The first thing he became aware of was the smell. The air was sterile, chilled and most unwelcoming. The offensive smells of antiseptic and disinfectant assaulted his nostrils on their way to awaken the sensory compartments in his brain.

Next he registered noise. Sound by sound his brain began to tune in - to the incessant beeping near his ear, to the clattering of metal on metal, to the soft voices – a voice he had heard many times before. And, another voice, less familiar, a voice he thought he should know. But it was too cold to recall a name for these voices. Much too cold.

The air was cold. His bones were cold. His skin was cold. He tried to reach for something warm but it was too much effort. He opened his eyes. Well, he tried to open his eyes, but that was too much effort also. And then he wasn't in the cold sterile room anymore. He was being shoved into an old wardrobe by one of Navarro's men. He wasn't cold in there. It was hot and cramped and…and much too frightening in the wardrobe.

# # #

It was as though his eyelids had been caked in concrete rendering. He tried to force them open but it was an impossible task. Feeling completely drained from his failed attempt, he was about to concede defeat when a small slither of light broke through. He couldn't make out anything out, but he sensed movement.

"Hey Sweetie."

He felt something touch his forehead. His vision was blurred and fighting against the impossible brightness, but whatever it was that had come to rest against his cheek, it was soothing, gentle...and warm. Under the touch, he felt himself lulled into a deep relaxing state and before he knew it, he was sitting in the Burke's living room, sharing a red wine and some of Elizabeth's delectable vol au vents.

# # #

When he opened his eyes again, things were a little less hazy and he could easily make out the familiar motherly features of his landlady, June.

"Why hello, sleepy," she crooned while sweeping an errant tuft of hair away from his eyes.

Neal opened his mouth to reply but his lips were stuck together. He ran his tongue along the inside but found there was very little lubrication properties left and it didn't feel too unlike the feeling one might get if one tried rubbing sandpaper along a gravel road. His mouth was dry, parched and thirsty for some liquid. Any liquid would do…as long as it was cool, and wet.

"Would you like some water, dear?" June asked as she lifted a cup with a bendy straw up to the young man's mouth.

Neal nodded and leaned appreciatively towards the offering. He pressed his lips against the straw until he wedged its way inside.

June held the cup while Neal sucked and until she figured he'd had enough. She put the cup down and tended once more to her young man, "How are you feeling, Neal? Are you in any pain?"

For a moment Neal ponded the question. Should he? Should he be in any pain? He wasn't aware of any pain. But then again…he looked around the room with his eyes…he was in a hospital, so maybe he was in pain and he just didn't realise it. Eventually he looked back at June and shook his head.

"That's good to hear, dear. You gave us all such a fright."

Sorry, Neal formed the word in his brain but it never left his mouth. Feeling somewhat guilty, and not really knowing why, he broke eye contact with the elderly woman and looked somewhere else. Unfortunately, that somewhere else happened to be his left arm and the intravenous drip tube running from his arm to the liquid bag suspended above his bed. His eyes widened and his mouth opened, but still no words so he reached over with his right arm towards the bandage that was securing the needle in his arm, in place.

"Neal," June reached out also and trapped the young man's hand against the bed. "Don't you even think about touching that," she admonished in her no-nonsense tone. "You're in enough trouble already."

Neal looked back at his landlady. He was in trouble? He couldn't remember doing anything in recent times to cross June. He always tried to do the right thing by the sweet old woman - she deserved nothing less. Besides, on the rare occasion he had done something against her wishes, she had treated him like a naughty grandson and put him in his place quick smart. No, Neal searched his memories and couldn't find anything that placed him in June's bad books, but then again, his brain was so tired and all this chit chat with her was such an effort. He closed his eyes, just for a moment…You're in enough trouble already…while trying to figure out what the elderly woman had meant. When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't looking up into the soft, loving features of an old woman, but the strained, concerned eyes an FBI agent. Peter. Jones was standing behind him yelling something into his phone. Neal wished he was back in the soft hospital bed, chatting with June. It had been so much quieter back there…Peter reached out and slapped him on the cheek…and less painful! 'Neal, can you hear me, buddy?'

Yes, of course I can hear you, Peter.

'Neal,' Peter pressed his lips together and scowled some more before grounding out, 'You're in so much trouble, young man. When we get you out of here, you and I are going to have a very serious discussion. This dangerous, impulsive act of recklessness has just earned you a date with my strap.'

