Jacobi Hospital. Friday afternoon. February 27, 2004.

Neal woke again. At least he thought he was awake. It felt like he'd woken many times, only to realize he must be dreaming. Often he was back in Chicago again, forming a tentative alliance with Henry. Sometimes he was with an older couple who seemed vaguely familiar, playing poker of all things. The woman he thought of as not-Mom was there sometimes. A few times he was with Vance again, but those episodes didn't last long; people came and pulled him back from those memories. There seemed to be a doctor, too. And once even...

"Was Mozzie here?" he asked. But as soon as he said it he realized that must have been another dream. Mozzie didn't like to go places where doctors were. He didn't trust them.

Neal was about to drift off again when he realized someone was saying his name. He opened his eyes and stared fuzzily at the man standing beside him. "There you are," said the man. "Neal, do you know who I am?"

Many things ran through his mind, confusing him. It was Peter, but he had many different roles and Neal wasn't sure which one he was being now. Special Agent. Burke the Jerk. Friend. Pursuer. Boss. Suit. El's husband. Immunity. He held on to the one thing that seemed simplest and truest. "Dad?"

There was a pause, and Peter said, "Kid, you're killing me."

And with that Neal went from hoping he was awake to hoping he wasn't. He moaned and closed his eyes, trying to escape to a different dream.

A woman's voice said, "He's probably thinking very literally right now."

"What? Oh! Neal, no, I'm fine. You aren't hurting anyone. Open your eyes again, please. C'mon, Neal. A couple of minutes, okay? Stop malingering."

It was so tempting to slip into another dream, but Neal decided to give this one a second chance. He opened his eyes again. There was Peter, and not-Mom. Noelle, Neal remembered. Her name was Noelle and she sounded like Mom but she wasn't. Not his mom. Henry's mom.

"You slept through lunch," said not-Mom. "Do you think you could eat something?"

Neal considered that. He shook his head.

"Would you try some juice?" she persisted. "They're going to put you on another IV if you don't."

He flexed his left hand automatically, and it hurt. He didn't want another IV. "'kay." He drank the juice slowly, and gradually became more aware of his surroundings. Hospital again. Several of his dreams had been set in a hospital, and he was starting to think he really was in a hospital. Maybe he was awake this time. But then he noticed Henry, sitting in a chair, his head resting on his arms on Neal's bed, asleep. That was weird. Probably a dream.

Just in case, he tugged at one of the pillows behind him until it came loose and then pushed it at Henry, who latched onto it, settling his head into the pillow with a snuffling sound.

Noelle reached across the bed to ruffle Henry's hair as if he were a little kid. And when Neal blinked at her, she ruffled his hair, too, and then swooped in to kiss his nose. "I'm scared to think what the two of you got up to after Henry found you, but I'm also sorry I missed it."

Neal wasn't sure what to make of that, so he looked at Henry again. "Malingering," said Neal. He didn't remember where the word had come from. It seemed to be hovering in the air around him, and he liked it. He looked up at Peter with a smile. "You missed the poker game."

"Who were you playing with?" Peter asked.

Neal was still vague about who they were and if they had been real. He didn't seem to have names for them. One phrase floated to mind. "Badass?"

Noelle laughed so merrily that Neal couldn't help laughing with her, even if he didn't know what the joke had been.

Peter asked, "What?"

Even Henry raised his head. "Huh?"

Her voice full of mirth, Noelle said, "When Dad got his first ambassadorial post, the State Department sent someone to give the whole family lessons on diplomatic etiquette. She advised that we call Dad Ambassador even at home, to make sure we didn't slip up in public. Henry was old enough to get close, but Neal... Every time he tried, it sounded more like badass. We could never prove it, but I'm certain my brother David was encouraging him to keep saying it that way. It became a family catch phrase whenever Dad had a success as an ambassador."

Neal chuckled. Not because he followed everything Noelle had said, but because it triggered a memory. When he was seven years old, he brought home a report card with perfect grades, and for once his mother had been sober. She picked him up and called him a badass, which made him giggle because it sounded naughty, and then she tickled him to make him keep giggling until they both lay on the floor catching their breath. After that she'd gone into the kitchen and started singing in French as she prepared the best meal they'd had in months. To this day, French cuisine was one of his favorites. He closed his eyes and started softly singing "Au Clair de la Lune."

###

As Neal sang, Peter walked around to the side of the room where Henry sat. "Feeling better?"

Henry shrugged rather than answer. He still looked bleary-eyed with a childlike belligerence. Not fully awake yet, but that would change soon.

