Neal opened his eyes, blinked twice until he could finally focus on the small, digital clock next to his bed. It was the middle of the night...then he heard the knock again. And a voice.

June!

Neal jumped out of bed, quickly pulling on a pair of pants. Struggling with his t-shirt he opened the door, somewhat out of breath.

"I'm sorry Neal" the older lady whispered, "but you have to come downstairs."

"June, what's wrong?"

"Peter's downstairs..."

"What?" Neal shook his head, trying to clear the sleep induced cob webs. "Why is he here?"

June shrugged. "That's not all. He's drunk."

"I must be dreaming" Neal mumbled as he stared at June, his mind trying to grasp the information. It had been a normal Friday and Elizabeth had called shortly after landing in California and Peter seemed fine when they departed.

"Neal?"

June's voice brought him back.

"Don't you think you should go downstairs?"

"I guess." Neal followed her into the front room, where Peter sat, huddled with a blanket wrapped around him.

"I forgot to mention he wasn't wearing a jacket."

"Peter?" Neal approached him. "What's wrong? Something happen to Elizabeth?"

"Eliza..beth..." Peter slurred the word as he stared up at Neal. "She's fine...why?"

"Why?" Neal lowered himself to the sofa. "Peter, its 3am. Why are you out in the middle of a snow storm?"

"I thought we could have a drink...together." Peter held up a six pack. "The good stuff for you..." In his other hand was a bottle of wine.

"Did you start without me?" Neal asked as he took the bottle.

"Maybe one..." Peter stumbled as he tried to stand.

"Just one?" Neal reached out to steady the agent.

"OK, maybe two." Peter shook his arm free.

"How'd you get here?"

It took Peter a few minutes to think that over.

"You didn't drive, did you?"

"No." Peter firmly shook his head.

"Taxi?"

Peter nodded. "Took me a while to get one so I started walking..."

"Idiot" Neal mumbled as he took Peter's arm and pulled him towards the staircase.

"Can you make it?"

Peter glanced upward. "Yeah." He handed the beer to Neal and slowly took the first step, wobbling slightly. "Don't..." he barked out before Neal had a chance to help him.

"Wouldn't think of it." Neal glanced at June before following Peter up.

Inside the apartment Peter sought safety with the sofa and plopped down with a small groan. He didn't protest when Neal helped him remove his wet shoes and socks and then burrowed under the blanket Neal threw at him.

"OK, start talking."

Peter eyed Neal briefly before closing his eyes; moaning in the process.

"Peter are you going to be sick?" Neal searched under the sink until he found a bucket and placed it near the sofa. "Please use that if you need it."

"I'm fine." Peter rubbed his eyes.

"Peter, what's wrong?" Neal dragged a chair closer and sat down with his worried eyes glue to the agent. "Peter?"

"I watched." He reached into a pocket and produced the card.

Neal sat back, feeling like he was sucker punched. He inhaled a couple of times, memories of his capture threatening to resurface.

"Peter...why?"

"You wanted me to." Peter countered, with his voice suddenly much clearer.

"Three months ago" Neal whispered. "Why now?"

Peter tried to sit up straighter, though he couldn't look at his friend. He played with the card as the scenes replayed in his mind; seeing what Neal went through...

Peter glanced up. "I'm sorry Neal..."

"Don't." Neal stood and started pacing. He stopped at the counter, glanced at the bottle of wine and then chose something from his own collection. He took a sip and waited for the warm liquid to calm his nerves. It took several minutes until Neal felt he could face Peter. He turned to find the agent slumped over and asleep.

Neal resisted the urge to wake Peter; instead he found an extra pillow and a second blanket and carefully settled Peter in a comfortable position. When he was sure his friend was in a deep sleep, he headed back to his own bed.

The sun was just rising as another sound woke Neal; he slowly sat and pushed himself up, staggering towards the bathroom.

Peter was draped across the toilet with his head resting on his forearm.

"Peter, are you ok?" Neal asked as he knelt down.

Peter moaned as he slowly lifted his head. "Just dandy" he muttered as he leaned back against the wall.

