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Chapter Eighteen

"Thanks, Moz. I'll see you in the morning."

"Try to get some sleep yourself, Neal. Just...be careful."

"I'll be fine." Neal rolled his eyes. "He can barely sit up."

"I know, but there is more than one way to get hurt, Neal, and he may..."

"Go." Neal gave Mozzie a gentle push to encourage him to leave.

"I'll be back in the morning, hopefully you won't need it tonight."

"I hope I never need it, but better safe than sorry."

"Now there are words I'm not used to hearing from you." Mozzie mocked. "He's changing you already."

"Goodnight, Mozzie."

Mozzie gave Peter one last nervous look before leaving. Mozzie had asked more about the glass but Neal hadn't explained further about Peter trying to attack him while in his delirium. Mozzie was distrustful of Peter as it was. Although when he thought about it Neal decided that Mozzie over protectiveness was based more on the fact that he was always the one who had to pick up the pieces when Neal ended up with his heart broken. As much as he hated to admit it his relationships tended to end horrifically. He still couldn't even think about Kate without his chest hurting.

"But this isn't the same."

Having been reminded of the glass that Peter had broken Neal took a broom and went over to the mess. After taking a moment to sweep up the glass he caught sight of forgotten hat band laying on the kitchen table. Recalling how strongly Peter had reacted when he'd stepped out of the back room with the band Neal realized that to Peter's infection addled mind it probably resembled one of the collars that he was so terrified of. Feeling guilty that he hadn't thought of it at the time Neal tossed the band in the trash to keep Peter from seeing it again.

"Must be a truly cruel device." Neal sighed to himself. "And yet still legal."

Neal walked over to where Peter was still passed out on the bed. He had changed the gauze dressings and hour before Mozzie had arrived and it should be good until morning. It was getting late but Neal wasn't particularly tired. Peter had slept through the day with only a few moments of unproductive consciousness. Watching Peter Neal realized that he was breathing heavily and was shivering slightly. Neal had become hyper vigilant to Peter's body language now that he had to keep an eye out for seizures.

"Peter? Are you awake?"

"...yes." Peter admitted opening his eyes and turning his head so that he could look at Neal.

"Did you hear Mozzie and I talking?"

Peter hesitated, clearly not wanting to admit to eavesdropping, but also not wanting to lie.

"Well, whatever you heard or didn't hear, don't pay any attention to it." Neal assured. "Mozzie's a good guy, he'll come around soon. He's never been quick to trust, just give him some time."

A flash of what looked like rage glittered in Peter's golden eyes, but it was so quickly replaced by an expression of pain so that Neal couldn't be sure if he'd seen it or not. Like the last time he'd woken Peter began to struggle with getting up. Once again Neal kept back, knowing that the best help he could be was to be no help at all. Peter put his palms against the bed to push himself up. As soon as he tried to use the muscles across his shoulders he cried out sharply before he was even able to move. It was the first time Neal had heard him really vocalized any of his pain.

"Stay down, the vet left something for pain. He warned me to only use it in emergencies since it's going to slow your breathing down, but it looks like you could use it."

Peter didn't argue the point either way, but he also gave up on trying to move. Neal headed back over to the table and sorted through the medical supplies again. He found the small vial of dilaudid. Neal read the instructions the vet had left with the powerful morphine derivative carefully before drawing the suggested dose into a small needle. Neal only needed the sharp needle tip to draw out the medication so he placed the cap back on it and twisted it off. The rest of the syringe was designed to click into an access on the IV that was embedded in the back of Peter's hand.

Neal grabbed a small packet that held an alcohol wipe in it and walked back over to the bed, it didn't escape his notice that Peter watched his every motion like a hawk. Neal couldn't blame him, he'd probably spent his entire life on guard. Neal sat in the chair that he'd pulled next to the bed earlier. Still watching him warily Peter looked for all the world like he was calculating some sort of move. Neal assumed he was preparing to move away if he had to. Neal smiled reassuringly trying his best to put his patient at ease.

"Can I see your hand?" Neal asked.

"What is that?"

"Dilaudid. I haven't tried it myself, but I have had morphine in the past, and it was...well in all honesty it was way more fun than it had any rights to be. I can see why people get addicted to it."

Peter made no move to offer Neal his hand despite the fact that he was visibly in distress. Neal sighed heavily and sat back.

"Peter, I'm not going to force this on you, but there really is no reason for you to be in so much pain. I'll keep an eye on you, make sure you keep breathing. The doctor left a small amount of adrenaline to get you going again if your breathing gets too slow. Please, trust me."

It still took Peter a full minute to decide, but eventually he moved his hand to the edge of the bed to give Neal access to it. Neal put the syringe on the bed while he worked the small blue cap off the IV port and used the alcohol pad to clean it before he clicked the syringe in place. Neal had only gotten about half of the medication pushed into Peter's blood when he started to relax. Neal finished the rest of the syringe and Peter took a few deep calm breaths as the drugs washed away a majority of his pain.

"That looks like it acted fast." Neal smiled. "How do you feel?"

Peter's only response was a quick chuckle. Neal smiled at the positive sign. Able to relax and breath some of the color slowly returned to Peter's once ashen face. Succumbing to the effects of the powerful opioid Peter nuzzled the pillow with a content moan before closing his eyes. Without thinking Neal reached out and touched Peter's arm to wake him. For the first time Peter didn't flinch at being touched, he just opened his eyes.

"You really should try to stay awake." Neal said. "At least for a little while."

"'kay." Peter replied slurring the word.

"I'm sorry for how I first treated you." Neal apologized.

Peter shrugged slightly as he fought against heavy eyelids. "I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it right. You deserve better."

"...you sound like Elizabeth." Peter muttered with a smile.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment." Neal smiled as well.

"The highest..."

Peter started to drift off again as his breathing started to become dangerously slow. Worried about him going into respiratory failure Neal reached out and rubbed Peter's arm to wake him again. When that didn't work he put his hand against Peter's cheek. Peter fluttered his eyes open but he didn't pull away like he usually did. Neal knew it was the drugs keeping Peter calm but he hoped that at some point Peter would be able to relax like this without them.

"Stay with me, okay?"

"What you asked Mozzie to get..." Peter trailed off the question.

"It's just a precaution, I hope I won't have to use it."

Peter stared at Neal pleadingly as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. He looked so devastated all of a sudden.

"Peter?" Neal asked concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Peter sighed as he closed his eyes again. He settled in the bed further, looking impossibly comfortable. "Thank you for a pain free night, Neal."

"You're welcome, Peter."

"...I'm still going to kill you in the morning."