Wow, it's been over a week since I last posted! Sorry guys, but wasn't sure about this chapter for a while and I kept making changes. Like I've said before, I'm not good at writing hospital scenes.

After a con or heist gone wrong, Neal would usually wake up in an basement or hotel room with a strange man looming over him, asking him confusing questions about his name and what years it was, and Mozzie standing a few feet away, looking worried because Neal had managed to hurt himself, again.

So it was strange for Neal to wake up to a beeping noise, sterile air and a white-walled room. He had woken up in a hospital before, but it always seemed to come with a pair of handcuffs. Neal moved his arms experimentally. When he felt some resistance, he opened his eyes and looked down to see his wrists were bare, but his left arm was in a sling. Strange.

Neal searched his memory to find the reason he was in the hospital. It took a few seconds, but the memories came back to him. The sting, Mendez, the gun, the bullet, the pain, the van, Agent Burke- no, Peter.

Neal looked around the room, hoping to see a familiar face, but no one was there. Feeling a little lonely and disconnected from the outside world and with nothing to look at around the room, Neal turned to himself. His left arm was in a navy-blue sling and he could feel bandages covering his shoulder, but couldn't see past the ugly hospital gown he had on. There was an IV in the back of his right hand that itched a little, and a pulse ox on his index finger.

Neal tried to sit up a little, but woke up all of the pain that was lying dormant inside of his body, predominantly in his left shoulder. He settled back down and pinched his eyes shut while waiting for the pain to die down. After a minute, it died down to a drug-dulled ache and Neal to open his eyes.

Just then, the door to his left opened, and a man in a white lab coat came in. "Mr. Caffrey, you're awake. Good," he said as he walked over to the bed that Neal was lying in. "My name is Dr. Reeves." He held out his hand far enough that Neal could use his right hand.

Neal shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Doc," Neal said with feigned cheer. "When can I get out of here?" Neal could already feel himself getting restless within the confines of the small hospital room.

Dr. Reeves looked at him questionably. "You're not even worried about your shoulder?"

Neal smiled widely. "I'm sure you patched me up just fine, right, Doc?" he said, going for nonchalance.

The doctor still looked a little confused, but continued anyway. "Well, your shoulder's going to be quite sore for a while, but, barring any compilations, you should regain complete control," he said.

"Great, but you still didn't answer my other question," Neal said.

"You should be able to get out of here tomorrow or the next day," he said.

"Have you talked to an FBI agents or possibly a Marshal?" Neal asked after a moment.

"Does this have to do with your little accessory?" He asked, nodding towards Neal's ankle.

Neal used his feet to move the blankets off of his legs. The anklet was attached to his left ankle. Apparently someone had put it back on while he was unconscious. That was a little disconcerting.

"Did you see who put this on me?"

"Yes, his name was Agent Ruiz. He came in about an hour ago, but he left soon after that. He left a guard outside the door, though."

Neal looked past Dr. Reeves to see if he could see out the little window in the door. He didn't see anything other than the wall on the other side of the hallway.

Apparently Ruiz wanted more reassurance that Neal stayed where he was told to than the tracking anklet. Can't trust a dog not to run away the moment you turn your back when it's been hardwired into his brain after being in too many situations it wanted to get out of.

"Uh, is there anyone else waiting out there?" Neal asked, feeling like an idiot. Why would Agent Burke be waiting for him to wake up when he could be home with his wife? Neal had seen the ring on his finger, so he knew the man had somewhere better to be.

"Yes, there was another man. He's in the waiting room," Dr. Reeves said. "I didn't catch his name, but I'm pretty sure he's an agent."

Neal nodded, surprised. That sounded like Peter, but it was strange that he actually was there to see him.

"I'll tell him you're awake," the doctor said, then left.

Neal used the buttons on the side of the bed to make the head of the bed to go up more. He didn't want to look frail, even if he felt it.

A few minutes later the door opened and Peter walked in, looking quite awkward. "Hey, how you doing?" He asked, smiling.

"Well, since I'm not in leg irons, pretty good," Neal said cheerfully.

Peter looked confused. "Why would you be in leg irons?" he asked.

"I'm not very useful right now, so I wouldn't have been surprised if I was put back in prison while I got better," Neal said.

Peter shook his head. "They wouldn't do that, Neal," he said as he sat down on a chair that was next to the bed.

Peter seemed to actually believe what he said, so Neal let it be. "So, why aren't you at home with you wife?" Neal asked, just so he could have Peter tell him why he stuck around.

Peter looked surprised, but quickly figured out how Neal knew about his wife and unconsciously played with his ring. "Well, this guy that I was working with got himself shot, so I decided that I should stick around until I knew he lived."

