Peter woke in a daze, pain radiating from his leg and a terrible sting in his eyes and nose. He gasped quietly, blinking to clear his vision. All he could see was blue sky and when he turned his head, there was a wall of grey rock, patches of snow dotting the surface.
He scanned the area, fear making his spine tingle, but there was no sign of the monster that had attacked them—
Them. Both of them. Where was Neal?
Moving turned out to be a bad idea, Peter realized when his leg screamed in pain and he had to close his eyes for a moment to keep from passing out.
Right. First, assess his injuries. He lifted his head just enough to see what was going on with his leg, grimacing at the blood that covered the limb and the snow around it. Luckily, it seemed to have stopped for now. Definitely broken. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"Neal!" he called, quietly at first because he had no idea if that bear was still around. Hopefully not. He'd sprayed it in the face pretty good.
There was no answer from Neal, so after calling a couple more times, he gave up, trying not to jump straight to the worst conclusion.
He'd seen Neal fall over the edge, smacked hard by the bear's paw, but maybe there was still hope. Maybe he'd managed to grab something. But then why wasn't he answering?
No, Peter told himself firmly, shaking those thoughts from his head, don't think about that. Just call for help. His cell was intact, but there was no service. Of course.
Growling in frustration, Peter turned his attention back to his leg. It needed to be splinted as soon as possible. Then maybe he could get somewhere safe.
A faint noise made him pause and he stayed absolutely still, terrified that the bear might be coming back. Where was the spray? Good, he still had it.
The noise came again and this time, he knew it was no bear. It was very faint, though, a barely audible whimper from a direction he couldn't pinpoint.
"Neal?" he called out, then sighed in relief when he received another, slightly louder groan as a response. He must be just below the edge of the cliff.
"Neal, hang on, I'm coming." This was going to be painful, but he didn't have a choice. He had to at least see if his friend was okay.
Peter started dragging himself along the frozen ground, biting back his pain as his leg was jostled. It seemed to take ages, but he finally reached the lip and peered down.
There was a ledge about twenty feet below. Neal was lying face down, unmoving, one arm dangling over the edge while the rest of him looked dangerously close to falling over it. Peter couldn't tell from his vantage point if Neal was hurt, but he must be if he wasn't moving yet.
"Neal, talk to me," he demanded, fighting through his own pain, "Where are you hurt?"
All he got was another strange groan in reply.
"I don't know what that means," Peter tried to joke, but neither of them were smiling and Neal wasn't answering anymore. This wasn't good.
Peter almost went back to focusing on fixing his leg, but then he saw Neal move, only a little at first. His arm swatted at the air, scattering snow as he tried to grab something, and when he seemed to realize he was close to the edge, he rolled over onto his back, staying there for a moment.
"Neal?" Peter inquired.
Neal made a small noise, bringing a gloved hand up to his face where Peter could now see blood. Head injury. That wasn't good.
"Hey," he called down, "You need to talk to me, okay? Tell me where you're hurt."
This time, when Neal answered, it sounded like he was mumbling, but Peter couldn't come close to understanding the words. Okay, so definitely a head injury, and a bad one.
"I can't get down to you," Peter said, making sure his words were clear, "Just stay where you are. Do you have your cellphone?"
Neal fumbled in his pockets, then shook his head slowly. At least he could understand, even if for some reason he couldn't speak.
"That's alright," Peter assured him, "We'll just have to find a way out of this." Between the two of them, they could figure something out. But no one was expecting them back for at least a couple more days, so any search would come too late.
Peter broke out of his thoughts when he heard a tapping noise and he glanced down to see Neal with a rock in his hand, hitting it on the ground in an odd pattern. Morse code, Peter realized.
"Hang on, start over," he said, "I didn't get that."
He listened this time and after a brief pause, Neal tapped out the message again. 'B-R-O-K-E-J-A-W'
Peter sighed. "Dammit." That explained the no talking. Neal much have landed face first on that ledge. "What else?" he asked.
'S-C-R-A-P-E-S' came the reply.
'N-O-M-O-R-E'
Somehow, Peter doubted that, but he let it go for now. If wasn't like he could do anything about it anyway. Neal was stuck down there, and with a broken leg, Peter wouldn't be going for help.
"Just sit tight," he ordered, "I'll figure something out."
'Y-O-U-O-K-A-Y'
"Fine," Peter replied, "Just a broken leg." He should probably splint that now. If anything, it would give him something to do. And it was a step in the right direction.
