whitecollarhc

Title: Head Full of Cottonballs part 3
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke
Spoilers: none
Promps: Dealing with a sleeping disorder
Word Count:2605
Summary: You only appreciate it when you can't. Sleep. Neal didn't know he had a serious problem. Until he noticed some health problems.

part 1
part 2

----

“Take this,” Mozzie said, after fumbling with the medicine box. And Neal knew he was stalling. Mozz clearly hated it to drug him up. But it was his only choice, right now.

They were sitting on the bed, next to each other. When Mozzie came in and found him absently crying on the floor he knew what was going on. He went to the first aid cabinet on the bathroom wall and rummaged through the perfectly organized stuff until he found what he was looking for. It where sleeping pills, of course. But Neal had always told him he didn’t want that stuff.

Neal just sat there, staring dully affront of him, in complete silence. Never made much of a sound. Hunched over like a crippled grandpa, completely living in his own world.

“Neal, listen. I know you don’t want to take them. But this is your own choice right now. Or do you prefer a visit to the doctor’s office?”

Tears started to well up again as the pills came into his vision. Too tired and currently too weak to argue about taking the damn medicine he picked one up from Mozz extending hand. But he hesitated for a moment before he put it on his tongue, though. He has been there before. And he hates doing this to himself, once again.
If he would take the pills he would sleep for at least eight hours. The uncontrolled emotional state would most likely be gone after this. Neal should be more capable with doing his work, without falling apart every now and then, which was nice. He would be fine…

For at least one day.

If not, it was probably because he had struggled with sleeping in at night for so long, and needed some sleeping pills again. Maybe for a couple of days. Just to be sure.
Just like the last time.

“Neal. I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t forget what you told me about last time. I-It is just… Take the pills, mon frère. I won’t let it go that far, this time. I promise.” A hand stroked his back.
He had taken this road before. Addicted to those things. He knew he wasn’t able to get himself asleep when he wanted to. His brain wouldn’t let him. At day, at night. Maybe under the shower, or on some dangerous undercover job. Who knows! He couldn’t rely on his own will; he wasn’t in control with this. Neal liked being reassured, secured, about his steadiness. But he knew he couldn’t count on this. Not with this…

He needed those pills. They would help. But after he decided he would swallow one he would be longing for more. It was nice to feel reassured that there was something that could take away the fear of sleeping in while you are talking to friend or fall apart when you get anxious. Not the sleeping part. Just the fear… But it was a bad choice.

He heaved a sigh, popped the pill inside his mouth and flushed it down with the last of his herbal tea. It took some time for feeling the first effects, but just to be sure Neal eased himself down onto his bed. Mozzie made sure his friend was okay and draped a blanket over his small frame. Two glazed orbs stared at him, observing his moved and everything.

“Mozz,” he finally spoke. “Would you stay over? Please,” he almost pleaded. Mozz straightened his back and smiled fondly at the sleepy kid. “Of course, mon frère. Now try to go to sleep,” he whispered.

…

A few hours later Neal’s mobile started buzzing. Neal never stirred while sleeping soundly. Mozzie sat on the sofa, occupied with a book and one a glass of Neal’s greatest wines. He looked up at Neal’s suit jacket, who was hanging over a wooden chair.

That must be Peter. Who else would have called at this hour? Mozz thought, a bit tipsy by now. Quickly, he looked on his watch before grabbing the phone and startled at the fact that it was still three ó clock in the afternoon.

“Suit?” he asked as he took the call questionably. There was a frustrating sigh on the other side.

“Mozz… I thought I called Neal. Did you switch each other’s phones again?” Mozz snorted to that but nervously looked over at the sleeping form a couple of feet away.

“No. I am at his apartment. He called me but didn’t tell me what happened.”

“Why… is he alright? I was going to ask him if he needed some homemade soup from El-lisabeth.” That made Mozz frown. Right. Soup. Like that will cure thing up.

“Suit… Peter. How much do you know about this, exactly?” Peter sighed again. This time a bit more in a concerned kind of matter.

