Peter and El got about four hours' sleep when the beep of a text message woke them. Peter reached for his phone, read the message and said, "It's from George Knightley. He says Neal's about to wake up."
"Let's go," said El, knowing Peter would want to be there, and they dressed in record time.
The Caffreys and Winslows arrived around the same time as the Burkes. Peter, Henry, Noelle and Irene went into Neal's room. At the instance of the doctor, only four visitors would be allowed in his room, leaving El, Edmund, Graham and George clustered in the corridor beyond the room. But with the curtain left open, they were able to hear.
When Neal opened his eyes shortly before 8am, everyone had something to say to him. El could hear "He's awake" and "Welcome back" and "How are you feeling?" and "Stay with us now." The voices were all hushed, but it still seemed to overwhelm Neal, who flinched and screwed his eyes shut.
"Mr. Caffrey, please open your eyes again, just for a moment," Dr. Emma Woodhouse insisted. When he opened them only a fraction of a second and whimpered, the doctor shooed everyone out of the room, insisting they were irritating her patient.
But Elizabeth watched a very tired George Knightley enter the room, place a hand over Neal's eyes and say, "It won't be as bright this time, I promise. One more try, Neal. We'll give your eyes a chance to adjust."
The doctor glared at George, but kept her voice calm as she encouraged Neal to answer a few questions and then looked at his eyes, presumably checking his pupils. He quickly fell asleep again. The doctor left the room and told the group to stop loitering in the corridor and to wait in the room that was designed for that purpose until they were told that they could return. They followed her instructions, but not before a grumpy George told her she should work on her bedside manner.
El was glad to see that George went back home to catch up on his sleep. Peter started what promised to be a long call with his team about the latest developments in the Highbury case. Henry seemed to be doing some male bonding with both of his grandfathers. And Noelle and Irene were headed down the east corridor.
Now that Neal seemed to be firmly on the road to recovery, Elizabeth supposed she should go to work. She certainly shouldn't spy on his family. But she had as much curiosity as any Caffrey, and it wouldn't hurt to grab a muffin before going to the gallery. And the cafeteria happened to be down the east corridor.
Also down that corridor was a chapel, and that's where El saw the women. They sat on a pew, and Irene held a sobbing Noelle, rocking her slightly while saying something in a comforting tone.
Deciding they deserved some privacy, Elizabeth continued on to the cafeteria where she purchased a muffin to go, and then she walked back toward the waiting room to say goodbye to her husband. Of course, that meant walking by the chapel again. The storm of tears seemed to be over. Noelle was wiping her eyes, as was Irene.
"Is everything all right?" Elizabeth asked, walking into the chapel. "I thought the doctor said Neal will be fine."
"Exactly," said Irene. "Now that he's out of the woods, we can stop being strong and have a good cry."
"I see," said El, sitting beside Irene. There was something almost magical about the woman, as if she were followed by a ray of sunlight even in the most dismal circumstances. She had a classic, ageless beauty, with an air of mischief that made you like her instead of being jealous of her. "Oh, I'm sorry," El said after a moment. "I don't mean to stare, but you look so familiar."
Irene beamed at her. "You watch old movies, don't you? Classic musicals or comedies."
"Yes, I love both."
"Then you know me as the second dancer from the right," Irene said.
"Excuse me?"
"I was a dancer. And an actress. In musicals I was usually the second dancer from the right. In comedies I was the madcap best friend or hapless kid sister who kicked off the screwball subplot." She sighed. "I was typecast, I'm afraid."
"She was typecast as herself," Noelle added. "And she continues to play the role of madcap mother to this day. If Mom suggests any kind of scheme, you should run or be prepared for mayhem."
"Fortunately my family appreciates mayhem," Irene said.
"Even the ambassador?" El couldn't help asking. Edmund Caffrey had seemed so serious and distinguished.
"Oh, yes. Diplomacy can be terribly boring when it's conducted properly. Often it seems you spend all day with a bunch of stuffy old men, all set in their ways. I won't let Edmund turn into one of them. And a little mayhem, directed appropriately, can be quite effective. Together we make a great team."
"Like Peter and Neal," Elizabeth said.
Noelle's interest was caught. "How so?"
