Chapter 4! This wasn't originally going to be so fast, but I don't want the idea to go stale, so it's happening. Enjoy, and review? :3

Disclaimer: You know le drill :3

Ringg ringg

Peter groaned, turning away from the intrusive noise.

Ringg ringg

Peter pulled his pillow from under his head and slapped it across his face.

Ringg ringg

The barely muffled noise insistently penetrated Peter's sleepy stupor. He sighed deeply, removing the pillow, glanced at the alarm clock, which read 3:43 and grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

"Yes?" he yawned.

"Is this Mr Burke?"

The unfamiliar voice properly roused Peter. He sat up straight in his bed, frowning.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Sorry to bother you at such a late hour Mr Burke, but you're down as the emergency contact for one Neal Caffrey.."

A sick dread filled Peter. He swallowed, but his throat was suddenly too dry to produce any saliva.

"What's going on?" he snapped down the phone, trying to mask his worry.

"Well, it appears Mr Caffrey has been involved in a bar fight. He's at St. Elizabeths.."

"Thank you," he muttered down the phone. In a daze, he pulled on a blue shirt and brown pants, and a tie, pushed his phone into his back pocket, and grabbed his badge and gun. He crept downstairs, and out of the door.

"I'm looking for Neal Caffrey.." he stated to the receptionist. She pecked delicately on the computer keyboard.

"He's in the ER at the minute sir," she informed him. He nodded gratefully, and headed along the corridor, pushing open the double doors, and looking for Neal.

He found his partner behind a curtain.

"Shit Neal.." he muttered, taking in the man in front of him.

Neal's shirt was cut open, exposing his bony chest. There was bruises all across his delicate rib bones. A bloody laceration lined his scalp, gently weeping, and small shallow cuts were present across his head. One of his eyes were horribly swelled, and there was a dressing across his nose, which was presumably broken. Neal was breathing raggedly, his eyes glazed and unfocused, drifting in and out of sleep. But the thing that horrified Burke most weren't his partner's vast array of injuries. The EMT's had obviously removed his blazer, and without it, his bony arms were exposed. His right wrist was clean, but his left one was sporting hundreds of spidery cuts, deep red against the ivory of his skin and the regal blue of his veins. The cuts were self-inflicted, Peter knew that. And just knowing that the young man was carrying so much pain, so much inner torment, that it made him resort to.. this..

Peter's eyes began to fill, and he rubbed them furiously, inhaling deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to be strong. He needed to keep it together, for Neal's sake.