Work Text:
For Kanarek13 – a little story to go with her artwork, Demons found here:
http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/118861.html
He slowly regained consciousness, his head was pounding and he was shivering. Opening an eye, he found himself lying face-down, on a concrete floor, that explained why he was so cold. He rolled over onto his side and gasped. He was staring into the dull, lifeless eyes of Elizabeth Burke.
Panicking, he scooted backwards, only to run into a solid object. He rolled over and bumped into Peter. A knife was sticking out of his friend’s chest. He slowly reached over to check for a pulse, jerking his hand away when Peter opened his eyes.
“Why, Neal, why did you do it?” were Peter’s last words.
He scrambled to his feet and looked around the bleak room. At the far end of the room stood a small table; a dimly lit lamp revealed a door. He walked towards the exit, coming to a halt when he discovered a small mirror on the wall. He looked and couldn’t believe what he was seeing: the reflection resembled him, but it wasn’t him. His wavy hair was cut differently, shaved on the sides. His face was pale, his bright blue eyes replaced by a demonic glare. The figure gave him a wicked grin. His clothes were covered in blood.
As he stood staring at himself, the person in the mirror laughed at him. Neal thought he was going crazy. He ran to the opposite end of the room and sank to the floor. He slumped over, bringing his knees to his chest, and wept. He couldn’t remember where he was, or why he would have harmed Peter and Elizabeth.
Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, shaking him. He looked up to see a policeman staring down at him. “Sir, what happened?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill them.” His voice trailed off as he lost consciousness.
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Voices surrounded him.
“Sir, what’s his name?”
Clinton answered. “His name’s Neal Caffrey. Doctor, can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Not yet, but the injury isn’t too bad. He was lucky, there’s not much damage. Now, please wait outside, I’ll come out and talk to you shortly.”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate an update as soon as possible.” He heard a door swoosh as it closed.
A hand wrapped around his wrist and he snapped his eyes open. He looked up at an unfamiliar face. An older gentleman stared back at him, the man was wearing a white physician’s coat and had a stethoscope around his neck.
He tried jerking his arm away, but couldn’t - the sound of handcuffs jingling told him he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Mr. Caffrey, please calm down. I’m here to help you. Do you remember what happened?”
Panic shot through him. He struggled against the man’s grip; he needed to escape. As he continued to thrash about, pain ripped through him, and machines around him began to wail.
The doctor shouted for someone, and a nurse came into view. The woman handed the medic something. Dread swept through him as he noticed the large needle. He couldn’t get away; he gripped the sheets as he was injected with something. His body relaxed and blackness overtook him.
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He opened the door of the Burkes’ home. Rachel and Keller were sitting at the dining room table, waiting for him. They looked up and snickered at him.
Rachel got up and sauntered over to him. She ran a hand down his cheek and purred, “You’re too late Neal, your pet fed and his wife are dead.” She nodded her head in the direction of the living room. He turned and saw the dead bodies of Peter and Elizabeth lying by the sofa.
“No!” he screamed. “What have you done?” He pulled a knife from his jacket pocket, lunging forward and stabbing Rachel. She collapsed to the floor. He turned to face Keller
“Why, Neal, why did you do it?”
“I’m eliminating the threat.” He rushed forward, struggling with Keller before sticking the knife deep into the man’s chest.
He ran to the living room to check on Peter and El, but their bodies were gone. He looked back to the dining room. The Burkes lay on the floor, his knife stuck deep in Peter’s chest. What was going on? Where were Rachel and Keller?
His chest constricted; he could barely breathe. He raced out the front door.
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Opening his eyes, he discovered he was in a hospital room. He concentrated but couldn’t remember what had happened. He tried raising his right arm, but it was secured to the bed. His left arm was heavily bandaged, as was his chest. He looked around; he was hooked up to medical equipment, all peacefully whirring away.
