"My hero"

Chapter One

This is a translated story of mine: "Weekeinde met held"

Thank you very much, Melles, for your translating:D

Hope you Enjoy!

X Josi

Someone knocked at the door.

Timidly at first. Then his name was called.

The knocking grew louder after there was no response at all.

Neal heard the voice that sounded like the voice of Peter Burke. His partner. He knew he should say something to let him know that he was there. And that Peter could enter. But he couldn't speak in his current state. He could not even get up.

He lay flat on his back on the red Persian carpet. His arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, trying to fight the cold. One leg was caught between the frames of the chair from which he had fallen during the night. The other leg was slightly bent so that his feet touched the ground. He turned his head slowly towards the door, because Peter had called his name repeatedly. Neal had to swallow several times and opened his mouth to say something. But his voice was weak and faint and far too quiet.

After the knocking had grown in strength, Neal noticed that the last night he was forced to spent on the ground had been anything but pleasant.

xxx

During surveillance with Jones and Peter, Neal had noticed that coffee had been a bad choice. His stomach felt uncomfortable by the bitter liquid, and this feeling was reinforced after they had arrested the man for a criminal action. The act itself was nothing special and not even an official White Collar matter. But Peter obviously still owed another FBI team a favor. It had been a case of money laundering. The mastermind of the operation was the owner of a restaurant. The perfect cover. The case was solved within a day, and Peter had invited him to dinner at his home.

Neal hadn't had the heart to cancel the invitation. He loved the visits to Peter and his wife. But that night he had trouble eating. Elizabeth must have realized that there was something wrong with him. She watched him closely. Neal didn't eat and every time he stuck his fork into the food, his face went paler. Out of courtesy he had emptied his plate, but as soon as he arrived at home, all hell broke loose. It seemed as if someone had plunged a knife into his stomach and turned it around. The sweat broke out and within a few seconds he felt sick. He was so weak that he threatened to keel over, face first. Everything tasted burned and suddenly he had a sour taste in his throat. He had spent half an hour in the bathroom over the toilet and after waiting a few minutes without gagging, he decided to lie down. Hoping that sleep would calm down his stomach. He had put on his pajama pants and a shirt. Then he plopped down on the mattress. Just five minutes later, he again felt the uncomfortable grumble in his stomach. Panting and whimpering, he put on his slippers and went back to the bathroom.

His stomach rebelled and made strange noises and after Neal had thrown up its contents, he went exhausted into his kitchen to pour a glass of water to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth.

Neal sat on a chair and emptied his glass. He sighed deeply. It seemed that the cramps and nausea had subsided. With a trembling hand he rubbed gentle circles on his stomach trying to appease the gurgling. He massaged for a while until he decided to go back to bed. But when he stood up and pushed his chair back, he was surprised by a nasty stabbing pain. With a cry of fear and astonishment, he fell back. With both arms he clasped his waist and then the world around him turned black.

The first thing that Neal became aware of when he opened his eyes was that he was lying on the ground. And that he couldn't move anymore.

xxx

Neal needed help. He hoped that Peter could help him. He wanted something that took away his pain. He wished he had told Peter that he had felt uncomfortable at dinner. Then now he wouldn't lie helplessly on the floor.

But Neal is Neal. He would never tell someone frankly what was going on inside his head. Even if he now went to his physical limits.

So far he hadn't been able to tell his partner that he had spent the last night on the floor in pain, unable to move. And now he was so happy to hearing Peter knocking at the door. Panting and whimpering Neal tried to call Peter's name. Because if he didn't say anything now, Peter would probably go away. And the consequence of that would be that he was alone again. But he had no more strength. He couldn't do anything at all! He had repeatedly called for June last night. But the older woman spent the whole weekend with her daughter. Probably the pain and high fever were the reason that he had forgotten that he was alone in the house over the weekend. After he had called for June, the pain had overcome him and he had fainted, again. Still waves of nausea and pain shot through his quivering body, as Neal tried to move. Even breathing was hard. This helplessness scared him.

