Ch2

"Hey, Hon," Peter greeted his wife.

"Hi,"

"You okay?"
She exhaled. "I can't stop thinking about Neal,"
"What? Why?"
"I think something happened to him."
"Elizabeth come on, he's tough. He was in jail for almost four years."
"Still,"

Peter couldn't help but smile at her stubbornness; that was something he loved about her. "Well at least tell me what you're thinking,"

"He was looking at your gun very closely earlier today."
"Caffrey doesn't like guns." He said simply.

"That's not what it looked like. It almost looked like…"
"Like what?"
"Like he wanted to use it on himself." She whispered, looking deep into his eyes.

Peter shook his head, startled. "He's not suicidal. Plus, he's looking for Kate, he would never do himself in if Kate was …"

"You don't think…?"
"I don't know… It's probably nothing."

She looked at him with deeply concerned eyes.
"You're not going to let this go?"
"Will you just check on him?"

0000000000000000

Neal sat on the floor of June's bathroom. He shook from head to toe. A knife trembled in his not so firm grip.

He didn't acknowledge his heaving breaths, nor the rapid thumping of his heart. All he could feel was the pain, pain that had once been Kate. He hated it; he would rather feel anything but this.

He slowly but surely pressed the knife into his wrist before ripping back and watching the blood flow. The crimson red distracted him from all things Kate.

He gasped as a new pain came. But it was okay. He repeated this again. He felt crazy. He knew normal sane people didn't do this, but… it hurt too much, he didn't know any other way to cope.

He was really starting to scare himself. He didn't do things like this. This was so unlike him it was almost like he was watching someone else doing it from behind a screen. He could feel the blade go deeper. He didn't care, as long as it blocked out Kate.

He was so absorbed he didn't here the footsteps on the stairs. He didn't even notice the door open.

Peter gasped, practically choking on the air. He knew the blood seeping out side the door was a bad sign, but this… this was just completely unexpected.

"Neal," He groaned. "Neal!" He said it louder, now bending next to the young man. "Neal," Neal's head lolled against the wall. He blinked several time before completely going limp. "Oh damn it Neal," He pulled his phone and rapidly dialed 911. "Hi… yeah… look please hurry, I've got a man bleeding to his death here! I'm at 7431 Wellington Street… Yes… Okay thanks." Peter stared at Neal. What in the hell had happened? What would possibly bring this on?
"Neal, why'd you do this?" Peter put two fingers on the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry," Neal murmured.

Peter gaped at him. "Are you okay?"

"Mm,"
"An ambulance is coming,"

"Why?"
"Uh Neal, you're kind of seeping blood."

"Wel-"

"Whoa!" Both Neal and Peter's heads jerked in the direction of the new voice.

"Who are you?" Peter growled going into FBI mode pushing the bald man up against the wall.