"I know you're not happy about some of the things you heard at the Bureau today. You don't believe Neal was part of Adler's scheme. That's fine. I don't want to believe it either. My boss has enough trust in my judgment that he'll accept it if I say Neal is innocent, but in the long run that's not enough. The Adler case will get scrutiny from a bunch of people in the FBI who don't know me and who will jump to the conclusion I'm protecting my team or myself if I simply say I know Neal is innocent and forgo any further investigation. The best way to protect Neal from suspicion is to prove he wasn't involved. Understand?"

Henry's eyes had cleared, and his expression transitioned from belligerent to annoyed. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"That's a fine defense if Neal goes on trial. Wouldn't you rather make sure things don't reach that point?"

"How?"

"We start by asking Neal to tell us what he knows."

Henry gestured toward Neal, who was starting the third verse of the song. "You can't use anything he tells you now."

Peter nodded. "You're right. I'm counting on the eminent Dr. Winslow to confirm that Neal is officially impaired. Anything that he confesses now can't be used against him."

With a look of grudging respect, Henry said, "Okay. Let's talk to him." He stood up and smoothed his hair, which had become mussed while he slept. "Neal? Neal, take a break from the song, okay?"

Neal blinked and said in a surprised voice, "I think this song is about sex."

"Yeah. I barely passed high school French and even I know that. We got suspicious when we learned there was a verse they didn't teach us and we looked up how the song ended. How did you know the words and not pick up on the double entendres?"

Neal shrugged. "I learned it when I was in kindergarten, and I didn't take French in high school. I wanted to study a language I didn't already know, so I took Russian."

"You are such a nerd sometimes. Listen, Peter needs to talk to you."

"About sex?" Neal asked.

"About Adler," Peter corrected.

Neal frowned. "Kate let me think she was having sex with Adler in the café. I mean, when we were talking at the café. They weren't doing it in the café. Because they weren't. Not at the café. And not at Enscombe, either. She said so. And she wasn't his type. Adler didn't date much, but mostly it was blondes. And Kate isn't blonde. So there you go. Can I have another juice?"

"I'll get one, sweetheart," said Noelle. "Remember, Peter: literal thinking, and if you don't want a very awkward conversation, you need to be precise about the topic."

"Neal," said Peter, "we're done talking about sex."

"Good. 'cause I don't think Kate would like it if I talked about how we –"

"We're going to talk about the work you did for Adler last year."

Neal's eyes widened. "Henry!" he whispered urgently. "I think this dream is real. I mean, I think it isn't a dream this time."

Henry nodded. "I think you're right."

"Which Peter is this? Do we trust him?"

Peter held his breath while he awaited Henry's judgment. Henry studied Peter a moment and sighed. "He's the FBI agent who thinks of you as a son."

Neal beamed. "Peter! Hi, buddy!"

###

The Q&A with loopy Neal wasn't as helpful as Peter would have liked. It confirmed his belief that Neal wasn't in on Adler's original crimes and wasn't aware of his current plans. However, as Henry cynically pointed out, they still didn't have proof. There didn't seem to be anything Neal could add in his current condition to help with the case.

They paused to let Neal drink the juice he had requested, and then Dr. Woodhouse stopped by. She said Neal was doing well enough to move from ICU to a standard hospital room, and that meant a break while everyone moved to a waiting area on another floor of the building. Eventually they were shown to Neal's new room. Peter was glad to see it was a private room with several chairs for guests. It looked like visitors were encouraged.

It was clear Neal was tired. Peter expected him to drift back to sleep, but instead he said, "Why didn't anyone make the connection?"

"What connection?" Peter asked.

"You didn't connect me to Adler's company because I used an alias you didn't know, right? But Kate used her real name. You had the company employment and payroll records. You knew Kate Moreau worked for Adler. And before you caught up with me in St. Louis you knew I had a girlfriend named Kate Moreau. But no one in the Bureau realized it was the same Kate?" Neal paused to yawn.

Henry looked surprised. "The FBI didn't know Neal had a connection to Adler?"

"Not until after we got Neal's confession," Peter said.

"How is that possible?" Noelle asked.

"It shouldn't be," Peter admitted. "The only way we could have missed it is if someone tampered with the records of the Adler case so that we didn't get a hit when we logged Kate Moreau as a suspected accomplice of Neal's. Neal, when you looked at the case files did you notice..." Peter trailed off when he realized Neal had fallen asleep. "Keep an eye on him. I'm going to call Hughes."

In the waiting room, Peter was pulling out his phone when Graham arrived. He put his phone back in his pocket and asked, "Any news?"

"Not yet. Whoever supplied the drugs to Highbury did a good job of covering their tracks. It's going to take a while to get answers."

