If you haven't guessed yet, I am a hurt/comfort fan. Its what I like to read and what I like to write. My Neal is more open; my Peter is kinder. So it that's not your thing, then my stories may not be for you. I am updating both stories tonight and leaving for a work related trip tomorrow. Won't be back to play until Tuesday. Thank you for reviewing and following my story; it means a lot!

I own nothing but the mistakes for which I accept all responsibility.

Chapter Two

He was pleased that the man seemed to be returning to a somewhat conscious state. He had began to shiver. Shivering indicated that the body was still able to generate some warmth; if the shivering stopped that was a very bad sign. Derek knelt down beside the sofa and spoke to the man.

"Hey," he began, "Can you wake up for me?" He jostled the man gently, and began to unbutton his wet shirt. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes." The man shifted some in response, and his shivering increased, but his eyes did not open. Derek winced at the sight of the stomach wound. The bleeding wasn't heavy; Derek wondered if the lower body temperature was contributing to that. If he was successful in returning the man to a more normal body temperature, blood flow would increase, possibly creating an additional problem. He used what he had on hand to bandage the man as best as he could, then he got him into a dry shirt. The movement required to accomplish this task caused the man to groan in pain. Derek took the warmed blanket from its place near the fireplace and placed it over the man's upper body. Suddenly the blue eyes flew open, and the man, clearly startled, tried to get up. Derek restrained him with a firm hold. He could feel the man's weak struggle but after a few seconds it ceased and the man's eyes locked onto Derek's.

"You are safe," Derek said, he could still feel the man trembling violently in his grasp, "No one's going to hurt you here." He wasn't sure there was understanding in the blue eyes. The immediate panic had given way to confusion. "Can you tell me your name?"

The voice was very faint and came through chattering teeth, "N….Nick."

"Hello, Nick," he answered, "My name is Derek. I need to get these wet clothes off, and get you warm, okay?"

"o….kay," the man answered not looking totally convinced. Derek moved to the other end of the sofa and began to remove the man's shoes. They were not suitable for hiking, that was certain. Nothing about the man's clothes suggested that the woods was a habitat he was accustomed to. He was obviously a city boy. While in his efforts he was surprised to find a tracking device strapped onto the man's left ankle. He knew the purpose of such a device. The man was apparently a criminal on house arrest somewhere; He didn't even need the blinking red light to know that the man was obviously not where he was supposed to be.

This information both concerned and comforted Derek. On one hand, learning that he was stranded in a snow storm with a criminal was troublesome. However on the other, he knew that once the weather cleared and the satellite could send and receive its signal, someone would be arriving to collect the man. He pulled the man's slacks off, his boxers, wet or not, stayed. Derek reached up and pulled the blanket down to cover just below his knees. The blanket still held its warmth from the fire, and he tucked it in around the man's legs and body. He looked back at the man's face; as far as criminals went, this one didn't look too intimidating in his present condition. His eyes were still open, but barely so and the expression in them was dull. His chest rose and fell quickly, his respiration rapid and shallow. He complexion was ashen. Derek added another blanket to the one already in place.

"Peter?" the man whispered softly. Derek looked at the man and shook his head.

"No," Derek shook his head, "it's Derek," he reminded him "You are in my cabin. You were…." he stopped, wondering how much to say. His law enforcement side told him to just lay everything out and demand some answers, but something about the pleading look in the blue eyes stopped him. "injured," he finished. "As soon as the storm clears, I will get help, but right now, I am here with you and you will be okay."

"I'm cold," the man whispered "and I…I think I'm hurt, too."

"I know," Derek agreed, "but you'll be warm soon, and help is coming."

"Peter will come," the man whispered again, eyes drooping, "He'll find me." The man didn't seem in fear of Peter, whoever he was, so Derek guessed he wasn't responsible for his current condition. The man's breathing was sounding more normal and the shivering had began to subside. He was growing more drowsy with each passing moment and having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"Who is Peter, Nick?" Derek asked in curiosity before the man lost consciousness all together.

"He's my partner,'' the man said "my friend. He always finds me." With that the man's eyes closed and Derek didn't try to wake him.

Derek thought about what the man had said and was glad of the storm. His cabin was about two miles from the main road, as the crow flew, and Derek felt that the man had probably been dumped along the deserted stretch of highway. With his injuries and the cold temperatures, it had probably been viewed as a body disposal sight; he doubted his attackers were looking for him. It was a miracle that Nick had found his way to shelter in this weather, much less accomplished it in his current condition.

He did not see Nick, especially in this state, as a threat; his partner, Peter, might be a different story. Derek went into the kitchen to make some coffee. He would need the caffeine to keep watch over his charge through the night. The storm was supposed to clear by early morning. Hopefully close thereafter, he could hand the man over to whoever he had escaped from and not have to deal with his partner Peter.