Words: Around 846, I think.

Warnings: Altered state of consciousness; mentions of a physical and sexual assault. Could be triggery.

Notes: This was part of a deleted scene, but I know there are h/c folks out there who want to read it, so I dedicate this to all of my fellow h/c hoarders. I hope you like this. ;-)

Thank you! To all my wonderful readers and reviewers. I knew this story was a bit risky but I'm glad for the positive feedback on it. It really means a lot that you all continue to read my works. THANK YOU. :-)

Neal roused from a suffocating darkness into a dizzying world of spinning red lights and shouting voices. He couldn't recall why or how he'd ended up on the ground. All he knew was that his body felt sluggish and heavy and his head hurt enough to make him feel ill. The pavement beneath his body was cold, leeching the warmth from him, and a distant part of him realized that he was naked from the waist down. Vague, indistinct shadows next to him brought a flood of terror he didn't understand at first. Neal whimpered as he realized how exposed he was, but before he could panic something was placed over his hips to cover him up.

"He's awake, thank God," someone said. A warm hand gently cupped his cheek, calming and comforting in the confusion of waking in chaos. The blurry blob to his immediate left suddenly took shape. It was Peter kneeling next to him. He couldn't see very well; it was dark and whatever had happened to him was still affecting his eyesight, but he would know that silhouette anywhere.

"Pe…Peter?" The word was little more than a croak. Neal's tongue felt dry and heavy, and it seemed two sizes too big for his mouth. He blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open as someone shined a too-bright light down on his face. All the movement and lights were making his already throbbing head pound even more. If he could just close his eyes…

"Hey Neal. Hey, look at me, ok?" Peter jostled his shoulder gently. "Come on buddy. Wake up. No sleeping on the job." Neal groaned. He was groggy and tired enough that even with all the commotion around he was sure he could sleep undisturbed. Except that Peter wouldn't leave him alone.

"There we are," his partner encouraged as Neal reluctantly opened his eyes once more. "Stay with me, Neal. Do you remember what happened?"

The question helped him focus and sort through the jumble of terrifying memories. Tears prickled his eyes as he recalled what had happened. The case against Jansen, the laced drink, the alley. Not raped, but close. Too close.

"Jansen…the money laundering. Drugged. I didn't…" Neal's mouth couldn't keep up with his thoughts, his words tangling together as he struggled to explain what had gone wrong. He looked up at Peter with panicked expression as a few tears slid down his cheek. "Jansen didn't talk. The case, Peter. He didn't…Your job…"

Peter brushed away the moisture with his thumb. "Neal, you were attacked. We have it on tape and I saw Jansen…I saw him. Don't even worry about the case, all right? Don't worry," Peter was quick to reassure him. Neal sighed and turned his face a little more into Peter's palm. He was too tired to argue, and now that the tears had started he couldn't seem to stop them. It was so humiliating, and…and…

"EMS is almost here, Neal. Stay with me. Are you in pain?" Peter asked in a stern, commanding voice that never failed to irk Neal. Even though he was dazed, the tone had the same effect it always did. Neal roused enough to scowl up at Peter as his partner repeated the question.

"Are you injured? Come on Neal, help me out," Peter sounded worried and a little desperate. Neal sighed in resignation. Peter wasn't going to let him sleep until he answered, and he sounded so worried. He could do this for Peter. Was he in pain? It took longer than normal to figure the answer out, but at last Neal knew what he needed to say.

"Mmm…head," Neal responded, his voice barely audible, and reached up a hand to show Peter where it hurt the most. He was surprised when his fingers touched something warm and sticky. Was he bleeding? It didn't seem too bad but then again his vision kept threatening to melt into darkness, so he couldn't be sure of anything. "Hurts. Dizzy an' soooo tired. Want t'sleep, Peter. Please?"

"Not yet," The FBI agent gently pulled Neal's hand away from the injury. He barely noticed how Peter didn't let go of his hand. That was good because his head felt like it was going to float away. Peter's hand was a warm anchor, keeping him grounded so he couldn't just disappear…

"Hang on, buddy. Let the paramedics check you out first, ok? They're here. Don't go to sleep, Neal." Peter's voice was distant, but it drew Neal back from the fog that seemed to be filling the alley. Or was the fog filling him? Neal wasn't sure about either thing now, but listening to Peter was usually a good idea whenever things went wrong.

"Is this the sexual assault victim?" someone asked as they knelt beside him. Neal stiffened at the question, and Peter gripped his hand a little tighter, offering support and comfort. The FBI agent started to explain what he knew about what had happened while one of the medics checked Neal's blood pressure. Someone was asking him a question about his name…

And then the world shifted and Neal went with it…

tbc...