Sorry for the delay, guys. I struggled with Peter and Neal. They can be pretty stubborn from time to time…

And because the website failed to allow any comments on my previous chapter, I think I have to thank everyone who send me their opinion anyways. It means a lot. Thanks as always to my betas canadianscanget and mam711. Enjoy!

Peter stopped at a red light and cursed. He looked over at Neal, who shifted once again in an effort to find a more comfortable position. Right now he was trying to support his head with his right hand but Peter could tell from the way his shoulders tensed that Neal wasn't even close to relaxed.

"Almost there."

Neal shot him a glance, something between anger and annoyance in his eyes.

"Thank you, Peter. After six hours in a hospital I think I can wait another ten minutes to get home."

"Quit whining, would you? If it had been up to me, you'd still be under observation."

Neal closed his eyes and buried his head in his right hand again as Peter drove on.

"Well then, I guess I have to thank God that decision wasn't up to you, right? I told you – I'm fine. I won't die from a concussion. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?"

Peter was getting louder. Neal winced.

"Can you keep it down a little? You shouldn't worry 'bout me; we need to find Anna." Neal glanced outside the car's windows. "Wait... are you taking me to your place?"

Peter turned left and smiled.

"Look at you… Developing detective skills after all."

"Peter, you don't-"

"You can't go home yet; forensics is on scene processing your apartment."

"June?"

Peter heard the worried tone in Neal's voice.

"She came home; insisted on staying at the house. I have someone with her for now but it's unlikely your attackers will be back."

Neal looked guilty, and with his head bandaged he looked a little bit like a lost child. Peter's heart skipped a beat. He didn't want to think about how close he had come to losing his partner this time. When he had seen the chaos at the apartment – the door kicked open, the chairs upended, the shattered bottle, and most importantly, Neal lying motionless on the floor – the sinking sensation in his stomach was a feeling Peter wasn't eager to go through again.

"Look, Neal… It wasn't your fault."

Neal's head shot up; the aching head and bruised neck and shoulders momentarily forgotten. His eyes filled with raw anger. The idea of comparing Neal to a lost child suddenly seemed ridiculous, even to Peter.

"Like I don't know that? You don't have to tell me it's not my fault but still… people around me are getting hurt – Alex, Anna… June's place has to be watched. And I should what…? Lean back and twiddle my thumbs?"

Peter took a deep breath. Why was it so hard at times to make this guy understand that the world didn't revolve around him?

"I know you wanna go out and catch the bad guys, but seriously… Look at you! You're in no condition to go out on a manhunt, much less when we're up against God knows who just waiting for us to make a wrong move!"

"I need to find her, Peter… What would you do?... What if it was me?"

Neal was dead serious.

"That's different. And you know it."

"How?"

Peter carefully watched the road in front of them, avoiding Neal's gaze, even when the streets were as empty as they could be in a city that doesn't sleep.

"You're a friend."

Neal snorted then laughed quietly.

"Then help a friend. Don't shut me out of this investigation, Peter."

Even if Richter allowed Neal back in on the investigation, even if he hadn't almost been beaten to death, Peter would feel uncomfortable; he would constantly worry Neal didn't have his head in the game. It would cost Peter his focus.

"Not an option, Caffrey. You'll stay put until I say otherwise."

"But-"

"Listen to me! You'll stay put. Until I say otherwise. Or I swear I'll find a less desirable way to keep you on lockdown. Am I making myself clear?"

Neal glowered then turned his head towards the window.

"Clear as a bell, Agent Burke."

They drove in silence the rest of the way. Deep down Peter had to admit that he wished he could trust Neal on this. Having Neal to bounce ideas off, someone to think outside of the box, was certainly something Peter could do with right now. But this case was responsible for killing two people – that he knew – and hurting at least three others. Richter was right; there was no wiggle room for liabilities.

Peter pulled up in front of his house and turned the car off. He soon realized Neal was sound asleep. He tapped his shoulder and Neal jolted awake, blinking against the light, or the pain – Peter didn't really know. Neal was still pale, his eyes a bit glassy. As soon as he realized where he was, those eyes looked back at him with about as much attention as Peter could probably expect from someone who had been in need of several stitches and a CAT scan.

"Sorry, Peter… Dozed off…"

Peter tried to smile but failed. "I figured."

"You look like crap."

Now that was a twist…

"Excuse me?"

"Did you get any sleep?"

Peter exited the car.

"Nope. I was too busy getting my consultant to a hospital."

Neal just nodded and opened the car door. He tried to get out; Peter came around to help him.

"I got this. Just let me… I got this."

Peter sighed and watched the younger man hauling himself out of the car. He knew enough about dignity to give Neal the time he needed to do it on his own. The two men walked slowly to the door; Neal swayed and Peter stayed just close enough to catch him if need be.

The house felt empty without El, but Peter tried his best to be as good a host as his wife would want him to be: he helped Neal out of his jacket, sat him on the couch, got him a glass of water and went to prepare the guest room. When he returned, he found Neal sound asleep on the couch. Satchmo sat next to the couch and tipped his head up to Peter with what could have been a questioning look.

"You take care of him, boy, will you?"

He rubbed behind the dog's ears. He flipped a blanket over Neal, wrote a quick note and set it on the coffee table where Neal couldn't miss it. Peter took one more long look at the man sleeping on his couch and left, quietly, trying his best not to wake Neal up again. If someone had told him a few years ago that he would leave his house alone with Neal Caffrey in it... Peter chuckled. He got back in the car and took a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose; Neal had been right, he could use some sleep but it would have to wait; first he needed to bring a little light into this chaos.

Peter's phone rang before he could even start the car. He picked up immediately when he saw Richter's ID on the small screen.

"Helene, what's up?"

Richter sounded as if she was in a hurry.

"He's not Oberon."

"Who? What…" The lack of sleep caused Peter to take a little longer than normal to process the information… Of course, it made perfect sense. Who else would have kidnapped Anna if not the one who was behind all of it?

"The guy we shot?"

"Yes. Nothing's confirmed yet, but his fingerprints popped up in one of the FBI databases. He's a known hatchet man, wanted for several murders, numerous aggravated assaults and extortion. He's part of your most-wanted list."

"Damn it… Should've known. It was too easy to shut him down."

He knew the steps they would take next but he was stopped in his thoughts once again.

"There's something else."

Please, don't let it be bad news.

"What is it?"

"David Hall got another email."