“What do you mean? Mozz! What’s wrong with Neal? I just...Its bad isn’t it? He didn’t tell me anything.”
‘Oops...’ were Mozzie thoughts. He may just have opened a door he really shouldn’t open up to Peter. If Neal didn’t like Peter to know about this, he hadn’t had the right to do this at all.
“You should ask Neal himself. But he isn’t capable to come on to the phone right now.” Again, Mozz glanced over at the sleeping huddle on the bed. “He is sleeping,” he added softly. “He will call you back if he is awake, bye.” Mozz didn’t give Peter any chance to say something back because he knew he would have said too much. Besides, Neal started to stir.
…
The next morning, about seven, Neal woke up with a yawn and happily stretched his body. The sleep did him some good and he was actually feeling a lot better. Amazed at his returned strength he started to wonder if this all was even that bad at all. A sleeping disorder was something stupid, anyway. Even the doctors didn’t take him too serious. They only suggested him about monitoring his habits at the sleep clinic, and told him to start with a sleep dairy. They didn’t even give him some pills over this. (And maybe they tried to get him to a psychologist once, but Neal never heard that… He wasn’t that guy. A nut case.)

Mozz wasn’t happy when he started dressing himself for work. But he told him he wasn’t feeling like he was about to burst into tears again any second now, so that was a big improvement.

No matter how hard Mozzie tried he insisted to go to work and grabbed a cab.

Mozzie forgot to tell him about calling in on Peter first. But maybe this was for the best. Now Neal could deal with it on its own. Oh, what the heck, I’ll just send him a message, Mozz thought then.

“Please tell Peter about this.” Neal saw the text and gave a sigh. Every fiber in his body didn’t want to do that. But… he guessed he had no other choice.

“Don’t worry. I know I have to.” he texted back.
…
The elevator ride was long. Some sleepiness behind his blue eyes appeared once again. He yawned, blamed it on the medicine. He was fine.

He was fine.
Fine.

“Caffrey, hey. I didn’t expect you back on your feet this fast. How are you doing?” Diana asked amazed at his fresh looking face. Somehow he looked much better. But still a bit pale and fragile.
“I am fine. Just needed to sleep in early, I guess.” He didn’t lie.

He was fine. Smile. Keep smiling.

“Well that’s great. But I think you should go to Peter’s office. He wants to talk to you about something.” Diana hunched in a little closer. “He never stopped talking about you, yesterday, It’s cute.” She smiled at him.

“Is that so,” he reacted back with a stiff grin, while propping his hands in his pants pockets for a moment.
Neal felt a slight tremble in his hands as he walked over to Peter’s office. He almost felt Diana’s eyes staring wholes in his back. A drowsy feeling crept up inside him and he heaved a sigh before he knocked onto the door. Vision blurred a bit. Just like yesterday.

“Damn,” he mumbled softly. Angry at himself.

He heaved another sigh. Blinked a couple of times and put on a smile. It’s just Peter.

“Come in,” Peter replied. And Neal popped his head around the corner.

“Morning, partner.”

It took Peter a moment to register the fact that the young man where he was worried sick about stood right there in the doorframe. But he managed a smile on his face as well.

“Neal! Hey. Why didn’t you call me back last night? El made some soup,” came out rushed. He blinked once and eased down a bit. Trying to act less concerned. When Peter had found his ZEN he tried again. “Mozz was with you, and he obviously didn’t tell you I called.”

Neal frowned.

“No. I-I was asleep. The whole night.” He never thought he could be this honest. Perhaps he was a bit proud he finally managed to get a shut eye after months of trying.

“Really?” Peter mused. Obviously not believing his honest words.

His brown eyes were swallowing him up again. Neal had to swallow hard. Just as he thought all his tension was finally seeping away from his body, he started to feel uncomfortable again. This was apparently the moment that he should tell this. He swallowed again. Slightly nervous about it, his hands started to tremble even more. In order to hide it once again, he propped his hands in his pockets. Only to take him back out with the urge to fold them around his chest.

“’Bout that…” he started. Vision started to blur again.

No. no nononono. Blinking hard.

“I have to tell you something,” Neal said with a thick voice. Peter nodded. He looked pale with worriedness. He called his name once. Then suggested him to sit down for some reason. Neal suddenly didn’t understand why he was frowning at him like that.

