"Yeah, I'm Peter. She's on the floor of the bathroom. Follow me."
Peter led them upstairs.
"Bernie, take vitals," Sean said, kneeling next to Elizabeth. He took the phone from her lax hand, spoke quickly to the 911 operator and hung up.
Bernie, an African-American woman, listened to Elizabeth's chest and took her blood pressure, rattling off the numbers to her partner. With a quick flick of the wrist, she inserted an IV line in Elizabeth's left arm. Sean inserted a nasal canella in her nose, and turned on a an attached oxygen tank. Elizabeth took a slow, deeper breath, her color improving.
"My baby..." she said weakly.
"Shush, honey, take it easy," said Peter.
"Does she have any allergies? Medications? Foods? Anything?" asked Sean.
"No, nothing."
"Ma'am," said Bernie, "How far along is your pregnancy?"
"Six months," murmured Elizabeth.
Bernie glanced at Peter, who nodded.
"Have you ever been pregnant before?"
"No," answered Elizabeth.
"We need to get her to the E/R immediately." Sean motioned to his partner, and they rolled Elizabeth carefully onto the gurney, and covered her up to her armpits with a red emergency blanket. After strapping her in, Bernie locked the collapsible wheels of the gurney in place.
Peter came close to Elizabeth's side. "Can I help? Can I help you carry her down the stairs at least?"
Bernie nodded, holding up a small IV bag. "Yeah, help on my side, please."
All three carried El down the stairs, to the waiting ambulance.
"Let me ride with her. Please," said Peter, his voice quavering with fear.
"Peter?" Elizabeth called holding out her hand to him.
He took her hand. "Right here, honey."
"Sure, of course," said Sean Collins.
El was loaded into the ambulance, and it screamed off into the night.
*****
Neal Caffrey was sound asleep when his cell phone rang. He flipped on the light. "Hello?" Glancing at the antique clock on his nightstand, he was annoyed to see it was 1:30 in the morning.
"Neal," said Peter, his voice tight with repressed pain.
Neal sat up on the edge of the bed, "Peter? What's wrong? What's happened?"
"I'm at St. Vincent's hospital. It's El. Something's happened... I'm not sure what, the doctors are with her now. I think..." Neal could hear Peter desperately trying to hold himself together. "I think she's having a miscarriage, Neal."
"I'll be right there." He thought a minute. "Wait, St.Vincent's? That's past my range."
"I'll call the marshals, deactivate the warning alarm. But you'll still be on GPS. I need you, Neal, please hurry."
"I'll get a cab, right now. Hold on, Peter, just hold on."
Neal got out of bed, and pulled a pair of jeans from his dresser and a polo shirt from his closet. It wasn't his normal snappy clothes, but for a middle of the night run to the hospital, it was fast to slip on and still looked acceptable if not classy.
*******
In the cab, Neal held his breath as he crossed the imaginary, yet very real line that marked his two-mile radius, but the anklet hadn't let out a single beep. Neal hurried to the reception desk at St. Vincent's and gave Elizabeth's name. The clerk pointed him to a waiting area.
Turning in the direction the clerk pointed, Neal saw Peter, wearing sweats, a T-shirt, and a bathrobe, standing next to a doctor in a white coat. The look on Peter's face was agonizing. Neal walked quickly towards them.
"We'll take your wife in for a D and C, then she'll be taken to a room and settled in. When she's upstairs someone will come get you and you can go see her," said the doctor.
"Thank you," Peter said, hoarsely, his eyes shiny with tears.
"I'm sorry for your loss," the doctor added. He turned and walked back into the E/R examination area.
"Peter?" Neal asked, sympathetically.
Peter looked at Neal, and his face crumpled.
Neal led Peter to some nearby chairs. "Peter?" he said, gently.
"We lost the baby. El's OK. She lost a lot of blood, it was a close thing. If I hadn't woken up when I did, I might have lost them both. But we lost the baby, Neal." Peter's voice was harsh and full of pain.
Neal hugged Peter and rubbed his hands back and forth over Peter's back.
"I wanted that child, Neal. We both did. We set up the nursery, started buying baby things."
Neal just held Peter while he cried.
As Peter's tears lessened, Neal gently let go. "Are you all right?"
Peter shook his head.
Neal thought for a moment, "I'm sorry. I really am sorry. I can't imagine what pain you're going through right now. But I'm here for you. I'm here for both you and Elizabeth. What ever you need, just let me know." He smiled softly, but his expression was serious, "Even if it's just a shoulder to cry on."