"Neal Caffrey, I don't know what's going on in there, but I know you're there. So… Tell the woman she should dress quikly, because I'm gonna open this door right away. We are already half an hour late," Peter said with a loud voice. His impatience was growing. Neal was worried and he frowned. He took a deep breath and tried to say something.

"Peter...," Neal whispered hoarse and weak. This word alone gave him pain in his stomach and he doubled up on the red carpet.

"Neal? Answer me! Hell! What the hell is wrong with you? Come on! Open the door, or I will break it sleepyhead!"

Tears rolled down the cheeks of the former con man and he shuddered as he tried to blink them away.

"Y-yes...p-please...," Neal replied weakly. The only thing he could do was to hope that Peter acted on his threat and would enter the apartment. He wouldn't mind at all. He needed Peter's help. And he needed it now!

"Okay, Caffrey. Come on!" The man's voice had a menacing tone and his great impatience was clearly audible. Peter knew that something was wrong. There was a pause. Neal was waiting for his partner to enter.

But nothing happened.

Then he heard the lock turning and the door was opened.

"Pe...ter...," Neal mumbled weakly and closed his red-rimmed eyes for a moment. The pain was gone for now and he bowed his head.

"Neal, I just remembered that I have a spare key... Neal? Neal!"

A faint smile appeared on the pale face from Neal. He didn't care what the agent said. Each word was music to his ears.

With just a few steps, Peter had covered the distance and went to his knees. Two warm fingers pressed against his neck and Neal tried to say something. A hand grabbed his chin and shook it gently, while Peters other hand checked for a pulse. Neal regained some of his consciousness by Peter's gentle touch and shake and he opened his eyes briefly but it was increasingly difficult to stay awake.

"My God, Neal. You are cold. How long have you been lying here on this floor?"

"A-all...n-night," Neal answered. He knew he was crying. The tears were rolling down his face, but he couldn't stop. Despite his tears he could manage a small smile on his face.

"I knew it. El noticed that something was wrong with you, yesterday. You're sick, aren't you?"

Neal sighed and cringed at his attempt to answer.

"What is bothering you? Are you dizzy?" Peter asked with a gentle and quiet voice.

Neal shook his head. This movement caused a sharp pain running through his body. It was difficult to say whether his complaints came from the stomach or if his entire body protested. Because he had been cramped for hours in the same position, everything hurt at once.

Peter sighed. Neal could feel Peter's warm hands searching his body to find some clue. Or an injury. Peter's warmth of his strong hands felt good somehow. But it was anything but pleasant. And when Peter touched his stomach, Neal gave out a whimper. His foot was still wedged in the frame of the chair and his whole body shook uncontrollably.

"N-no, s-stop...!" Neal gasped. Automatically, he rolled onto his right side and bent his legs. Away from the man who hurt him.

"Oh, Neal! I'm sorry, buddy." His eyes grew wide with guilt.

Frowning, Peter took his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled anxiously through his contact list. He didn't know who to call first. El or the ambulance? He sighed and stroked small soothing circles over the clam and sweaty back of Neal, who apparently couldn't stop to shake.

"Help me...," Neal whispered suddenly in total panic and with tears in his eyes.

Peter noticed the shallow breathing. Every muscle in Neal's body seemed to be under tension. His appearance was so strange and he looked strange, too. What troubled Peter the most, however, was the lifelessness of the usually agile young man. His tense body collapsed like a house of cards. The man was lying sprawled on the furry carpet. From one moment to the next Neal was as limp as a doll.

Peter rolled his friend gently on his back, to see if he still breathed. And luckily he did, but Neal's heartbeat was too fast and that was certainly not good.

"Okay, Neal. Enough is enough. I'll take you to the hospital." With one hand he stroked Neal's cheek and was shocked by the cool skin.

xxx

After a few tests Neal's health problem proved to be a severe inflammation. Acute gastroenteritis, which had rapidly become a serious stomach infection. The first two days in the hospital had been critical. He had suffered from fever and pain seizures alternately. If the administered antibiotics wouldn't be effective, an operation would be inevitable. Neal also had to stay in bed at least one week, before he could return to work. El and Peter would ensure that Neal would get enough rest. Since Mozzie wasn't around and Sara stayed abroad, Peter had no choice but to take him to his home. It didn't surprise him, that he immediately got the okay from his wife over the phone to bring Neal home with him. The two felt responsible for their friend. Between them there was this unique chemistry. Neal Caffrey was like an adoptive son to them.

