Peter ran into the ER, reached inside his jacket and pulled out his badge.
"I'm looking for Ellen Parker." He enunciated each syllable of her name calmly, suppressing the stress churning inside him.
After several taps on her keyboard the desk clerk pointed him down the hall, second corridor on the right. Peter uttered a quick thanks and off he ran, dodging staff and visitors in a bid to get there, it had already been too long since he'd taken Neal's call.
Peter had been falling through his front door, the taste of Champagne still on his tongue when his cell rang. The irritating vibration in his pant pocket was enough to distract from his current focus, of watching El gathering glasses and a bottle from the kitchen. If it was Hughes he didn't want the man taking heat for him before his first case back. El gave him a seductive and alluring look as she sashayed her way up stairs, two long stem glasses clinking as she went, not at all put out by Peter walking away indicating he'd just be a minute.
"Neal-" Peter started out glib after clocking the caller I.D, doing a complete 180 the second he heard the distressed breathing and sound of sirens in the background. "What's happened? You okay?"
No. Neal had said and all but lost he rest of his words in a sob. Peter didn't get much sense out of him, but one phrase he did hear clearly was Neal saying he needed him. Neal needed him and just like back at his apartment when Neal made his toast that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest was trying to swallow him whole. Only this time it wasn't a smile Peter was trying to control, fear was his enemy. Neal was crying and he needed him and still Peter had no idea what was wrong.
"Neal slow down," Peter moved to the dining room table, flipped open his laptop. "I'm getting your location now, stay where you are." He was opening his Caffrey tracker when Neal said to meet him at New York Presbyterian and not to worry about the Marshals or his anklet because they were too busy to worry about him anyway. "What? Neal-" But he'd already hung up.
One call to the Marshals later and everything was explained. He authorized expanding Neal's radius so there was no confusion added to the situation and shouted his wife. Peter grabbed his keys up again and headed for the door.
"What's going on?" El had come back down, her happy glow and mellow mood gone.
Peter looked up at her, still trying to assimilate the news himself. "Ellen's been shot."
At the hospital Peter skidded into the turn, picking up speed when the object of his search came in sight. Sat alone, head in hands, fingers twisted into knotted hair there was nothing of the confident and happy young man Peter left at his apartment just a few hours ago.
Neal saw him and the shout of his name, both heart wrenching and desperate drew the attention of the few other hospital patrons milling around in the corridor. Glassy blue eyes full of despair Neal ran head long into Peter who opened his arms just in time to catch him, folding around the kid and squeezing the very warm, very alive body to his own.
"Oh kid," Peter breathed, relived and scared all at once. Taking in the smell of sweat and tears, barely keeping himself in check. "Were you hurt?"
Neal's forehead brushed against his shoulder, hair tickling his nose. "I wasn't there," Neal looked up and swiped at his eyes, keeping one hand hooked into Peter's jacket. "They were getting in the ambulance."
Peter looked around but couldn't see a doctor, a nurse or even a Marshal. Where the hell was everyone?
Peter squeezed again and started pulling back, confident now he knew Neal hadn't been there when the shit hit the fan that he wasn't going to lose it. Neal was having none of it though and clung tighter.
"Neal-"
A whimper, damp breath panting against his neck. Peter freed up one hand, patted his head in a move so inadequate for the situation even a 'cowboy up' couldn't make the moment less tragic.
"Can we go?" Neal rushed out before Peter could try again. "Please," he begged, sucking in a short sharp breath when he didn't answer fast enough. "Can we just," Neal shakily swallowed tears and snot; cries held back, but only just. "-go?"
"Okay," Peter grasped a trembling shoulder, pushing his own tears back because one of them needed to keep it together. "El's parking the car." One last look around and still no one Peter squeezed and released, tucking Neal to his side in order to walk out of there shielding him from the unseen threat he sensed still waiting in the shadows. "Let's go home."
Outside Peter spotted El walking towards them. One look from him to Neal; head down, hair messed up, shirt untucked with Peter's arm slung protectively around his slumped shoulders her frown said it all.
"Change of plan." Peter answered her unasked question. "Hon," Peter carried on walking, keeping his tone light and pace swift. "Can you drive?"
Reaching the car and opening the rear door he pushed Neal inside. Leaning in Peter reached over his head, pulling the nylon strap down and clicked it into place.
"Sure." El snapped out of her revere watching them with unease.
Sliding into the driver's side, Peter already sitting beside her El looks for an explanation. Peter shook his head and grasped her hand. El's eyes turn sad, seeking Neal in the rear-view mirror.
"We'll get 'em." Peter tapped her hand, looking her in the eye. "I promise." His gaze then copied her's resting on Neal's reflection. "We have to."