Peter nodded. "Thanks, Neal. And thanks for being here."
"Thanks for turning off the alarm signal on my anklet."
"Yeah," said Peter. He took a deep breath. "Hopefully, I'll be able to see El soon. I want to see her. I haven't since..." he left off.
"What happened?" asked Neal.
Peter filled Neal in on his horrible night, finding El, the ambulance rushing into the E/R, waiting to find out what happened, waiting to find out if El was all right, if she was even alive.
Neal was quiet and observant during Peter's recital. At some point, his hand returned to Peter's back, giving friendship and support. Peter leaned into Neal's comforting touch, as he haltingly told Neal his tale.
*****
Neal and Peter had stopped talking and were sitting side by side when a nurse approached them a few minutes later. "Mr. Burke?"
Peter stood. "I'm Peter Burke."
Neal stood as well, staying quiet, and trying to project a feeling of support for his partner.
"I'm Nancy Smith, your wife's nurse. Elizabeth is resting comfortably. If you come this way you can see her."
Peter followed the nurse. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, go ahead," she said, walking down the hall.
Neal followed them, trying to be as quiet and unassuming as possible.
"The other doctor, the one from the emergency room, he said they were taking El in for a D and C? What does that mean?"
The nurse stopped a moment, then continued down the hall, "Do you want to know about the medical procedure? Most husbands don't. Rest assured, sir, it was necessary for your wife's health."
"I want to know. El and I have no secrets and I don't want to hurt her by making her explain it to me. Now, tell me, please."
The nurse nodded, "All right. You understand that your baby died, right?"
Peter nodded, his heart was full of pain but he thought that maybe if he understood, really understood what had happened, it would help. "Yeah, that much I do know."
"D and C means dilation and cutterage. Your wife was hemorrhaging, so there was a great deal of blood in her uterus and vagina. The obstetrician induced labor and delivered the baby. Then he carefully cleaned out Elizabeth's uterus. Any stray tissue left inside could cause sepsis," Nancy explained. "We want to prevent any dangerous complications such as infection that could spread to her blood. The doctors made sure there wasn't any bleeding, or infections. Elizabeth received two units of blood, and she's on antibiotics and fluids now."
Peter groaned, "You have to do that?"
"Yes, sir. Your wife's life depended on it."
"I'm not saying you, or the doctors here, don't know your jobs. How did El react?"
"You should probably talk to her about that."
Peter ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks for explaining."
"It's all right. Let me know if there is anything else I can do." She stopped in front of a hospital room door. "Here we are, room 402."
Neal took that moment to speak up, "Maybe I should wait out here, Peter? Let you and Elizabeth have some time alone?"
Peter looked at Neal, dazed, as if he had already forgotten the younger man was there, "What? Oh, yeah, um, if you don't mind, that might be a good idea."
"OK, then. I'll be right here."
Peter turned and shook Neal's hand. "Thanks for coming. Thanks for being here for me. I don't think I could have called Jones or Cruz about this."
Neal tapped a toe on the floor, "No problem, Peter. I'm glad I could be here for you. And I'm sorry about the circumstances."
Peter opened the door to El's hospital room.
Elizabeth was sitting up in bed, wearing a blue hospital gown. She looked exhausted. Peter quickly walked to her side, and gently touched her head, bending down to kiss her forehead. "El? Oh, god, El, I'm so glad you are all right. I love you."
Her eyes slid open at her husband's voice, "I love you, too, Peter. Sweetie, I..."
Peter shook his head, "I know. They told me. It's all right."
El began to cry, with deep shuddering breaths.
Peter sat on the edge of the bed and slid his arms around her. "El," he said softly. He kissed her, the said, "I love you so much, El. I was so scared. If I lost you..." He let that hang, and kissed her.
"Sorry," Elizabeth sobbed, hitching a breath.
"You have nothing to be sorry about. In no way was this your fault."
"I wanted to be a mother, Peter."
"I know, I know." He gently touched her face, running his fingers over her forehead and cheekbones, then her lips.
Elizabeth moaned softly.
He moved his hands, one was on the back of her head and the other on her shoulder. "And you will be a mother someday, El. But you need to recover from this. I need you, I need you so much. I don't know what I would do without you."
El nodded, tears running down her face. "Hold me?"