Neal cringed. Maybe from the pain…maybe from the pain that was to come. He really did wish he were back in that soft hospital bed chatting with June.

# # #

"Well Mr Caffrey…" the young nurse examined the thermometer she'd just removed from her patient's mouth…"looks like you've finally shaken that fever." She collected her belongings before asking with a caring smile, "Can I get you anything? A cold drink? Juice? Ice-cream?"

"Ice cream would be great," Neal smiled back.

"Sure. I'll just write these vitals up for Dr Bryant and I'll be back."

"Thank you."

"Ya know…" The nurse moved away to reveal a short, balding man, who had seemingly materialized out of nowhere… "There are easier ways to get a beautiful woman to bring you ice-cream, than jumping off the second storey and landing in a pile of rocks."

"I didn't jump. I fell."

"Potatoes Potartoes."

"Whatcha doin here, Moz? I've already had a lecture today from Elizabeth and June came in and gave me a piece of her mind yesterday," Neal stated defensively as he climbed off the bed and walked over to stare out the window. "Is this some kind of tag team?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

Neal sighed, accepting he didn't have the energy to compete with Mozzie in a battle of mind games. "You want a choc-chip muffin? June's cook baked them especially."

Mozzie sniffed around the assortment of cards and containers on the bedside table till he found what he was looking for. "Mmmm, don't mind if I do."

"Anything new you want to share?"

"Fwwunwy oo fwwould awwk. Wouw-"

"Moz!" Neal directed a cut it out gesture at his friend.

Mozzie simply shrugged and washed down the remaining muffin with the water he'd also acquired off the beside table. "These muffins are addictive."

"Yeah," Neal shrugged. "Take the rest if you want. I'm not that hungry."

"Hardly a revelation with the way Nurse Nightingale has been fattening you up on ice-cream?"

Neal didn't bother glorifying the comment with a response. Instead, he flopped down into the visitor's chair and rested his elbows on his knees.

Moz came around and perched on the end of the bed. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Neal reached up to the short plastic bandage strip just behind the hairline. "I'll be doing much better once they release me from here and…"

"And your hair grows back?" Mozzie indicated the small patch of hairless scalp, not more than an inch long, that had been trimmed when they'd stitched up the laceration on Neal's head. Most of it was still covered by a sterile patch.

"Yeah. You'd think they wouldn't have been a little more discerning with the hair cut they gave me."

"Most inconsiderate," Mozzie offered unsympathetically and then the two men fell into an uneasy silence.

After he'd stared at the bed covers long enough, Mozzie asked, "So Mrs Suit came in this morning?"

"Yeah. She brought me in a slice of apple pie if you want to take that with you also."

"Thank you anyway, but I'm allergic to cooking apples."

"Of course you are," Neal deadpanned.

"Mrs Suit came alone or did she bring back up?"

"Elizabeth doesn't need back up - you of all people should know that."

"The Suit too busy taking the underbelly of this fine city off our streets?"

"Something like that."

"Probably just as well."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you'd been even half conscious when they first brought you in here, you'd know exactly what I mean."

Neal moaned inwardly. It seemed he knew exactly what his friend was talking about and being in denial wasn't going to help him any in the long run. He rubbed his hand subconsciously over the bandage on his head. Maybe they'd have to keep him under observation for a few more days? At least until Peter's infuriation at this latest incident fizzled out. Neal moaned some more. What was the chance he could talk the doctor into letting him stay...at least until the end of his sentence!

# # #

"So, Neal," Doctor Andrew Bryant tossed the medical file back onto the meds trolley and smiled with satisfaction at the young con. "Seems like you're good to go."

"Go where?" Neal feigned ignorance.

"Good to go home, buddy," Andy slapped Neal's knee on the way past to the door. "I'll give Peter a buzz and tell him to come and collect you."

"Wait!" Neal called after him, somewhat desperately. "N-no need. Peter's busy at work. I can make my own way home."

Andy stopped in the doorway and turned back. "No can do, Neal. Firstly, I'm only releasing you subject to someone being able to keep tabs on you over the next couple of days - you've taken quite a nasty bump to your head and you need to have regular concussion checks for at least the next two ni-"

"I can arrange-"

"And..." the doctor held up his hand and cut Neal off... "Pete made me promise to call him..." Neal visibly deflated... "the moment you were released."

