6

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep…

It was the rhythmic noise that pulled Neal out of his slumber. His first thought was to hit snooze and roll over; to feel Sarah's soft skin under his touch. He tried to breath in, take in her sweet, cinnamon scent but—

Something in him repulsed. He could feel his nose crinkling. Whatever that awful smell was, it was certainly not Sarah. Wait. Sarah? A deep groan rasped from Neal's throat. Discernment clouded in his thoughts. For the life of him he couldn't understand why he all of the sudden, felt so…sad. He felt like floating, drifting in an empty space grey and colorless. Slowly, memories popped up like rocks on a windshield. There was Jones, that private security facility (what was it called again?), the captive man named Jimmy; Van Horn.

The steady beep that'd melded into the background picked up a tempo.

Neal squeezed his eyes, trying to forget the memory. Van Horn and his black combat bow: they'd cornered him. Van Horn had chased Neal down into a corner like a worthless pest…and shot him.

Neal started, jumping awake like a kid in a thunderstorm. His eyes ripped open and beeping tore through his ears like a lightening strike.

"Breath, Neal! Breath! You're alright, you're in the hospital," there was a voice, firm and protective beside him. As slow and fuzzy and an old movie, Neal's vision caught up with his open eyes.

Ceiling tiles. White, grey, ceiling tiles.

The beeps calmed to a quiet lull.

Reflexively, his body relaxed. Van Horn, the arrow, the blood…was it all a dream? Where was Sarah? And who was—

"Neal?" suddenly, Neal matched the voice with a slight pressure on his left arm. Gingerly, he tilted his head.

Peter was there. A grounding touch; a reassuring voice. Neal closed his eyes and sighed…and grimaced at the sudden, acute pain the exhale brought.

"Easy there, buddy," Peter was trying to smile, but failed miserably. Seeing Neal like this, still so weak and pale…it wasn't right. "You had an arrow through your chest, remember?"

Neal groaned softly, a hand taped with medical equipment automatically moving to the source of pain. "Thanks for the reminder," he gasped out.

And just like that, the cobwebs cleared and everything came back to him in a torrent that left Neal spinning. Jones had arrived right on time to save his life and catch Van Horn. The mission was a success. The white commander's uniform…the FBI wouldn't be getting their deposit back on that. And Sarah…

Neal wished he could forget that for just one more minute.

…she'd left him.

"You alright?"again Peter's prodding pulled Neal back to reality.

For the first time, Neal took Peter in. "You look terrible."

Peter snorted a laugh. "Ha. Just you wait. You look so bad I think El's got dinners, lunches, and assorted cakes planned for you for a year."

Neal smiled. Yeah, he'd complain and refuse, but he deep down, he loved El's motherly compassion nearly as much as he loved irritating Peter.

Silence settled for a peaceful moment.

Neal could tell Peter was warring with something inside him.

"Listen, Neal. Before everybody starts coming in here and spoiling you…"

Neal was half expecting a heavy handed reprimand—it would be the last straw he needed to go through with Mozzie's plan and steal from Peter.

What came left his heart torn.

"You were…really good back there. But…" Peter ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. You should'a never got hurt,"

Neal opened his mouth to protest, but Peter shut it down with a raised hand. "I know you're the hero and all today but, Neal you scared the hell out'ta me. Don't ever do that again!" Peter's voice rose like a parent scolding their child then faded to a soft confession. "It wouldn't be the same without you around."

Neal felt himself melt into the hospital bed. Did he really mean that much? "And hey," Peter smiled a bit. "I know we've…been through some stuff, but I want you to know, if you ever want to talk; you know…just talk, about Sarah or life or…whatever…I'll be there, okay? You deserve some happiness in your life."

Neal nodded without really comprehending. "Is this your best bedside manner talking?"

Peter chuckled. "Probably, but I still mean it."

Uneasiness settled in like a loaded gun for just a moment until—

"Neal! You're awake!" El's voice chirped happily from the door.

"Ah, this is how you tell a true master…one who can con themselves even out of death," Mozzie smirked from behind. "We come hailing gluten free, dairy free treats and rather soft well-wishing teddies."

Neal grinned.

These people. Peter. El. Mozzie, if he'd forgive him.

Maybe he couldn't say no to the Paradise of Treasure waiting for him and Moz, but maybe…maybe he really didn't need it after all.

End.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read. I hope it proved to be a pleasent diversion. Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks for your time and interest,

~Strider