A few days after Thanksgiving, Peter woke up, the warmth he was expecting to be beside him having vanished. He panicked, frantically moving his hand across the mattress. He pushed himself up and turned on the light on the nightstand, looking around the room quickly. His eyes found Neal curled up on the couch and he instantly heaved a sigh of relief. Now that he was listening, he could hear Neal's soft snores. He wondered why Neal was over there rather than in bed with him though. They hadn't argued about anything before going to bed, so he didn't think Neal was upset with him. He could be wrong though… He slid off of the bed and silently neared Neal. He knelt in front of the couch, watching his lover sleep. It was something…beautiful, something innocent. That was just about the only innocence Neal possessed, which saddened him.

Peter stroked Neal's hair, whispering, "Honey?" Neal startled out of his sleep, his eyes flickering up to Peter's face quickly. "Hey," he said softly. Neal didn't respond and now that Peter was looking, he could see drying tear trails down the sides of Neal's face. "Neal, what's wrong?" Neal shook his head and tried to bury himself into the cushion to avoid Peter. "Don't do this," he said gently, prying Neal out of his insecurity by the shoulders. "You know you can talk to me. There's nothing you can't tell me, honey."

"I keep seeing them," he finally said, staring up at Peter warily. Peter didn't have to ask who he was referring to, knowing Neal well enough by now to understand most of what was going on in his mind. "It scares me." Peter nodded, continuing to stroke Neal's hair now that the younger man was talking to him. He sighed shakily. "I didn't want to wake you up. I was thrashing around and woke myself up when I hit my wrist on the nightstand kind of hard."

Peter's brows furrowed. Neal didn't hesitate to present his wrist to Peter, knowing Peter wanted to check him for his own good. It made him love Peter more, knowing Peter cared that much. "I'm sorry, babe," he said quietly. "I wish I could do something to help. I really do."

Neal shook his head. "I only come out of that dark place because of you." He lowered his eyes to Peter's chest for a moment before meeting Peter's eyes again, finding all the love and sincerity in those beautifully brown eyes. "If you weren't here for me, I'd be stuck in my nightmares." Peter didn't agree nor disagree with that. He didn't want to think about what Neal's life would be like if they'd never met—never gotten together. He'd been thinking about it too much lately and found it disconcerting each time. He is with Neal. There's no reason to wonder where they'd be if they weren't together. Peter leaned over Neal, cautiously planting kisses along Neal's neck and jaw. "Peter, I…I don't like to admit it because I know what you'll say and I know you'll look at me like I'm causing you pain, but I-I feel…dirty."

True to form, Peter replied, "You shouldn't, hon. I don't see anything wrong with you."

"Of course you don't." Neal laughed bitterly, his heart clenching. It hurt him even more when he looked up at Peter and found pain in his eyes in place of the immense love he felt. He sighed. "I know, but… Peter, just imagine—" He killed that thought immediately in its tracks. "No, don't." Peter nodded. It wasn't like he hadn't imagined how bad things had been. Hell, he had his first nightmare about Neal's rape while he was still in the hospital with Neal. He'd not had a nightmare quite like that until a few months ago and then again a few days ago. "You know how fucked up I am," he whispered. "When you met me, I had my past with Adler hanging over my head." He held Peter's gaze levelly, making sure he wasn't pissing Peter off. That was the last thing he wanted to do. "You…accepted me then—after I spent twenty years stuck in the past while trying to live in the present. I admit that you balanced me when you became such an important component of my life." He shifted to lay on his back and Peter lifted himself onto the couch, his hand resting on Neal's thigh. "Craig shifted and ruined that balance. Sometimes I have to wonder if you've had to overcompensate for that. I felt so…dirty after Adler." He closed his eyes while Peter stroked his thigh affectionately. "I don't think I'll ever be clean again, Peter, and I'm sorry. All the showers and tests for AIDS and other STDs in the world couldn't make me feel clean and, because of that, have I…made you work harder?"

