Alter Ego 2
============

It was like pushing his way up through a pool full of jello. The darkness was thick and suffocating and it took all his efforts to resist falling back into the abyss and just lay there. He had already done enough time in the dark recently that he knew he wanted to be in the light.

His eyes opened slowly, vision blurry at first then slowly focusing. The light was dim, deep shadows around the small space he was in. He noticed the wood paneled walls and ceilings indicating the building was rather old, maybe from the 1940s. He started to think of styles of architecture, time period characteristics and other details about the building. He blinked at the thoughts wondering how he knew so much. He pushed himself up to his elbows but his chest and stomach still felt tender and he slumped back against the cot he was on. Everything ached, including his head although it had been dulled slightly. His left arm felt itchy and he reached to scratch at the spot and noticed a tube coming out of his arm attached to a clear bag of liquid on a post. Someone had put an IV on him. Maybe that was the source of his relief? He shrugged to nobody in particular and kept looking around the space as he lay on the cot.

After a few minutes he realized he could hear the soft sounds of people from nearby. It was then he noticed the cloth barrier between him and the rest of the space. The scents of chicken soup, sweat, alcohol and bleach filled his nostrils and he knew where he was: the shelter. This was the place the old man had brought him to. He had been in the park and then the old man had found him and lead him here. A woman's voice reached his ears from nearby.

"I'm probably going to stay the night. No, it's ok. He's either going to get better or I take him to the hospital. I just didn't think he should be moved yet. He was too weak. Yes... I know the rules but... but... fine. I'll call for one in the morning. Bye." He heard the beep of a cell phone and a loud sigh of frustration. He heard the sound of someone walking towards him as a curtain pulled aside. There was a brief hint of bright light that caused him to squint, before the curtain was pulled back again. A shadowy form walked towards him and after a moment he could make out a young woman in blue green scrubs approaching him.

"Oh... you're awake." She looked surprised and relieved, her green eyes glancing directly at him. He pushed himself to his elbows again to sit up but groaned and fell back as the pain hit him. She came closer and started to gently touch his chest and abdomen.

"Tell me where it hurts?" She poked gently at him till he winced and she lifted up his shirt and looked at him in the dim light. She whistled through her teeth with concern.

"It looks like whoever punched or hit you here, they did a pretty good job but I think you'll live. The bandages will hold you together but x-rays wouldn't be a bad idea at this point. Your chest sounded ok when I listened and the head wound was a graze. I couldn't feel any fractured or broken bone but again, an x-ray would help in both cases." Her voice was matter of fact and she smiled slightly when he looked up at her.

"Someone... shot me?" He gazed at her curiously, unsure what to think. Who would want to shoot him? He tried to think but his head hurt too much so he stopped for the moment. He saw her looking at him curiously.

"You don't remember what happened?" He shook his head.

"No, I just... no. I woke up like this in the park. Maybe I was mugged?" He dug around in his pockets but there was nothing there. She patted him on the arm gently.

"I didn't find a wallet so it's possible you were mugged. Tomorrow we can call a cop after your visit to the hospital. By the way, my name is Allison." She held out her hand and he took it slowly, opening his mouth to speak.

"My..." He stopped and felt his eyes widen.

"My name..." He couldn't think straight, his mind blank as a slate. She patted him on the shoulder and smiled softly.

"Don't worry about it. That was a pretty nasty graze. It will all come back to you." He nodded back at her but he felt a kind of fear overcome him thinking about not knowing WHO he was. How could he forget his name? His identity?

"I'll call you Nathan... you look like a Nathan." He peered up at her, started to shake his head then stopped.

"Maybe... it will work for now. But why Nathan?" His voice was raspy and hoarse when he spoke. She smiled and squeezed his hand again, standing up.

"A friend of mine. You look a bit like him. I'll get you something to drink and eat if you want." He nodded smiling back at her.

"Just some water. I don't think I'm very hungry yet." She smiled and disappeared behind the curtain again.

He... Nathan tried again to sit up and managed to push himself up and sit along the edge of the cot. He hunched over a bit feeling the bandages wrapped around his midsection, a slight crinkling sound when he moved. He made a push to stand up when he heard hurried steps and someone push down gently on his shoulders.

"Not yet. You're still too weak to get up. Now drink this." Allison handed him a tall glass of water and two small white pills. He looked at the pills curiously.