However, after dragging himself away from the edge of the cliff, he realized this was going to be next to impossible. Already, he was exhausted and sweating from the effort. No way was he going to find proper splinting material on his own.
He let his head fall back in the snow, panting and closing his eyes. If they didn't get help soon, this was going to turn very bad.
He heard Neal tapping with that rock again, but he couldn't focus on the message, already letting himself slip into painless sleep.
-)()(-
Neal tried at least five times to get Peter to answer, but there was no response and he was getting scared. He couldn't see up there and now he felt alone and the ice beneath him was cold. That, coupled with the wind was enough to make him shiver and he whimpered as the muscles in his broken jaw twitched.
He hadn't told Peter that his left eye was swollen shut, and the side of his face was covered in a set of nasty gashes and dried blood. One arm was pretty scraped up as well, and it hurt to move. His legs were okay, if not a bit bruised, so that was great, but he was still trapped, stuck down on the small ledge with nowhere to go.
Carefully, he removed his glove and reached up with his good hand to run his fingers gently along his face. Even that hurt, so he stopped, whimpering again. He tried one more time to get Peter to answer, but the only sound he heard back was the wind.
He was too agitated to stay put, so he sat up carefully, scooting away from the edge and leaning back against the cliff. He winced as he got a little dizzy, but it passed quickly. So far so good.
Next, he used the cliff side to hold onto as he staggered to his feet, legs shaking some but at least he was up, which was more than Peter could do right now.
With much pain, he tilted his head back to look up and gauge the distance between himself and the top of the cliff, putting it at a rough estimate of 20 to 25 feet. Not so bad, but it was steep.
'You've done worse,' he reminded himself silently, 'This is nothing.'
He reached up, feeling along the rock for a hand hold, which he found with minimal effort. This, he grabbed onto and pulled himself up, then let himself drop back down. Easy. He could do this.
With a steadying breath, he latched onto the little hand hold again and this time, he went higher, using every crack and ledge he could find to make slow progress upwards.
Several times, rocks or pieces of ice came loose in his hands, but he didn't fall, just tossed them aside and continued on.
At one point, his right foot suddenly slid out from under him and he listed to the side, luckily keeping a firm grip with his hands and his other foot, but his right side hit the rock wall and his vision flashed white from the agony in his jaw. He screamed, muffled as it was from not being able to open his mouth, and for a brief moment, he thought he might let go.
-)()(-
Peter's eyes opened when he heard a noise, though he couldn't recall what it had been. Immediately, he spotted Neal, just hauling himself up over the ledge.
"Neal!" he exclaimed, "I told you to stay put! You could have killed yourself!"
Neal crawled over, shaking his head. As he stopped at Peter's side, the agent noticed he was trembling and he spoke with a softer tone. "Good job, Neal. I'm just glad you're okay. Alright, now let me see."
Neal lifted his chin a bit and Peter took a look at his face. His jaw was worse than he'd thought, sitting crooked and clamped shut. There was blood staining his lips, which must have come from his mouth. That was the concerning part.
"How does it feel in your mouth? If it's fractured, there might be some bone sticking out." He hoped that wasn't the case, for Neal's sake. But Neal shook his head, patting the ground.
'L-O-S-T-T-E-E-T-H.'
Well, that explained the blood. At least it wasn't a bad break. It could be fixed up good as new. "Good. That's good. What about your eye? Turn your head."
Neal did so, but only briefly.
'L-E-G,' he tapped out, gesturing to Peter's broken leg before standing up.
"Where are you going?" Peter questioned, but Neal just waved him off and walked away, but not far. And when he returned, he had a couple sturdy sticks.
Peter nodded. "Okay, good idea. But we'll need something to tie them with."
Apparently, Neal had that covered too, taking off his belt and gesturing for Peter to do the same. Once he had both, he positioned the sticks on either side of Peter's leg, then paused, looking around.
The way his jaw was, it looked he he was frowning in deep thought all the time and Peter stopped himself from smiling at that.
Neal picked up another, smaller stick and handed it to Peter, who took it in confusion. "What's this for?"
Neal reached out to guide the hand with the stick to Peter's mouth with a pointed look and Peter realized what he was saying. "Right..." He bit down on the stick and nodded to Neal, who grabbed the first belt and began tying it around the lower part of Peter's leg.
Peter clenched his eyes shut and tried to keep from crying out. He'd been injured before and he knew it was hell, but he'd never had a broken leg and he never wanted to again.