"I've worked as much as I can and pushed myself further when it matters—and it always matters. If you're asking if you've inconvenienced me, then the answer is simple: no." He took Neal's hand and held it on Neal's stomach, waiting for the younger man to open his eyes. "You are the most important man in my life. If I couldn't handle this, accept this, I'd probably have left you a long time ago." Neal frowned and Peter squeezed his hand. "I'm here, Neal, and I want to stay here."

Neal looked uncertain as he worried his lip. Peter wanted to suck on Neal's lower lip, but pushed that urge aside, knowing full well that Neal didn't need him thinking like that while they were discussing this. He wanted to ask Neal to stop biting his lip because it was so damn arousing, but he thought better of that. "With…me?" he asked, his voice sounding so small.

Peter sighed. "Of course with you, you dork," he said teasingly. "I wouldn't have it any other way, my love." He noticed how distant Neal had become all of a sudden and he sobered up, deciding that teasing Neal wasn't appropriate either. "Talk to me," he whispered.

"Why can't… Why can't I just live my life?" he asked brokenly. "I can't go a day without something upsetting me or sending me spiraling into hell. It's not fucking fair. It's not fair to you. It's not fair to Nicky. It's just not fair." Peter, under different circumstances, might have smiled at how petulant Neal sounded, but this wasn't the time nor the place. Something was really hurting Neal and he'd vowed as Neal's lover to be there for him. "God damn it, Peter," he choked out before covering his face with his palms, his shoulders trembling as nearly silent sobs wracked his body.

Peter shushed him, gently urging Neal to sit up. When he complied, Peter held him close. "You're right," Peter said. "It isn't fair. Above all else, it isn't fair to you." Neal's breathing was erratic and Peter was starting to wonder if this was some kind of emotional breakdown or panic attack. "I'm not going to give you the bullshit cliché that life isn't fair. It's fair for people who don't deserve it, who haven't worked for it." He gently pried Neal's hands away from Neal's face, his heart breaking when he watched Neal cry. "You're a wonderful person, an amazing father, a spectacular FBI agent, an overprotective older brother, and an exceptional lover." He wiped Neal's tears away with his thumbs. "I don't know why this happened to you. I hate it. I hate seeing you this way. It hurts, honey, to know that I can't do anything to help this."

"Then don't," Neal stammered. "I-I don't want you to feel like you're obli…obligated to—"

"That is not what I meant," Peter said firmly. "Listen to me. I'm going to sound like a jackass and you'll probably get pissed at me, but I'm going to say it anyway." Neal looked confused for a moment. "You're an idiot," he said simply. Neal didn't hear any underlying bitterness or anger. If anything, he felt like Peter was saying it endearingly. "I've been with you through all of this. I didn't leave when I found out about Nicky. I didn't leave when you told me what Adler did to you. I didn't leave during any argument we had. I don't plan on leaving you now." He kissed Neal's lips firmly for a second. "When are you going to understand that my heart belongs to you?"

Neal trembled. "I'm sorry."

Peter shook his head, holding Neal's head against his, pressing their foreheads together. "You still don't know how to accept that someone truly loves you and I'm sorry that the men before me broke your heart to make you so cautious, but, Neal…" Neal closed his eyes, waiting for some kind of ultimatum, for Peter to say something that would end their relationship. "I promise you: you're going to be my husband. I will do anything and everything for you until and beyond that point." Neal nodded, clenching his jaw. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears before they fell. "I want to make you happy, hon. I hate that you're miserable."

"It isn't your—"

"I know that," Peter said gently. "I'm going to do everything I can to get you past this. I don't care how long it takes. I'm not leaving your side. I will always…always be here for you, even if you don't think you need me."

Neal choked out, "God damn it," before throwing his arms around Peter, holding him tightly. "I do need you. I need you more than I thought I did. I…can't do this alone. I can't…" He didn't want to say he couldn't be alone. He felt stupid and worthless as it was. He didn't feel the need to add further embarrassment to the situation.