Disappointed but not surprised by Graham's answer, Peter pointed him in the direction of Neal's room and then placed the call to Hughes. After filling him in on the latest development, Peter said, "When Jones gets back to New York, I'd like to have him look at the log of updates to the Adler file. I hate to say it, but I'm starting to think Agent Hitchum might be a problem. At first I thought it was just sloppy work with the holes in the Gil Goddard interview, but if we find he's behind the missing data in the Adler file, that points to sabotage."

"If Jones confirms what you suspect, we'll need to bring in the Office of Professional Responsibility," Hughes said. "In fact, I should give them a call today. Nothing will go in Hitchum's file yet, but if we find evidence we'll want OPR to jump on this immediately, and that means giving them time to prepare." When Peter didn't respond, Hughes added, "I know OPR isn't popular, but they specialize in this kind of thing. And this won't reflect on you, Peter."

"I know," Peter said. "I heard it all at Quantico, but I hate having it happen to my team. That kind of thing is distracting, and we have so much going on right now. Can you wait until I talk to Jones tomorrow? Maybe I'm off base about this."

"Questioning your famous gut?" Hughes asked. "And tomorrow's Saturday."

"Hell," said Peter. "Tell you what, I'll look into it myself tonight."

"No, you won't," Hughes said. "You're too tired to find what you're looking for tonight. You get some sleep. I'll check with Jones and see if he's interested in working overtime tomorrow in exchange for comp time later."

Shortly after 5pm, Elizabeth arrived with Chinese takeout and the Burkes and Winslows had a picnic in Neal's room. Neal wasn't allowed to share in the takeout, but at least he ate the vegetable soup and bread an RN named Martin had delivered. Martin seemed a bit surprised by the family meal in the hospital room, but he said it was fine as long as Neal remained comfortable with it.

At 6pm Martin asked them to clear out for a few minutes while he helped Neal walk to the restroom and change clothes. When they returned, Neal was wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants of Henry's that he'd brought that morning. Peter had never heard of the group Linkin Park featured on the t-shirt, much less their album Hybrid Theory. Henry simply shrugged and said they had a song called "Runaway" that he liked.

George Knightley and Neal's grandparents arrived as Neal was nodding off again. It was getting crowded in the room, and Peter and Elizabeth moved to the waiting room while the others caught the newcomers up on Neal's status. "What's wrong?" Elizabeth asked after a few minutes.

"I'm not sure where I fit," Peter admitted. "It was one thing being Neal's father figure when he was essentially alone in the world. Now in addition to Henry in a big-brother role, Neal has an aunt, grandparents, and even Graham is closer to family than I am. And there's a godfather back in D.C. who wants to help, too. Am I just getting in the way? Maybe I should be satisfied as a boss and mentor trying to keep Neal on the right side of the law."

"Don't you think that's a decision to make with Neal, when he's back on his feet and not influenced by this Flashback drug?" El asked. "And remember, having all of these people here for him is temporary. Everyone you mentioned lives in D.C. or Baltimore. You're the person Neal can rely on to be here for him day-to-day. Maybe..." she paused to think it over. "Maybe in a circumstance like this you step aside to let him have time with these people, but knowing that you'll step back in again when they're gone."

Peter nodded, seeing his wife's logic, and decided to share his other concern, "Right now it seems like the only thing I can do to help Neal is to work the case, finding and stopping who wants to kill him."

"That sounds important, and it's your comfort zone. So why don't you sound comfortable?"

"Because part of what we uncovered today looks bad for Neal. He's not in trouble, exactly, but now I have to find out who's behind everything, and prove Neal isn't in collusion with a criminal. Until I can, Neal loses credibility in the team."

"After you both had worked so hard to make everyone accept him. And you're blaming yourself, or your job. But the only way to fix it is to keep being Special Agent Peter Burke."

"Have I mentioned recently how much I love smart women?" Peter asked, putting an arm around his wife.

Soon Neal's other visitors joined them, at the request of the doctor who wanted some privacy to check on Neal and talk to him. A few minutes later Dr. Woodhouse came to the waiting area to speak with all of them. "He's doing much better," she said. "The main concern now is flashbacks or nightmares induced by the remainder of the drug in his system. The sedative from that drug is still affecting him, but only to the extent of making him tired. After the activity of this evening, he's likely to sleep for several hours. I believe he'll be able to go home tomorrow, but I would caution that he should have someone around to check on him regularly for at least the first twenty-four hours."

"He'll stay with me," Henry said.

The doctor nodded. "I'll meet with you tomorrow about his care and diet. For tonight I'll be on call in case he experiences any issues."

