The next day Neal was moved to a chair to help prevent further complications and a respiratory therapist checked his progress. He was doing well and now had a timer set to remind him to do his breathing exercises every hour he was awake – ten sets of deep breaths followed by strong coughs.

Two days of this and he was deemed ready to have his chest tube removed.

That had been a trip.

Some intern had been sent in to take care of it and had doped him up a bit too well. He'd had to call in a pair of orderlies to hold Neal still as he belted out "High on a Windy Hill". Peter had come in soon after to find him picking at the bandage intended to keep air from getting into the hole and, after being told he couldn't do that, Neal spent the next hour smiling stupidly at the curtains around his bed. They were just so fascinating. Those swirls of color were genius!

He honestly had no idea what else had happened that day; in fact, he only knew that much because Peter told him the next time he came to visit.

...

"You said the curtains must have been done by Chuck Close." Peter smirked, barely containing his amusement at the state in which he'd found Neal the previous day. It had brought back some frightening memories at first, but that faded somewhere around the third time Neal had informed him they were best friends. Well, he'd actually looked in his general direction and said "Yer ma bes' fren", but Peter chose to believe Neal had known whom he was talking to at least.

Neal glanced at the polka dot fabric. "Those were some good drugs."

"Hm. Well, you won't be getting any more of those. Doctor Klaen says you should be getting out of here tomorrow."

The timer beeped and Neal obediently took a deep breath and coughed into a tissue, grimacing at the sputum he'd dislodged and replacing the sullied tissue before doing nine more reps.

"That's good." He leaned forward and flicked his eyes toward the patient in the opposite corner. "Maybe now I'll get a break from Family Feud."

Honestly, it was all the guy watched and he refused to listen to anyone else's input on the matter. Who knew the show was on nearly 24/7? Peter had heard plenty of episodes himself in the past few days, not to mention Neal's complaints on the matter. Each bed may have its own television, but that didn't mean you couldn't hear any of the others.

"Is it any worse than Tiles of Fire?" Neal's ill humor about this entertained him far more than it should.

"Did you know that four out of one hundred surveyed Americans would be embarrassed to see their grandmother dressed like Katy Perry?"

Peter had to pause at that image. No. Just... no.

"I'm sure that knowledge will come in handy at some point. Now," he looked at his watch, "I've got a meeting with Callaway's replacement."

"What? Callaway's getting replaced?" Neal winced as he sat up a bit too fast and Peter gently pushed him back.

"Yeah, turns out she was accepting bribes from Pratt. Not sure what this will mean for our situations, but the office is a mess right now. You enjoy this peace and quiet while you can."

Steve Harvey laughed in the background after someone answered "gynecologist" when prompted with "a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it".

"Sure." Neal rolled his eyes as Peter made his exit.

June came later and was far more sympathetic to his plight. She promised to sing for him once he was back at home and told him she had a couch ready so he wouldn't have to go up all those stairs right away.

"You're too good to me, June." Neal smiled at her and she patted his hand.

"Not possible." She rose to take her leave and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"One way or the other," Neal agreed. He really hoped he'd be having his afternoon chat with June in her home come the next day.

"20,000 dollars!" Yelled an enthusiastic competitor in the background.

Neal groaned and went back to considering what con would be most effective in getting rid of his roommate's tv.

Five episodes later and the Simmons family had four wins in a row and a chance to win a new car – it was also dinner time.

"Here you are, Mr. Caffrey," an unfamiliar man handed over his food.

"Thanks..." his focus shifted to an object taped to the underside of his tray. "Hey, wh-"

The guy was gone by the time he looked up. Well, he was already in the hospital, what's there to lose?

He pulled off the item and smiled when he found it to be a small universal remote.

"Thanks, Moz."

He waited until it was right before "Fast Money" to flip the channel.