The Dreamer

Chapter 19: Emerging from the Fog

February 7, 2005. Monday evening.

Dusk had fallen by the time the FBI van rolled up to June's place. When Neal got out, Peter ran through his usual admonitions to get some rest. The order wasn't necessary. A hot shower, unpacking, and sleep were the only items on his list. Taking time for dinner wouldn't be necessary. He'd had enough fast food on the road to satisfy any cravings for months.

Jones insisted on carrying his bag upstairs. Neal made a halfhearted attempt to talk him out of it but was glad for the assist. There were only a few lights on downstairs. It was just as well that June was out since he was starting to feel the need for another pain pill. The normal spring in his step had been reduced to a shuffle. Jones followed him as he mushed his way slowly upstairs.

Mozzie was standing to greet him at the open door to his loft. "I heard you come in," he said, but his smile of welcome quickly turned to a frown. "What's Wet Suit doing carrying your bag? You look pale. Your nose is red. Did you get sick?" Mozzie slapped a hand over his mouth and retreated into the loft.

"You want me to get rid of him?" Jones asked, placing his bag next to the closet. "We know how to handle stowaways in the Navy."

Neal dismissed the idea with a laugh, although for a brief moment it did sound tempting. He thanked Jones who left after tossing a final intimidating glare in Mozzie's direction.

Neal hung up his parka and dropped into a chair at the table.

"What happened to you?" Mozzie demanded, moving only slightly closer.

"Nothing much. Car crash. Fell down a mountain. I'm not contagious." He sneezed and added, "I think."

Mozzie reached into his side pocket and pulled out a face mask. At Neal's arched eyebrow, he muttered darkly, "Flu season. We should always be prepared." Slipping the mask on, he added, "You'd be well advised to carry one, too. If you had, you might have avoided whatever plague you caught."

"Won't your mask prevent you from drinking?" Neal asked with a yawn.

"Good point," he said, sliding it below his mouth. "I'll keep my distance." Mozzie went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. "Have some wine. This is a new blend. It has a higher percentage of honey. I'm considering promoting its health benefits, particularly during the cold season." He poured out two glasses. "You can be my guinea pig. I'll also have a glass. You're providing an excellent opportunity to test its preventative properties." Mozzie placed Neal's glass on the far edge of the table and then quickly retreated to the couch with his own glass.

Neal gave the contents a gentle swirl. "Pungent bouquet. One of the gingers?"

He nodded. "Pinecone ginger. The plant has medicinal properties and promotes healing."

With a shrug, Neal took a sip. It couldn't hurt.

Mozz eyed him intently. "Do you notice any change?"

"I only took one sip. I assume it will take a little longer."

Mozzie took out a pad of paper from his pocket and tossed it over to him. "Record your symptoms and any changes over the next thirty-six hours. I predict a miraculous recovery."

Neal raised his glass to him. "I'm all for that." He'd been relying on antihistamines to keep his sneezes at bay. Honey wine sounded much more pleasant. "So are you clairvoyant that I would need healing or was there another reason for you being here?"

"You'd mentioned you expected to be home by today. While you were at the resort, I've had much to work on."

"The wine business, I know."