Author's Note: You guys are all crazy! It never occurred to me to leave it three days before posting the next chapter (so that you could experience what Peter and El are going through), but that was a really ingenious idea some of the reviewers had! LOL BTW giving me an idea like that was akin to giving a hyperactive kid red cordial! I was so close to doing it just so I could see the reaction, but had to restrain myself after accepting that I'm likely to be skating on thin ice already after you all read the rest of the story! So, with great reluctance, here is the next chapter…I shall have to tuck that brilliant idea away for next time. ;)

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The young con spent the next three days moping around the house, mostly stretched out on his bed gazing up at the ceiling or lazing on the couch in the family room. He'd give El a hand in the kitchen if asked or help Peter with the laundry when a basket of folding was tossed in front of him. Peter and El were hesitant to bring up Jenny or the escape bid, mostly because they could barely face the reality of it themselves, almost scared to be in possession of that knowledge. They told each other the kid would open up himself when he was ready but at some point they had to face the facts – Neal would never be ready. The young man would answer questions and participate in small talk, but as each day passed, he was becoming more and more introverted and Peter was becoming increasingly worried his partner was regressing back into his shell.

"What am I going to do El?" Peter spat the toothpaste into the basin and rinsed his mouth.

Elizabeth climbed out of the shower and reached for a towel only to have Peter beat her to it. "Thanks hon. How about you just ask him?"

"I don't know, what if it backfires?"

"It might, but you have to do something before he…you know…" El didn't want to say it but they both knew anyway, before he did something stupid again.

Peter headed down the hall to say goodnight, something he did every night. At some point when Neal was better again he'd move back into June's and the older man considered he'd actually miss this part of his nightly routine. Peter strolled in and sat on the edge of the bed where his young charge was curled up under a pile of blankets. As he did on most nights, Peter placed a caring hand on the top the young man's wavy dark hair as he spoke. "Neal…I know it's incredibly hard for you to talk about it but I need you to finish your story for me tomorrow. I need to know what happened so I know how to help you better. And I also believe, once you've shared your story with me, you'll be able to think about what happened without reliving it. It should return all those unpleasant feelings to your past where they belong. They've already happened Neal, they are no longer happening. It's important that you understand that."

After a moment of contemplation, the young man lifted his fist and shook it up and down. Yes.

Peter took his friend's hand and lowered it back to the bed. "Use your words please Neal."

"Yes Peter, I understand."

"Okay then, that's all I'm asking. Goodnight kiddo."

"Goodnight."

Peter rose from the bed and walked to the door reaching up to switch off the light, stopping himself at the last moment. He smiled back at his friend apologetically. "Old habit." The agent stepped into the hall but came to a standstill as he heard his young charge speak softly.

"Fifteen years."

Peter moved back into the room. "Excuse me kiddo, I didn't quite hear you."

"It's been fifteen years since I've slept in the dark." The young man's voice was almost a whisper.

"Is that right?" Peter raised his eyebrows in surprise as he returned to his spot on the edge of the bed. Neal shuffled over to make more room.

"Always a night light, a bathroom light, security lights in prison, a street lamp outside the window of the places I'd choose to live. Any type of illumination so that when I opened my eyes, I could see something."

"So dark places…make you nervous?"

"Something like that. I can't walk into a pitch black room without feeling terror. At times when I've been in a room and the power's gone out, my heart rate would skyrocket, I'd feel immense insecurity and I'd be able to literally feel the blood draining from head."

"Essentially a panic attack?"

"Yeah…I guess that's a fairly accurate name for it."

"Out of curiosity, how did that 'fit in' with your alleged art heists? Wouldn't you need to do certain things in the dark?"

"Yes, I'd work at night, in the dark, allegedly,"

"Of course."

"But as long as I was able to see what I was doing I was fine, a simple flashlight offered the security I needed. I just couldn't handle, I can't cope with total darkness."

"And then you were thrown into Franklin Holmes' basement where you had nothing but," Peter sighed sympathetically.

"Yeah…kind of put me in a tail spin. I totally lost control of myself and pretty much hit rock bottom. I felt nothing but hopelessness. I was travelling down a dark passage with no light at the end of the tunnel."

"But you're out now Neal."

The young man shrugged, not convinced.

"Neal…."

"I am, but she's not."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I had no right to try and take her away from her dad. I changed everything."

"Didn't she agree to go with you? You didn't force her?"

"No, but I had no right. I shouldn't have talked her into it. Jenny had a life there and, I took that away from her."

"From what I've been able to gather, it wasn't much of a life." Peter placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder offering support. "What happened Neal?"

"Fifteen years ago…. It was the last time I even slept in the dark. As it was every other night of my stay, the cottage was pitch black. Dad had fed the hounds, extinguished the fire, and once again I found myself blinking into the blackened abyss stupidly believing if I did it enough times I'd eventually be able to see something." Neal gave a half-hearted chuckle as he remembered.

"Did Jenny's dad feed the animals with the meat laced with sleeping pills?"

"Yes, totally oblivious to our plans. He went to bed, we pretended to. We knew it would take a few hours for the pills to kick in with the dogs so we laid in our beds waiting. I remember lying there, on my bed looking up into nothing, wishing I could see her face. Wishing I could smile at her to reassure her everything would be okay. I knew she'd be worried. I knew she'd be having doubts. I was worried she'd lose it and do something stupid like alert her dad. Those couple of hours seemed like days."

"But eventually the hounds fell asleep?"

"Yes, we checked outside by edging open the door fractionally then standing just outside the door so we could rush back in if we needed to."

"There was no movement from the dogs?"

"We couldn't see them, we were in total darkness. No moon that night. Unlike Jenny though, I could hear. There were no tell-tale sounds of heavy breathing or rustling in the bushes so, I made the call, took Jenny's hand and guided her in the direction of the pick-up truck."