Peter nodded, slowly stroking Neal's hair before cradling the back of his head. "I'm not going to leave you alone," he promised. "I'm yours, Neal. I don't want to be without you."

He held Neal for a long time after that, stroking his hair, kissing his neck, and sliding his hand up and down Neal's back alternatively until Neal eventually tired himself out as a result of all the crying he'd done. Peter practically carried him to bed, laid him down gently, and crawled over him to lay beside him, facing Neal. He pressed a soft kiss against Neal's lips, watching as Neal's eyelids drooped and finally closed.

•◊•

After work, Peter dropped Neal and Nicky off at home, claiming El called him and asked for him to stop over. He promised Neal he'd be home soon and Neal said, "Better be by dinner or you're heating up leftovers from the other night."

Now, he was sitting in Elizabeth's living room with Alex and Mozzie, a cell phone lying in the middle of the wooden table. Peter didn't want to hear what was on that phone, but he needed to. "Play it," Peter finally said after about fifteen minutes of contemplation.

Alex nodded and played the recording. "Fowler?"

"Yes, it's me. I want an update."

Craig chuckled and moaned. "He's delightful. God, do I love his screams…" Peter's gut twisted, bile rising in his throat. He felt sick, knowing these two cruel bastards took pleasure in harming the only man he loved with all of his heart and soul. "Anyway, I'm taking care of him as you asked."

Fowler made a sound of approval. "Does he bleed?" Craig gave him an affirmative. "Did you record it?"

"Of course. I want it for myself, too, you know…"

Fowler sighed. "I don't care about your pleasure. You can have a copy, damn it. Just fuck him—hard. Get your lackeys involved. That ought to spice things up for him a bit."

Peter closed his eyes, trying to rein his anger in. The only relief he felt came with the realization that Craig hadn't done as Fowler suggested and, for that, he was grateful. Neal could have been in a state that he wouldn't have come back from if he'd been raped by multiple men. "Fowler, I don't understand what you're getting out of this. I'm getting sex. What are you getting?"

Fowler was quiet for a moment. "Revenge. The knowledge that I'm putting the little shit in his place. Using his boyfriend to get him was the perfect plan, don't you agree?" Craig did agree with him and it sickened Peter. He still felt responsible for this, but he also didn't know how he could have stopped Neal from pleading to save him. If their positions had been reversed, there was no doubt about it that he'd have done the same thing for Neal.

He listened closely to noises in the background and he could hear Neal. His lips parted and his eyes opened. He'd only imagined the sounds of agony Neal would've made. This sounded like pure torture from a distance. No wonder Neal was so…anxious and wary. He hadn't blamed him for that before hearing this phone call and he wasn't going to blame him now. Neal had every right to feel exposed and unguarded. "I'm going to get back to him. He's starting to sound restless and I think I've left him alone too long."

Peter knew he was going to hang up, but Fowler halted that entirely. "Keep the phone on. I want to hear it—just this once, before I get the recording." Peter stared at the phone in horror as it stayed on. He heard Craig set it down and speak to Neal. Well, speak was putting it nicely. He was slandering Neal.

"What a good, little whore you've been," Craig muttered. Neal groaned as the sound of slap after slap began. He was hitting Neal and Neal was trying to take it without giving in, but it wasn't working very well. Craig was moaning and then he heard Neal grunt. "You know you're supposed to stay on your stomach if I'm not touching you," he growled. "Hands and knees now."

Peter felt like he was going to be sick. Listening to this made him feel as though he'd taken part in what happened. Neal obviously shifted, letting out small, painful sounds. Mere moments later, Neal's painful sounds were louder. "Stop, please," Neal begged, sounding as though he was gritting his teeth.