Oh wait. I am swaying.

And then, yet again, another black-out hit him. First his limps went numb. Then his everything…
Doctors weren’t that stupid after all. They must’ve known those sleeping pills didn’t work on him with this kind of sleeping disorder. Oh but they did, you know. He wasn’t crying his eyes out…
Ah what the hell. Who was he kidding? They never worked on him before! They just let you sleep for a while. But no matter how long you slept you still just could fall of the wagon. Like the switch of a lightning bulb.
Why him? Why now? He was cured! He was, right?

He already lost almost everything in his life. His father, sort of… His mother. His freedom. Kate and Ellen. Did he have to loss his dignity too?

A conman… the famous Neal Caffrey. Down with a funny illness. Just like that ‘Mister Bean fellow’ in that movie called: Ratrace.

It wasn’t fair.

Neal felt so embarrassed when he woke up, finding himself staring into Peter’s huge brown eyes again. He must be worrying sick about him. He probably thought he fainted or something. When he tried to get away from his strong grip, man he was strong, he managed to push him back down.

“Peter, let me go. It’s over now,” he said somberly.

“Christ, Neal. You fainted, right in my office. You’re not getting up. That’s an order. Diana already called someone over from medical.” Neal blinked astounded and immediately shook his head.

“No no no. That’s not really necessary. This isn’t this kind of a problem. Peter! Call them off. I-It’s something else.”

Peter froze to that. Neal could almost hear his thoughts: ‘Neal was finally admitting he was down with something?’
He frowned and let Neal go as he tried to get upright. Finally aware of the few anxious people that were standing in Peter’s office with them, Neal blinked once, before getting pink ears.

“Do you mind!” he grumbled at the confused probies. Meanwhile he adjusted his messy hair.
Peter expelled them quickly. As soon as the room was empty and the door was closed, Neal got up from the ground and took a seat in Peter’s earlier offered chair.

A moment of awkward silence was between them.

“It’s a disorder… It has to do something with losing the control of sleeping in,” Neal admitted as he hung forward and placed his elbows on his knees. His voice was irritated. No: ashamed. Pissed at why this is happening to him… again! Peter took his place on the other chair behind his desk.

“A sleeping disorder?” he asked and Neal saw how Peter’s face lighten up in relieve. “My God... That’s just great. I really was worried you were going to tell me you had epilepsy or something. Or worse.”

“This isn’t something to be great about, Peter. I can’t sleep. I can’t get too angry or too happy before I fall asleep. Can’t drive. Take an early run in the morning without the fear of losing control.”

Peter started to laugh.

“Can’t run?”

It only made Neal angrier.

“Look. I am well aware that this is all funny to you. But I…” Neal stopped halfway his sentence, blinking hard. This time he wasn’t about to black out, or anything. But he felt some tears left his eyes.

“Great. This is just great. Like I haven’t embarrassed myself enough affront of you, already.” He shifted away from Peter and dried his eyes.

Peter was silent. Very silent. Probably feeling stupid for laughing at him. Good!

“Bastard,” Neal said with a heartbreaking faltering voice. Peter had apparently no clue what to do with this. He opened his mouth to say something until he heard a knock. It was Diana with some occupational physician. With a frown and a headshake he hoped they got it. And luckily, Diana understood it right away. Meanwhile Neal looked even more miserable. He needed some comfort right now. From him. Peter bit his lip as he pat his shoulder. Neal automatically pushed him away.

“Neal, I… you’re right. I am so sorry.” Peter tried. But Neal didn’t even look at him. “Look at me. It was bold of me to laugh at you. Maybe I was just relieved about the fact that you aren’t dying from something worse, or anything.” That made Neal glance over at him. Eyes were red-rimmed and shooting fire.
“Save it, okay. Just save it. You don’t even know what I am going through. No one does!”

There. He said it. He was hurt. He was alone. He needed someone. Someone he can trust, like his mother. Someone warm, like Ellen. Someone who sees him, who he really was.

“I… I am tired,” Neal admitted. He wanted to go home again. Mozzie was right. He was still a big mess.
That happy bliss from feeling fresh awake was gone. He knew it was just a temporary solution. He didn’t need the pills. He needs his mom.