"How did you know which way to head?"

"I'd seen it parked there through the window and I guessed where it would be. Outside, it was slightly lighter than inside so once our eyes adjusted we could see something as big as the truck. We made our way over and climbed in. My heart was racing, my hands were so sweaty and nervous, the keys I found under the sun visor slipped out of my fingers and onto the floor."

"But you'd made it? Your escape plan had been successful?"

"Up to that point…yes. For those few moments, the few seconds we sat together in the truck, Jenny took a hold of my free hand and I felt overwhelming relief wash over me. I knew we weren't out of the woods, literally, but I did feel we were going to make it…" Neal dropped his head and swiped at a lone tear, "clearly I was wrong."

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The young escapees slid quietly across the long bench seat of the pick-up, trembling nervously, sweating out their fears through the palms of their hands and shaking with relief that they had managed to make it as far as they had. Neal found the keys fairly quickly under the sun visor – he was almost surprised they weren't in the ignition. It wasn't like they'd have much trouble with auto-theft out here in the middle of nowhere. Having said that, here is was stealing said vehicle. The keys slipped out through his sweaty fingers and dropped to the floor of the truck. Neal bent down to pick them up but as he did he felt Jenny's hand squeeze his, to the point that it actually hurt. Something was wrong. Cautiously, he lifted his head…and bumped it against a solid steal bar that hadn't been there before. Only it wasn't a steel bar, but the barrel of a gun. Dad's gun. The riffle Dad kept over the mantle, the one he'd take out with him every time he left the house, the one he used to hunt the wildlife he'd occasionally slaughter to restock their food supply, the one that was now pointed at his head.

Click.

Now Neal didn't know much about guns but he'd watched enough movies to know that particular sound didn't bode well for him. Dad had just removed the safely and even though he couldn't see in the dark, Neal could only imagine the old man's trigger finger had moved into position.

Jenny freaked out and began banging the dashboard with her fist before reaching across, perhaps to try and pull the gun from her father's hand. Neal panicked and shoved his girl back towards the passenger door, only with the intention of protecting her from the gun should it fire, but with enough force to sound rather painful as her head collided with the passenger window.

Jenny's dad saw red. Well, he saw someone hurting his little girl and nothing else. In a predictable rage, he lowered the gun and…

Neal was confused. He felt like he'd been punched in the shoulder. But how? Dad was still standing outside the truck. In the middle of reeling from the shock of the punch, his shoulder began to burn, like someone had inadvertently poured acid right on top of where he'd been hit. Perhaps there was a leaking substance somewhere in the pick-up. And why couldn't he hear? He's ear drums where ringing like he'd listened to deafening music for way too long. He was terribly confused but gave up trying to work out what was happening as an immense pain that began emanating from his shoulder took control over every part of his being.

While barely conscious, he felt himself being hauled back to the house. Jenny was runny along by his side, touching him, holding his arm, pressing her jacket against the pain in his shoulder. Neal would have told her that only made him feel worse, but he was unable to lift his arms to sign…and Jenny had never learnt to lip read.

Neal groaned as he was dropped onto the floor and watched with detached interest as Dad moved over to reignite the fire, something he'd never done before. Everything was different this night. Neal rolled about the floor moaning, the pain was unbearable and it became a whole lot worse when Jenny began to poke and prod his shoulder with her salty water and bandages. Neal wanted to scream, tried to scream but couldn't find his voice. He mentally willed Jenny to stop but she continued fussing with his shoulder, her hands and clothes painted red, only stopping long enough to allow him to empty the contents of his stomach, right across the living area rug - a bright red carpet square that had been a pastel yellow earlier in the day. Soon after throwing up, Neal had drifted off mercifully into unconsciousness, his mind unwilling to face the pain a moment longer.

When he awoke, sometime later, he honestly had no idea how long he'd been out to it, he found himself lying in his bed, an awful throbbing in his head, his shirt removed and two large plastered bandages, one on each side of his shoulder.

Ignoring the pain in his head, and an even greater one in his shoulder, he carefully pushed himself out of bed and stumbled into the living area where Jenny and her father were arguing. It was strange to watch two people argue in silence but the facial gestures alone were indicative of people screaming at each other. It took Neal a moment to catch onto what was being said but when he finally worked it out, he immediately forgot about any pain of his own.

What were you thinking Jenny? You know you wouldn't survive for a second out there.

You're wrong.

No I'm not.

Neal was going to take care of me, we made a bond.

Dad laughed without any humour, Jenny you are so gullible. He was only using you to get out of here. He would have ditched you the minute he hit the main road.

Tears were streaming down the young girl's face. That's not true.

No, it's not true, Neal repeated to himself. It wasn't even close to the truth. He loved Jenny and he'd have said so, but no one had noticed him standing off to the side and he hadn't the strength to step in any further.

You're only fooling yourself Jenny; he had no intention of taking you with him.

But he said we'd go to amazing places, see beautiful sights and touch things I'd never think possible. I was going to get a job and do something with my life.

The old man dropped himself down into his chair and shook his head, The sooner you get it through that thick skull of yours Jenny the better. There's nothing else for you. This is it. This is all you're ever going to be so you'd better get used to it.

NO! Neal wanted to yell at the bastard, wanted to run over and kick him in the head, he wanted to hug Jenny and tell her that her father was wrong, but he couldn't do any of those things. Sadly, he'd depleted what little energy he had left and he collapsed on the floor where he stood. The last thing he remembered seeing as he lost consciousness was Jenny throwing a bottle of whiskey at her father that missed its intended target and smashed against the fireplace. Neal considered there'd be a hell of a lot of cleaning up to do in the morning as his eyelids shut that final time.