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Neal was terrified-he hated needles, and he couldn’t help squirming and wincing as it pressed its way deeply in.
He knew that he should’ve gotten Mozzie to help him out.
But now he’d just have to wait for Peter.
--
Singing.
Singing would help with the waiting.
He began to sing, flying high as a kite…love, sweet splendid love!
--
“Neal!” Peter’s quiet hiss, the tone of his voice, made Neal look up with a grin.
“Dad.” Neal said happily.
“Neal, god…what did they do to you?” Peter asked, as he began to uncuff the locks but they fell to the floor.
“I can pick any lock, Dad, remember?” Neal asked with a giggle. “I’m a thief, after all…”
“Come on, up you get. We’re getting you out of here…hopefully no one will come and figure out your gone.” Peter grumbled, as he began moving Neal out.
Soon they were in a large conference room, with big windows that overlooked the city. Peter lowered Neal-his son-to the floor, and then hesitated. Neal was drugged out of his mind, he might get the inclination to go someplace. He quickly got a chair, and cuffed his son to it.
“Don’t. Pick. These.” Peter said sternly to Neal. “I’ll be right back.”
--
As Neal sat there, he looked down at the shiny tempting cuffs.
“I could slip you…that wouldn’t be picking…that’d be slipping…” He mumbled, but his dad had told him not to. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his head back, staring up at the bright lights…
“Damn,” Peter’s voice made him start, and he saw his dad looking worried. “Neal, we’re going to have to be very quiet, when leaving, okay? No singing, no talking…understand? I promise, as soon as we’re back home, you can sing as loud as you want.” Peter said, looking concerned.
“Wanna sleep,” Neal slurred, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. His head hurt. “My head doesn’t feel so good.”
“I know, kiddo.” Peter said, gently, worriedly. “Come on, let’s go…”
With a heave of his shoulders, Peter picked up Neal and began to carry him home.
--
They made it out without anyone stopping them, which was-in Peter’s book-a miracle. Neal fell asleep on the way home, and Peter had to keep looking over to make sure his son was still breathing. He felt furious-those bastards had dared to do something as violent as tying his son down, and giving him drugs against his will!
At the house, he had a little difficulty dragging in Neal. Elizabeth was shocked at seeing them coming in like that, but relieved that they were-mostly-okay.
“What happened?” Elizabeth asked, drawing a blanket over the sleeping Neal.
“It’s a long story. Though I should note that once our son is conscious again, I’ll have to get him to sing for you. He’s got a decent singing voice,” Peter said, sighing heavily as he slumped into the chair, exhausted.
--
By the end of the week, the case was solved, June had her daughter back on the acceptable kidney transplant list, and at the near top of it. Peter managed to figure out who’d drugged his son, and they were currently undergoing deep investigation-the case looked promising for both Peter and Neal, though the results were still a long ways away.
Neal was fully recovered, though not happy with how he’d acted due to the drug.
“I heard from a little bird that you have a good singing voice, mister.” Elizabeth said, leaning against her husband on the porch swing.
Neal grimaced.
“It’s…subjective. Some don’t think it’s good, and I’m not one to sing for people, usually. But, I guess, I can for you guys.” He said awkwardly.
Peter smiled.
“You don’t have to,” Peter said, and for a moment, the three just sat quietly, before Neal began singing.
The older Burkes both listened quietly with joy.
~*~
The End