George Knightley asked to speak to the doctor privately and they stepped away from the others. Graham Winslow told Noelle and Henry they looked exhausted and they should go back to the hotel. Edmund and Irene agreed that the others should get some rest, saying that they'd stay with Neal, and they returned to his room.

Peter was curious to know what George and the doctor were saying and was leading El in that direction, but Henry asked, "Do you have a minute?"

"Excuse me, El," Peter said, letting Henry pull him aside. "What is it?"

"Do you believe Neal's innocent?"

"Of colluding with Adler? Yes. I never thought it was a likely scenario, but those passports Adler had commissioned for Neal are going to raise questions that I'll need to answer."

"In that song I mentioned earlier, there's a line about being considered guilty by association. Keep that in mind. You'll drive Neal away if your team uses him for his criminal contacts and then tries to paint him with the same brush for having those contacts."

It took Peter's mind back to his first conversation with Henry, a phone call when Neal was in a hospital on New Year's Eve. Henry had made it clear on that occasion that he didn't trust the FBI to treat Neal fairly. "I get it, Henry. You have to trust me on this. My team has made great strides in accepting Neal. But those passports represent a potential stumbling block in that acceptance, and ignoring the issue won't make it go away. I'm doing everything I can to get answers, to remove that block, and then we'll make up the lost ground and keep moving forward. The pace might not be as fast as you like, but we're getting there." Peter looked past Henry. "Graham's not-so-patiently waiting for you. Go back to your hotel and sleep on it. I think you know we're both on the same side."

Peter then returned to Elizabeth. As they waited for the elevator she asked what Henry wanted.

"Same thing we do. He wants Neal to be safe and happy."

They stepped into the elevator. "I eavesdropped on George and Emma," El admitted. "Did you know they went to school together?"

Peter shook his head. George Knightley and Emma Woodhouse had been the least of his worries. "Did they say anything about Neal's prognosis?"

"No, not really. They both sounded confident that he's out of danger."

The elevator reached their floor and they stepped into the parking garage. Where had he parked? It seemed like an age ago.

"It was sweet, actually. George thanked her for taking a softer approach with Neal's visitors this evening, and he apologized for snapping at her earlier, after Neal first woke up. Emma admitted she could have been more sympathetic. They're going to grab coffee later to catch up. I think they make a cute couple."

Peter found his car and opened the passenger door for Elizabeth. Then he got in the car, started the engine, and sat staring ahead a moment. He met El's inquiring look and said, "I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"Let's get home and get some rest. I'm sure it'll come back to you."

At the house, they changed out of their work clothes into something more casual. After walking Satchmo, they settled on the sofa. Peter turned on the TV to watch a sports channel, and El was reviewing her notebook of plans for Neal's birthday party. Every once in a while she asked Peter a question about Neal's taste in food.

Around midnight, Peter woke up. El had changed the channel and was watching a movie that looked like one of those Jane Austen stories. Peter wasn't a fan of watching those movies himself, but last month Neal had opened his eyes to their value. Those stories inspired some fascinating fantasies for El, and Peter grinned as he remembered the last time she'd pretended he was that Darcy character and "had her way with him." Maybe he should go ahead and walk Satchmo one more time so they wouldn't be interrupted when things got interesting.

El nudged him. "Peter, that's your phone."

He reached for the cell phone vibrating on the coffee table. The caller ID said Henry Winslow and Peter could feel his blood pressure rise as he realized what he'd forgotten. "Did you tell your grandparents about the Hospital Game?" Peter asked, referring to the version of hide-and-seek Neal was infamous for playing when loopy or disoriented in a hospital.

"No, and I just got the call that he's not in his room."

Peter unlocked the drawer where he kept his badge and gun. "I'll meet you at Jacobi. If you get there ahead of me, be careful. It's possible this isn't a game. Whoever wanted to kill Neal might have decided to try again."

"I'll be ready," Henry said, and something in his grim tone worried Peter.

"You aren't carrying, are you?" he asked, as it occurred to him that investigators at Win-Win were probably licensed to carry firearms.

"Not around Neal. He hates guns." Henry hung up.

Peter pocketed the phone and decided that changing back into his suit would be a waste of time. He headed to the entry for his car keys and coat. Satchmo seemed to think they were going for a walk and was jumping around while Peter tried to put on his shoes. Elizabeth grabbed the dog's collar and settled him down. "Thanks, hon," Peter said.

"Is Neal in danger?"

"Hopefully this is just Neal playing a game, but my gut is telling me it's more serious than that."

A/N: Many thanks for Silbrith whose beta services for this chapter inspired ideas for a future story. Setting up El as a romantic and matchmaker here will eventually lead to a case set at a wedding.