After Peter had called his wife and informed her that he was on his way home with Neal, Elizabeth had begun to prepare the guest room.

Neal sat next to Peter in the passenger seat and stared absently into space. The color on his pale, gaunt face had changed at every turn to light green. Occasionally the man winced when Peter went over a bump. Peter glanced nervously from time to time over at his passenger and mumbled an apology when Neal groaned because of the unevenness. He sighed with relief when he saw that his friend was dozing lightly. Nevertheless, it was noticed that the sick man was still shaking in his sleep although the temperature was moderate.

"We're almost there, buddy. Do you think you can walk?"

Neal nodded and looked around. He was surprised that they had reached their destination so fast, but then realized that he must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive.

Dressed in a bathrobe, white shirt, dark blue pajama pants, a scarf, thick socks and black slippers, the sick man took the steps up to the house of his FBI partner and best friend Peter.

El was already waiting at the doorstep and waved friendly to them. "Oh you poor thing. How do you feel? Come on in, Neal. Hi Hon. I've already been at the pharmacy for you." She pressed a gentle kiss on Neal's forehead first before she greeted her husband with quick kiss on his cheek.

Neal swayed dangerously al of the sudden and Peter quickly put his arm around the young man for support, just in time before his legs buckled. "Sit down. Carefully."

"Hmm...thank you...," muttered Neal. As soon as he sat on the couch, his body went limp from exhaustion. His sight was alarming, and Peter and El exchanged a worried look.

"Neal. Your bed is ready. I can prepare a hot water bottle for you to help ease your stomach cramps. That is, if you want one, sweetheart?"

Neal nodded slightly.

When Elizabeth went into the kitchen, Peter sat down beside him on the couch. Neal had closed his eyes and it looked like he would fall off the couch any moment. Therefore, Peter gently pushed him back again. "Do you want to lie down to rest?" The agent asked softly.

Neal looked shocked at him. "N-no. I-I'm not tired. It's just... it's so...warm in here," the man whispered in confusion. In addition, his stomach began to rumble. Neal immediately sat upright and looked around, swallowing hard. His gaze went searching across the room. Peter knew what Neal was up to and pulled him off the couch.

Half carrying, half dragging Peter lead the poor man to the sink and helped him to lean down. The bathroom was too far away. Elizabeth took a few steps back, when Neal started to throw up. It didn't take long until his stomach was empty, and he threw up only the water that Peter had offered him in the car.

After the poor man was finished, he fell exhausted to the ground and Peter tightened his grip when he suddenly had to carry the entire weight. "Oh, Neal...," the agent sighed out of pity. With some effort he pulled Neal back up and leaned the feeble man against his chest so he could wrap his arm around Neal's hip.

"Oh my...darling, you need my help?" Elizabeth asked while she gently wiped Neal's mouth with a wet towel.

Peter shook his head and waited until his wife was done with cleaning up Neal. "I think we better should bring him upstairs."

El nodded and let the tap run in order to remove the smell of the vomit from the kitchen.

xxx

After Neal woke up, he noticed pretty quickly that he was in a strange environment. He sighed and stared at the white ceiling and blinked several times against the soft yellow light of the overhead lights. The steady ticking of the clock helped him relax. He listened to the rhythm that brought his nervous mind at rest. For a while he lay motionless while he focused only on the ticking sound. His eyes twinkled and he found it increasingly difficult to keep them open much longer. His body wanted to sleep, but something told him that it was not good. Neal decided to fight the fatigue and tried in vain to remember how he had come here.

"Top drawer, Hon."

Neal startled in his bed and looked confused at the closed door. The voice belonged to Elizabeth.

"Thank you. What would I do without you." That voice was farther away from the door.

Steps. Whispers. Neal scrambled to his feet from the comfortably soft mattress and looked at the shadows under the door.

