Peter was peripherally aware of the agents around him checking the two suspects, making an effort to keep Dennison alive to stand trial, ensuring Ridgemont was secure and could not escape despite his obviously damaged knee, of Mozzie trying to slink away without giving an official statement, but Peter could only see Kevin Grant lying on his side… frighteningly still. He prayed it wasn't one of their bullets that struck him in the chaos, Neal would never forgive him if it was… he probably wouldn't anyway. Peter promised his friend he would take care of his brother, and now the man was lying there, unmoving on the sidewalk.

Until he wasn't.

The agent had never been so glad to see anyone roll onto their back in his life. With an agonized groan Kevin gripped his right hip and struggled to sit up.

"No." Peter commanded, in charge once again. "Stay still" he pushed the younger man back down "Don't move. Move your hands and let me see."

"Which do you want?" the kid muttered through gritted teeth, "don't move or move my hands." but he slipped his bloody hands aside. As the older man ripped the sodden fabric of his pants to see the wound Kevin hissed sharply.

"Sorry." Close range, just inside the pelvic bone, angled down and outward, Dennison's weapon… meant for me, Peter observed quickly before clapping his hand over it and pressing. "Sorry" he muttered again

"It's ok" Kevin clenched his jaw "Not the first… time."

"Why am I not surprised?" Peter offered him a tight smile. The wound was bleeding heavily despite the pressure.

"You're tense… it's bad?" Kevin's eyes demanded honesty as his hands tried to grasp the concrete to ease his pain.

"I don't know… it could be." he answered as gently as he could. The femoral artery ran through that area somewhere and there certainly was plenty of blood spilling around his hands… or it could have damaged an intestine, releasing gastric fluid… and Peter was sure the bullet was lodged somewhere in the man's hip, which could be permanently disabling. Kevin flinched as Peter shifted his hands. "Just keep still."

"Glad you sent …me instead of…" the blue eyes wandered over the agent's shoulder as his voice trailed off "Neal"

"Kevin focus… look at me." The older man snapped, frightened.

"Peter?" the familiar voice whispered behind him. Glancing over his shoulder he met Neal's pained expression.

"I thought I told you to stay away." The words came out harsh. Peter couldn't hold that gaze, not with his failure written in blood all around them.

"Until the all clear… Jones called it."

"Oh." Neal pushed his chair forward then slid out of it to kneel beside his brother… catching the grasping hand desperately. The older man let his gaze dart between the identical faces, both frighteningly pale, both clenched with heartbreaking pain. 'I'm sorry…" he muttered.

Kevin was clearly struggling to keep his eyes open now as he gripped his brother's hand.

"And you were worried about being a danger to me?" Neal tried to smile as he brushed a trembling hand over the other man's hair.

"Guess… it really does… go… both … ways." His eyes slid shut then, his trembling body stilling.

"Kevin? Stay with me, ok? Kevin… Nick?" Neal pleaded. Peter bit his lip as his friend clutched his brother's hand tighter though his reflection no longer returned the grasp. "Please." The word was whispered like a broken prayer as he dropped his forehead against the slack fingers, a single pair of tears sliding silent, glistening tracks down his white cheeks.

Not usually a praying man Peter still sent a plea upward "Please don't take his brother… he can't bear any more."

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

"The waiting room is to cold," Neal thought glaring at his trembling hands, he curled his fingers together to cover the shaking. "They shouldn't keep it this cold in here… there could be people in shock." He almost laughed at that "yeah like you." The more rational part of his brain told him. He looked up from his tangled fingers. The room was mostly empty… except for Mozzie who stood twitching nervously in the corner.

"Sit down Moz" the small man shot the chairs a doubtful look. "You don't have to be here you know."

"I think I do…" he pulled off his glasses and scrubbed them "He is most definitely your brother…"

"What makes you say that… it's not like there is any resemblance" Neal could pretend to be calm… he could hold it together. Mozzie rolled his eyes

"Even if you looked nothing alike it would be obvious. He shares your penchant for doing incredibly stupid things to prevent collateral damage… and he has impulse control of a five year old too."

"What does that mean?"

"He picked a fight with Ridgemont to give me time to run… He's not a bad man… for … well for what he is." Mozzie glared at the floor for a moment "I'm staying." Neal smiled as the little man sat decisively in the blue fake leather chair and crossed his arms.