The door opened and a nurse shuffled in. He could see Jones and Diana standing out in the hallway, neither of them looked happy. The unresponsive bodies of Peter and Elizabeth flashed through his memory and he cried out.
The two agents turned towards the sound and started running in his direction. He pulled on the restraints, trying to free himself. The machines began to blare and nurses came rushing into his room. Once again he was sedated before he could free himself.
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He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the shadowed room. The glow from the television in the corner was the only illumination in the small area. His throat was raw and he started coughing.
“Hey, sweetie, let me get you some water.” El’s voice cooed and he startled at seeing her. He watched as she poured him a glass of water and held the straw for him. He sipped as she smiled down at him. “Peter’s going to be so glad that you’re awake and seem to be much calmer.”
He blinked as tears streamed down his face. “I’m sorry El, I didn’t mean to….” he pleaded.
“Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
At that moment, Peter came through the door and smiled at him. “Welcome back, buddy. How are you feeling?”
Neal could only stare at the ghosts of his friends.
“Neal, are you okay? The doctor said most of the hallucinogens should be out of your system. Do you remember what happened?”
“I killed you, both of you.” he whispered.
Peter shook his head. “No, Neal, you didn’t. Do you remember being taken by Thorud’s men?”
He shook his head no.
“Okay, let’s see if I can refresh your memory.” Peter pulled over a chair and sat next to the bed. “Thorud was upset when we caught him, and he wanted revenge. He made bail last week and proceeded to have you kidnapped. They cut your anklet and left it in the apartment, they wanted to make it look like you were angry with me and took off. They even left a note that you were going to kill me.”
Peter patted his knee. “They pumped you full of designer drugs and were programming you to murder me. They had it planned down to making sure a policeman would be in the area to arrest you, but you were supposed to fight back and be killed as well.”
He was still confused and looked at his friend. “I thought I stabbed you and El; I thought I murdered you.”
“Well,” Peter continued, “Thorud’s men were positive you were brainwashed. They dropped you off at my house, expecting that you would assassinate me. What they didn’t expect was that you couldn’t do it. You came in and looked at El and me, knife in hand, mumbled something and then stabbed yourself in the chest. You took off running and a cop found you a few blocks away huddled in an abandoned building.”
“I didn’t stab you or El?”
El smiled. “No Neal, you didn’t. You probably saved our lives.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead.
Peter coughed. “They found you shaking and crying, your eyes dilated. The officer suspected the symptoms pointed to drugs and called for an ambulance. They brought you here and called me. Jones got here before I did and you confessed to killing us.”
His partner continued. “We had already figured out that you’d been kidnapped, and Mozzie was searching for you. Mozzie used his contacts and found out where you were being held. It didn’t take much to convince the physician who drugged you to admit what had happened.”
“Thorud was surprised when I showed up and arrested him for attempted murder of a federal officer. He’s not getting out this time.”
Neal sighed. “I’m just happy I didn’t hurt you.” He rattled the handcuffs. “So why the jewelry?”
“That was to keep you from hurting yourself; after all, you did stab yourself. The doctor said you were lucky that you didn’t do any serious damage. I’ll see what we can do to get you out of those.”
Neal beamed and handed the offending objects to Peter.
Peter groaned and rolled his eyes as he took the handcuffs. “I can see you’re feeling better already.”
The couple stayed with him a little longer and chatted before heading home. He watched as they left the room. He was tired, but afraid to close his eyes, terrified the nightmare of killing of friends would return. He watched the television until he drifted off to sleep.
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Three days later, he was released from the hospital. Peter had stopped by earlier and dropped off clothes for him, and June was sending her driver to pick him up. He was anxious to get out of the place; the food was not edible, and they wouldn’t let him have any wine.
He headed to the small bathroom, wanting to get cleaned up before leaving. He took a shower and shaved. He glanced in the mirror and dropped his razor. The face with demonic eyes stared back at him. The figure cackled, “You’ll never be free of me, never.”