White Collar - "On A Day Like This"
Feb. 10th, 2011 11:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tj_teejayTitle: On A Day Like This
Author: TeeJay
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whitecollar100 Prompt: #32 Chocolate
Genre: Gen
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Elizabeth
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for 2x09 'Point Blank' and 2x10 'Burke's Seven'
Summary: Time has no meaning when Neal is sitting by Mozzie's hospital bed.
Author's Note: Two words: Neal!Angst.
Disclaimer: White Collar, its characters and its settings belong to Jeff Eastin and USA Network. And, guys? Your characters are not only welcome, they're wonderful. I'm just borrowing, I promise.
Time has no meaning when Neal is sitting by Mozzie's hospital bed. He's seen every shade of daylight—or absence of it—in this room. The light outside may change, but the sound never does. The monotonous beeping has become a pacemaker in Neal's existence.
This is one of those days where it is increasingly difficult to persevere against life and its encumbrances. Neal has brought a book but doesn't try to read it. He knows that's not good, because it inevitably leads to guilt and anger and too vivid, gruesome images in his mind.
Days like this always end in too much red wine, fitful (and too little) sleep and a headache the next day.
His back turned to the door, he doesn't look up when he hears footsteps approaching. Probably just the nurse, checking the pulse ox clip. Or the IV. Or the catheter bag. They all know Neal. And they know what it's like and why he's here. They know not to ask questions.
The gentle touch on his shoulder startles him and the soft voice that speaks his name instantly soothes his troubled soul.
"I got this for you," Elizabeth says, stepping around the chair. She holds out a paper cup to him that he accepts without question. It is hot to the touch.
The white plastic lid prevents him from gauging the content. He is surprised when it's sweet and milky on his tongue rather than pleasantly bitter.
"Hot chocolate?" he asks.
"Neal, you're burning yourself out. You can't live on caffeine and potato chips."
She takes the free chair next to him.
"Any change?" she asks, and he knows she's not going anywhere for a while. It gives him a feeling of relief and comfort—something he desperately needs on a day like this.
Author: TeeJay
whitecollar100 Prompt: #32 ChocolateGenre: Gen
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Elizabeth
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for 2x09 'Point Blank' and 2x10 'Burke's Seven'
Summary: Time has no meaning when Neal is sitting by Mozzie's hospital bed.
Author's Note: Two words: Neal!Angst.
Disclaimer: White Collar, its characters and its settings belong to Jeff Eastin and USA Network. And, guys? Your characters are not only welcome, they're wonderful. I'm just borrowing, I promise.
+-+-+-+-+
Time has no meaning when Neal is sitting by Mozzie's hospital bed. He's seen every shade of daylight—or absence of it—in this room. The light outside may change, but the sound never does. The monotonous beeping has become a pacemaker in Neal's existence.
This is one of those days where it is increasingly difficult to persevere against life and its encumbrances. Neal has brought a book but doesn't try to read it. He knows that's not good, because it inevitably leads to guilt and anger and too vivid, gruesome images in his mind.
Days like this always end in too much red wine, fitful (and too little) sleep and a headache the next day.
His back turned to the door, he doesn't look up when he hears footsteps approaching. Probably just the nurse, checking the pulse ox clip. Or the IV. Or the catheter bag. They all know Neal. And they know what it's like and why he's here. They know not to ask questions.
The gentle touch on his shoulder startles him and the soft voice that speaks his name instantly soothes his troubled soul.
"I got this for you," Elizabeth says, stepping around the chair. She holds out a paper cup to him that he accepts without question. It is hot to the touch.
The white plastic lid prevents him from gauging the content. He is surprised when it's sweet and milky on his tongue rather than pleasantly bitter.
"Hot chocolate?" he asks.
"Neal, you're burning yourself out. You can't live on caffeine and potato chips."
She takes the free chair next to him.
"Any change?" she asks, and he knows she's not going anywhere for a while. It gives him a feeling of relief and comfort—something he desperately needs on a day like this.
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