Neal left and returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and a damp towel. He handed both to Peter.

"Thank you." Peter took a slow sip and waited; when the nausea didn't persist he drank the rest. After wiping his face, he stretched his legs out and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Better?"

"I think so."

Neal offered a helping hand and hauled Peter to his feet, shadowing the agent back to the sofa.

Neal went back to the bathroom and when he returned, Peter had fallen back to sleep.

"Not exactly how I planned to spend today" Neal whispered as he started a pot of coffee and then walked towards the balcony, whistling softly at the amount of snow that had accumulated.

Satchmo.

"Shit". Neal swore quietly as he glanced back at Peter. Suddenly he smiled and went searching for his phone.

Five hours later, Peter opened his eyes and moaned.

"Are you going to be sick again?"

He sat up straighter and glared at Neal.

"No." Peter stood and wavered; once he was steady he headed towards the bathroom. When he returned, he found a newly placed cup of coffee on the table, next to the memory card. He stared at it and then at Neal, who was carefully watching him.

"I wanted so badly to reach in and help you...I almost smashed my screen." He held up his right hand with the knuckles bruised in several places.

"Peter, why now?"

The agent shrugged. "I was alone and I went into the safe and I saw it there; I don't know..." Peter briefly covered his face. "I don't know" he repeated for lack of anything else to say.

"Drink your coffee. I need to get some fresh air."

"Neal..." Peter's voice trailed off as the ex-con made a quick exit, slamming the door in the process.

For an hour Peter sat there and stared at the memory card, running it through his fingers as he tried to figure out what made him watch it; time heals most things but he still saw daily reminders of what Neal went through, even if Neal didn't see it himself.

Peter studied the card so intently he didn't hear the door open and didn't know Neal was standing there until the ex-con cleared his throat.

"Did you figure it out?"

"No." Peter put the card down. "Maybe I thought I could help you."

"You already do" Neal countered as he put a bag on the table.

"Or better understand..."

"No one could" Neal said, pulling out a box of gourmet doughnuts. "Are you hungry?" Neal asked as he grabbed a plain scone.

Peter shrugged. "Why do you come in my office and sit there?"

Neal continued chewing as he thought that over. "Does it matter?"

"To me it does." Peter searched the box and came away with a chocolate covered bear claw. "Elizabeth would kill me if she saw me eating this."

"Would it shock you if I said I relive parts of that every day?"

"After watching, no." Peter chewed carefully. "Maybe you should continue seeing the shrink."

Neal smiled. "Why? She won't tell me anything I don't already know." Neal took a generous bite of his pastry and then poured two glasses of milk, offering one to Peter.

"Is it getting better?"

Neal nodded. "I think so. Just some times...I need to be alone but I can't be alone..."

"So you come into my office" Peter finished. "I leave you alone but you're not alone."

"Something like that." Neal stuffed the last of the scone into his mouth. "You could have just asked me."

"I never know if you want to talk about it. Thought I could get some clues if I watched..."

"And now you wished you hadn't."

"Yeah." Peter shrugged. "It was a lot more than I bargained for...Neal, I don't know what to say, or do."

"You don't say or do anything." Neal faced his partner. "You don't get to change..."

"Neal..."

"No." Neal shook his head, with his hands on his hips and blue eyes on fire. "Everything you've done since this happened I've needed and I've allowed but I don't want your pity..."

"Neal."

"Don't..." Neal held a warning finger up. "Just listen to me, please."

Peter silently nodded.

Neal took a deep breath. "I've needed everything you've done...the food, the company and those odd weekend phone calls just to make sure I was ok. You've been more than a friend but I won't allow you to look at me like that. You saw and you forget; that's how it is."

Peter lowered his gaze, wishing it was that easy.

"And if you ever do something so stupid again..." Neal's voice rose with anger.

"What?" Peter didn't hide his confusion.

"You think getting yourself killed is going to help me. Damn it Peter, how could you be so stupid?" Neal walked away, clearly out of sorts.

