Two weeks.

Two weeks spent chauffeuring Neal from doctor to specialist for tests and more tests and finally a diagnosis at Sloan-Kettering.

Peter took notes as Neal sat beside him numb; words that barely registered at that moment but would later, thanks to the internet and a bevy of information.

Myelodysplastic Syndrome; Neal had the severe form and was considered high risk. Chemo was the first treatment and then a bone marrow transplant. The doctor continued to explain other options but the transplant was the only choice for long term remission and he felt Neal was young and healthy enough to go through it.

He asked if they had questions. Neither man spoke, each trying to digest it all.

He gave them pamphlets and explained the National Donor Program and said they'd start looking for a match.

He explained introduction chemo and how rough it would be, but it was needed to get Neal in remission before transplant.

And then he looked Neal in the eyes and told him long term survival was the goal and Neal had an excellent chance to beat this.


The pencil snapped in half and Peter swore. He tossed the forms aside and leaned back in his chair. He spent the day fighting to get Neal insurance and the time off both would need. Hughes was sympathetic but he had an office to run and he wasn't happy about losing one of his best agents.

Peter had agreed to be the caregiver; there really wasn't much of a choice. He would be there throughout the transplant and learn how to give Neal his medication and clean his lines and whatever else they told him that he couldn't remember at the moment.

He glanced up as the door opened and Mozzie walked in.

"What are you doing here?" Peter stood angrily. "I told you to stay with Neal today."

"Suit he doesn't want me there."

"He doesn't know what he wants. Mozzie you know I have to get all of these forms filled out."

"Suit, I'm not looking for his mother."

"Mozzie, we agreed..."

"Peter, no." Mozzie stared up at the agent. "He's afraid whoever killed Ellen will go after her. We need to agree on this point; I promised him I wouldn't let you look for her. He doesn't need that kind of stress right now."

"Fine." Peter rubbed his forehead. "Now, please go back to the hospital and sit with Neal."

"He kicked me out."

"Mozzie, he shouldn't be alone."

"His choice suit" Mozzie said as he sorted through the paperwork. "Maybe this wasn't the right choice..."

"It's the only choice" Peter barked out. "Mozzie don't you dare start filling his head with conspiracy theories. You know the odds, we all do."

"It's only the second day and he's wiped out." Mozzie sank into the kitchen chair.

"They said this would be rough and that's why he's inpatient. Once they get him into remission he'll get to rest before..."

"Before the real fun begins" Mozzie muttered. "Someone else's blood..."

"Bone marrow" Peter interrupted. "He'll get healthy bone marrow so he can beat this." Peter sat down and faced the other man. "Mozzie he can't beat this alone and he doesn't need us fighting. Can we call a truce until then?"

"We can try" Mozzie answered as he picked up the broken pencil. "Suit, you go sit with him and I'll finish up here."

With a sigh, Peter stood. "Take the dog out in an hour. I'll call Elizabeth and let her know to what to expect when she gets home."


Peter hated hospitals; he probably wasn't alone in his feelings but ever since he was eight years old and had to say goodbye to his grandmother before they turned off the respirator, he had trouble stepping inside without his heart racing. To think he'd be spending as much as three months inside during the transplant was not something he could even imagine.

He had talked to the nurse and knew Neal was extremely nauseous and vomiting. But at least the chemo was over for the day and it would take a couple of hours before he felt better.

He entered quietly.

Neal was curled up in a ball with a little metal basin near his face.

"Hey Neal." Peter pulled a chair over and sat. "How bad are you feeling?"

"Think the marathon is out" Neal mumbled as he turned and stretched his legs. "They said the meds should kick in shortly." Neal covered his eyes with his hand.

"Do you want me to turn the light off?"

"No." Neal shifted in bed, trying to get comfortable. "They're pumping poison into my body in order to save my life. Ironic huh?"

"Yeah" Peter agreed as he stood. "Stop moving so I can untangle the blankets." Peter carefully pulled the blankets away. "Do you want to lie on your stomach or back?"

"I'd prefer a beach somewhere" Neal whispered as he closed his eyes.

"Me too buddy" Peter said as he pulled the covers up. Thinking Neal might go to sleep Peter sat down and quietly watched his partner.

"Is Mozzie mad?" Neal asked a few minutes later, again curling up with his arms tight against his middle.

"Are you going to be sick?" Peter questioned as he sprang up.

"Don't know." Neal tried to sit up and cried out in frustration when the IV got in the way.

