CHAPTER 21

Neal was released from the hospital the next morning, with strict instructions: Keep using like this and you will die. Stop now, before it's too late.

Neal didn't know how to do that, and he had originally resigned to turning himself in and going back to prison... but when Sara had shown up at the hospital and cared for him so tenderly, reassured him, LOVED him... his thoughts began to turn around. His thoughts about her began to turn around.

They sat in Sara's apartment, alone. Peter had given Neal permission to give them some time, and Peter would be back to pick Neal up and take him to the Bureau so he could give his confession. Sara was given strict instructions as well: Do not let Caffrey out of your sight. He is only to leave when I come to pick him up.

Neal sat trembling on her couch, and she sat next to him. He stared down at his shaking hands, and she softly combed through his hair. "You really scared me, Neal."

He nodded, and threaded his fingers together to help ease the shaking. He swallowed, his throat was dry, the withdrawals were beginning to get to him. "I'm sorry."

"How long has this been going on?"

He was hesitant. "Almost a year?"

"And you never told me."

"I didn't want you to know."

She sighed, and glanced down at his hands, shaking in his lap. "You're going to be okay," she tried to reassure him, but he just smiled softly; it was sad, defeated.

"I don't know, Sara. I really don't know."

"I know you will."

He glanced up at her. "I've tried everything," he said, his face strained.

She nodded, looking down again. "I know. I'm sorry. I wish there was more I could say, but there isn't. I'm so sorry, Neal." He raised his eyebrows at this.

"Yeah."

A knock at the door. Neal glanced up, and Sara went to open it. Peter stood. "You ready, Neal?"

Neal went to stand next to Sara. "Not quite. Give us just a minute?"

Peter nodded, shut the door, and Neal quickly reached for Sara, cupping his hands around her face and hair and pressing his lips to hers. She smiled into the kiss, letting her arms find his waist and snake around his back, clasping together behind him. He kissed her again, then pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm going to do this, okay? I'm going to get better, I'm going to be better."

She nodded, studying his eyes. She smiled, it was soft. "I know you will."

He smiled softly in return, but his hands had begun to shake, she could feel them trembling against her skin. She shut her eyes, and disentangled her fingers, bringing her hands up to place them over Neal's as they shook. She steadied his hands, and he looked away in shame. "This is not your fault, Caffrey."

He shook his head only the slightest. "How can it not be?" he whispered, and she pressed her lips to his again.

"Get better. You'll be fine."

He shut his eyes. "I'm not ready to go back to prison."

She nodded, shutting her own eyes as they shared the moment. "I'm not ready for you to go."

"I know."

"So don't."

He smiled, and opened his eyes again. "I won't."

"You won't?"

He touched her face. "I won't. I'll work this out."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Neal opened the door again, and Peter stood in the doorway, clearing his throat awkwardly as Sara and Neal disentangled themselves from each other. He grinned, raising his eyebrows. "All good?"

Neal cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "All good."

Peter looked to Sara, who nodded, with a 'why wouldn't we be good' face, and Peter clicked his tongue. "So we're all good. Good."

Neal shrugged. "Good."

Sara looked between the two men. "Good."

Peter sighed, looking down. "Good." He looked up again. "Neal? Are you ready?"

Neal hesitated, pulling his hands out of his pockets and running them through his hair, taking a deep breath. "I don't think so, Peter."

Peter cautiously lifted a hand. "Neal-"

"I'm not ready to go back to prison, Peter. I'll take your deal."

Peter lowered his hand. "You're sure about that."

Neal nodded, looking down. "I'm sure."

Peter raised his eyebrows, then glanced to Sara. She just looked away. "Okay, well then. Why don't you come home with me, and we'll get it set up."

Neal nodded again, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "It's a deal."

Back at Peter's home, Neal and Sara sat together on Peter's couch, opposite Peter and Elle. Sara had her fingers entwined in Neal's, and Neal didn't mind it. His hands shook violently, and having Sara there to hold his hand eased a bit of the shaking. But not enough. Neal kept looking down, swallowing sickness. He was close to needing to shoot up again, and it didn't take long for him to consider making a run for it. But he knew what he needed to do.

"Neal. Neal?"

Neal glanced up. Peter was looking at him strangely, and Neal realized he must have zoned out. "Sorry, I'm here."

Peter sighed. "Yeah. Listen, Neal. I know this is hard for you, I understand that, but we are all here because we want to help you."

Neal nodded into it, looking down. "I know."

"We can make this work," Peter said, and Neal nodded again.

"I know we can."

"Are you ready to do this for real this time?"

Neal took a deep breath, and glanced over at Sara, who reassured him with her eyes. He looked back to Peter. "I am."

"We'll have you in the facility by morning."

"I'm staying here tonight," Sara said. "Keep an eye on you."

Neal shook his head. "Sara, you don't have to..."

She interjected. "My company's not so bad, is it?"

Neal smiled, and looked down. "Not at all."

Peter grinned at this. "So it begins."

Neal tried to smile again, but it had faded, and with it, his enthusiasm for sobriety. He was withdrawing, and he needed to do what he needed to do. But he slept on the couch that night, Sara wrapped up in his arms. As he looked down at her as she slept peacefully, this thought hit him: maybe, just maybe... it wasn't so bad.