Peter sat dumbfounded, unsure if he should follow or remain seated. He settled for another donut and opened the fridge; he reached for a beer but considering how he still felt, he opted for water. Sitting at the table, Peter kept his eyes glued to his donut; as he listened to Neal slams things around in the bathroom.

Five minutes later Neal returned; calmer but still not right in Peter's opinion. Neal's eyes spoke volumes and right now he looked lost, more so than Peter had seen in a long time.

"Sorry" the younger man mumbled as he briefly made eye contact.

"Neal...I'm..." Peter leaned back. "I'm more than a little confused right now."

"I have very few people in my life I can count on...and I almost lost one of them last night."

Peter blinked twice, trying to comprehend his friend's statement.

Neal continued.

"You went out drunk in a snow storm on a Friday night with your wife out of town...without a jacket." Neal paused, letting that sink in. "You could have frozen to death before anyone noticed you were missing...your dog is smart but he can't dial 911 when you don't come home."

Peter glanced Neal's way and held the man's gaze; it took all of Neal's will to hold back the tears that filled his eyes and threatened to escape.

Peter awkwardly smiled, well aware that his own composure was being compromised. He reached across the table and gave Neal's hand a quick squeeze before retreating back to his own space.

"Neal. I'm sorry" Peter whispered, in a steady voice. "You're right and I wasn't thinking..."suddenly he stood. "The dog." He walked around, looking for his shoes. "I have to get home and take the dog out...

"Peter, he's fine..."

"He is?" Peter stopped. "How do you know?"

Neal managed a weary smile. "I called your neighbor hours ago. He's there and he's fine..."

"How? She can't get in..." Peter took a deep breath. "You told her where the spare key was...how'd you find it? Forget it...don't answer that." Peter shook head. "With friends like you..."

"You could just find a better hiding place" Neal said, with a genuine smile playing on his face. "Of course I'll find it..."

"Neal..."

"Sorry. I won't look. I promise." Neal held his right hand up. "By the way, Satchmo is quite smitten with her poodle."

Peter groaned and covered his face. "That poodle has been around the block a few times" he muttered.

"Can they?"

"I don't know." Peter stood. "But if she has another litter..."

"Get a paternity test" Neal suggested as he ducked away from Peter's playful punch.

Neal grew serious as he eyed the offending card sitting on the table.

"Peter, it's time we erase that." He walked away, returning a few minutes later with his laptop.

"Before you do that, can I show you something?"

"There's nothing I need to see" Neal protested.

"There is" Peter countered. "Diana lied to me when she said you were unconscious. Please, I think you need to see this."

"Peter..."

"Please..." Peter pleaded. "If it's too much we'll turn it off."

Against his better judgment, Neal consented with a slight nod. He turned his back as Peter found the right spot.

"OK, you can look." Peter muted the sound. Neal didn't need to hear himself and Peter never wanted to hear it again.

Neal sat as he watched the surreal scene...he was thrashing around in agony as Diana knelt down. No words were needed as she carefully checked his body, searching for a wound that caused all the blood. And he clung to her arm; anguish marred her face as Diana gathered Neal in her arms.

Neal looked away.

Peter rested his hand on Neal's head.

Neal turned back. "I don't remember this" he whispered with a thick voice, as they both watched Diana cradle a semi-conscious battered co-worker.

"Why didn't Jones say anything?"

Peter chuckled. "Knowing Diana, she threatened his manhood."

"Peter, turn it off." The agent obliged; Neal stared at a blank screen.

"Are you ok?"

"No." Neal lowered his head. "But I will be..." He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. Peter hovered nearby with his hand gently massaging Neal's neck.

"Neal, I'm sorry if it was too much."

"It wasn't...I'm glad you showed me." He turned suddenly. "Erase it. Peter, it's time."

Peter nodded. "Go outside and get some fresh air. I'll join you when I'm done." Neal took a couple of steps and stopped, turning to face his friend.

"Peter, thank you... for caring" He smiled weakly.

"Go" Peter ordered, and waited until Neal was gone.

It took only a few minutes to erase a week of torture, but the memories would live with them forever. Peter closed the laptop, and went outside to join his friend.