"Take it easy" Peter soothed as he moved the pole away and sat down allowing Neal to lean against him. "It's ok" Peter said several times as Neal buried his face against Peter's shoulder and willed his stomach to settle.

"Better" Neal mumbled a few minutes later as he pulled away from Peter and stretched out, this time on his back.

"Mozzie said you kicked him out" Peter remarked as he again fixed the blankets.

"He wouldn't shut up."

"Neal, he's worried about you..."

"He doesn't think the transplant is the right thing."

Peter sighed as he pushed the chair closer. "Neal, you know this is your only chance at a cure."

"I know. I've read everything you have." Neal turned slightly. "You can still back out, you know that."

"I'm in this with you" Peter said evenly, holding Neal's gaze.

"Thank you." Neal smiled weakly before falling back against the pillow. "Don't think I could do this alone."

"Not a chance." Peter reached over and took Neal's hand. "I'll be here the whole time."


"Hey hon" Elizabeth greeted Peter as he entered their home. "How's Neal doing?"

"He's better" Peter replied as he tossed his jacket on the chair. "Ate a little dinner and he was sleeping soundly when I left." Peter eyed the corner of the living room. "I see you started shopping. Everything is wrapped right?"

Elizabeth nodded as she put down the notebook she was writing in. "I read the pamphlets too...only new things allowed in the transplant room." She stood and neared Peter. "Are you sure about this?" She wrapped herself in his open arms. "This isn't a small thing you're doing."

Peter pulled away with a big sigh. "If I don't El, who will? He doesn't want me to look for his mother. We know nothing about this father. Mozzie?" Peter chuckled. "The minute I turn my back on him, he's going to sneak Neal out of there..."

"No he won't." Elizabeth smiled. "I talked to him today and he's scared. You know Neal means a lot to him."

"Yeah, I know." Peter wandered into the kitchen.

"Peter, that's not a reason to do this." Elizabeth followed, took Peter's dinner from the fridge and placed it in the microwave. "This could be a year out of our lives. And what about your job?"

"El, he's my partner and that means family. I can't let him do this alone."

"Fine." She reached up and kissed his cheek. "I'm in this too, got it? We do this together for Neal."

"I love you" Peter whispered as he sat down to eat. "Oh I talked to the coordinator" Peter said as he shuffled food into his mouth. "They found ten potential matches for Neal."

"Now what?" Elizabeth reached over and snatched a carrot from Peter's plate.

"They have to contact them and do more testing. He's sure they'll have a perfect match when Neal is ready for transplant."

"This seems so unreal" Elizabeth whispered as tears welled up in her eyes. "Two months ago he was on an island and tonight he's sleeping in a hospital..."
"I know." Peter reached over and took her hand. "I know" he repeated sadly.


Peter hurried through the hospital doors and took the stairs up three flights to Neal's floor. He had called before leaving home to check on Neal and was told he had had a bad night, fighting a fever most of it.

He stopped at the desk first; Neal was still battling a fever and chemo had been cancelled for the day to give his body a rest.

He entered with some trepidation; immediately noticing that Neal now had four tubes attached. Peter made a mental note for future reference...more tubes probably meant more issues. The light was off but the morning sun was shining brightly through the half-closed blinds.

"Neal" Peter whispered in case he was sleeping.

Neal turned his way with a quiet groan.

"I heard it was a rough night."

"Just peachy" Neal mumbled as he stared up at Peter.

"Anything you need?"

"A do-over" Neal whispered before turning his head.

Peter rarely felt helpless but that's exactly how he felt watching Neal lay so still. He pulled a chair over and sat with his eyes glued on the man in bed. Neal grimaced in pain and moaned as he hiked the covers up to his chin.

"Are you cold?" Peter asked as he tucked the sides in tighter.

"Yeah" Neal admitted as he burrowed deeper under the blanket.

"Be right back." Peter left and returned a few minutes later with an extra blanket.

"Better?" he asked after covering Neal.

Neal nodded as one blue eye peeked out.

"Wish I could do more" Peter whispered.

"Being here is enough" Neal countered as he fidgeted more, unable to get comfortable.

"Lay still" Peter gently ordered as he draped his arm across Neal. "Try to sleep." It wasn't long before Neal's breathing evened out and the pain seemed to ease up.

Peter leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and grabbed the remote, muting it before he turned the TV on, knowing this was only the first of many long days watching his friend suffer.