Thanks for reading and reviewing, and suffering along side Peter. He's exhausted and frustrated with the lack of change in Neal's condition and I suspect you all feel the same. But he is determined to stick it out :) This chapter is a bit short, but that's just the way it turned out.

Chapter Ten

The idea that Neal had withdrawn inside himself was not that foreign to Peter once he had thought about it. The doctor had called what Neal was doing extreme avoidance, and Neal had always avoided dealing with emotional subjects or feelings. He didn't talk about them, deflected questions about them and distracted himself from feeling them when they intruded on his mind. Sometimes he would get obsessive about a case. Sometimes he would run until he was exhausted. Peter was sure that sometimes, his painting helped to ease bothersome thoughts. But his way of avoiding always involved movement; always contained motion.

Neal had had the presence of mind to direct McGrail and Stanger to Mozzie's safe house, so he had been communicating at that point; it was after that he had shut down. It was after that he had been left over four hours, tied to a chair, in a room reeking of death. It occurred to Peter for the first time that it wasn't the torture itself that had broken Neal; it was being left alone afterwards.

That thought made Peter want to rush straight to him, but the doctor had informed him, since passing the twenty-four hour critical mark, Neal was being moved into a step down room. Still in the intensive care unit, it was not in the fishbowl directly across from the nurses station that he had been. Peter would have to wait until he had been settled into the new room before he could visit.

The doctor had also let him know that if all went well, in twenty four hours Neal would be moved from the ICU to a private room. Whether that room would be on the seventh floor was still to be determined. Peter knew that was there the hospital's psych ward was located and he didn't want Neal going there. Needing fortification before he tackled the task ahead of him, he placed a call.

Elizabeth offered to come straight over to help but Peter knew she was dealing with a very particular client, finalizing details for a weekend event. She had already planned to visit after work, knowing that the visiting rules would be more lax with Neal's move into the step down. Peter assured her that he just wanted a couple words of encouragement.

"Its just hard to talk to him when he is like this, El," Peter admitted, "The doctor says he can hear me and he thinks I can help by talking to him."

"You might be the only person who can help him, Peter. Remember when he told you that you were the only person in his life he trusted?"

"Yes." Neal had been drugged out of his mind when he said it but Dr. Myers had in essence said the same thing just moments before. Neal equated Peter with safety; he trusted him.

"After what he's experienced, he needs someone he can trust," she continued, "You already knew that; that's why you've hardly left his side for three days."

"I do know that," Peter acknowledged, "But looking in his eyes; he's like a stranger. It's like Neal isn't even there anymore."

"He's in there somewhere," she said firmly, "he might be hiding from the world but he's in there. You always claim you can find him no matter where he runs to; so prove it. Go find him."

Neal's eyes were closed when Peter entered his room. It was almost a let down; Peter had been working himself up for a heart to heart and Neal wasn't even conscious. He didn't know if he should pull up a chair and wait or take a walk and come back later. Somehow, sitting there watching and waiting for him to wake up seemed like something Peter couldn't handle anymore. Remembering what the doctor had told him, he glanced up at the monitor above Neal's head that displayed his vitals. Keeping his eyes on them, he reached down and gently grasped Neal's forearm.

Just in moments, there was a change. The numbers began to rise; his heart rate first, then respiration. He didn't move or open his eyes, but he was aware that someone had entered; someone was touching him. That was all Peter needed to know.

"How you doing, buddy?" he squeezed Neal's arm in reassurance, "I had some errands to run but I am back now." he glanced up at the monitor. Just as the doctor had told him, Neal's vitals began to drop back into their normal range at the sound of his voice. "The doctors say that you are healing nicely and getting stronger. You should be in a regular room in another day, and maybe even get to go home a few days after that."

He left Neal momentarily to pull the chair up close to the bed. Sitting down just on the edge, he reached up and this time took Neal's hand in his own. He had never felt so mentally depleted in his life, but Neal needed him. He took a deep breath.

"Neal," he squeezed the limp hand, "I know you hear me and but I want you to listen to me. I know you have been through a…a terrible ordeal" the word was a lame description for what Neal had endured "but you're safe now. Do you understand? You Are Safe. You were strong and brave and you survived everything they did to you."

There were no signs of encouragement from Neal but he hadn't expected any. He wasn't the one in need of encouragement; Neal was. "McGrail and Stanger were both arrested," he continued, "They are in custody as we speak." At the mention of their names, Peter did note that Neal's heart rate increased. It was only slightly so he wasn't sure that it was due to his words or not. He continued.

"No matter what they did to you, still you outsmarted them." Peter swallowed. "You beat them Neal, and they are going away for the rest of their lives. They can never do that to anyone ever again."

There was no additional response to his words; the eyes remained closed. Peter had been warned it would take time. It would take patience and persistence; the same things it had taken to find Neal Caffrey in the first place. And Peter, very capable of both, was determined to be up to the task.