"Anything?" Peter ask, dropping into the seat next to him. Neal smiled, not that he was glad his friend was back…he was just fine while Peter was gone. It was just… being alone with his thoughts right now was not conducive to being strong and he needed to be strong… just like Ellen taught him when he was four. He could still hear her voice "Your mom is weak right now Danny… she is hurting. When family is weak and hurting we have to step up and be strong and brave. No tears Danny, don't cry… be strong."

"Nope… still waiting." He was rather proud of his calm voice. The older man nodded and passed him one of the cups in his hand.

"It's not the best but it's hot. You looked like you could use something warm" Neal nodded and clenched his trembling hands around the cup

"Thanks, it is a little cool in here" he shrugged when Peter frowned, glancing at his own discarded coat.

"How are you holding up?" Peter gave him a worried look.

"I'm fine." He smiled a bit at his friend's disbelieving snort.

"Would you tell me if you weren't?" Neal shrugged and consciously smoothed his expression, if he let any cracks show, the carefully constructed dam might break.

"We don't know anything yet… no reason to panic until we do." No reason at all, except the blood that clung to his suit… and the instant replay in his mind of Kevin's eyes falling closed, his pale face relaxing, his cold fingers releasing their weak grasp on Neal's hand. He wondered idly if Peter felt anything like this when he was hurt…his friend stared at his own hands and nodded silently, accepting Neal's words. "Any word on Dennison?"

"Not yet. Three bullets to the chest… it didn't look good, the last I heard."

"Can't say I'd lose much sleep if he didn't make it."

"Me either… the irony of this whole mess is if he does pull through it will be because Kevin pulled him down."

"When Dennison shot him."

"Yeah. Neal I…"

"I'll be fine." He pulled a reassuring smile out of his stock and offered it to his friend.

"I'm sorry…I know I promised to take care of him and I…"

"It's not your fault." He said it to quickly…Peter would think he secretly blamed him. He didn't... It wasn't Peter's fault he had no one to blame but himself, as usual. The sting was his own plan, he should have insisted he be the one to meet with Ridgemont. A part of him wished he could be angry at his friend. It would be easier have someone to lash out at, instead of trying to be calm and not think that he may have killed his brother, but he could be strong. Neal bit his tongue for a moment "I know you did your best…"

Neal glanced at the clock… nine o'clock, they had been waiting more than three hours.

"Kevin will make it, Neal"

"I know." He knew as soon as it left his mouth it didn't sound convincing.

"Neal, he will make it."

"What makes you so sure?" The hint of fear that crept into his voice worried him… he couldn't break, not in front of everyone. He had to be strong… his family needed him to be strong, just like Ellen taught him.

"He's your brother… if he's anything like you, he's tough as nails… a stubborn as-"

"Please don't call me a mule Peter." The older man grinned. Whatever he would have said to that was cut off by the door opening. Neal turned his head to face the new comer. The young doctor startled.

"I suppose I don't need to ask for Mr. Grant's family." He said softly as he approached them. Neal watched the man's face closely, the grave look in his eyes, the grim set of his mouth… doctor wasn't bringing good news. Something deep inside of Neal shattered. He fought to keep his expression calm and his breathing even… he had to be strong, no matter what. The doctor's voice was far to gentle when he finally spoke. Neal didn't register much of what the doctor said but he nodded when he should and shook the young man's hand firmly and thanked him before he left. Neal felt Peter's hand on his shoulder and saw Mozzie wipe his glasses gravely. Then someone was pushing his chair deeper into the hospital… and he let them without protest.

The room was dark and Kevin was too still… but Neal finally processed, he was still alive, not doing well, but alive.

He caught his wheels and pushed forward. He gripped the other man's and held on tight. He still needed to be strong…

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

2:17 am…

Once again Peter found himself slipping quietly into a dark hospital room at two in the morning. He finished his fourth cup of coffee before he pushed the door open, firmly not thinking of the last time he'd done this. This time Neal sat stiffly in the hospital chair… his wheelchair shoved into the corner, a silent refusal to move. The kid was beyond exhausted but he didn't show any signs of allowing himself to rest anytime soon… not until he knew his brother would be ok.