"Aspirin for your fever. You're still a bit warm." Nathan nodded and took the two pills then sipped at the water slowly. His throat still burned from earlier when he was sick. He finished the glass and handed it back to her.

"Now lay back down and rest. It's after midnight. You've been asleep for most of the day." Nathan nodded, smiling at her as he lay back against the cot. She brushed some hair from his face and felt his forehead before she moved back towards the curtain and disappeared. He could just hear her footsteps echoing into the distance. He stared up at the ceiling and around the room, a little yawn escaping his lips. Maybe he should rest. He noticed a window off to the right of him with grill work in the frame. In the darkness he could just make out the design, following it with his eyes and thinking of the period and architecture behind it as he fell into a light sleep.

(Imprisoned)

Nathan had strange dreams throughout the night. Vague, murky images of things that might be called memories swam around his head like schools of fish, scattering when he tried to pinpoint any one directly.

Nathan: "Out of all the people in my life... Mozzie, even Kate, you know... You're the only one."
Man's voice: "I'm the only one what?"
Nathan: "You're the only person I trust..."

The conversation faded away followed by the image of a young woman with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. She smiled at him then disappeared in a flash of light and he flinched back, arms over his face. He felt heat like a fire had been lit around him and a deep pain in his chest that made him want to scream in fury. Nathan thrashed in his sleep, lips moving ever so slightly without speaking. He stayed like that a while till the memory faded and another one took its place.

"Byron liked the park for many of the same reasons..." A woman was speaking. She sounded older, but with a hint of youth and spirit. The thought of her, whomever she was, made him smile in his sleep. His face relaxed as the memory moved to yet another path.

Woman's voice: "Would you like a bowl for that cereal?"
Man's voice: "That's not what I was thinking."
Nathan: "Thank you... Manners!"

This memory felt a bit warmer than most. The woman's voice was bubbly and warm with a hint of coyness. The man's voice was familiar. He thought he had heard it in a previous memory. Something about the voice made him think of a father or older brother. He tried to think how he knew them, all these voices. He reached into the darkness to pry the information from his blank mind but nothing came back and he felt consciousness coming.

Nathan opened his eyes and lines like bars slanted across the ceiling and floor towards him as his vision focused. In his mind's eyes he heard the clang of a metal door and saw a wall with several marks on it. A hand... his hand marked yet a new line along a row of many hashes. There were bars to his left as if he were in a cage. He had the strange feeling of being enclosed and trapped. His heart started to race.

"No... No..." Nathan muttered and pushed himself up to a sitting position, his side hurting but he ignored it and managed to stand. He yanked the IV out of his arm, stumbling towards the curtained barrier and pushing his way through. Nobody was outside the curtain when he exited although the building was far from empty. Several occupants were either still sleeping or slowly waking up from sleep from any one of the beds lining the center of the room. Nathan made his way towards the exit and pushed the glass doors open.

The sounds of early morning traffic, exhaust fumes and pedestrians walking by at a fast pace assaulted his senses. He stumbled through the sidewalks away from the shelter in a panicked lope. Nathan made no notice as to where he was going, just trying to escape the memory of the cage and bars. He kept seeing his hand marking ticks on the wall in a never ending series of hashes. Nathan found a stoop in an alleyway and sat down there, covering his ears and closing his eyes.

"Criminals like you should be locked away forever! You waltz around as if the world owes you something, getting something for nothing!"

Nathan heard the voice cursing at him from nearby, the memory fresh. His head ached as the voice spoke and his stomach and chest felt like it had been lit on fire as pain washed over him. He slumped over on the stoop and felt his eyes grow wet.

"I'm sorry... Please... don't..." He curled up on his side on the stoop and covered his head protectively. His body twitched as if someone were hitting him as he lay there. After a moment his body grew slack and he lay still, breath shallow, eyes fluttering lightly under closed lids.

(APB)

Peter had not been able to sleep since Neal's disappearance. He had made it home shortly after 2 am that first night and ended up resting on the couch downstairs so that El could sleep. Tonight he woke up early and did the same thing, his laptop out as he searched through case files trying to figure out who might have had a reason to take Neal. He sighed to himself, a worried look furrowing his brow.

