[closed] Do you remember leaving me to find my way? Do you remember saying I'd be fine?

[itchafes]

Neal wakes up. It's wrong, he knows that the moment it happens, the second awareness flares back into tissues that should be decom

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[incaution]

Ever since hearing about Neal's death from Peter, Jo hasn't quite been herself. She's lost people before, sure. She's lost her mom, she's lost Ash, she's lost Dean to this place. Hell, she's even lost herself before and managed to come back. But she hasn't ever lost someone like Neal, someone who should have been kept innocent and far away from all the crazy shit that the woods throws at people.

She's taken his death personally, and she takes to hunting anything she can get her hands to to take her mind off of everything. She's a good person, she knows that she has to be. So why is it that she's the one that always ends up alone and miserable? It doesn't make much of any karmic sense to her, and she decides to just say hell to everything and be a hunter like Dean. Make everything pay because it's there, not because it's guilty of anything.

She stays out for a full day without bothering to eat or rest, and when she finally decides to return back to the barracks it's in order to pass out on her doorstep. She's exhausted, and knows that she looks a mess. She's covered in blood that's not hers (and maybe some that is, she's not sure anymore) and cuts and bruises, and she's managed to create a nasty tear across the midsection of her tank top. At least her jacket is unharmed, and she's used it to tie across her thigh and stop the bleeding from deep gash.

She stumbles her way into the barracks and looks around for any sign of Dante or Sam. Not seeing one right off the bat, she shuffles in a little further, and that's when she takes notice of someone crawling along the wall. The first glimpse of hair makes her think it's Neal, and she feels sick to her stomach for getting her delirious hopes up enough to even suggest to herself that it might be him.

It's anger at life for doing these things to her that makes her stalk over toward the figure, and her voice comes out sounding exhausted and wary when she finally speaks. She raises her gun just a little, but she's assuming she's not going to have to shoot. Which is good, because she's fresh out of ammo and is too out of it to put for the effort of making more.

"There's a thing called walking. You really should give it a try sometime."

[itchafes]

Neal flinches, holding a hand up automatic and defensive as he sees the gun. He eases himself upright, still laying against the wall for support. The effort involved in this little field trip is making him tired and nauseated and he's pretty sure the gash in his side is leaking fresh blood and fluids onto the crusty strips of cloth that frame it.

He has to get out of these clothes. He has to get out of these clothes and get himself cleaned up before he rips them off just to keep himself from losing his mind at the smell. It's like a reminder that he was a corpse. It's like being told he still is one, an impossibility, an execration rather than a miracle. He's a monster, is what he is, and Peter died to make him one. Peter died.

"I am trying," he says. It comes out a croak and he clears his throat. Jo. Of course it's Jo. Even if the idea that he needs to get outside of these walls and away before anyone sees him is just a vague thought in the back of Neal's head, there's a bitter irony in her being the one to catch him first. "It sounds easier than it is."

[incaution]

As the figure moves to sit up she can see that it has Neal's face, and the voice that creaks out of him also belongs to Neal. Unsure of how to react to that, she jogs in closer to him, and is instantly taken aback by the smell coming off of him. It's enough to make her stop in her tracks, worry clearly written on her face.

"Peter told me that you were dead, Neal." She knows that she can't say much to this, since she's well aware that she died and yet here she is. She knows that coming back isn't impossible, but seeing him and hearing him is almost too much for her to handle in her current frame of mind.

She drops her shotgun and closes the distance between them, her hands hesitantly reaching out for him. She just wants to make this better, to make him not be worried during this. She knows what it's like to remember dying and then wake up just fine, but...

He's not just fine, is he. If he was fine, he would be walking.

She's used to smells like these, and it doesn't bother her when she crouches down and gets in close. She's weak right now, but she still manages to grab hold of him.

"I'm gonna hoist you up and carry you if I have to, and we're gonna get you a nice, long bath." She pauses, and tries to smile. It's her job to be the sidekick like this, to be the supportive one. It's what she's best at. It's as she's trying to make him feel better that she realizes she's crying, and she knows it's out of relief that he's alive and there and not buried and in the ground. "And like it or not, I'm gonna look you over."

This is more for her sake than his, to make sure he's really real and that she's not just hallucinating or dreaming.

[itchafes]

Peter. Goddamn it. He can't bring himself to look at her any more than he can keep her from touching him and helping him stand. He doesn't trust himself to answer her without breaking down. Peter's not supposed to die. If one of them goes, it's supposed to be Neal. Peter is Peter - the best, implacable and solid as bedrock, the one person who's stood in the way of Neal screwing himself over again. Not because the agent gets anything from it, but just because he cares.

