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Chapter Seven

"How's Neal?" The question was asked before Peter was fully through the door of room 240. "Have you seen him?"

Agent Rice's was sitting up in the bed, a look of genuine concern on her face. Her face was bruised, a seat belt burn was visible on the left side of her neck, both eyes seemed in the process of turning black and her left leg was in traction. If that was what the hospital considered good condition, he feared what serious would look like. "They won't tell me a damn thing."

"I haven't seen him yet," he replied, approaching the bed. "I went to the ER but didn't get to go back. Even the officer assigned to guard him was sitting in the hallway."

Her reaction to the officer was one of surprise but then she nodded in understanding. "I guess that's procedure," she looked away, her voice quiet, "but I didn't think even about it."

"Well," he said, eyeing the contraption holding her leg a good 18-inches in the air. "You had other things on your mind."

"Yeah, a few things," she agreed. "Did you talk to the doctor?"

"I spoke with a Dr. Tomilson," he replied. "He said Neal's condition is serious but-"

"Stable," Agent Rice finished with clear irritation. "Yeah, that much I know, Burke. What I don't know is what the hell that even means."

Peter understood her frustration having experienced it himself just an hour or so before. Serious was a very broad term.

"He has a ruptured eardrum and a grade three concussion but the CAT scan showed no cerebral hemorrhaging," he told her. "The doctor said so far there are no signs of organ damage-"

"Organ damage?"

Peter hadn't like the sound of it, either. "Yeah, from the blast wave," he explained. "But apparently it sometimes shows up later so its too soon to rule it out. He said they'd know more after twenty-four hours. They going to move him up to the CCU and once he's settled in," he finished up, "I can go in and see him." He nodded at her leg. "How about you?"

"Some cuts and bruises and a compound fracture of the tibia," she told him. "I'm scheduled for surgery in the morning. Is he conscious?"

Agent Rice wasn't interested in discussing her own injuries. Instead, she was still focused on Neal's.

"No," Peter told her, "not yet. But the doctor said there's no reason to worry; to give it a few hours. So what happened?"

"The guy was in my lane," she began, her voice low. "I tried to miss him but..," she shrugged. "Next thing I know I'm waking up, smoke is everywhere and Caffrey is gone." She looked at Peter. "I thought he was in the wind," she admitted, "but then he opened my door and asked me if I was hurt."

"They said he pulled you out."

"He did," she confirmed. "I was trapped," she nodded at her leg. "My legs were pinned against the dashboard. He had to move the seat back to get me out. It hurt like hell." She took a breath. "He carried me across the road, away from the accident but then the cars caught fire. The heat was terrible but...," she paused, her eyes finding Peter's. "He ran back." Her expression was one of disbelief. "He went back for the other man. Both cars exploded and I thought...I thought..." She looked away, quickly wiping what Peter knew were tears. "I'll just feel better when I know he's okay, that's all."

She'd tried to toughen her tone but Peter had seen how shaken she was. He had the feeling she cried about as often as he did and disliked it equally as much. But she'd just been through a traumatic event. She had several injuries, including a broken leg and most likely had some pretty high powered painkillers in her system. Given the day she'd had, a tear or two was understandable. Of course, he knew better than to say such a thing to her.

He chose to treat her tears the way he'd hope she'd treat his; by ignoring them altogether. "I know," he said. "So will I. Hopefully we'll get some news in the next few hours. Do you know how the other guy is doing?"

"I asked about him but all they'd say was the same old thing," she replied. "Serious but stable. I did talk to the highway patrolman," she added. "He took my statement but said he didn't know when he'd get to speak to the other driver. I took that to mean he's in pretty bad shape."

"Well, thanks to Neal at least he's alive."

"Another minute and he'd have been dead," she said, "both of them would have. I know we're trained to run towards danger but Caffrey?" She shook her head. "I still can't believe he risked his life that way."

"He risked his life to save Lindsay Gless," Peter reminded her.

"That was different," she contended. "He did save Lindsay but he was trying to save himself, too. That wasn't the case today. What he did today was..." she paused as if trying to find the right adjective, "selfless." Again she shook her head in disbelief. "I just didn't think he was the type that would do something like that."