"Neal, where are you?" Peter muttered to himself, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. He glanced at the computer taskbar and saw it was nearly 4 am. He leaned back against the couch and held his cell phone in front of his face. He dialed a number despite the late hour and slumped back sleepily, listening to the ringing of the phone. He was about to hang up before the voice mail came up when the phone picked up.

"Who's there? Helloooo? Hi!" Peter blinked at the sound of a strange voice answering Neal's phone. It didn't sound like a kidnapper to him, the voice sounded more child-like but old. Peter sat up surprised.

"Uhm... is Neal there?" He heard movement and a strange squeaky sound of wheels like on a shopping cart then a loud clanging sound of something being thrown against a cage. He jumped pulling the phone from his ear before he heard the voice again.

"Hellooo? Neal? I don't know a Neal but some nice man gave me this phone. Someone fixed it for me. Hellooo? Mister?" Peter blinked again nodding at the phone.

"Who is this?" The voice answered him with the sound of more clanging in the background and the squeaky wheels like a percussion track.

"Gus... I'm collecting cans in the park. Gotta pay for this phone." Peter nodded again at the phone and was about to say something else when the voice said.

"Sorry, going now. Nice talking to ya, Mister." The phone went click and Peter pulled the phone away staring at it curiously.

Somehow Neal's cell had been given away and the person was in Central Park somewhere collecting cans. Of course... a bum! But why... Peter rubbed at his chin, pushed the phone onto the table and walked across the room to the kitchen. He opened a side door to the laundry room and grabbed up a pair of jeans and a tee and changed right then and there. He grabbed some white tube socks and sneakers and started out the swinging door back to the living room when he heard someone on the stairs.

"Honey, who were you talking to so early in the morning?" It was El. He grimaced feeling bad he had waken her up. She rubbed sleepily at her eyes then glanced curiously as he grabbed up his phone and started for the door.

"I think I may have a lead on Neal." He pulled his jacket on, pushed his wallet and keys into his pocket, kissed his wife and took off out the door.

(Gus)

It only took a little while before Peter made it to Central Park and found a space for the Taurus. He slipped out of the car and locked it, walking down one of the main paths. He really wasn't sure what he was looking for but he had heard the man say he was collecting "cans" and the sound of squeaky wheels meant the man probably had a shopping cart with him. Peter glanced around furtively from side to side, watching as the quiet park began to come to life around him. He made his way around every major path he could, stopping only occasionally at a water fountain for a drink. It was nearly 8 am before he stopped on a nearby bench to rest. He had already called Jones and Hughes and let them know about the lead on Neal.

Peter leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. He was tired and any adrenalin that had kept him going had just about run dry. He started wishing for some of that Italian roast from June's when a sound interrupted his thoughts. It sounded like squeaky wheels on a shopping basket. His eyes popped open and he sat up with a start looking around for the source of the sound. From around a large copse of bushes a little old man in baggy clothes came shuffling around, a rickety metal shopping basket pushed before him. A large clear bag of cans was pushed underneath and more cans were rolling around noisily in the main basket.

The agent stood up and slowly walked towards the old man, smiling as friendly as he could manage. He saw an aluminum can under a bush and picked it up. The old man was humming to himself and Peter thought it might be the same man as he started to pass him. He paused and held up the can in a friendly manner. The old man smiled.

"Thank you, Mister." He pointed to the basket and Peter tossed it in noticing Neal's cell phone, cracked and scuffed up in the basket's front shelf. The man started to move away but Peter stopped him.

"My name is Peter. Hey, nice phone. My friend has a similar one." The old man smiled toothily.

"Gus. Young guy gave it to me. He wasn't feeling so good." Peter perked up walking along with the basket as the old man started pushing it along once again.

"Young guy you say? Did he have dark hair, blue eyes and about so tall?" Gus nodded with another toothy smile.

"Yeah. He looked sick. Took him to some friends." Peter felt about two tons of weight fall off his shoulders. Neal was ok!

"Can you tell me where you took him..." The old man nodded, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"My Brother's Keeper... He's there. They have beds and food and free doctors." Peter nodded smiling.

"Thanks, Gus." Peter started to leave when someone grabbed his arm. He turned and Gus pushed the phone into his hands.

"Take it. I keep getting calls for someone else." Peter blinked and nodded, pushing the phone into his pocket, before he waved again and left. He pulled out his own cell phone as it buzzed in his pocket and heard a familiar voice.