"Shut up," Craig growled. Neal cried out suddenly and then Peter knew when Craig was inside Neal. The sound of skin slapping against skin was undoubtedly sex. There hadn't been any preparation involved and it made Peter's heart hurt. He never meant to hurt Neal during sex, but he still did on occasion with preparation. Neal was being abused entirely and Peter's assumptions about Neal's insides being destroyed seemed all too real now. He clenched his jaw when Neal's breathing became ragged. He didn't even plead for Craig to stop anymore after that. He just took it, letting himself be hurt until it was over. He had no idea how Neal could have done that. Perhaps it was conditioning left behind by Adler, but that thought wasn't comforting either. He didn't like that Neal knew how to let a man do something like this to him without putting up a fight. Peter knew when it was over, too. Then the call ended.

Peter gaped at the phone in front of him, tears in his eyes. That was only one session. There was no telling how many they'd had and how much he hurt Neal each time. Elizabeth had her hand over her mouth, sobbing quietly from the kitchen. She hadn't meant to listen in, but this was her home and they weren't exactly trying to hide it. Mozzie and Peter were both heartbroken after listening to the call. "There were more calls," Alex said quietly.

Peter shook his head. "I can't listen to more," he said, his voice sounding as if he were being strangled. "Not right now. This was… Holy shit." He dropped his face into both of his hands, breathing in and out slowly. Just as he was considering allowing himself to sob for Neal, his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He fumbled for it, answering with an almost normal, "Hey, hon."

"Hey."

Peter's brows furrowed and he grew concerned. "Everything all right?"

Neal was silent for a few moments. It was too long for Peter's comfort. "No. I think I'm going to have a panic attack…or something," he whispered.

"All right." He stood up and started moving to grab his jacket. "I'm on my way home, hon. Just…stay on the line with me, okay?" Mozzie, Alex, and El looked concerned and he briefly explained without telling them too much that, "He needs me. I have to go." They nodded and he took off, getting into the Taurus. "Babe, I'm going to put the phone down and call you from the car. Is that okay?" Neal murmured something that sounded like 'yes,' so he tentatively disconnected the call and reached forward to initiate another with the car. On the first ring, he answered. "Talk to me, hon. If you need to talk nonstop, then do it. I'm here. I'm listening."

Neal breathed shakily. "I put Nicky to bed. Michael is spending the night with a friend. June's out of town. I…I feel…"

He seemed at a loss for words and Peter wasn't sure if that meant Neal's emotions were out of control. "Alone?" he prompted.

"Yes. There's no one here."

Peter frowned. "Hon, if you need someone, you can go to my parents until I get there. Do you want to do that?"

"No. I just want you," he whispered. He started to say something else, but dropped the phone. He could hear Neal whimpering and hoped Neal would pick it back up. As he drove, rain began to pour. He found that disturbing, considering Neal sounded like he was on the brink of crying if he wasn't already. He listened to Neal, trying to ask Neal to pick it up, hoping his voice was loud enough for Neal to hear.

The call disconnected suddenly and Peter went into panic mode. Instead of allowing the radio silence, he dialed his dad. It was late, but Peter didn't care and he knew his dad wouldn't either. They both loved Neal, so they'd both do anything for him. As soon as the phone picked up, Peter didn't give his dad a chance to talk. "Dad, I need you to go check on Neal. We were on the phone. He called me, thinking he's going to have a panic attack. Call ended abruptly."

His dad didn't answer, but Peter heard him moving. "Neal," he called out. He was trying to open the door, to no avail apparently. "Peter, he's locked the door and he's not responding."

"Damn it," Peter hissed. He stepped on the gas. "Keep trying, please. I'm trying to get there quickly." He listened to his dad continue to call out for Neal to open the door, then it became begging until Peter's stomach was in knots. By the time he'd gotten home, he thought he might get sick. It'd been about half an hour. Anything could've happened in that space of time and that's what worried him. He raced up the stairs, soaking wet, as he pried his keys out of his pocket. He'd definitely need to get one for his parents at some point in case something like this ever happened again—if it happened again. For all he knew, Neal committed suicide.

