[Fanfiction] Déjà-Vu (5/6)

[aragarna]

Title: Déjà-Vu
Author: Aragarna
Characters: Peter, Neal, Elizabeth, Mozzie.
Genre, rating: hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, gen, G.
Word count: 1231 this chapter. 7347 in total.
Spoilers: Set post-series.
Summary: Missing the good old days of their partnership, Peter convinces Neal to help him on a case. But things don't go as smoothly as expected...
Author's Note: Many thanks to reve_silencieux for the beta. Written for icecreammilktea's awesome prompt.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Peter was slumped in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room of the surgery yfloor. It was his entire fault. He shouldn’t have taken Neal to the crime scene. He shouldn’t have asked him to work with him again.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this…

Peter bent over, put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. But he opened them back up immediately. He couldn’t stand the images that kept assaulting him each time he closed his eyes: Neal, lying on a gurney, so pale and frail, and full of blood, in a terrifying mix of the past and the present.

I’m not going anywhere.

You’re my best friend.

Peter didn’t want to go through all this again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive Neal dying a second time.

They had taken away an unconscious but breathing Neal – if barely – and Peter finally had had to let go of him.

Now he was waiting. Waiting for hell to break loose and for his world to collapse again.

Don’t let me die.

“Please, don’t die…” Peter whispered.

Finally, Elizabeth arrived, with Mozzie tagging along, carrying Little Neal in a carrier on his chest. Peter staggered up and Elizabeth opened her arms to him. Peter buried his head in her shoulder, breathing in the comforting warmth and softness. After a while, she gently parted and made him sit back down in his chair. She sat next to him, holding his hand in hers.

“How is he?” she asked.

“He’s still in surgery. It’s… I don’t know.”

Peter was too afraid to make any guess on the outcome. He knew it didn’t look good, but he refused to admit it.

Mozzie was standing there, in front of them, Little Neal comfortably nestled in his baby carrier.

“Why did you bring him here?” Peter asked, pointing in their direction.

“Neal’s my friend too, Suit,” Mozzie said defensively.

Peter shook his head. “I meant Pumpkin. It’s not a place for a baby.”

“Ah-ah,” Mozzie said. “That’s exactly what I told Mrs. Suit here. All those germs…”

Elizabeth freed Little Neal from the carrier and sat him on Peter’s lap. The kid smiled and pressed against his father’s chest and Peter wrapped his arms around his son.

“Well, I could have looked for a last-minute Nanny, but I thought you’d like having him with you,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll take him home when it’s time to go to bed.”

Peter bent over to kiss El on the cheek. She was right, of course. Neal had this magical soothing power over Peter. Ever since he was born, they had developed this invisible connection. When Peter couldn’t find sleep – back when grown-up Neal was still dead – he would just go to his son’s room, watching him sleep. Sometimes he would take him in his arms and they would sleep together on the rocking chair. And when it was Little Neal who couldn’t sleep, because of a tooth coming in, or when he was sick, Peter would rock him tenderly in his arms until he’d fall asleep.

Another hour passed until the doctor finally came out, bringing some reassuring news regarding Neal’s condition. He’d had a collapsed lung, but they had managed to fix him up. Luckily, besides his lung and a broken rib where the bullet had ricocheted, no vital organ had been touched. Bar any post-operation complications, Neal should recover. He had just been moved to the recovery room and the doctor invited them to go see him.

Elizabeth slipped away for a minute to go and change Little Neal, while the doctor led Peter and Mozzie to their friend’s room.

They stood there, just looking at Neal as he was peacefully sleeping in his hospital bed. Everything was hitting a little too close to home for both of them. Though, at least this time, the outcome looked more hopeful, the white hospital sheet a vivid contrast to the dark mortuary bag that had once enveloped Neal’s body.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Mozzie said, trying to convince himself as much as Peter.

There was only one chair in the room. Peter gestured to Mozzie to take a seat and he himself slid to the floor, his back to the wall. He crossed his arms over his folded knees and sighed. It was slowly sinking in that Neal would be alright.

“You okay, Suit?” Mozzie asked, taking the seat.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, which he knew wasn’t exactly an answer. The truth was, he was too much of a mess right now to assess his own feelings.

“I freaked out,” he said finally. “The blood on his shirt, his pale skin, his eyes…. It was all so similar. It brought back things, you know?”

Mozzie nodded.

“I’m scared to lose him again,” Peter went on, in a low voice. “People are supposed to die only once. It hurts for a time, and then you find a way to move on… You’re not supposed to live it again. There’s no second chance, but somehow, we got a second chance. And I don’t want to have to live it again. I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough.”

“I know,” the little guy agreed, understanding.

“I’m sorry, Moz,” Peter said. “This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t made him work with me again. He shouldn’t have been there. And yet, here we are again. Because of me. It’s happening all over again…” Peter bit his lips to restrain a sob. He cleared his throat. “I failed him… Again.”

“Hey, Peter,” Mozzie said softly, patting his shoulder. “First, this was not your fault. Second, the first time was a con, remember? It was all Neal’s fault.”

Peter passed a tired hand over his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It felt so much like I was reliving that day. It got all confused in my head.”

Mozzie turned to look down at Peter. “Except this time, you saved him.”

“After he got shot,” Peter countered bitterly. He shook his head. “This was a mistake.”

“As reluctant as I am to admit it, Suit, this was not.”

Peter looked up at Mozzie, frowning.

“He loves it. He always has. You and I both know that Neal doesn’t care much about the prize – It’s the challenge, the rush, that keeps him going. Working cases with you gives him that.”

Peter felt a solace grow in his chest. He shot Mozzie an uncertain smile.

“Put a bulletproof vest on him,” Mozzie went on. “Give him three bodyguards, take the bullet for him… But don’t take this away from him.”

Now Peter was looking at Mozzie with astonishment.

“He’s happy the way things are right now. I hadn’t seen him this carefree and happy with his life in a long, long time. He got his life back on track, gets to work with you ‘like old times’, except now he’s doing it as a free man, on his own terms.”

“I guess I can find a spare vest in the FBI supplies.”

“You shouldn’t trust those faulty government issues. I’ll get you some of my own.”

“Russian surplus? You really think Russian material is more reliable than American technology?”

Mozzie rolled his eyes. “You can be so naïve for a smart man, sometimes…”

Peter wasn’t sure if he should feel pleased or offended.

“Thank you, Moz,” he said after a while.

“Anytime, Suit.”


--------------------------
Chapter Six
-------------------------