Peter held her close to his heart. They sat together, supporting each other quietly and calmly. The last time Peter had felt so sad and upset had been the day his friend and partner, Alan Turner, had died in his arms. He was so grateful that he hadn't lost his wife.
A few minutes later there was a knock at the door.
"Who could that be?" asked Elizabeth, wiping her face with her hand.
Peter took a tissue from a box on the bedside table and handed it to her. "Probably Neal," he replied.
"Neal?"
"I called him, sweetheart. I needed somebody. Someone to talk to. El..." Peter knew he sounded almost stern, his emotions were all over the place. He wanted to be strong for El, but this was new territory, and the fear and sorrow kept breaking in. "Elizabeth, I was terrified that I was going to lose you." His voice broke, "and I couldn't handle it. I especially couldn't be alone."
"You called Neal?"
"I couldn't think of anyone else. He's my partner."
A hint of her usual smile lit Elizabeth's face, "Don't you think you should let him in?"
Peter got up off the bed. Sure enough, Neal was standing in front of the door, holding a bouquet of miscellaneous flowers, a card, and a box of chocolates. Feeling the weight lift from his shoulders, Peter let Neal in.
Neal quietly walked to her bedside, "Elizabeth?"
"Neal?" Elizabeth smiled tiredly, "Are those for me? Thank you."
"Where'd you get all that, Neal?" asked Peter, curious.
Neal lifted an eyebrow. "Never reveal your secrets. But this place has an all-night gift shop."
Neal handed Elizabeth the card, placed the flowers in a water pitcher, and put the chocolates on the bedside table. "I... I know it's not much. I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. I know how much you and Peter wanted this child. I'm really sorry."
Elizabeth read the card, smiled softly, and said, "Thank you, Neal."
Neal looked at Peter for permission to touch his wife. He gently took Elizabeth's hand. "If there's anything I can do? Anything at all?"
"No," murmured Elizabeth, a look of infinite sadness on her face.
Peter sat on the edge of Elizabeth's bed, and slid his arm around his wife.
Elizabeth settled into Peter's caress "I'm tired. I think I need some rest."
Peter kissed her temple. "Should I stay here with you?"
"Just for a little while, just until I fall asleep."
"OK", Peter said.
Neal pulled his hand from Elizabeth's and sat back in his chair. "Is it all right if I sit quietly, right here?"
Elizabeth gave a small nod, her bottom lip quivering. "You don't have anyplace else to be right now, do you?"
"No," said Neal.
Silence descended on the room, to be replaced by the sound of Elizabeth's soft breathing as she fell asleep.
*****
After Elizabeth had been asleep for long enough that Peter was certain she wouldn't wake up if he moved, Peter gently let go of her, and motioned to Neal.
Neal carefully got up, and followed Peter to the corner of the room.
"Neal, there is something you can do for me. You don't have to, but.... it would help El, and me too. Can I trust you?"
Neal just looked at Peter. "You should know the answer to that question," he said, testily. "Yes, you can trust me. What do you need?"
Peter took a deep, shivering breath and then another.
Neal put a hand on the older man's shoulder, "Come on, what do you need, Peter?"
Peter settled himself, wiping his face with his hand. He was exhausted. "Could you go to my house and clean up? I... I don't want El to see the mess, and..." Tears came to Peter's eyes. He blinked them back, ashamed to be crying again. "I don't know if I could handle it. I could, if I had to, but..."
"Sure, Peter."
"Seeing my own house looking like one of the crime scenes I investigated when I worked the violent crimes unit, and knowing it was El's blood... " He left off with a shudder.
"I said, sure, Peter. Give me the keys and I'll take a cab over there, right now."
"We'll both take a cab."
"Don't you want to stay with Elizabeth?"
Peter checked his watch, "Jeezz, it's four a.m., already. Hopefully, El will sleep for a while, she needs it. Besides, when you're done, I can drop you off at June's, then come back to the hospital to pick up El wearing something a little less scruffy than this." He waved his hand at his sweats, T-shirt, and robe.
Neal placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "All right, Peter, whatever you say."
Peter stepped out of the room, and called a cab on his cell. He walked to the fourth floor nurse's station where two women and a man were writing their notes. "Miss?"
"Megan Butterworth. How can I help you, sir?"
"Peter Burke. My wife, Elizabeth, was brought in tonight. She just fell asleep, and I thought I'd take the opportunity to run home, clean up, change into more appropriate clothes..."
"We'll keep an eye on her," Megan assured him.
