Hypnagogia

The transitional state between awareness and sleep.

A place where reality seems fiction and where fiction just might be real.

Neal/Sara & Peter/El - post Judgment Day.

Chapter 1:

It was there, she knew it. The answer to all the questions this investigation had driven her crazy with. Sara sighed with frustration as she not so gently put down the file on her salon table. She put her hands on her waist and took a deep breath. "Alright, yoouu…" she prolonged the word as she was gathering her thoughts to recap this case, before she continued: "You were staying at the Regis from April 4th till 16th, we got the call on the 18th, giving you at least two days to strip the necklace and sell the diamonds…If that's what you did. Well it's what most thief's would do right? But you're not a common thief are you?"

Before she had time to ridicule herself for thinking out loud, Sara was startled by the ringing of her doorbell. One look at the surveillance screen and smiled as she recognized her visitor and buzzed the door open for him. "Peter, come in."

By the time Peter was in her apartment, Sara had already returned to her case files. "Hi, Peter." she greeted him distractedly and only half her body turned away from the table.

"Oh, I know that look." Peter said playfully.

"What look? I don't have a look."

"Ooh yes you do. It's that almost-Tasmanian-Devil-look. You're on to something aren't you?" He guessed.

Sara smirked at his remark and fully turned around this time, one eyebrow raised. "Tasmanian Devil, really? Couldn't go with something a little less…hairy?"

"I once called you a tornado in heels?" He tried.

"Ooh, I like it!"

"Yeh, I thought you might." He smiled as he handed her what he had in his hands. "Here are the background checks you requested."

"Oh, thank you! This will definitely get me a step closer." She eagerly took the files from his hands and started flipping through the pages.

"Don't mention it. So, what'd they do?"

"Hmm, I think," she stated carefully, "both stole 500.000 dollars worth of Verdura jewelry, using one identity: Richard Steele. 'Richard' has been spotted in Sacramento and Chicago."

"So, which Richard has the stuff?"

"I don't know," she admitted helplessly, "I'm hoping your work can give me some new info on them. See where they were staying before and after, take a look at their financials. Hopefully there's something there to give me a concrete lead," she sighed before she changed the subject. "Anyway, can I get you anything? A beer?" she started towards the kitchen when he stopped her.

"Ah, I can't, I actually have to get going."

"Okay, sure, some other time then."

"Definitely. You mind if I use your bathroom before I leave though? Got a long drive ahead of me and I really have to go."

Sara laughed, "Yeh of course, you know where it is."

As Peter walked off to the bathroom, Sara took a seat and and began absorbing the new information Peter brought her, almost greedily.

He knew it wasn't his business, but he couldn't help it: he was worried. He cared about Sara. In the eleven years he's known her, she grew to be more than just an "acquaintance". He knew she'd never admit it, but Sara felt the same way; they were - in a strange way - kinda like brother and sister: he was always looking out for her and she was always looking out for him.

That's why he just had to do it.

He flushed the toilet to mask the sounds he would be making as he was opening the doors to the bathroom cabinets, looking through her personal stuff. Her shampoos, conditioners, hair coloring products and other toiletries. Part of him felt guilty for doubting her strength and herself as a person, part of him felt he was violating their relationship based on mutual respect and trust, but the main part of him was just worried.

He had never been able to get the image of the 19 year old girl, curled up in fetal position in a snow covered alley in Brooklyn, wearing nothing but a nightgown. Her hair – longer and brown – had been wet and dirty, and was spread all around her head, covering most of her face. Her skin – fragile, like porcelain, so breakable and almost see through – was covered in blood. He remembered how, when he turned her around on her back and her hair fell back, life was drained from her face. Though this was eleven years ago, the memories were still fresh in his mind.

Sara had come so far. Become a completely different person, strong and independent. Someone she could be proud of. He could be proud of. He wasn't going to let anything – not even Neal leaving – compromise that. Yes, he was sure, he was doing the right thing. Was he overreacting? Maybe, but Peter was probably the only person in the world to know her true weaknesses.

As Peter closed the last cabinet door, he let out a relieved breath. No painkillers. Not even an aspirin.

He got up from under the sink and turned on the faucet to feign washing his hands when the corner of his eye caught something. He frowned to himself, almost trying to laugh off his crazy thoughts, after all; it couldn't ever be true.

Ignoring his own not so convincing reassurance, he bent down to the trashcan to take a closer look. His eyes grew wide and his hand searched for the edge of the sink. No, it couldn't be. It can't be.

Peter's confused and clumsy entrance into the room got Sara's attention and when she saw his face she got worried. "Peter?" His little too late "Hm?" response didn't exactly make her feel better either. She walked up to him to take a closer look.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeh, no, I'm fine, I'm fine. Think I stood up too quickly."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeh, I'll be fine, don't worry."

"Okay, well hold on, I'll get you some water." She guided him to a chair and left to get him some water. When she returned, however, he was gone. She put down the glass of water and ran to the window, only to see Peter driving off like his life depended on it.

She stood there for a while, frowning and going through the last minute in her head: What the hell just happened?

And then it clicked. She ran to her bathroom and looked around when finally her eyes found what must have sent Peter into shock.

Phone! She needed her phone. The person on the other side quickly answered:

"Sara?"

"Peter was here."

"And?"

"I think he knows."

"What?"

"I mean, I'm not sure, but he came out of the bathroom pretty flustered and…clumsy."

"Clumsy?"

"Yes!"

"Well did he say something?"

"No, I went to get him some water and when I came back he was gone."

"Maybe he doesn't suspect anything."

"Oh, he suspects something alright... We have to tell."

"I know, I know, I just… need time. Please? I just have to figure a few things out first."

When Sara didn't reply, the voice pleaded again: "Please?"

Eventually she sighed and gave in. "Alright."