The flurry of people, the noise and bright lights overwhelmed him, making it impossible to think... It wasn't until he was settled alone in a quiet, dim room that Neal was able to process any of the sensations happening to him.

Slowly he opened his eyes and focused on the wall before him. It was neither the blinding light of work time nor the pitch black of the rest of the time. This light was softer... and warmer... and the wall was beige not polished steel, the floor was linoleum and the ceiling was tiled.

Other things filtered in as well... the sound here was distant and purposed. not just blaring sound meant to cause pain.

Pain? he could still feel the distant echo of pain, but it was farther away than he could remember it being, and the surface beneath him was warm and soft... he moved to stroke it... fabric moved against his skin...

Neal frowned at the pull of cloth over his shoulders and arms... clothes? he was dressed? A hospital gown he realized suddenly.

"I'm in a hospital?" he murmured "Was I dreaming?" he wondered thinking carefully through his recent memories. Maybe the whole horrifying situation was some sort of fever dream... or a near death experience, he shuttered at that thought, or... Peter... shouting and ... or maybe.

Peter finally found him. He was right about not being dead and rescue finally... finally came. Was it possible? He'd stopped really believing he would ever be found some time ago but... maybe someone had still been looking for him.

On the other hand, maybe, he was dreaming now. He ran his hand over the rough warm blanket. This felt real, so tantalizingly real but so had the hallucinations that haunted him for ages. He wanted this to be real... to be found and safe and...

"Please" he whispered "Please please be real."

She caught sight of her husband almost immediately across the room. He sat dejectedly in a corner chair with his face in his hands. The pose sent a current of fear through her. It was exactly the way she found him months ago... in the basement corridors of this same hospital.

"Hon?" Elizabeth ran her hand over his shoulder. Peter startled slightly before turning his helpless eyes up at her. "Have you heard anything?'

"Yeah" She felt the shiver run through him "I spoke with the doctor a few minutes ago..." he looked away and took a deep breath. She realized she was holding hers. Peter would never survive losing the young man again. Not like this.

"What did they say?"

"They expect him to recover."

"That's good news" Elizabeth frowned. If Neal was going to be ok, why... "what's the bad news."

"They expect him to recover physically... but he's been tortured for months..." Peter hung his head "They hurt him over and over and I... I wasn't looking for him."

"You thought he was dead."

"I KNOW THAT!" it wasn't quite a shout but... "I know that hon, but the paintings have been coming in for months. He was sending out messages begging me to help for months, and I refused to look at them because... because... I didn't want there to be someone as good-" he choked on the words "I should have been looking for him since the first one but I-"

"Hon..." what could she say... he knew all the reasons why he didn't look "You didn't know."

"I should have looked." he dropped his head into his hands as the tears started. "I should have found him... he was counting on me."

"You did find him." she squeezed his shoulder gently "It may have taken longer than either of you would have preferred but you DID find him." Peter shrugged slightly under her hand. Elizabeth sighed and sank down beside him trying to think what she would need to do to sooth this hurt.

"We found him" echoed in his ears. The call from the lady suit had been brief... partially because he had accidentally hung up on her but "we found him" and New York Presbyterian had made it through the line. Now he slammed his old cab into... most of a parking space and ran for the entrance of the emergency room. He told himself that a hospital visit was probably standard procedure for a rescued kidnap victim. Told himself it didn't mean anything but... the last time... standing next to the suit as the doctor informed them gravely that they had done all they could... it haunted him far more often than he cared to admit. His mind kept running through all of the terrifying things he'd heard about Adrian Martinelli... it was a sickening list, and his vivid imagination could picture each of them done to his only real friend...

Turning frantically into the waiting room he spotted Elizabeth with her arm around The Suit, a pensive expression on her face.

"Suit!" he skidded to a stop before the couple "Peter... tell me you were in time."

"He's alive" It was Elizabeth who answered him, but he'd take it. He glanced at her husband. Peter would not meet his eyes and that was... not good.