"Only because you don't know him," Peter answered truthfully. "Believe me, there's a lot more to Neal Caffrey than meets the eye."

"So I've learned," she admitted quietly. "He's going to be okay though, isn't he?" She was looking for reassurance and Peter imagined the explosion kept playing again and again in her head. "I mean, he's young, strong, stubborn...."

Peter smiled at the last descriptive word, having said the same thing to himself several times since the call came in. "All of the above."

"I'll just be glad when he wakes up," she commented.

"The doctor said-"

"To give it time, I know," she finished with a sigh, sinking a bit deeper into the pillow. The events of the day, not to mention the medication, was beginning to take its toll. The agent needed to rest, and he needed to let her. Anyway, maybe by now, they'd let him in to see Neal. He, too, would feel much better once Neal woke up and spoke to him.

"I'm going to go up to the CCU and see if they'll let me in," he told her. "How about you?" he asked. "Have you called anyone yet?"

"I called my supervisor," she told him. "He's supposed to let Agent Bevins know what happened and not to expect us tonight. I told him I'd call back tomorrow and let him know what the doctor says." She scowled at her leg as if it were traitorous. "They said I'll probably be non-weight bearing for at least twelve weeks. That'll make me useless in the field but I told him I can still work my cases. I'll just be desk-bound for awhile."

"I meant a family member," Peter clarified, "or a friend; You know, someone to be here in case you need something."

"Oh," she looked at him as if the thought had never entered her mind. "I won't need anything until I'm released. Then I'll have someone bring me a change of clothes and give me a ride home."

"You sure you don't want to call someone?" He asked with a frown. "You've been through a hell of a lot today."

There was only a slight hesitation before she replied. "Nothing some painkillers, surgery and a few weeks of physical therapy won't fix."

Her tone was flippant but Peter saw a hint of color in her cheeks. His concern had made her uncomfortable, and in that moment, she reminded him of Neal. Nothing put his CI at a loss as quickly as someone showing genuine concern for him; he simply didn't know how to respond. Apparently, that was something he and Agent Rice had in common. That, and a tendency to deflect unwanted attention with sarcasm.

"Really, Agent Burke," she added when he looked less than convinced. "I'm fine. Go check on Caffrey."

Something else she and Neal had in common; saying I'm fine when it was obviously not true.

"Well, if you need anything," he said, fishing his bureau card out of his pocket, "a paper, magazine," he glanced at the still covered dinner dish on the table, "something edible, just give me a call. I'll be around."

"I appreciate that," she said, taking the proffered card. "So do you plan on staying with him?"

"At least until he wakes up and I know he's okay," Peter replied with certainty. "I have to be in court at ten in the morning but I should be done by noon and I'll drive back up." He turned to go. "I'll let you know how he is."

"It's not an act, is it?" Agent Rice asked the question just as Peter reached the door.

Confused, he turned back to face her. "What's not an act?"

"The way you treat him," she ventured, "like he's your partner, your friend even. I thought it was just your way of handling him but it isn't." She searched his eyes. "You really care about him, don't you?"

She wasn't the first in the agency to think the guise of friendship he had with Neal was just a way of manipulating his CI and, for the most part, Peter let people believe what they wanted. It was better they thought his affection for Neal was just a managerial tactic rather than what it really was, a genuine friendship. A friendship between a handler and his CI was ill-advised and everyone knew it, including him. It wasn't something he'd planned; it had just happened.

Peter sighed. "He doesn't always make it easy but, yeah, I care about him." His relationship with Neal was complicated at best; even he didn't fully understand it. Sometimes he felt like Neal's rival sibling, other times like his father. "Like I said," he continued, "there's more to him than meets the eye. He cares about people, he always has, and underneath that conman exterior, he's a good person. I know that."

The agent didn't dispute his words and, after the events of the day, he hardly expected her to. Neal had saved her life.

"I know that too, now," she conceded. "I read his file and thought I knew all about him. But I was wrong. I misjudged him."

Peter was sure such an admission was as rare an occurrence for Agent Rice as were tears. But it had been a hell of a day.

"I'm sure he'd love to hear you say that."