He could tell Neal was trying to be quick, even with shaking hands, and for that he was grateful, but it was still excruciating. By the time it was over, he was ready to pass out again, spitting the stick on the ground and panting.
After a moment, when he'd gotten his breath back and was beginning to drift off, he heard Neal and his stupid tapping again.
"What?"
'B-E-A-R'
Peter's eyes snapped open, but Neal put a hand on his chest to calm him, repeating the message and this time tilting his head to indicate that it was a question.
"I think he's gone," Peter replied, "Got him with the bear spray and he took off pretty fast. He's not coming back anytime soon."
Neal nodded, then settled back against the boulder behind them.
Peter closed his eyes again. "Get some rest. I think we should start walking before it gets dark. It gets colder at night and we can't stay out in the open like this."
-)()(-
Neal tried to sleep, but the pain was too persistent, keeping him awake. It seemed to get worse when he didn't have anything else to focus on, so he soon found himself humming quietly. If Peter was still awake, he didn't complain.
The sun would be setting soon and already it was freezing. Neal drew his knees up and hugged them to his chest, letting his head rest against the rock behind him.
He was hungry and thirty and tired, but there was no chance of fulfilling any of that until they made it out of here, so after half an hour, he nudged Peter gently.
Once he had his attention, he used another rock to get a new message across. 'G-O.'
"Alright, alright," Peter mumbled, "But you're gonna have to help me."
Well, of course. Peter wasn't going to walk through the woods on a broken leg. Neal let his friend grab onto him and he stood slowly, taking Peter with him.
Peter grimaced and Neal let him stand for a moment, then made a small, questioning noise.
"Yeah," Peter replied, "Let's go."
With Peter leaning on him, Neal started walking back down the trail they'd come up on. It was about a two mile hike back to their camp and from there, another eight miles to the car. An intimidating journey, but what other choice did they have?
Neal went slow, letting Peter set the pace, all the while keeping his senses alert for bears. The darkness of the woods was making him paranoid and he could tell Peter didn't like it either.
A few times, they stopped so Peter could rest, but Neal was grateful for it too. He was forced to breathe through his nose, which was noisy and inefficient when he was burning energy carrying Peter and walking along rough terrain. It was difficult to get enough air that way, not to mention painful with the air as cold as it was.
Peter didn't comment on the loud breathing, but it obviously didn't escape his attention.
The sun slowly set and they were still walking. Neal was getting colder and now, he couldn't see as well and the sounds of the night made him even more jumpy. He'd never liked the dark.
They stopped again and Neal helped Peter sit down on a big log. He, himself stayed standing, too wired to sit. His legs were shaking, more from fear than the cold, and his eyes darted around nonstop, searching the darkness for any sign of a threat.
Peter's hand on his leg made him flinch and he shot his friend a halfhearted glare.
"Relax," Peter said quietly, "I've got the bear spray. He's not coming anywhere near us again."
Neal settled down only a little. The darkness was making him edgy and that was something he just couldn't help.
They got moving again and Neal noticed grimly that Peter was getting paler and he was slowing down. Shock, most likely. He needed to get warm. They both did.
Finally, Neal spotted their camp through the trees up ahead, a small clearing with two tents. Like a gift from God.
Neal nudged Peter and picked up the pace. As they stumbled into the little clearing, they both sighed in relief and Peter smiled. "About goddamned time. We can rest here tonight, but in the morning, we'll head out bright and early."
Neal helped Peter into his tent and the agent laid down on his sleeping bag, exhausted from the trek. "There should be a water bottle in my bag," he said.
Neal found it, but when he picked it up, he realized it was frozen solid and he held it up for Peter to see.
"That's okay," Peter said, but Neal could tell he was disheartened. "Let's just get some sleep and we'll walk out tomorrow."
Neal scooted over towards the door, but then paused, glancing back reluctantly at Peter.
Peter just gave him a sympathetic smile. "You can stay in here. We'll need the warmth anyway."
Neal nodded and crawled back over, but he gave Peter a stern double finger point and Peter chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't tell El I slept with you."
-)()(-
Peter slept on and off through the rest of the night. He'd stuck the water bottle in his sleeping bag, hoping it would thaw overnight. At some point, Neal started making a funny noise and Peter had to nudge him awake to get him to stop, but other than that, everything was quiet.
He woke up to sunlight and yawned tiredly before sitting up. His leg was still throbbing with pain but he could handle it now.
He glanced over at Neal, who was still asleep. His jaw looked pretty bad and Peter took a moment to look more closely at it. It might not even be broken, he realized, just badly dislocated. That would certainly be a relief.