"Aaahh..." Neal tried to think fast but his brain still hurt. He shut his eyes to help with the thinking process.

Andy stepped back into the room, and asked with concern, "Are you still in a lot of pain?"

Not yet! "Ah…yeah," Neal's eyes flashed open upon seeing a lifeline. He reached up to the bandage covering his stiches. "Hurts a fair bit across here still, and…ah," he pulled up the right shirt sleeve and ran his fingers over the yellow greenish bruise coating the soft white skin of his upper arm, "it's very tender here, and…" he rubbed the side of his temple, "I have an awful ache in my head…" Is that enough? The young con trailed off.

Andy studied his patient for a moment, before working out quickly what was going on. He concealed his amusement, then made a point of consulting the chart he'd tossed on the tray. "Okay, if that's the case, let's see…" he ran his finger down the folder. "You're not due for more Tylenol for another two hours and in any case, if you're experiencing the pain you've just describe, I'm going to prescribe something a bit stronger."

Good, Neal nodded with satisfaction. He was going to need some serious pain relief after Peter got his hands on him and the over-the-counter stuff just wasn't going to cut it. "Sounds good, thank you, Doctor. You may need to write a repeat on the script, you know, just in case."

"No," Andy scribbled something on the folder while shaking his head. "You don't need a script for this. I'll give it to you now, that way we can see if it helps, and if not, we can try something else."

"Okay," Neal tried not to let the disappointment show, after all, one was better than none.

Andy reached across and patted Neal's knee. "Okay kiddo, just lie back down on the bed and roll over onto your side. This won't take a minute."

"W-what won't take a m-minute?" Neal stammered, realisation hitting him like a slap in the face that the two of them were clearly not on the same page.

Andy played dumb as he went about tinkering with items on the meds trolley. "Your shot."

"I don't need a shot! No. What shot?" Neal gasped.

"The shot I'm going to give you to help with that ache in your head and that tender arm…and the soreness around your stitches." Andy picked up a syringe in its sterile packaging and made out like he was about to tear it open.

"Wait!" Neal leapt off his bed and made two stop signs with his hands. "S-surely that's totally unnecessary."

"It is necessary, Neal. If you're in all that pain, obviously the regular pain killers aren't working and I need to give you something stronger."

"But that's…" not what I had in mind! "You know, on second thoughts, it really has improved a lot," Neal flexed his shoulder showing it didn't hurt, too much, to do so, "and it's really not that bad, Doctor Bryant."

"What about around your stitches?"

"Yeah, well, it's still a little tender but compared to what it felt like yesterday, I can hardly notice it."

"Well, that's good to hear, Neal. It's a pity your headache is so severe, but hopefully this shot," Andy looked through the small selection of bottles laid out on the metal table till he found what he was looking for, "should take that away in no time."

Neal took a step back, till his butt was pressed against the bed, "Take it away? Hey, I don't think it's there at all now. I…" he ran his fingers over his temple once again, "Yeah, I can barely feel it at all."

"You sure? Headaches don't normally subside that quickly."

"Yeah, no, it wasn't that quick, but I guess its been improving ever since that last lot of tablets the nurse brought around a couple of hours ago. Did you catch her name? She was the spitting image of Katy Perry."

Andy played along with the blatant redirect, "Thought maybe it might be her twin sister?"

"If not Katy herself. Maybe she's finally had enough of the life in the spotlight, endless parties, mega wealth…"

"Yeah," Andy deadpanned, "I can see why someone would want to throw in the towel on that appalling existence, but nursing? It's a bit of a tough gig."

Neal nodded in agreement. "Yeah, long shifts, challenging work environments-"

"Difficult patients." Andy directed a knowing look at the young man.

Neal bit his bottom lip and turned away. Guilty as charged.

"So," Andy put the syringe and bottle back down on the tray and pushed it aside, "seeing as how it seems you've had a bit of a miraculous recovery with that sudden onset of aches and pains, I'll go give Pete a call." The doctor paused to see if there were going to be any more objections. "All good?"

Neal shrugged. It was all he could manage.

"Okay," Andy smiled as he patted the kid on the back. "Hey cheer up, bud. It's what you've been waiting for. You get to go home..." Andy reconsidered, "Well, at least back to the Burkes. I'm sure Pete and El are planning on taking very good care of you."

Neal slunk down into the visitor chair and moaned. He was certain Peter was planning on taking VERY good care of him.