Well the last one didn't have much happening, so here you go! Let me know what you all think!

Chapter 14

Peter didn't know how long he had sat there. Over night, he didn't move, sleeping up right instead of in the bed provided for him. He wanted to be in easy reach if Neal woke up, something the doctors said could happen quicker than they though, since he was off the vent quick. They had lowered his sedatives to allow him to wake. But he hadn't moved since the vent was removed.

It had been two and a half days since they were admitted. Peter was exhausted, sitting vigilant by his friend's bedside. He had tried to sleep, but his mind was racing and he couldn't. Not until Neal was ok, maybe not even then. He was in his usual position, hand resting next to Neal's, head bowed, resting on top of it when he felt something. It was slight and wouldn't have been noticeable if he hadn't been waiting for it for days.

Something grazed his finger.

His head snapped up, looking at his friend's face. At first he thought he'd imagined it, but Neal's pinkie finger moved again, resting on his. He grabbed Neal's hand, as the heart monitor showed his heart was speeding up. Peter had seen that happen once before, when he was hurt in the ambulance, when he was scared. He was waking up.

His left eye fluttered open, the right swollen shut from the hit to the head. His heart rate shot up again. Peter stood above him, directly in his line of sight. He put his hand on to Neal's head, trying to calm him. He heard the monitor quieten a bit, felt Neal slowly and lightly wrap his hand around Peter's. He looked into his friend's open eye and smiled, the first time since this all started. It quickly vanished when Neal began to grimace in pain.

As soon as he pressed the call button, the room was filled with staff. And he was pushed aside. He could hear Neal's monitor getting louder, it made him uneasy. People were rushing around him, checking everything, but all Peter could do was watch the constant twitch in Neal's left foot.

oOo

An hour had passed and Peter was again alone with Neal, taking up his post next to him. Neal had been in and out of consciousness but was starting to understand more around him. After waking with mumbling words, he opened his left eye really seeing Peter for the first time. And he smiled. It was small and subtle, but it was there, and Peter saw it, smiling back.

"Hey buddy, how you doing?"

He opened his mouth but his throat was so hoarse he couldn't say anything. Trying made him cough and that movement made everything hurt. He felt something at his face, re-opening his eye to see Peter had brought over a small plastic cup with a straw. He sipped it, feeling the warm liquid sooth his throat enough to speak.

"It's warm." Peter smiled hearing his friend's voice – albeit weak – after so long, after so much.

"Yeah, yeah it is. We can't lower your body temperature anymore. They have warming blankets on you too." The cold in the cellar, coupled with the wet weather and infection had caused concern for pneumonia developing, fortunately it hadn't but they were still being cautious, "you didn't answer me, how you going?"

"I'm ok. I think. Sore, everywhere," he went to feel the right side of his head, but his arm wouldn't move, the pain seared through his body rapidly, barely letting Peter's words of reassurance enter his mind. But it did, eventually and he focused on it.

"Shhh... you're ok, just don't do that."

"Could... could have told... me earlier," he shut his eye and breathed through his nose. Peter hated seeing him like this. His senses returned and he opened his eye to look at him, giving a small smirk.

"How bad?" Peter knew what he meant, and finally he felt he could talk to someone.

"No head or neck injuries, no respiratory problems and no back injuries." He felt this was a good place to start, that maybe Neal wouldn't ask about any more. But seeing him just stare was enough to tell Peter he was being stupid thinking it. He bowed his head, not wanting to tell his friend what he had to be told, wanting to spare him at least this, but he knew he couldn't. So he looked up, and stared him in the eye.

"You're right shoulder was broken. They have repaired it but... but their unsure how much function you'll have." He knew that was going to be the hardest thing, so he said it first. Neal turned his head to the ceiling, eye closed, trying to process through his foggy brain. His head came back up, but eye remained shut, his teeth were gritted when he said, "what else?" He had to know.

"Eight broken ribs, small tear to the lung, but not a threat. Spleen was ruptured and removed. Your left leg isn't broken but there is heavy bruising and will be in a brace for at least three weeks. Your ankle was badly burnt and infected, so it will have to be immobilised as much as possible. I haven't asked about..." This is where he stopped. When ever he though about the mess of Neal's arms and back, he felt bile rise in his throat. Neal noticed the pause that turned into a stop. He opened his eye, looking at Peter.

"It's ok. You don't have to do this."

Peter bowed his head, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. Hearing Neal say this almost broke his heart, he had to be strong. Neal went to lift his hand, to reach out to his friend, but was sharply stopped by the handcuff around his bandaged wrist. He make a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper as the metal clanged on the bed rail. It made Peter look up, bleary eyed. He saw the betrayed expression on Neal's face and closed his eyes.

"I tried to get them to take them off." But Neal wasn't listening, he was looking outside the glass walls, to the two guards sitting at the door. He knew what they were there for, he was a criminal and a flight risk. He looked back to Peter, seeing the pain in his eyes as he looked at the cuff. He moved his fingers to brush against his, making him look up.

"It's ok. It's ok. I understand. It's not your … your fault." He was getting tired, Peter saw it. He was fading. And as Neal closed his eyes to sleep, so did Peter.