"Neal," he murmured, "Come on, we have to get going."
Neal grunted and made a face, but got up anyway, making a short trip outside to do his business before coming back to help Peter.
The water had thawed and Peter took a long drink, then handed it over to Neal, who only held it, giving it a rueful look.
"Just try," Peter encouraged, so Neal brought the bottle up hesitantly, managing to drink a little through the side of his mouth, but most of it ended up spilling and he quickly handed the bottle back to Peter, wincing in pain.
Peter couldn't help but feel disappointed. If Neal could barely drink water, how was he supposed to handle food?
He let the matter go for now, hobbling out of the tent with a bit of support from Neal. His leg seemed to have gotten stiff overnight and moving was more painful than ever.
"Help me over to that tree," Peter said, nodding to an oak on the edge of the clearing. Neal did so carefully and once they'd made it, Peter shooed him. "I don't need or want your help. Just see what you can gather up. We should bring some supplies with us."
Neal left Peter to it, obediently filling one of their backpacks with water and the candy bars they'd brought with them as well as a flashlight, just in case. Eight miles was a lot, especially for two injured people. They might not even make it out before dark.
They headed out right away and Peter tried to keep some weight off of Neal, who was also carrying the backpack, at his own insistence.
They took it slow and steady. Peter was moving a bit slower than last night, but he couldn't help it. His leg was hurting more and more with every hour, unless that was just the shock wearing off.
Neal, of course, couldn't complain out loud, but Peter knew he was hurting as well. The whole left side of his face was bruised and bloody, his jaw looking almost worse today. Peter tried not to stare at it too much, but it did make Neal's expression comical.
After a while, Peter stopped for a rest and leaned against a small tree. He drank some water and offered some to Neal, who refused. No surprise there. That only meant they had to take it slow and be careful not to overexert themselves.
The sun came out not long into their trek and quickly warmed them up. If it weren't for the situation, it would have been quite enjoyable. Perfect weather, beautiful scenery. The snow made the mountains sparkle and decorated the trees.
Neal didn't seem to see it at all, and Peter noticed that he was just as jumpy as last night, if not more. He kept looking around as if he expected a bear to come charging out of the woods at any second.
"Alright, let's stop here," Peter said after another mile. He sat down on a low stump while Neal remained standing, still glancing around.
Peter gave him a nudge. "Relax. We'll be out of here in no time. And hey, enjoy the view while we're here because when are you gonna get another chance to see forest like this, huh?"
Neal looked at him with what Peter assumed was supposed to be a scowl, but it just looked odd with his jaw the way it was.
Peter chuckled and Neal huffed shortly, blowing white puffs of air, but his lips tugged upward in a smile, if only for a second before he winced and smoothed his face.
They kept going after that and Peter focused on the forest around them to keep his mind off his leg.
They walked along the trail for a couple miles, pausing every so often. Peter was saving the protein bars for when he really needed them. He needed to keep his strength up, though, so he had one around noon.
His phone had died a while back, so even if they found service, they couldn't call for help.
Peter guessed they had about a mile and a half left when Neal suddenly stopped. It took him a minute to realize they were no longer moving and he lifted his head to see Neal staring straight ahead, practically frozen.
He didn't give Peter the chance to ask what was wrong, sitting him down in the snow with an air of urgency. Once Peter was down, Neal dropped the backpack and gave him a quick nod, holding up a finger to say, 'just a moment'.
Peter blinked as his friend sprinted off and he thought for a second that maybe Neal had left him. But that was ridiculous. He would never.
Peter didn't have the strength to care anyway. He was pretty well spent and he was glad for the cold snow beneath him because his leg was on fire, the pain now a constant agony he was having trouble dealing with.
Neal had left him sitting against a tree, so he leaned back on it with a long, tired sigh. All he could do was wait, and hope that Neal would be back soon. It would be dark in an hour or so and he really didn't want to be alone, much less have to sit here and worry for too long.
He barely took notice as his eyes slipped shut.
-)()(-
Neal didn't think he'd ever run so fast in his life. But his feet flew over the snowy ground, adrenaline giving him the extra strength he needed to move, and move fast.
Just ahead, he could see it, a flash of yellow and red from further down the trail. Two people, he counted, their backs turned. They must have come from a different trail, but they were walking in the wrong direction. With Peter, he never would have caught up to them.
Unable to call out, Neal could only run, closing the distance between them. His heart beat faster than ever, hope almost making it burst.