Neal gripped the cold, limp hand, his thumb absently stroking his brother's deathly grey knuckles as though he could return their warmth and strength by sheer force of will. Blue eyes barely blinked as he stared at the still shape in the bed. It was exactly the same position he had held for the last four hours since they let him in. His own color wasn't much better than the injured man, his lips tinted grey, his harsh breathing too shallow. The lines of Neal's face pulled taunt with the strain, like a spring wound to tight. Peter knew he was going to come unwound… he needed to come unwound because there was no way his friend could keep this up for the next forty-eight hours until his brother was out of the woods… Assuming Kevin made it that far without complications.

The doctor's report had been grim… severe blood loss from a clipped femoral artery left them worried about damage to Kevin's heart and kidneys. A perforated intestine left him open to the likelihood of serious infection. The high caliber bullet passed through his pelvic bone, leaving it in pieces and lodged in the head of his femur. Two badly broken ribs from the fight had caused serious tissue damage to the muscles around his lung… but thankfully hadn't injured the organ underneath. While there was no serious bleeding from his badly bruised kidneys and liver, there was concern about their function...

"You need to rest." Peter said quietly, cautiously squeezing Neal's tense shoulder. "Let me take you home?" no response. "Neal… look at me." Nothing "You aren't… you are exhausted." It was as if both men were unconscious of his presence. Self-consciously he hooked his fingers around Neal's jaw and turned his face until dull blue eyes met his own. The younger man didn't resist at all "there is nothing you can do for him right now…" when Peter released his grip Neal allowed his head to fall forward and his gaze to return to the bed. "Please Neal, talk to me. You can't keep this up, you are going to…" he stopped himself.

"Going to what, Peter?" under his quiet placid tone, agony laced the words "kill myself? That would probably be best for everyone." He said it so calmly, his friend felt his heart stumble over a few beats.

"You don't mean that"

"You know better than anyone the price of getting to close to me. I destroy everyone in my life eventually."

"Neal…"

"If you don't believe me… ask your wife."

"Elizabeth doesn't believe that." He didn't add that she had a few months ago.

"Doesn't she? She clearly been avoiding me since..."

"No she doesn't," Peter sat down beside his friend "She told me recently that she was afraid the price of our friendship had been too high for you. She trying to back off because you keep getting hurt and it's at least partially our fault." that earned him a harsh brittle laugh. "I'm so sorry… Neal. I know I promised I would take care of him and… I'm just sorry… for all of it. You have lost so much and been hurt so many times, since you made the deal with me. And I'm…" he fumbled to a stop then, gripping Neal's arm tightly. Several seconds passed without a response "You hold everything in so well it's so easy to think you are ok… when I know you aren't. When no one could be. The past six months would have destroyed most men. You haven't even let yourself cry, have you?"

"Would you prefer I fell apart?"

"Sometimes… yeah."

"Really?" the laugh was still stiff and fragile "Because…If I do…"

"Yes, really. Neal I would rather you let yourself cry, scream, hit something, throw everything on that table… anything other than sit here and calmly tell me you want to die like we are talking about the weather."

"I don't want to die…" he admitted but his shoulders slumped further, "but I can't keep watching everyone around me…" he gestured to the bed, his hand trembling. "Everyone around me gets hurt and I… it's like I'm untouchable … I always walk away. I'd rather face a week… a month with Ridgemont than… at least then the pain was physical and mine." Neal shuttered at the memories that brought to mind and choked on a sudden sob. With that the strings holding his broken heart together snapped and his body sagged forward. Burying his face in the edge of the bed the young man wept.

Peter slid forward uncertainly, wrapped his arms gingerly around the slim shoulders and held on tight as they heaved. He awkwardly turned the young man into his shoulder. He was terrible with tears and had no idea what to say, not that words seemed adequate… so he just let his friend cling to him until he cried himself out and sagged in utter enervation.

"Come on… let's get you home." Peter shifted slightly reaching for the wheelchair. Neal shook his head weakly.

"Please let me stay…" his voice was barely audible. "There's nothing else for me to do."

Peter pressed his lips together then sighed. "You need to rest. Come on at least lay down in the recliner." For a moment he thought Neal would refuse… then he nodded. Peter pulled the wheel chair over beside him and stepped back. The young man stared at it quietly for too long. "Neal?"

"Peter…" his voice shook "could you help me? I don't think I can…" before he got any farther the older man slid his arm under his shoulders, and lifted him to his near useless feet. Almost carrying his friend the few steps to the recliner, Peter settled him in to it and positioned the chair. He hesitated before draping his jacket over the kid… Neal was already asleep.

Peter settled in the other chair… it was going to be a long night.