"If she wakes up before I get back, could you tell her where I went?"
"Of course, I can put a note on her chart, too, that way her nurse will know where you are."
"I shouldn't be gone that long."
"Don't worry, sir, we'll take care of your wife."
Peter sighed with relief, "Come on, Neal, let's see if that cab is here yet."
******
Since it was the crack of dawn, the cab arrived at the Burkes' house fairly quickly. Neal paid the driver, because Peter had left the house so fast and in such a panic he didn't even have his wallet on him.
Peter unlocked the door and they walked inside.
"Where?" Neal asked.
"Upstairs bathroom. Cleaning supplies are down here, in the hall closet." He led the way. "Thank you, Neal. Just.... thank you."
Neal briefly patted Peter's arm. "It's OK, Peter. I'm glad you called me, and I'm glad I could help."
Peter tried to shake off his fatigue. They had a job to do. They grabbed a bucket, mop, sponges, and bottle of ammonia from the cleaning closet.
"Neal, you want to borrow a pair of sweats?" Peter asked as they both heading up the stairs.
Neal caught a glance of the bathroom from the landing at the top of the stairs. "Yeah, I think that might be a good plan."
Peter walked into his bedroom, and came out with heather grey sweat pants, and an old navy blue t-shirt. He tossed the clothes to Neal, "Got you a t-shirt too, just in case. You can change in the guest bedroom." He pointed at a closed door. Peter went into the master bedroom, next door.
Neal changed quickly, laying his own clothes on the guest bed.
Opening the bathroom door wider, he was hit by the heavy smell. Seeing the lake of congealing blood on the white tile, Neal barely made it to the toilet before he threw up. He slid to the floor, shaking with the after effects.
Peter ran into the room. "What happened?"
"It's all right. I'm fine." Neal said tightly from the floor.
Noticing Neal's pale, sweaty face, Peter said, "You don't look fine."
Neal pinched his nose, quelling the nausea. He took a few breaths through his mouth. "It's just the smell and the sight of blood. There's a reason I avoided violence in my alleged crimes, Peter. But I can do this."
Peter grabbed a sponge from the bucket of cleaning supplies. "Maybe I should help you?"
Neal grabbed his wrist, "You don't need to do that. I said I'd do it. Just give me a minute." He took a few deep breaths. "I'm fine. Go."
Peter's brown eyes searched Neal's face, seeing determination. "OK, OK," Peter said with relief, and he disappeared down the hall.
Neal pulled himself together. He set the bucket in the tub, poured in ammonia and added water. This was for Elizabeth and he could do it. He would do it, he mentally cheered himself on. He slapped the mop into the bucket. Neal paused to retch into the toilet occasionally. After washing the floor, he finished scrubbing the corners of room with sponges, until it sparkled.
*****
Cleaning the bathroom took over an hour, and Neal finished with a few spurts of Febreeze that he'd found in the bathroom closet. He knocked on each door upstairs, but didn't find Peter.
Finally he found Peter in the living room. The man was slumped on the sofa, blindly staring at the TV that wasn't even on.
"Peter?"
"Done?"
"Yeah."
Peter was dressed in a grey suit, looking the same way he normally did for work. "Thanks, Neal."
"Come take a look, I don't think one of your crime scene clean up crews could have done a better job." Neal boasted, eager to show off his work.
In his mind's eye, Peter could still see the red stain, but when he blinked it was gone and the room sparkled. He tapped Neal's shoulder, "I really appreciate this."
"Sure." Realizing he was still wearing borrowed clothes, he said, "I should change."
"Yeah. And I'll drive you home, Neal."
"I can take a cab."
Peter shook his head. "You're my responsibility. I'm supposed to see you home," he reminded him.
"What? Am I your prom date?"
A sloppy, crooked grin lit Peter's face. But it left too quickly. "And I'm calling the marshals as soon as I drop you off." He held up a hand to stop Neal's protests. "You know it's the rules."
"I know." Neal walked into the guest bedroom and shut the door.
Dressed in his own clothes, Neal joined Peter in the home's entryway. At the door, Peter turned and gripped Neal's arm. "Thank you, Neal. I mean it, thank you. After I drop you off, I'm going to pick-up El and bring her home, but I'm not going into work today. You can stay home, and try to stay out of trouble."
Neal pulled a who me? expression, with a roll of his eyes.
Peter chuckled, "Get in the car, Neal."
The End