Goddamnit.

Neal lets Jo help him along toward the gate and the stream outside of it, forcing himself not to flinch away from her touch. He hates the thought of her putting her hands on grime and fluid-smeared clothes, bearing him up despite the smell. A couple of times he has to stop, his side lancing pain from under his ribs to his chest. This doesn't seem fair, somehow. If someone had to die to bring him back, he should be healthy. Healed. This isn't the way this kind of thing is supposed to work.

But then, what the hell does he know about how this kind of thing works, really?

[incaution]

As they slowly make their way toward the stream, she takes mental assessments and decides what needs to be done. She realizes that she needs to look at him over carefully, to see what makes him need to stop. She knows he'll put up a protest, but she's hoping that maybe he's too out of it to really care. She gets him to the stream and awkwardly shifts, she's not really sure how to best do this. She needs both hands to help, and he can't stand on his own, so she finds a nice tree for him to lean up against.

"You need to get those clothes off, Neal." She sniffs a little, as her tears haven't stopped flowing this entire time. She's so grateful to have him back, for him to have a second chance, but the fact that he can barely walk doesn't seem very fair.

Obviously one of the fae was fucking with them again. It wasn't the first time, and she knows it won't be the last.

"I'm gonna help you get everything off, and then we're gonna burn these things. We'll get you cleaned off as best as we can, and I'm looking you over at the same time." Her voice shakes a little as she just wants to hug and hold him, to tell him that she knows how this feels, and that everything is going to be alright.

But she can't do that, not now. If she was his Kate, then it would be her job to do something like that. But as it is, all she feels safe in doing is getting him clean and patched up.

[itchafes]

He winces again, visibly and not because of the pain in his side. He hates needing this much help, but he can't even bring himself to joke at her insistence on taking his clothes off. Neal shakes his head, drawing away from her just slightly. "I'll do it," he says. "I can do it."

He fumbles the buttons open, grunting as the fabric peels away from his skin like a bandaid. A fresh wave of stale reek goes up as his clothes come free. The skin underneath is blotchy, mixed raw red and white. Neal drops the shirt and works on the jeans, looking away from Jo again. The fact that he can be embarrassed by this - he doesn't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. At least burning the clothes will be a relief.

[incaution]

She turns away from him at his insistence that he can undress himself, and goes to look at her reflection in the water. She looks downright awful, and she unties the jacket around her thigh and tosses it aside. She considers stripping out of her bloody clothes to wash off as well, but quickly decides that would be too intimate of a setting, and just hops into the water fully clothed.

Water is splashed on her face, and she scrubs with her fingers to wash off what she can. She winces each time she scrapes her fingers over a cut or bruise, and once she feels refreshed enough to be more awake, she turns back to face him.

"It's okay, I don't care what you look like. You'll always be just Neal to me, no matter what you just woke up from." She reassures him, trying to smile. It comes out looking more sad than anything, but she holds her hand out to him all the same.

"You can't wash away what happened, but the water still helps you wake up and feel less inhuman. Trust me."

The last words are almost pleading. Please, please finally trust me.

[itchafes]

He doesn't take her hand, but he does at least obey. Stripped down to his boxers, which he can't comfortably drop, Neal slides into the cold grip of the stream. He keeps a hold on the bank, feeling for the bottom of the stream with one foot and wondering how it can be so deep when it looks shallow from the edge.

Show. He needs to put on a show. He needs to be all right for her, if only for his own sake. He slips all the way under, blessedly closing out the smell of his own body. Neal bobs back to the surface and takes her hand, framing a smile without a great deal of feeling. He'll have to tell her about Peter. About what he did. He starts to kiss her fingers, to conjure up a line - and then it all clicks. Peter told her. He keeps his focus on her hand to keep from showing how startled he is. "When?"

Neal does look up then, trying not to look as desperate as he feels. "When did you see him? What did he say?" Then, finally, he notices her own bruises and the cut across her stomach. "...What happened?"

He's only half aware that he's still holding her hand.

[incaution]

She doesn't know where to start, and she stares up at him as he bombards her with questions. She knows about Peter, and it pains her that she couldn't do anything to stop him. It's her job to stop monsters and to protect men like Peter and Neal, and she can't even do that. Her lip starts to tremble as she tries to hold in the emotion, and as tears spill out of her eyes and down her face she shakes her head so they'll go away.

"He wouldn't listen to me. I tried to punch him so I could drag him back, but he got the better of me." The tears continue to spill, and she can't look away from him, because he deserves to know that Peter is a stubborn idiot.