"How bad?" he whispered.

"Physically...? He'll recover." she responded almost as softly.

"That's good..." the implications hurt but if he wasn't physically broken beyond repair then... they could figure out the rest. At least that's what Mozzie chose to believe. "Suit, what isn't your lovely wife telling me?" Peter looked up at him then with a tight sad smile.

"He wasn't in a good head space" the suit struggled to keep eye contact but to his credit he managed it. "He was afraid... afraid of me." Mozzie heard Elizabeth gasp in his peripheral.

"That could be because you have been a threat to him in the past" He snapped then instantly regretted it as Peter's eyes darkened with hurt and guilt, but he lifted his chin and didn't take it back... it was true after all.

"You could have a point." that same tight smile flitted over his face. "Maybe you should visit him first when they let us in... let him readjust with a safer face" Mozzie hesitated...

"I'm not sure he will react any better to me..." he sighed "Before we... lost him he was talking a lot about to many leashes controlling him..." the suit's shoulders sank even more "At the time it made me smile... that he could finally see... Never mind... because the point is in the last few months..." he bit the inside of his lip, not comfortable offering the Suit his underbelly but " in the last few months I realized I was the first leash around his neck..." he trailed off.

He closed his eyes luxuriating in being warm, covered and in so little pain. If it was a dream, it was a nice one... he couldn't remember dreaming during his prolonged nightmare... he couldn't remember a lot of things that should have happened.

Carefully Neal turned on his side and tried to sleep... except oddly he couldn't seem to remember how.

In the room he hadn't gone to sleep. He'd simply dropped in and out of awareness but now... as tired as he was, he couldn't seem to will his mind to shut down. To many soft sounds assaulted his ears, too much soft light filtered through his closed eyelids...and most of all his mind swirled in a thousand possibilities.

The soft click on the door opening startled him. He froze... until he knew who or what was coming in, he didn't move.

The footsteps were quiet as though they were trying not to disturb him... "trying not to wake the dead" his brain unhelpfully contributed. Whoever it was hesitated at the end of the bed. standing... watching. Neal realized he was holding his breath and released a slow sigh. a sound came from whoever was waiting for him to make a move. A sigh... a strangled choked sigh that was almost a sob and suddenly Neal couldn't resist a peak.

Elizabeth hovered there just at his feet her gaze on his face and a painfully sad expression on her face. She can't be here, ricocheted in his mind, she doesn't deserve this! Neal grabbed frantically at the fear that shot though him, smothering it in all the logic he could pull together. Hospital. Right, she was here to visit a friend nothing more. It's fine.

He opened his eyes fully and shifted so she could see. Elizabeth didn't move from her post. Was she real? Was any of this real? What if this was another hallucination? How could he be sure?

"Oh! I didn't mean to wake you." she stepped forward laying her hand softly on his knee... sending a warm sensation of relief running through him. "How are you feeling sweetie?"

Neal pulled out a smile as he sought a proper response to that... confused? hopeful? frightened? "strange"

"I suppose that is to be expected."

"You're probably right" he hesitated trying to collect his fracturing thoughts "I'm...surprised... to be here."

"You were held a long time." she looked away almost guiltily, a look of deep grief fluttering across her features. Fear reared its ugly head as he recalled a flash of Peter in that room...

"Is..." He licked his dry lips finding the courage to ask, "Is Peter ok?"

"Yeah," she smiled gently refocusing on him. "He's right outside waiting for his turn to come in... I claimed the first visit." he sighed, the relief almost bone melting. He started to grin then his exhausted brain caught up. Elizabeth had been pregnant when he... the last he remembered before... he diverted his thoughts away from that room ... but she was clearly not now. Had the unthinkable happened or...

"How long was I... there?"

"Nine months."

"Wow Peter really doesn't ever give up." he grinned widely trying to cover that horror that had his hands shaking and tears burning at the back of his eyes.

"You have no idea." her eyes were misty as she stepped forward moving her grasp from his knee to his hand. "It's good to have you back."