Peter stood quietly in the doorway watching his friend sleep. The doctors said they would be releasing him tomorrow if things continued to go well... they'd recommended an inpatient psychiatric facility for a while, but Neal had declined. Peter understood why. Neal just wanted things to go back to normal but normal... Peter wasn't even sure the kid knew this wasn't all a dream. After everything he heard this afternoon Neal might actually still believe he was dead.

Haversham was dozing in the chair beside the bed, but he jerked violently awake when the door creaked slightly.

"Suit..." he acknowledged quietly.

"How was he today?"

"A little quiet." He smiled fondly at the younger man as he stood "But that's to be expected... with the pneumonia."

" I suppose so." Peter bit his lip anxiously "He didn't seem frightened or..."

"No... Not frightened" Mozzie frowned

"What happened?"

"He seems to almost... forget I'm here. Even when I'm talking sometimes..." he sounded worried.

"What do you mean?"

"He sort of zones out... it could be all the drugs they have him on but...sometimes it's like he is actually trying to ignore me."

"I can't imagine Neal ignoring you."

"Me either, but..." the small man shrugged helplessly. He fell silent for a moment then with a shuttering breath "Touching him seems to help... sort of snaps him out of it... "

Peter considered that. Neal hadn't responded to their entrance until he touched him... then he had panicked. The implications took a moment to sink in.

"He was alone for a long time."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Complete isolation for months... He most likely started hallucinating at some point. He probably doesn't know if we're real without physical contact."

Haversham's face was frozen in a horrified O when Peter glanced at him. Feeling the eyes on him he snapped his mouth shut abruptly.

"You know what they did to him?'

"Antoni Martinelli confessed to at least some of it."

"How bad?"

"Bad." Peter sank into the chair opposite the smaller man. "Physically it's horrifying. Psychologically..."

"What?"

"Psychologically it's even worse." he ran his hands over his face.

Neal kept his eyes closed luxuriating in the feeling of waking up instead of just sudden awareness. A small sound nearby hinted that he might not be alone... a novel sensation after the dark silent emptiness of the last few... months. It could be a hallucination, but they usually didn't make any sound other than their cruel words.

As he opened his eyes Neal carefully ran his fingers over the course texture of the sheet beneath him... grounding himself in this reality were things like sheets and clothes exist.

Peter sat quietly reading through a file in the chair between Neal and the door. Neal took a moment to determine if that was more worrying or comforting.

Peter looked up and smiled gently. Neal closed his eyes briefly trying to convince himself whether the man sitting there was real or just his dying mind torturing him. then Peter... as if he knew exactly what Neal was thinking... exactly what he needed... leaned forward and very carefully took his hand. Peter looked so hopelessly nervous that Neal had to respond.

"How was work?" he tried for normal.

"Well, I got locked out of a suspect interview... then sent home by Diana so..." he chuckled. "How are you feeling tonight?"

"My temperature is apparently down... and they took me off the oxygen so-" he grinned "I'm fine Peter."

"No one expects you to fine." there was a gentle squeeze to the hand the older man still grasped. "H*** I'm not fine and I didn't live through it. They made you believe you were dead! I can't ev-"

"I didn't believe it Peter." He snapped it desperately, because he needed his friend to know that... "I didn't... not really."

"You were horrified to see me in that room."

"That was the fever talking." He forced a grin. "With my temp back in double digits I don't believe it..."

"That's good to know." Peter hesitated contemplating their hands "but it would be understandable if you did... question it. Martinelli's nephew said ... you don't remember being fed or... anything."

"I did wonder about that..."

"Feeding tube while you were drugged." Neal noticed how the older man swallowed convulsively as if fighting nausea.

"I guess that explains it." he kept his voice light, trying not to think to hard about his body being violated that way while he was helpless.

"I'm so sorry I didn't find you."

"You came as soon as you could." He met his friend's eyes "I'll be ok" Neal repeated it quietly to convince himself "I'll be ok..."