Here's the last chapter! I hoe you guys have enjoyed this little story!
Over six long hours later, Peter was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair next to an unconscious but, thankfully, alive Neal. He had needed surgery to repair the damage that the knife had caused and he had lost a lot of blood, but he pulled through. He was nearly hypothermic by the time he got to the hospital, but that had actually helped slow the bleeding. His body temperature was within the normal range now and he was well on his way to recovery. Now all he had to do was wake up, which didn't seem to be happening any time soon.
Peter raked a tired hand through his hair, noticing with some distress that his hairline felt a little higher than the last time he checked. "I swear, kid, I'll be bald by the time your sentence is up," he muttered to the unresponsive man next to him.
Peter stared at Neal's unusually unmoving body, at the young man's still pale skin and at the IV that was sticking out of the back of his hand, then sighed and stood up to pace in front of the bed that Neal was laying in. "You can't ever let a case be simple, can you?" he asked angrily, not really blaming Neal for Carlos stabbing him, he just couldn't get the image of all of that blood and Neal's pained eyes out of his mind. It had been too close today, too much at risk. Something important, something precious, could have been lost, something Peter didn't even know how much he'd miss until it was nearly taken away from him.
"You just had to get yourself stabbed. In a rainstorm, I might add," Peter continued, even though Neal couldn't actually hear him. "You know, everyone at the office is calling you a hero. All you did was get in the way of a knife. I really don't see what's so heroic about that." Peter knew that he didn't really mean what he was saying, but he had a tendency to express emotions like fear and the platonic type of love that Peter realized he felt towards Neal as anger and annoyance.
Peter stopped his pacing to stare through the rain-streaked window at an unimpressive view of the wet hospital parking lot when an unexpected voice startled him. "Are you lecturing me while I'm unconscious?" the husky, tired voice asked.
Peter quickly turned around to see two sleepy but amused blue eyes staring at him under heavy eyelids. "You're not unconscious anymore," Peter pointed out, not answering the question and trying to hide the smile that wanted to creep onto his face. It was nice to see the blue eyes of his friend that women swooned over after today's scare.
"Yeah, because of your loud lecturing," Neal complained, though there was no heat to it.
"Well, I wouldn't have to lecture you if you didn't nearly give me a heart attack every other day," Peter said with as much heat as Neal had used.
"Now you're lecturing me while I lay here in a hospital bed, wounded?" Neal asked with his best puppy dog eyes, which were quite impressive. The kid had obviously been practicing.
"I'm not lecturing you, I'm just stating that you getting in trouble all the time is not good for my health," he said, then touched the top of his head. "Or my hair."
"You can't blame me for aging, old man," Neal mocked, smirking widely.
Peter scowled deeply at Neal. He was not old. "Just because I'm older than you doesn't mean I'm old."
"Just because I accidentally got stabbed doesn't mean I'm causing you to go bald," Neal countered.
Peter pursed his lips together for a moment. "Agree to disagree?" he finally offered.
"Fine," Neal acquiesced, then shifted only to wince when the movement pulled at his wound. "Am I going to live? 'Cause it sure doesn't feel like it," he asked, his voice laced with pain as he decided that the position he was in was comfortable enough.
"It was a close one, but you'll heal," Peter said, nodding absentmindedly as he tried not to think of how close it really had been.
Neal nodded, then his eyes grew serious as he blinked up at Peter. "Peter?" he asked. Peter took a step forward, concerned about what Neal was about to ask him. "Are they really calling me a hero?" he asked with innocent hopefulness.
Peter rolled his eyes. "Only the women that think you're some kind of walking Greek statue and that new guy that I'm pretty sure has a crush on you," Peter muttered in annoyance.
Neal smiled widely, eyes shining with mischief and full of cockiness once again. "Do you think I'll get a medal?" he asked hopefully.
"No, Neal, you won't get a medal," Peter said exasperatedly, then sobered. "But we did get Carlos, thanks to you."
"You think I'm a hero, too, don't you?" Neal asked teasingly.
"I think you're a pain in my butt...But you also did a good job today, aside from getting stabbed," Peter added, putting enough humor in his voice to let Neal know he didn't actually blame him.
"It's fine. You don't have to admit it out loud," Neal allowed, then blinked sleepily and yawned with a small wince.
"Get some sleep, kid. I'll be here when you wake up," Peter said as he gave into the urge to ruffle Neal's dark, wavy hair.
"Not a kid," Neal murmured, his eyes already nearly closed. Right before he gave into the drug-induced slumber, he looked Peter in the eye as he turned serious once again. "Not all heroes wear capes, Peter," he said softly, the few words speaking volumes of how he felt about the agent in front of him.
Peter smiled fondly as Neal finally closed his eyes. The agent then sat back down in the same uncomfortable plastic chair next to Neal and continued his bedside vigil, not willing to let Neal out of his sight again just yet.
The End
To answer a question that a few people have asked, l am not giving up on my other two stories! I have just been slowly working on this story for a while and wanted to post it.
Your reviews made me smile!