"I told him you wouldn't want him doing anything to himself." She whispers that, and then finally looks down at their joined hands. She laughs as she realizes that he had asked about her, and she feels like a stupid little girl standing there crying when she needs to be helping him clean up.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Don't worry about me, I just went out on a little camping trip after I heard you died. I'll be fine."

[itchafes]

"He's good at that," Neal says, a little absently. "Caught me twice. ...Three times."

Not this time. It's almost a relief to know that when he gets back to New York - if he gets back - he can disappear and no one there will be able to stop him. He might not even have to let them know he was ever back. Neal shakes his head when she says what she does about what he would want. She's right. Peter should know that.

And then he shakes his head again, forcing himself to focus, but the words after I heard you died derail him all over again. He gives Jo a helpless look and then clears his throat, looking up instead of away this time. "It's getting warmer."

[incaution]

"I should've stopped him." Her voice is hoarse with the admission, guilt pouring out of her and mingling with her tears. She's annoyed that she's showing this much emotion to Neal again, especially during a time he needs someone to be strong. But she's had enough of this place, and more than enough of the things it puts them all through.

Luckily, something he says catches her off guard and she pauses, head tipping to the side just slightly. "What's getting warmer?" She questions, her brow knitting together in confusion.

[itchafes]

"Stop Peter." He laughs, a little. "I think only Elizabeth can do that. Maybe Hughes."

He lets go of her hand and lets himself sink a little farther into the water, trying not to shiver or wince when the cold hits the gash in his side. Hopefully the weather will heat up the stream sooner rather than later. "The woods."

He cleans the wound gingerly, wishing for antiseptics and bandages. "It's not your fault."

It's his.

[lovethissuit]

After making sure Murphy was settled well enough with Dresden watching out for her, Peter all but flies to their cabin. The tiger follows eagerly enough, trotting after him, tail wagging and ears perked up at being out and about with its master. The smell hits him like a ton of bricks as soon as he opens the door, and it makes his stomach drop. The Queen had said good as new, and this stench is anything but.

...But the cabin is empty. Neal's not there. So maybe-

If this actually worked, and it smelled this bad, he knows the first place Neal would go. Bath. Which meant the stream. Slamming the door shut behind him, Peter heads back to the gate before spinning on his heel and jabbing a finger at the tiger that is literally at his heels. "No. No. Stay. You are going to stay right here until I come back. You understand me? Stay."

And then he's off again, running full tilt across the barracks, through the gate, and south along the wall. Please, please, please, at least let this have worked, even if everything else is blown all to hell, even if I've screwed up beyond repair, let this have worked.

Rounding the corner, he skids to a stop on icy-slick grass and. All he can do is stare. There's some part of his brain that can't help thinking - it figures. Neal comes back from being dead, and you find him skinny-dipping with a cute girl. Of course.

[incaution]

"Spring's probably coming soon." She shrugs, not really noticing the temperature of the water with everything else going on in her mind. She watches him move in the water, concerned. But since he's taking the time to clean himself, she ducks under the water and does the same. Getting her hair wet is enough to wake her up some more, and the feel of the air hitting the cold water makes her shiver.

"It's probably no one's fault, all of this shit that keeps on happening. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to protect you from it, or wanting to see you happy."

She snaps that out, despite the fact she means for it to come out gentle, and she turns away from him to -

...to see Peter.

Standing there.

"You know, you always have real good timing."

She's not even going to bother addressing the fact he isn't dead, especially since Neal isn't still dead either.

[itchafes]

Neal isn't sure what to say to that. Why Jo would want to keep him safe or see him happy is a little beyond him at the moment, though the fact that she's angry about it makes some kind of sense. He winces, and focuses on the wound to cover up the reaction as being anything but physical pain.

And then she's talking again, and this time he's the one confused. "Timing?"

There's a joke to be made there, an unintended compliment he could accept, but his focus and wit seem a step or three behind the rest of him at the moment. Neal follows her gaze, when he notices she's looking away - and straightens slowly. He's looking for something to say, but there's nothing - a solid wall of impossibility that he can't quite get around.

[lovethissuit]

Peter shrugs absently at Jo, too busy staring at Neal to say anything until his brain kicks into gear again and everything besides he's alive starts processing. Like how he looks like complete hell. And how Jo looks even worse than when he left.

But. Neal's there. And standing and breathing and not dead, so most everything else just takes a backseat to that one crucial fact.

He's still struggling for something to say when he blurts out, "You stay in there too long, and you'll both get pneumonia."

...Okay, dramatic and heroic it ain't, but it's still true.