Sorry, this took longer than I expected. I just wanted it to be as awesome as it could be! I hope you guy's like it!
The first thing Neal was aware of was a warm hand on his. He opened his eyes to see that the hand belonged to Peter, who was reading a celebrity magazine.
"What is J. Lo wearing this week?" Neal asked.
Peter put down the magazine, a big smile on his face. "Some ridiculously expensive dress, I'm sure," he responded. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore," Neal said honestly. He looked around the room for a minute. "Why am I here?"
"You don't remember?" Peter asked.
Neal shook his head. "No," he said. "Did I get shot? I feel like I got shot." He looked at his chest to see himself, but he had a hospital gown on.
"You didn't get shot," Peter said, a little exasperated but mostly concerned. "You were in a fight."
"Really? What's the other guy look like?" Neal asked, amused. "Did I kick his ass?"
"Don't know. You just showed up at the office like this," Peter explained, gesturing at Neal. He looked frustrated, like he did when he couldn't crack an especially difficult case.
"How bad is it?" Neal asked, nodding vaguely at himself.
Peter sighed and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "Two broken ribs, a heavily bruised thigh. The cut on your side was infected and the doctors say that's why you were a little 'off.' Well, and the concussion definitely didn't help either. Turns out you did have one," Peter said, looking a little annoyed, like Neal meant to lie about having a concussion.
"Off?" Neal questioned.
"You were telling me the doctor's name tag was making me blurry," Peter explained, a small smile on his face.
"Well, you're not blurry anymore," Neal informed Peter.
"Good, I was concerned," Peter said in mock seriousness, then turned to the matter at hand. "Do you remember anything about what really happened?"
"Uh, it's all pretty blank," Neal said. He didn't even remember much of being at the office earlier in the day, but he did remember some of the conversation in the bathroom.
"Well, what's the last thing you do remember?"
"I was on a walk - in my two mile radius, of course - then I remember a knife and a bat... but that's it. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in my bed with my alarm clock going off, still wearing all my clothes."
"You didn't think that was at all odd?"
"All I was thinking was that I had to get ready for work. And that I needed a few Ibuprofen. Or maybe Vicodin."
"Why didn't you say anything to me?" Peter asked, a hint of hurt in his tone.
Neal sighed. "I don't know. I didn't know what happened, so what would I have told you?"
"I don't know, maybe 'Hey, Peter, I woke up this morning with bruises all over my body and no memory of how they got there,' " Peter said in a voice that was probably supposed to sound like Neal, but just ended up sounding like a child.
"And what would have been your first thought after I said that?" Neal asked. Peter thought about that for a second and Neal could see when he realized where Neal was going with that. "You would have thought I was doing something illegal," Neal said matter-of-factly.
"That may have been my first thought, but then I would have helped you figure out what really happened," Peter said.
"Well, it doesn't matter now anyway," Neal said.
Peter looked like he wanted to argue some more, but just nodded in agreement. "Ok, how about this: You close your eyes and focus as hard as you can to remember what happened," Peter said after a minute.
"That doesn't work as well in real life as it does on TV, Peter." Neal suddenly had a thought. "Wait, what did my anklet say?"
"It said that you left June's and walked around your radius Saturday night. You stopped at a few places, then went back to your apartment and stayed there until Monday when you went to work. Jones is checking out the spots you stopped at. He should have something soon."
Neal was about to say something else but it was lost in a long yawn.
"You should get some sleep, then we'll see what you remember," Peter said and patted Neal's knee. He pulled out his phone and started playing what sounded like Angry Birds. He looked like had no intention of leaving and Neal was secretly grateful. He could sleep peacefully knowing the he was completely safe, and he did.
WCWCWCWC
A ridiculously handsome man walked down the sidewalk, the streetlights reflecting in his beautiful blue eyes, making them sparkle like the stars that New Yorkers can't see. A dark sports jacket over a light blue button-down shirt fit his lithe but muscular frame perfectly. A warm breeze lightly tousled his dark wavy hair. It was the perfect night for a walk, so the striking young man chose not to take a cab to his destination. He could only go two miles in each direction anyway.
It was around eight at night and not the best part of town. The young man wouldn't have been there, but there was a shop he wanted to go to that was said to make the best hats in the city. He had plenty of hats that he loved, but none of them were really his; they were his landlady's.
He was almost to the store when he heard a cry for help. He immediately looked around, but no one was on the street he was on. There was another cry, but it was one of pain and he could now tell it was coming from an alley a half a block away. He approached the alley and stopped at the corner to peak around it to see what was happening.
Two large men were holding a much smaller kid against a wall. One of them had a baseball bat while the other had a knife. There was a third man in front of the smaller kid. He appeared to be searching the guy's pockets.
Now that the beautiful man saw what was happening, he had a choice to make. He could call the cops and hope they made it in time to help, or he could try to stop the attack.
Mind made up, he walked down the alley with confidence. When he got about ten feet away, all four men turned to see the newcomer.
"Get out of here if you know what's good for you!" The one in front of the guy yelled.
The handsome man was a very good con artist in another lifetime so he thought that he could use his silver tongue to convince them from hurting the guy anymore.
He raised his hands for a moment to show he meant no harm. "Hey, I'm not here to cause any trouble. I just wanted to know why you were beating up my contact."
"Contact? You a cop or something?" The one with the baseball bat asked.
The young man laughed. "Nowhere close. He's a good guy to go to for information about the area. I'm new in town and needed to know a few things about local 'goods.' "
"He owes us money and we expect him to pay," the one with the knife said.
"Will pounding him into the pavement make him pay you faster?"
"We're sending a message," the thug responded.
The young man looked past the large men to see a terrified kid, who couldn't be older than eighteen, looking a little hopeful of the new turn of events. "I think he gets the message," he said.
"How about you mind your own damn business," the mugger said.
"He is my business," he replied evenly.
"How about we send you a message," the one with the bat said threateningly.
"There's no need for that," the attractive man said confidently.
"If you don't get out of here, there will be," he said.
"I'm not going without him," the young man said, pointing at the scared kid.
"Is he really that important to you that you'd risk getting beat up for him?" He asked, not understanding the actions a person would take to stop someone from hurting another human being, no matter what they owed.
"I think we both know what you guys are capable of doing. Just let him go, and we'll all go our separate ways."
"You need to learn your place!" The thug who was looking though the guy's pockets said and took a step towards the heroic man.
The young man took an involuntary step backward - the first sign of fear he'd shown so far.
'Maybe this wasn't the best plan after all,' the striking young man thought to himself as the three muggers approached him, the kid forgotten in their anger. The kid hesitated for a second, then ran like hell in the other direction.
The three thugs didn't care, they had someone else to beat up. Unfortunately, that someone was the heroic man that just wanted to have his own hat.
The one with the bat swung at him with the sporting equipment and hit the handsome man's leg. He fell to his knees with a cry of pain and the man with the knife swung at him and cut him down his side. After that, it was a blur of fists and boots coming at him from all angles. The hat-loving man tried to protect himself, but there were too many of them and soon a boot knocked him in the head and he passed out.
Poor beautiful, heroic hat loving man!
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