Peter sagged against the door to Neal's hospital room and breathed a sigh of relief. It was from the first full breath he felt like he'd taken since Neal's anklet had been cut four weeks ago.
A month of not knowing where he was or what was happening to him had frayed Peter's nerves to the breaking point. His initial reaction had been that Neal had cut-and-run after the news that his sentence wouldn't be commuted, but that didn't feel right. Neal had been understandably upset, but Peter didn't really think he'd take off like that. Not anymore.
Then, Mozzie had come to him late one night. Neal hadn't contacted him, hadn't taken any of his go-bags, hadn't been spotted by any of Mozzie's contacts. He had simply vanished.
The pooled resources of the FBI and the criminal underworld still hadn't been able to find a trace of Neal Caffrey. The man just showed up in the ER of Bellevue two hours ago, asked them to contact Special Agent Peter Burke, and promptly passed out.
The diagnosis was dehydration, malnutrition, and a badly infected ankle wound from being chained up by the appendage. Neal was resting comfortably, knocked on sedatives, and Peter was free to look over every inch of him and let the relief wash over him. He may not have found Neal, but Neal had found his way back. Peter hoped like hell that his partner would be okay.
Peter sagged against the door to Neal's hospital room and breathed a sigh of relief. It was from the first full breath he felt like he'd taken since Neal's anklet had been cut four weeks ago.
A month of not knowing where he was or what was happening to him had frayed Peter's nerves to the breaking point. His initial reaction had been that Neal had cut-and-run after the news that his sentence wouldn't be commuted, but that didn't feel right. Neal had been understandably upset, but Peter didn't really think he'd take off like that. Not anymore.
Then, Mozzie had come to him late one night. Neal hadn't contacted him, hadn't taken any of his go-bags, hadn't been spotted by any of Mozzie's contacts. He had simply vanished.
The pooled resources of the FBI and the criminal underworld still hadn't been able to find a trace of Neal Caffrey. The man just showed up in the ER of Bellevue two hours ago, asked them to contact Special Agent Peter Burke, and promptly passed out.
The diagnosis was dehydration, malnutrition, and a badly infected ankle wound from being chained up by the appendage. Neal was resting comfortably, knocked on sedatives, and Peter was free to look over every inch of him and let the relief wash over him. He may not have found Neal, but Neal had found his way back. Peter hoped like hell that his partner would be okay.
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Also loved the one you wrote for Sholio! :-)
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Beautiful \o/
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