One of the hikers, a woman, finally heard his footsteps and she turned around, her partner stopping as well.
Neal waved at them to keep their attention and when he finally caught up, he was breathing so hard, he wouldn't have been able to say anything even if he could open his mouth.
The girl looked at him in shock and concern, asking if he was alright. Neal shook his head in reply and gestured anxiously back the way he'd come.
"He's hurt," the man observed. "Kayla, stay here with him. I'll go see what's back there."
He took off the way Neal had come, following his tracks in the snow, and the girl, Kayla, made Neal sit on the side of the trail as she looked him over quickly.
"I'm Kayla," she said soothingly, "That's my boyfriend, Ryan. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?"
Neal nodded, then reached out to trace a gloved hand through the snow, spelling out his name and 'thank you' below it.
"Neal," Kayla repeated out loud, "Nice to meet you."
When Ryan returned with Peter leaning heavily against him, Neal felt he could finally relax, if only a little. Peter still looked pretty bad, face pale, blood staining his leg.
Ryan was quick, though, and he seemed to know exactly what to do. He sent Kayla down the trail to get help while he stayed behind to look after Neal and Peter.
"So you said this was a bear?" he questioned.
Peter nodded from his place on the side of the trail beside Neal. "Came out of nowhere. It could have been a lot worse without this." He held up the bear spray he still had with him and Ryan nodded.
"Good thinking, bringing that along. It probably saved your lives. So, do you two come out here often?"
Neal could see what Ryan was doing and he appreciated it very much. Keeping Peter talking was the best thing right now.
"I've been here a couple times," Peter answered, "But Neal hasn't. I was just trying to give him a new experience."
Neal couldn't help but huff slightly in amusement and Ryan smiled. "Yeah, some experience, huh, Neal?"
This went on for about twenty minutes or so. Ryan kept Peter talking and occasionally gave Neal a gentle pat or a nudge to make sure he didn't fall asleep, which was becoming more and more tempting as the minutes passed.
When Kayla returned, there were two uniformed men with her and they each knelt beside Neal and Peter.
Neal let the man inspect his injuries, nodding or shaking his head to the questions he was asked. More people came and it got confusing. He lost track of Peter and got a little scared for a second, but Ryan was still there and he explained that Peter was getting prepped to be taken out of here.
"Can you walk?" one of the uniformed men asked and Neal nodded, gathering his legs under him to stand up. He wobbled on his feet, but someone put their arm around him and held him up.
Nearby, Peter was lying on a stretcher and Neal caught his eye for a second. Peter gave him a small smile and that was enough. They'd be alright. They were safe now.
-)()(-
New York bustled with sights and sounds as it always had, its people oblivious to the couple walking side by side down the street together.
Elizabeth kept an arm around her husband, slowing her pace to his as they walked towards the bureau. Peter was on a cane for a few weeks, but the doctors said his leg should heal just fine and he'd be walking normally after his recovery.
It had been three weeks since the day they'd gotten out of the woods and only now was he allowed back to work. Good thing, too, because he'd been going stir crazy at home, even with Elizabeth pampering him and Jones stopping by with regular updates.
"Good luck in there," Elizabeth smiled as they prepared to part ways. She gave him a kiss and a hug, patting him on the back. "Go catch some bad guys."
"Finally," Peter grinned, planting one more kiss on her lips before heading inside and riding the elevator up to the 21st floor. As soon as he stepped into the White Collar division, the room filled with applause as all the agents welcomed him back.
Peter smiled, shaking hands with his coworkers on his way up to his office where he'd been promised by Hughes that he'd have plenty of work to get started on.
"Welcome back, Agent Burke," Jones said, standing in the doorway.
"Good to be back," Peter replied, sitting in his chair and enjoying the familiarity of it.
"Caffrey's not coming?" Jones questioned, "I thought he was cleared."
"He was," Peter said. "I'll give him a call. Thanks, Jones."
As Jones left, Peter frowned thoughtfully, pulling out his phone. Neal had been acting strange ever since the incident. Now, not showing up to work on the first day back on the job, well... That just didn't sound like Neal.
Neal picked up on the fourth ring, sounding quite chipper as he answered, "Yeah, Peter?"
"Where are you?" Peter asked, "I thought you were eager to get back to working cases."
A long pause.
"That's today?"
"Yes," Peter said, "That's today."
"Sorry," Neal replied, "I completely forgot. Uh, I'll be right there. Just give me a few minutes."
