Her hands were combing through Neal's hair, gently. Elizabeth might not be able to take away the bruises, the pain… but maybe she could provide some comfort. Neal was stirring, seeming to wake up. He'd woken up a two times, but he'd been disoriented each time. She'd been sure to tell him he was safe, that he was loved, and that she was there. And each time, he smiled as she hummed to him. Neal seemed to enjoy it, a faint smile on his lips.

Elizabeth's stomach was grumbling, and she decided to use the opportunity to run home and feed Satch, maybe make some lunch to bring back for her and Peter. Peter, who was asleep on the hospital chair, looking haggard and gruff. She smiled in spite of it, taking in the sight of her two boys. Peter hadn't been there either time Neal had woken up- he'd been in surgery, and then he'd been in the bathroom- and he'd been beating himself up over it. Elizabeth understood her husband and knew that trying to get him to leave would be a waste of time, a lost cause.

She rose, stretching the kinks out of her neck and limbs, and crossed over to Peter. She kissed him softly on the temple, and he began to stir.

"Going home for a little while, hon. I'll be back soon."
"Yeah, okay, love you," Peter whispered, still groggy.

And then it was just the two of them—Peter and Neal.

* * *

Ironically, it was Neal who woke Peter up.

Feeling a breeze on his face, Peter started. He must have fallen asleep with his head on the mattress. He yawned and sat up only to see a grinning Neal.

"Were you… were you blowing on my face?" Peter asked incredulously, beaming in spite of himself because Neal was awake, Neal was awake!

"Had to… wake you somehow. Y-You were…." Neal struggled to catch his breath. "You were snoring."

Peter stole a glance to Neal's battered wrists and understand why he was hesitant to move his hands, his arms, hell, his body.

"How are you feeling?"
Neal was awake but so very quiet… not quite there. His eyes were drooping, drooping, drooping, and then closed.

Peter was beginning to think he had fallen asleep when he spoke into the quiet.

"I thought I was going to die," he said, his voice just above a whisper. And damn it all if Peter's heart didn't break.

Neal chose that moment to try to sit up, only to find that he couldn't. He didn't have the strength. Peter could see the muscles in Neal's neck tense up, could see the strain Neal was putting on his abused muscles as the simple act of moving drained him. And God, Neal was still so pale.

His deflated and miserably weak expression hit Peter deeply. He attempted to help Neal sit up and found his help rejected. "I can do it myself," Neal huffed, his voice a whisper.

His partner's rebuff stung a little, but Peter had been hovering over Neal a lot lately and chalked it up to Neal trying to ascertain at least a bit of his independence. Still, Peter would have been more inclined to believe in Neal's strength if Neal wasn't so frail-looking. His eyes were at half-mast and he seemed to be struggling to even force breath out of his lips to form words.

Neal closed his eyes, and for a moment, Peter wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

"I can't… I should be… stronger than this," Neal whispered brokenly.

And damn it all if that didn't hurt, if it didn't slam right through Peter's heart.

Peter's hands were surprisingly tender as he slid them behind Neal's neck and back.

"You're the strongest man I know." And he meant it.

Neal's lips twitched into a sad smile, and he seemed to draw strength from Peter's words. Peter eased Neal into a sitting position and fumbled to adjust the pillows behind the man. Neal was shaking with exertion and began to droop, his head lulling forward.

"No-no-no, it's okay, shhhhh." Peter eased Neal back against the bed, cradling his head delicately. His eyes were open now, but he had a dazed expression. Peter figured that the change in position was disorienting for him.

Peter sat down opposite Neal, easing his chair closer and closer to the bed so that his knees were touching the bed-frame. He brushed a damp curl from Neal's forehead and was surprised that he didn't feel awkward about it at all. Neal's head was tilted down slightly, along with his gaze, in a mixture of shyness from the open affection he was receiving and the exhaustion and weakness he was fighting.

"I thought I was going to die, and the only thing I could think about was how lucky I was."

This wasn't what Peter had been expecting to hear. Because he'd heard what those bastards had done to Neal, had seen what Allistar and Keller had done to Neal. He'd seen the blood, the bruises, the pain, God, had he seen the pain. And during it all, the last thing he'd felt was any presence of luck.

Neal smiled tiredly. His eyes were a startling contrast to his pale face, vibrant and wet and full of life. Full of life.

"What you've given to me… this life, Peter… it's more than I could have ever dreamed for myself. With Kate.."

Neal cut himself off upon realizing he'd said too much, ventured into a forbidden area, her very name seeming to choke him.

"Before…. Before, it was different. Dreaming of a larger than life existence… but what you've helped me get, Peter… you've given me a real life. Friends, a sense of purpose, of doing good… fa-"

Neal stopped again, realizing he was saying too much. His mouth tightened in a line and his eyes took on a harder edge to them.

"Family." Peter finished for Neal.

Neal turned glassy eyes towards Peter, met his gaze directly. Peter smiled, even with his heart breaking… but he found the emotional footing to continue. "I mean it, Neal. What you did… what you…" Now it was Peter who couldn't continue. The memories were still too fresh, the wounds still healing…. Peter could hear Neal's cries when the room was silent, could see him writhing in pain when he closed his eyes.

Neal seemed to understand and nodded his head; Peter wasn't sure if Neal couldn't talk due to emotion (as Peter) or if he was merely too weak to even think about words.

"You're the strongest man I know, Neal. You're the strongest man I know."

Neal was fading fast, and with a sad smile, Peter made to move his hand from Neal's space. A part of Peter felt Jaded. He'd been waiting so long to see Neal, and he didn't want him to go to sleep just yet. But he knew Neal needed rest… could see what these past few moments had cost the man.

"Family," Neal whispered, seeming to test the word out.

The two men were quiet, Peter intently studying Neal and Neal staring at his lap.

The comfortable silence stretched into an awkward one… and then simply too long, doing nothing to alleviate Peter's worry.

"Neal?"
Neal's eyes were still fixed on his lap.

"Family," he whispered.

"Neal, are you alright?" He tentatively placed a hand on the back of Neal's neck and sighed when the sensation of warm, sticky liquid reached his fingertips. "You're bleeding," he frowned.

"Am I?" Neal seemed disconnected.

Peter was alarmed to see that his right hand was coated in blood, and he felt nauseous looking at it, smelling its coppery tang.

With his left hand, Peter reached for the call button.

"Neal, you with me?"

A beat passed.

"Sometimes, I want to give in to it."

"What are you talking about?" Peter's pulse was thud-thud-thudding even quicker than before. Neal's white hospital pillow had a sickening red/brown stain that was quickly spreading, seeping through the thin cotton of the pillowcase.

"The fire, Peter," Neal drawled as if the answer was obvious.

The fire?

"Kate was afraid of it, you know."

Dammit, where was the doctor? Peter pressed the call button again.

"I wish it had taken me instead," Neal said, matter-of-factly. And it was something about the way he said it that deeply disturbed Peter… Even in this dazed state, it was said with an air of certainty, said in a way that left no doubt that this was something Neal had thought about before, had thought about often. I wish it had taken me instead.

"Sometimes I think it still wants me…" He frowned. "Am I on fire now, Peter?"

A nurse stepped into the room, took in Peter's terrified eyes. "I need help over here!" The anxiety in his voice was tangible.

Neal lost consciousness.
Peter felt sick.