At the same moment Neal felt the nausea starting again. An oddly uncomfortable pressure in the waist and abdomen began to cause him increasingly pain. He immediately fell back again on the mattress to relieve the pain. Now he remembered. He had been to the doctor. Peter had brought him here afterwards. They had given him something for the pain. He had fallen asleep. With one hand he wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed angrily when he noticed that his hand was shaking. He hated being sick. But apart from that, he found it particularly annoying for Peter and his wife. Under no circumstances he wanted to be a burden.

Then he heard a soft knock at the door. Neal raised his head.

"Neal, are you awake?" Elizabeth said softly before she opened the door cautiously. She was surprised, to find herself staring into two blue orbs. Neal was awake for sure. And he was staring at her. Al little confused and curious at the same time. He looked suspiciously at what she was carrying and tried to sit up a little straighter. In her hands she carried a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of water and a hot water bottle.

"Oh, thanks El. But you really shouldn't worry about me," Neal said, but his face spoke volumes, as he squeezed his eyes for a moment. Even if he didn't admit it, he struggled to speak and to sit up. A severe cramp in his belly pressed all the air from his lungs. With tears in his eyes Neal threw both arms around his stomach.

"My goodness!" Hastily El put the tray on the ground while she was trying to reach him as quickly as possible. She pushed the sick man carefully back down and went with a soothing hand through his tousled dark hair. "Listen, Neal. You have to stay calm. I have brought a hot water bottle. And I want you to put it on your stomach until the pain subsides. And then we'll try if we can get some of that soup into you. How does it sound to you?"

Neal's cheeks flushed and that wasn't because of the fever. He was ashamed. Anyway, he wasn't thrilled when she pulled the thick blanket down and carefully put the bottle on his flat belly. First, Neal didn't notice the heat, but groaned beneath the weight of the warm water. But soon he felt the spasms subside. El's hand grabbed his and he felt her put his hand on the bottle.

"Hold it. You can call me if you feel it is enough. I'll be downstairs. Peter went to work," she informed him.

Neal looked at Elizabeth. He knew that he owed her his gratitude. The pain had subsided. "Thanks," he whispered.

Elizabeth passed quietly out of the door, stood there and smiled briefly at him. "Rest now. We still have a long way to go."

xxx

After dinner, Neal was sitting on the couch and watched the current TV program without much interest. Peter and his wife were sitting together at the table, talking quietly, so that Neal couldn't hear them. So far, he had been able to keep the soup down; just like the water he had drunk earlier this afternoon. Apparently, the antibiotics seemed to work.

Neal had promised to eat some soup this evening, and held the plate in front of him in his hands. Peter was happy, but had placed a bucket beside the couch as a precautionary measure.

Peter ate in silence, and poked around in the vegetable, as he suddenly felt a hand on his own.

El looked at him lovingly, and smiled. "You're a good friend for Neal, honey."

Peter put his fork on the table to reach for her hand. "Oh yeah? Why would you say that?"

El shrugged her shoulders, but left her hand on his. "You know why. He trusts you."

Peter stared into the eyes of his wife and felt his cheeks reddening. "Oh, well. Being with the FBI, I am also one of those men, which can be trusted the most. That comes handy." With an oblique smile the agent played with her long, silky brown hair and kissed her.

"He dreamed this afternoon and called your name."

Peter raised an eyebrow and looked back toward the living room, where Neal sat on the couch, looking miserable. "Really? Mmh...What did he say?" He asked his wife.

"He called you his hero."

Peter smiled and leaned back in his chair in surprise.

Neal sighed loudly and put the soup bowl on the table and buried himself deeper into the thick blanket that hung around his shoulders. His head was resting on the back and he was visibly exhausted.

Elizabeth and Peter had heard the sigh and looked around. The young man was almost asleep when his best friend got up, went to the TV and turned off the device. He quickly checked how much of the soup had been eaten by Neal. The small bowl of soup was half empty. Peter interpreted this as a positive sign. He really hoped that Neal felt better. The question now was if the soup would also stay where it belonged.

Later that night, Peter was sitting next to Neal in the living room and watched a football game, on "mute" of course. Suddenly, the former con man jumped from the couch and looked around anxiously.