"My husband is an excellent FBI agent. But sometimes when we go to Bureau events and meet the people in the leadership roles he aspires to, it seems like he's destined to turn into, um..."
"A stuffy old man?" Irene suggested.
"I don't think he'd be that bad. But all the same, I'm glad he recruited Neal. Both of your grandsons seem to shake things up, and that makes Peter see things differently. I think he'll be a better leader as a result, and less, well, stuffy."
Noelle nodded solemnly. "I think it's safe to say Henry and Neal both take after their grandmother, sometimes to our despair."
Irene's smile radiated mischief. "I can't wait to spend some quality time with Neal and learn how much we have in common. Let's see if he's awake."
"Heaven help us," said Noelle as she stood up. But she smiled, too.
In the waiting room Edmund Caffrey, who yesterday had spoken with no hint of an accent, was instructing Henry on the finer points of an Irish accent. It would seem they had practiced this before, because Henry was already very good. And El had to admit the accent made them both nearly irresistible. She almost giggled when the previously staid ambassador flirted outrageously with her.
That's when the realization hit her. An ambassador talks diplomats into doing what he wants. An actress convinces audiences to believe what she wants. A psychologist convinces patients to try what she wants. They're a family of con artists. Neal was going to fit in perfectly.
###
Dr. Woodhouse, who had earlier banished everyone from Neal's room, joined them in the waiting room for a chat. She explained that she specialized in toxicology, including poisonings and drug overdoses. Because of the combined physical and psychological implications of the drug Neal had been given, she wanted to keep him in ICU for the rest of the day, keeping an eye on him. She strongly advised that his visitors avoid exciting him.
Elizabeth left for work. As much as he wanted to stay, Peter knew he was needed at the Federal Building if he wanted to uncover who was behind the plot to kill Neal. And to do that he needed help from Henry and Graham. Therefore he suggested that the three of them check on Neal one more time, and then turn the kid's care over to Irene, Edmund and Noelle for the next few hours.
The good news was that Neal was awake. But he wasn't particularly lucid. "I don't like it here," he'd said when Peter entered his room.
"Not many people like being in hospitals," Peter replied.
"No, that's later," Neal said.
Peter shrugged. That didn't make any sense to him. Henry asked, "Why don't you like it here?"
"It's dark," Neal complained, even though the space was flooded with light.
In an intense aside to Graham, Henry said, "Get Mom. Hurry." Then in much more casual tones he asked, "Where are you, Neal?"
"Trunk of a car. Vance's car, I think. I don't like it here," he repeated.
"How old were you when you were in Vance's car?" Henry asked.
Neal thought a moment and then said, "Nine."
"Right. You were a little kid. But you're grown up now. And you were alone in Vance's trunk, but you aren't alone now. I'm here with you."
"I'm not in the trunk?"
"Not anymore," Henry said. "You're in a hospital. And we're going to take care of you."
Impressed as he was with Henry's calm handling of the situation, Peter still breathed a sigh of relief when Noelle entered the room. Everything about her was professional. Even her perfume was classic. Peter had investigated a case of knock-off perfumes a year ago, and he recognized expensive scents now.
Henry also appeared to relax slightly. "He's flashing back to the abduction," he said in a low voice.
Noelle nodded. "Neal, do you know –" she started, but Neal reacted strongly to her voice.
"No!" Neal protested. "She's going to kill me!"
Peter had heard and said that phrase many times growing up: If Mom finds out, she's going to kill me. But it wasn't hyperbole now. Neal really sounded in fear for his life.
"She's here! I heard her voice. Her perfume... She's going to kill me..." The vehemence only decreased because he was tiring himself out.
"Get out!" Henry said to his mother. She looked shocked, but left the room.
"She's going to kill me," Neal repeated, sounding exhausted.
"It's okay, Neal," Henry promised. "I won't let her near you. You're safe." When Neal fell into a restless sleep, Henry stepped outside the room. His mother still stood beyond the curtain.
"He thought I was Meredith," Noelle said.
"This is why I couldn't send him home when he got out of the hospital in Chicago," Henry said. "Because sometimes, when a female nurse or doctor reminded him of his mother, he went into a panic. Until today, I'd never seen him have that reaction again, and he always refused to talk about why it happened. But he was convinced she wanted him dead."