102.3

Even with his limited medical knowledge, Peter knew Neal's fever was high. However, he didn't think it was high enough to warrant a visit to the doctor. Neal whimpered restlessly, looking more vulnerable and young than Peter had seen him for awhile.

Peter was awful at being anything close to comforting. El was the one who was better at consoling someone. Still, he tried to reassure Neal, rubbing one, awkward hand up and down Neal's sweaty back. Neal only moaned and kept his eyes tightly closed. Peter sighed as he heard the phone ring.

"Peter?" came El's sweet and soothing voice.

"Hey, hon" Peter must have sounded more relieved than he thought, because El's next comment was…

"How's Neal?"

"Well…he's sick" he hears El's gasp on the other end.

"Oh no. Fever?"

"Yeah. 102.3…and apparently vomiting" Peter said as he heard Neal retching in the bathroom.

"Hon, you should probably go. It really sounds like he's sick."

"Alright…I'll talk to you later" Peter sighed as he hung up and went to deal with a very sick Neal.

"Neal? Neal?" Peter knocked on the bathroom door. He slowly pushed open the door and stopped in shock. His CI was curled on the bathroom tile, eyes red and streaming with tears.

"I'm s'rry P'ter…I'm s'rry" Neal hiccupped miserably. Peter hid his grimace and reaching over Neal, flushed the toilet.

"Hey, hey. Look at me. There's nothing to be sorry for. You're okay" Peter crouched down, pulling Neal into a crooked hug. Peter had never thought he'd be crouched on the bathroom floor of his own house with the man he'd chased for three years huddled against him.

"Okay, let's get you into some dry clothes" when Peter finally stood up his knees popped and Neal flinched at the sound. He practically carried Neal down the hall and back to the bedroom, helping to change him into a dry t-shirt and sweatpants. Normally Neal would have protested at going anywhere near of sweat pants, but this time he didn't even resist.

Once Peter had wrestled Neal into bed, he quietly closed the door behind him and went downstairs to finish case files.

Peter!

Peter jerked his head up from the table. Beside him, Satchmo whined and lifted his head from his paws. Before Peter could even get out of the chair, Satchmo was already padding up the stairs, heading straight to Neal's room.

"Peter!" came the frantic call again.

"Neal! NEAL!" Peter burst into Neal's room and stopped short as he saw Neal thrashing, tangled in the blankets, a sweaty shine adorning his face.

Peter quickly pinned Neal's arms to the mattress, at the same time struggling to wake him up from the nightmare he seemed to be trapped inside of.

Finally, Neal's remarkably blue eyes flew open and he sat up with a loud gasp, pushing off Peter's hands with seemingly inhuman strength.

"P'ter!" a small frown appeared across his face, "but I—I—I thought you were dead! You died! You're not real!" Neal tried to hide his face from Peter and Peter felt his heart constrict.

"Neal! Look at me. I'm right here. I'm still alive" Peter forcefully pulled Neal's chin around so that he had to look at Peter. He watched as Neal's haunted eyes desperately searched his face for the truth. Pleading blue eyes met reassuring brown ones and Neal heaved a shaky breath.

"Go back to sleep" Peter soothed, pulling a new blanket from the closet and spreading it over Neal's trembling body.

"P'ter?"

"Yeah, Neal?"

"You're—you're not going to leave me?"

"No, Neal. I'm not" Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He sat back on the edge of the bed and put a comforting hand on Neal's shoulder.

"Promise?" Neal murmured.

"I promise. Now go to bed!" Peter growled. Despite himself, he reached over and felt Neal's forehead and realized his fever had gone down.

Looks like I'm just about done here. Thanks you to everyone who reviewed this story! I hope to be writing some more stuff soon!