After hanging up, Peter still felt like his CI was hiding something. Then again, when was he not? But now they had a case to focus on. Hopefully that would push them back into the swing of things.
-)()(-
Neal was acting odd all day. It was subtle, but Peter could aways tell.
He was quiet, though he still smiled like there was no tomorrow and seemed to listen when he was spoken to. But there were times when Peter would catch a glimpse of something when Neal thought no one was watching him. It was his eyes. They'd stare off into nowhere for just a moment and his expression would go blank, like he was somewhere else.
Peter didn't know that look and that was what bothered him.
"Come on," he said, passing Neal's desk and giving the flat surface a tap. "Let's go."
"Where?" Neal questioned, "I thought you were headed home."
"I am," Peter said, "And you're coming with me. El's making that chicken stuff you like."
"Cornish game hen," Neal corrected. "Thanks, but I think I'm just gonna head home. Tell Elizabeth I'll come another time."
Peter had been expecting that, but he didn't want to push it. "Alright, suit yourself."
They walked out to the elevators together and Peter pressed the down button. After that, he wasn't sure what happened. A lot of things all at once.
The elevator dinged and the doors started to open, then Neal's hand grabbed onto his arm so tight, he thought it would leave a bruise. But when he looked around, there was nothing out of the ordinary, aside from Neal, who was staring wide-eyed at the open elevator like it was about to explode.
"Neal?" Peter inquired, concerned.
Neal blinked and seemed to snap out of it, but didn't say a word, only stepped into the elevator ahead of Peter, looking a little embarrassed.
As they rode down, Peter said nothing as well, but he did take a long look at his CI, who appeared to be ignoring everything but the panel of buttons that had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.
Once the doors opened again, Neal made to rush out the door, but Peter held him back. "Ah ah ah, you're coming to dinner. And no excuses. My wife will be upset if you refuse her offer."
"Peter," Neal protested, but it was too late and he was already being dragged to the car.
The ride was silent and Neal refused to meet his eyes, but now Peter had some idea of what he was going through and he didn't intend to let Neal out of his sight until he'd straightened it out.
-)()(-
"Thank you, Elizabeth," Neal smiled, "That was a great dinner."
It wasn't a lie. The dinner was wonderful. But it would have been better if Peter hadn't been looking at him the whole night like he was some puzzle to be figured out.
Now he knew what was coming and as Elizabeth gathered the dishes, Peter stood and beckoned to Neal. There it was. Time for another famous Peter Burke lecture. Just what he needed right now.
Nevertheless, he followed his friend out onto the terrace where they both sat and remained quiet for the first few moments. Then Peter spoke. "Wanna tell me what's going on? And don't say it's nothing because we both know that's bullshit. What happened at the elevator today?"
Neal sighed, avoiding Peter's gaze. Truthfully, he didn't want to talk about it, but at the same time, he was desperate to confide in someone. He just hadn't wanted that someone to be Peter.
"I'm fine," he started, but when that earned him a look from Peter, he gave in. "Okay, I'm only mostly fine."
This was hard. But if the past had shown him anything, it was that he could trust Peter. Even with this.
"I get nightmares," Peter said, interrupting the silence. "Mostly about the bear. Some are about you."
Neal nodded slightly. It was only fair that he was honest.
"At first, it was nightmares," he said, "But those went away. Then my mind started messing with me." He swallowed. "Like today. I saw those doors open and I just froze because I could feel it coming and I thought something was going to happen. But it never does."
Peter leaned forward. "You still think about the accident?"
Neal nodded. "All the time. Don't you?"
"Not really." At Neal's confused look, Peter added, "I'm past it. There's no reason to keep reminding myself of it, so why dwell on something I can't change?" He looked closely at Neal. "It wasn't your fault. Things like that happen."
"I know that," Neal said, "But it won't stop. I can't get rid of it."
Peter looked at him for another short moment, then said, "You did good, you know. When we were walking out. You did just fine." Neal's silence said enough and Peter knew he'd gotten to the source. "I'm serious," he said, "There's no one else I would have rather gone through that with."
Neal kept his gaze on the table, not saying a word, and Peter almost went on, but then there was a tiny smile and Neal glanced up, finally meeting his eyes. "Not even Diana?"
"Not even Diana. Although she would have been much prettier company than you."
Neal laughed for the first time since they'd been rescued, his smile finally reaching his eyes.
Peter had wanted to cheer him up, yes, but he'd also meant every word. There was no one else he'd rather have by his side in the face of trouble. They made a great team. No bear was going to come between that if he had any say in the matter.