"Jones, just the person I wanted to talk to. I found Neal! Can you find me the address for "My Brother's Keeper" shelter. Yeah... shelter. Old guy had Neal's phone said he took him there. Thanks." He walked back to the Taurus and slipped inside, cell phone between his shoulder and ear as he waited for Jones' reply.

"Boss, just across the park, and one block down from where Neal was staying before June's." Peter nodded into the cell.

"Thanks, Clinton. See you later." He was smiling broadly as he hung up the phone. Neal was safe! Everything suddenly seemed so much sunnier. Peter started up the car and drove off towards the shelter and his friend. Neal must have been hurt pretty badly if he hadn't called for help. A frown came to his face but if the young man had been able to go to a shelter... he must be ok.

(Neal who?)

Peter parked across the street from the "My Brother's Keeper" Shelter and stared from the car a moment before crossing the street. He pushed open the glass doors and stepped inside. He immediately felt his nostrils assaulted by several scents: Chicken soup, sweat, alcohol and bleach. He wrinkled his nose a bit looking around the place as he walked into a large gymnasium-like room with dark wood paneled walls and floors, several beds, a small soup kitchen / buffet area and something that could be called a field clinic. He saw a few people using the beds to sleep, some getting food from the kitchen area and a small line at the clinic.

"May I help you sir?" Peter turned to see a young woman with light brown hair, green eyes in blue green scrubs smiling at him. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail with a matching scrunchie. The agent smiled back and whispered to her.

"Hi. My name is Peter Burke. I was looking for a friend. Someone named Gus told me he might have showed up here." The young woman nodded taking his hand as he held it out.

"Allison Stanton. Gus is a great promoter of this place though he rarely uses it except for the occasional food stop or medical check-up. Nice guy." She paused and saw Peter looking at her expectantly.

"You said he brought a friend of yours here?" She had a hand on her hip as if she thought he could be putting her on. Her look make him wonder if maybe Gus hadn't been as reliable as he thought, but the old man did have Neal's phone. He must have bumped into him at some point.

"I apologize, Mr. Burke was it? We get a few people who come around trying to bilk the homeless and less fortunate. I just... you look worried enough I believe you. Who was your friend?" She smiled in a more friendly manner as he reached into his wallet.

"Here's a picture of him." Peter pulled out a small shot of Neal making a face next to El at the company Christmas party. It was folded down the middle to hide Neal and show El but he laid it out for the RN to see.

"Oh... Nathan! He's your friend?" She looked excited for a second before her expression changed to something a little less certain. Peter looked baffled at her a moment.

"Nathan? His name is Neal Caffrey." She blinked nodding at him but still looking a bit worried.

"When he came in he was a little confused about who he was so I gave him a name. He was here but he ran off early this morning. I don't know where to. I had him in the clinic under observation and was supposed to transport him to the hospital today but he was gone when I went in to check on him. I'm sorry. I had only left for a few minutes to schedule some tests for another patient when this happened. Nobody could tell me where he went when I asked but he was here." Peter nodded, a tight feeling forming in the middle of his back.

"You said he was confused? Amnesia?" She nodded at the agent with a sad look.

"Nathan... I mean Neal was in bad shape when he arrived. It looked like he had taken a pretty good beating in the abdomen. He was feverish, sick to the stomach and had a bullet graze on the left side of his head. I was in Iraq so I'd seen enough of them to recognize a gunshot. I had him on an IV drip to keep him from dehydrating but like I said, he ran off early this morning. Nobody knows where." She shrugged helplessly, putting a hand on Peter's arm.

"I hope you find your friend, Mr. Burke. I wish I could help." He nodded back at her as she excused herself and walked back into the main area of the building. Peter watched her a moment before he turned and exited the shelter. He pulled out his cell and made another quick call.

"Jones. Dead end. Neal ran. No not like that. He's... he was here but somehow he left without anyone seeing. I'll fill you in when I get to the office. See you in a few." Peter hung up the cell and headed back across to his vehicle.

As he merged into traffic, Peter drove slowly looking around at all the people walking around to see if maybe Neal was in the crowd. He must have been going way under the speed limit as a couple of cars honked at him. Peter nodded apologetically and sped up. He felt the weight back on his shoulders as he thought: Where are you Neal?