"Neal? Calm down. It's all right. Are you okay?"

Neal looked around a few times and then looked at the quiet-speaking agent.

"O-okay." The man sighed and rubbed his glassy eyes, now appearing a little calmer. "How long did I sleep?" He asked hoarsely.

"You have slept about two hours, Neal. And guess what? So far, you didn't throw up. You seem to get better, buddy."

Neal nodded; a faint smile appeared on his too pale face.

For a moment there was silence. Peter wanted to tell him how touched he was that Neal had called him a hero in his sleep.

Neal wanted to tell his best friend, how grateful he was for the care Peter and El took of him.

But neither of them spoke their thoughts out loud.

When Peter came to realization that two large blue eyes were staring at him, he began to feel uneasy, reaching for the remote to turn on the sound.

Neal looked back at the screen, where a bunch of men hunted after a shapeless ball. It wasn't important to him which team would win. Still, it was a form of relaxation. In addition, one was always left out if you hadn't seen the game and your colleagues were talking about it.

Fifteen minutes went by unnoticed and when the commercials started, Neal began to grow restless. Peter looked besides him when he heard a distinct wailing. Neal sat up suddenly, pushed his feet on the floor and threw the blanket away. Peter watched him for a moment when he saw that Neal was trying to get up off the couch. "What's going on Neal? Want to go upstairs?" Peter asked alarmed when he saw that the man tried reeling to keep his balance. He got up and walked to the stairs.

Neal shook his head and gestured with his hand. "I must go to the bathroom."

Peter frowned as he thought about it whether it was a good idea to let Neal go upstairs. The man seemed so fragile, and looked quite strange without his usual suits and hats. It was also hard to believe that this guy had taken him years of work to finally bring him behind bars. And secretly he wondered how much work it would cost to take care of Neal tonight.

Neal was already halfway up the stairs when he grabbed the railing with both hands and writhed in pain.

Peter was by his side within a few seconds and lifted him up again. "You evidently want it the hard way, huh? Wait, I'll help you to the door."

Neal nodded gratefully and prepared himself for the last few steps. He almost cried when he reached the top, and tried to get to the bathroom as quick as possible. The door closed before Peter could ask if Neal needed something.

While he waited in the hallway, Elizabeth came up to him. She was wearing her beautiful purple nightgown and Peter couldn't resist glancing at her open-mouthed. But El's eyes were worried, and she looked at her husband questioningly. "Did he go to bed? Have you given him the meds already?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders, shook his head and pointed to the closed bathroom door.

Elizabeth nodded her understanding. She was also aware that it would be awkward for Neal, if he could hear her voice next to the bathroom door when he was on duty. So she went back to bed.

Peter went back downstairs to get the medicine. In the living room he found Satchmo sitting on the couch, where the sick Neal had been sitting just minutes before. Peter looked at the dog for a few seconds while the dog sniffed at the blanket. Peter grinned as the Labrador noticed him and guiltily ducked and then jumped off the couch. Shaking his head, he walked over to Satchmo and patted his head. "Yes, my boy. There's a lot going on tonight, huh?" He rounded the table, grabbed the soup bowl and held the half-full plate out to the dog. Immediately the dog started to empty the plate. Again Peter grinned. "And don't you dare to tell this to my wife." Satchmo seemed satisfied and went upstairs. He had his resting place with Peter and El in the bedroom. Originally, it had never been planned to allow the dog to sleep in the bedroom. But El had protested successfully, because Peter often came back home late at night and she just felt saver with the dog in the room. However, Peter couldn't give any counter-arguments on this point and had been outnumbered.

When Peter came back with the blanket over his arm as well with a bottle of water and the medicine, he saw the bathroom door open slowly. Peter immediately saw the gray-white face and the sweat on Neal's forehead.

He leaned against the door frame and clung to it while he looked around for help.

Without hesitation, Peter quickened his steps. "Neal! You don't look good, pal." He dropped the blanket and put the pills and the bottle to the ground before he took care of Neal.