"Well, I'm alive and breathing, for the time being," Neal reported.

"Good to hear," he said lightly, but his eyes telling Neal he was truly grateful that Neal made it.

There was a silence and Neal started fiddling with the hospital bracelet on his wrist, twisting and tugging it experimentally. Then he started reading it. "They spelled my name wrong," Neal said, appalled, as he studied the words on the bracelet. "How could they spell my name wrong?"

Peter started to look uncomfortable and fidgeted in his seat. He shrugged.

"It's obviously C-A-F-F-R-E-Y, not C-A-F-F-E-R-Y," Neal continued.

"I'm sure they didn't mean to," Peter supplied. "They were probably in a rush or something."

"Well, it's such a relief to know the hospital didn't do this on purpose. I wouldn't know what to think if this was intentional," Neal said.

"Are you always this sarcastic, or is this just for me?" Peter asked, a little exasperated.

"Just because you're a special agent doesn't mean I'm going to treat you specially. I'm sure you put your pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us," Neal answered.

Peter rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

"Wait, who filled out my forms?" Neal asked after a moment.

Peter suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Uh, not sure," he said, shrugging.

"You filled out my forms?" Neal asked, able to see the lie from a mile away. Peter nodded reluctantly. "How did you know all the rest of my info?"

"I...may have read your file," Peter admitted, looking slightly ashamed.

"You read my file?" Neal asked unnecessarily.

"Well, yeah - I needed to know who was going to have my back," he explained.

"I didn't get that choice," Neal said, sounding more petulant than he intended.

"Well, it's your fault you're the criminal," Peter pointed out, probably not meaning to be rude, but after all of the recent comments he had been getting about that topic, it kind of hurt.

Peter seemed to notice and he tried to back-pedal. "That was harsh. I-I didn't mean that," he said.

"Yeah, you did," Neal said, nodding and not making eye contact.

Peter made a strange sound of reluctant agreement.

"So, when are you getting out of here?" Peter asked after a long minute, probably to break the awkward tension.

"Probably tomorrow," Neal said. It seemed like too long, but the doctors probably knew want they were talking about.

Peter bobbed his head. "Good, good."

There was another silence, only broken by Neal yawning. He had just woken up and he was already tired. Neal decided that he was going to blame the medication that they were no doubt pumping into him for his fatigue.

Peter got up and awkwardly patted Neal's knee. "Well, I should get going." He walked to the door but stopped before opening it. "Get well, Neal," he said, smiling softly, then he left.

Neal sighed and leaned back. He was exhausted and it didn't take long for him to drift off.

WCWCWCWC

The next time Neal woke up, it was to see Ruiz enter the room. Neal hadn't really expected him to come by.

"You're awake, good," he said as he stood at the end of the bed Neal was lying in, jacket open and hands on his hips in what seemed to be the standard FBI stance. "I need to talk to you."

"Talk away, sir." Neal hated to call Ruiz sir, but the agent had insisted on it.

"We got the guy driving the van, but the SUV that had Mendez got away. With the stuff we got from the watch and phone, next time he pops back up we'll be able to arrest him, so the op wasn't a complete waste of time and resources."

"Good to know," Neal said. Neal wanted to get angry at Ruiz for not caring for his and Peter's safety, but he was just too tired to care at the moment. It was probably for the best anyway - Neal didn't know how far he would be able to push Ruiz until he snapped and sent him back to prison, and prison was not where Neal wanted to be. Kate would be a lot harder to find behind bars.

"You'll be getting out of here tomorrow, so I expect you to be at work the day after that," he said, like he was doing a favor for Neal by giving him a day off before sending him back to work.

Neal nodded in agreement - what else could he do? Definitely not argue with him about his rights. As far as Ruiz was concerned, Neal didn't have any.

"Good," he said, then pointed a finger at Neal. "Don't even think about trying to escape, ya hear me? Your anklet is back on, and, if you think you can get past that, I have an agent at the door. I'm not letting you pull one over on me."

"Don't you think that if I was going to run, I'd already be gone, sir?"

Ruiz nodded, but didn't seem to actually agree. "You probably would have tried, but you wouldn't have gotten far."

"You're right, sir," Neal said, lying through his teeth. He would have been able to get out of the county within a day. But then he'd have the FBI on his tail, and that's not an easy life to live - he would know.

Ruiz nodded. "All right. See you then, Caffrey," he said, then left.

With nothing else to do, Neal turned on the TV that was hooked up to the wall. It was around eight at night so there should be something good to watch.

Where do you guys think this story should go? I have a few ideas, but I'd like to hear what you guys think.

I'm still thinking on what other story to post. It's hard for me to put something else out there.

Reviews make me smile!