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. :-)

And then the world shifted and Neal went with it…

When the world came back to him (or did he come back to the world?), everything was wrapped in a dreamy gauze. Neal drifted in and out of the fog, dimly aware of the things happening around him and yet unable to respond to what was happening. He felt disconnected from his body and he was so, so tired that his mind and body both seemed to be numb. It was terrifying to be so helpless but at the same time he knew that he was safe. Peter was there, keeping him anchored, preventing him from fading away.

Eventually, the fog faded and awareness came back to him in small snippets. His head hurt. He was on an unfamiliar bed, with a thin sheet and blanket covering him. A hand grasped his, warm and familiar. Ugly green walls…why would anyone choose this paint color? Neal knew he was in a hospital without any real details on how he knew he was in the hospital. He tried to think back, and all he could come up with were bits and pieces of memories, none of them cohesive enough to tell him the full story.

Someone was mumbling about Jansen and prison, and he wished that whoever it was would be quiet. Peter was talking, telling whomever it was not to worry, that the only people going to jail were Jansen and his cronies. There was weariness in Peter's tone that suggested he'd been repeating the same thing for some time. It took Neal a moment to realize the raspy voice was his own, and he let his voice trail off into confused silence as the room came more into focus.

The sudden silence seemed to alert Peter to the fact that something had changed, and he squeezed Neal's hand a little. Neal returned the gesture and tried to shift his body so he was sitting up a little more. He let out a wordless sound that was appallingly close to a whine when his limbs refused to move properly, but he stilled when Peter rested a hand on his chest.

"Neal, you with me again?" Peter leaned toward him, an anxious expression on his face. It took a lot of effort, but Neal carefully turned his aching head to get a better view of his partner. The movement dislodged a strand of hair, causing it to flop into his eyes and obscure his still-cloudy vision.

"When wasn't I with you?" Neal crinkled his brow, bewildered by what Peter had said. Hadn't he been with Peter this whole time? Oh, maybe not in the emergency room? Peter probably hadn't been allowed to stay with him then. Had he been sleeping? Maybe that's what Peter meant. Neal didn't think he'd been sleeping but he did feel as if he had just woken up. There were fragments of memories - an exam and nurses talking and El had been there and Peter was talking to him…or were those all dreams? Had he been asleep after all?

The bewilderment deepened when Peter let out a tired chuckle and reached over to smooth back his hair. The movement triggered a memory of Peter standing beside him, holding his hand and stroking his fingers through Neal's hair as he was examined. Well, that chucked out the dream theory and…oh god, he'd been crying in front of Peter and the nurses. Neal felt the mortified, and he jerked his head away from Peter even though it made the dull ache of his head throb a little more.

"You've been a little out of it," Peter explained gently. He sat back, allowing Neal to have his space. "The doctors said you might be a little confused. Between the drug you were dosed with and the concussion, it isn't surprising. You can be released in a few hours, once they're sure the drug is well on it's way out of your system."

"Oh," was all Neal could think of to say. Awkward silence fell over them. Neal's mind cleared a little more and he felt the utter humiliation of his situation fall on him. What made it worse was that Peter wanted to talk about what had happened. It was in his body language, and it was just as obvious to Neal that his partner had no idea where to start. Peter opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly Neal realized how very much he didn't want to talk right then. He frantically tried to think of a way to get rid of Peter when the doctor came in.

The doctor was brisk in his exam, and he sounded bored, as if he had better things to do with his time than to deal with him. It was rather apparent the man was not that interested in Neal's care and there was slight sneer on the man's face that made Neal feel ashamed of himself and what had happened to him.

Neal answered the questions to prove that he was now cognitive of his surroundings and submitted to the indignity of being treated like an idiot as the doctor explained that the drug was a homemade, unknown substance that had a similar effect as rohypnol and that they would keep him for a few more hours to be safe.

When Dr. Marshall talked about the attack, Neal got a strong sense of disapproval radiating off the man, as if he somehow thought Neal had provoked the attack. "You were lucky. It doesn't appear you were penetrated but I suggest you get tested in a few weeks just to be safe." Maybe he was just being paranoid, but Neal got the feeling the doctor thought he should get tested anyway. "I don't recommend you have sex with anyone until you get tested. You wouldn't want to put anyone at risk."

"Yes, thank you," Neal said tersely in response. The doctor gave him another disapproving glare and left the room after he told Neal to be more careful next time.

Bastard Neal thought angrily, and felt his eyes burn with tears. He scrubbed at his eyes frantically when he heard the sound of Peter's footsteps approaching the room. His partner paused in the doorway, a frown on his face. Neal tried to flash him his patented smile, but judging by the expression on Peter's face, he hadn't been convincing. Peter glanced down the hallway and back at Neal, and something like anger crossed his face. Of course he had figured it out, and he would want to fix it.

I can't talk about this. I don't want to talk about the doctor, or what happened. Go away, Peter. Please, please, please go away.

"I'm kind of tired, Peter. Why don't you go?" Neal suggested before Peter could get a word out. The FBI agent frowned, a concerned expression on his face. Neal closed his eyes and hoped that Peter would take the hint. Silently he willed the FBI agent to go away. This whole evening had been an embarrassment for both of them – for everyone. How could he go back to work after this?

"Are you sure you're ok?" the question was asked carefully, as if Peter were afraid of upsetting him. No. No I'm not. Please stay. Neal's traitorous mind wanted him to say. Instead, Neal opened his eyes, and gave Peter another bright smile.

"I'm fine, Peter," Neal assured his partner. He wished his voice wasn't still hoarse and that his eyes weren't threatening to close every five seconds. In truth he felt like shit but he wanted Peter and all his awkward attempts to be kind to just leave.

Peter hesitated a moment longer, but then he sighed and nodded his head. "All right. Call me when they're ready to release you, I'll pick you up."

"Yeah, sure," Neal said without any enthusiasm. Peter opened his mouth to say something else but he changed his mind when he looked at Neal's face. He simply nodded and quietly left the room. Alone at last, Neal curled his fingers in the blanket and tried to forget.

tbc...