"I haven't heard a thing," Jon said, his voice frantic. "I don't know if he's…" Jon shook his head, not wanting to believe his thoughts that mirrored Peter's own.

He jammed the key into the lock and unlocked it, shoving the door. He threw his keys on the floor and raced in. "Neal!" he cried out as lightning flashed. He saw Neal's phone on the floor near the balcony and his heart nearly stopped until he looked out and saw Neal in a chair, curled into himself, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. "Oh, my God. Neal," he said, relieved. He went out onto the balcony and touched Neal's shoulder. The younger man startled and looked up at him, completely soaked. "You scared the hell out of me," he said, dropping to his knees. Neal's eyes followed him, but he didn't respond. "Hon, come inside. You're going to freeze out here—and then the rain might freeze and start pelting you."

Neal's eyes closed and he remained silent. Jon came out onto the balcony, looking down at his son. Peter looked lost. "Let's get him inside," Jon said quietly. Peter rose to his feet and the two of them lifted Neal, nearly dragging him since he refused to walk. They barely made it to the bathroom before Neal fell into a sitting position, leaning against the bathtub. "Start toweling him down and I'll get him a change of clothes," Jon ordered, leaving to do as he said he would.

Peter grabbed a towel and started rubbing it over Neal's visible skin. He'd dry him off more efficiently once his dad brought clothes back. "Hon, can you talk to me?" he asked gently as he toweled Neal's face and neck. "I'm really worried about you."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, lowering his eyes to the floor. He looked embarrassed and Peter didn't know why. He didn't need to feel that way. This was something serious and Peter was very, very concerned. Jon returned, setting the dry clothing down on the toilet lid. Neal didn't look at either of the two men in the room with him.

Peter stroked Neal's cheek, staring at his face. "Neal, can you tell me what happened?" He shrugged his shoulders before allowing them to slump again. He wasn't willing to cooperate. "Honey, please. I want to help you. I can't do that unless you—"

"I don't want to, Peter!" he cried out exasperatedly, staring at his lover with wide, pained eyes. Peter didn't say anything. He wouldn't push Neal. Jon rubbed Peter's shoulder before heading out, leaving the two of them alone. He went to sit at the dining room table just so he was there if they needed him.

Neal was covering his face now. Peter gently grabbed the hem of Neal's shirt, whispering, "Hon, we need to get you out of these wet clothes. Will you let me help you change?"

He heaved a shaky sigh. "No. I'll do it myself." He uncovered his face and struggled for a moment to push himself up from the floor. He undressed himself self-consciously, his eyes flickering over to Peter occasionally, a wild look in them. He dropped his wet clothes onto the floor and, once he was dressed, Peter put them into a hamper that he'd get around to washing later. Neal stood in front of the sink, avoiding the mirror entirely.

"Neal?" His gut told him Neal was about to snap. He didn't take his eyes off of Neal. As soon as the younger man looked at himself in the mirror, his lips curled back in disgust, a deep anger flashing in his eyes. Peter surged forward a moment too late. Neal balled his right hand into a fist and smashed the glass, shattering it across the sink. He grabbed Neal's hand, staring in horror at the bloody mess. He looked into Neal's eyes and saw fear and surprise.

The door flew open and Jon came back in. He saw the mess of shattered glass and looked at Neal. "Get him out of here. I'll clean this up, Peter."

Peter nodded, grabbing the towel. He wrapped it around Neal's hand and herded him out of the bathroom, down the hall, and to the couch. He sat Neal down on it and knelt in front of him, resting his hands on Neal's thighs. "Honey, you need to talk to me," he pleaded. "I can't…I can't stand by while you're hurting." The look in Neal's eyes now frightened him. Neal's eyes were deadened, as though he didn't care about or feel anything. "Neal, please."

He still got no response. Instead, Neal gently moved Peter's hands off of him and rose to his feet. He walked over to the bed and dropped down onto it, pulling the blanket over his entire body with Peter staring at him in confusion and worry. He'd never seen Neal like this before.