Thank you all soooo much for your responses… keep them coming. Here's the next one. Ps thanks Caseylf123 for the happy birthday ! ;P

Chapter 21

He barged his way in to the bedroom. El now stood inside, looking worried and confused. But he didn't notice this, just the fallen pictures on the floor, some on the bed, along with the letter. His legs almost gave way. He was angry at Neal for doing this, he had told him not too. That feeling disappeared though when he heard another bout of vomiting coming from the bathroom. He could see in from his position at the door, Neal's back to him and head over the toilet.

He walked quickly up behind him, leaving El where she stood. He bent down to Neals' level, sitting on his heels too. His right hand went for his friends' back, in between the shoulder blades. He felt Neal flinch, almost falling over and a scared yell coming from his mouth. Peter flinched back, feeling another wave of guilt flood him. His friend breathed deep, sliding to his right, resting his painful back against the bath tub, his chest heaving, tears streaming. Peter didn't know what to do.

His emotions were all over the place, he remembered seeing the pictures and now was sitting across from Peter on the bathroom floor, unable to stop the tears from falling, the sobs escaping. He was aware of Peter sliding down beside him, putting a hand on his arm, causing him to turn his face away and covering it with his right hand. They sat there, his loud emotions showing themselves. Then Peter was speaking, and he got up.

Peter didn't know what to do, he had never seen Neal like this. He felt like crying too, seeing is friend in so much pain, inside and out. He sat beside him, feeling his body tremble when he placed his hand on his arm. He was about to stroke his hair when he looked back into the bedroom, seeing El sitting on the bed, holding the pictures.

"No. Put them down, you don't look at them."

She didn't know what to do. She was angry when she saw him there, confused at his reaction. Something odd was happening, had been for days. She was tired of it. Her husband pushed past. She saw Neal flinch, a stab of pity running through her. She looked down. Four things were on the floor. She bent down, picking them up and looking. The breath caught her throat, her eyes watered, hand going to her mouth. The next one made her sit down, glancing at the two on the bed and the four words written with them. Then Peter made her attention snap to the bathroom.

"I said," he got up, striding over, "don't look at them. Leave them alone." He was beside her now, grabbing them out of her hand with force and snatching the rest of the bed. He quickly stuck them in his bedside cabinet, slamming the drawer. He didn't even look at her. Sat back beside Neal. Not noticing when she silently stood and walked out the room.

He sat down, healthy arm going immediately around his friend. Neal started to pull away, but he offered resistance, pulling him closer. So he held his friend on his chest as he cried. As it was happening, he knew it was a long time coming.

oOo

By the time he had calmed down, Peter had managed to get him on his own bed, going into Neal's chest of drawers to get the sleeping pills given to him but never used. Normally his friend would have put up a fight, but not now. He took one without a word. Before it set in, Peter needed answers.

"Buddy, look at me," sad, distant blue eyes met his, "why did you look at the pictures?" He was hunched down so his face was in line with Neal's, hand going to stroke his hair.

"I have to... I have to turn them into the FBI, I have to protect you." His voice was drowsy.

"No you don't. Who... who told you that?" Neal looked up and into his eyes, Peter telling he didn't want to answer.

"There's a... a recording of what happened yesterday. Hughes came around this morning, said he knows about... about some pictures. Said I shouldn't take you down... or something like that. He said I had to come clean...he told me you were coming home... I thought you were dead, El didn't call... I thought you were..."

His eyes were drooping, speech getting harder to hear. Peter kept stroking his head as he drifted into sleep. He was stunned, Hughes had come to his house, without him knowing. Why? And if he knew about the pictures he should have asked him. He looked at the clock 8.52 am. He had been told not to go into work, everyone else not to go in until ten am, since they had been working so much.

He got up, leaving the room, looking back – Neal sleeping – and closing the door behind him. Into his bedroom he retrieved the pictures, trying not to look at them as he stuffed them into the envelope. Going down to the living room, he grabbed his coat. His eyes falling on El, sat silent on the sofa. She looked at him.

"He's asleep, make sure he's ok. I have to go out, I'll be back soon."

And without waiting for an answer, he left.