Neal shook his head confused and let himself drop into Peter's arms. His forehead was resting on Peter's shoulder, and he could feel the heat emanating from Neal. "I-I was looking for Kate. You ... she is not here, Peter. I've looked everywhere."

Peter frowned and looked at his friend, who suddenly wanted to squirm from his grasp.

Two large dark eyes looked at him angrily. "She was here. Right? O-or. .. or not...I can't remember." Neal looked back to the bathroom and tried to rub his eyes with one hand and pushed Peter's arm roughly backwards.

Peter tightened his grip and looked earnestly at Neal. "Hey, buddy. You are confused. Don't worry. It's not pleasant. But I won't tell anyone."

Neal looked at him quizzically and tripped over his own legs, while his sense of balance suspended again. The poor guy was shaking badly when he was struck with a new attack of fever. His weak body had great trouble to fight the disease. Finally, Neal shook his head and slumped exhausted into Peter's strong arms. But Peter wasn't surprised at all because he had been warned by the doctor in this regard already.

He decided to bring Neal to bed and get him to a thinner blanket. Neal was dripping with sweat and his breathing was rapid and shallow. Peter prepared the medicine, by grinding the pills between two spoons and then adding a drop of syrup on it.

"So...Neal, open your mouth." Neal sat up and leaned against the headboard as he watched him upset. Peter knew that this situation stemmed from the fever and Neal didn't recognize him. Fortunately, Neal did dutifully what he was asked for and swallowed the sweet syrup without arguing.

"Peter...stay," Neal sobbed and broke down when he saw that Peter took a step backwards. The agent was bewildered by those pleading eyes. Conman or not. He was good. Peter had no other choice than to put himself on the foot of the bed. He saw the fear in the eyes of the young man and he felt bad when he had to see him like that. Neal reminded him of a young child who was looking for protection.

"Neal, damn it. You scare me with that look." Neal leaned forward and tried to grab him. His gaze went restlessly back and forth.

"Did you hear that?" Said Neal and his voice sounded rushed. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were almost black with dilated pupils. Peter sighed.

"I've heard nothing, Neal." Neal shook his head in disapproval, and suddenly sat up straight in bed, listening.

"Burglars. There are burglars in the house. I hear them talk. Call the others. We lock them in." After he had said this, Neal struck his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to get up, but bumped into Peter, who grabbed his arms and pushed him gently but firmly back down. Neal looked at him quizzically, and made another attempt to get out of bed.

"No," Peter said sternly and Neal sighed in frustration.

"Shut up, Peter. Let me do my job. I know what I'm doing." Again there was a brief scuffle, as Neal tried to get out of bed. But Peter stayed firm, and held Neal in a tight grip.

"And now you'er gonna take a nice deep breathe; in and out, okay? There aren't any burglars in the house. Believe me. The fever is playing tricks on you."

"Honey, what's going on here?"

Elizabeth came in and saw that her husband pressed the sick Neal with his arms against the mattress. She was horrified when she saw the strange look on Neal's silk face. As if he wasn't sane.

"Attack of fever. I found him in the doorway of the bathroom. But don't worry. I'm in control, Hon Hopefully he comes to his senses again soon."

"But it doesn't work this way Peter. You're just making him angrier. Let him go. And give him some space." Peter frowned, but responded to the request of his wife. He was reluctant let Neal go who tried to get up again immediately.

"El! You're here. Finally." Neal's tension eased and his shoulders slumped down as he sighed with relief. Elizabeth smiled and wanted to say something. But she was interrupted.

"El. W-we should talk about the installed security software. It doesn't work properly. There are burglars in the house and the alarm went off, but Peter doesn't hear it." Neal's bewildered gaze went repeatedly to El and then back to Peter. Suddenly he stopped and blinked several times.

"I'll go get the thermometer, Hon," murmured Elizabeth and rushed to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Peter readied himself to stretch out his hand to catch Neal should he lose his balance. He began to waver too dangerous. "I'm sorry... I-I m... so ..." Neal came slowly back to his senses.

Peter was relieved that Neal had calmed down and gave him a gentle slap. "It's all right, Caffrey. It's not your fault."

TBC...

and review please!