Summary: Peter catches Neal. Neal is only fifteen years old and certainly not what Peter was expecting.
Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA.
Neal didn't know when he'd ever been in this much pain before.
What had started out as a simple job was suddenly not so simple anymore. He was being paid six figures to get a Vermeer at the Met. But then this plan had gone awry the moment the FBI and the cops showed up. Neal had almost gotten out of the gallery before one of the cops pulled a gun. He had heard one of the FBI agents yell but it was too late as Neal felt a searing pain rip into his shoulder. Now he was staggering down another gallery towards one of the exits.
Neal finally stumbled and collapsed, his cheek resting on the cool, wood floor. He weakly struggled to lift his head as he heard footsteps and a male voice talking.
"Hey stay down, stay down" and there was a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"It's bad. He's bleeding heavily" Neal shifts painfully and sees the man talking into a radio.
A person responds and the agent nods and then starts to put pressure on his shoulder. Neal can't stifle the cry that escapes his lips as more pain shoots up and down his arm.
"Who are you?" he gasps.
"Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI" is the automatic response, "don't worry, you're going to be fine" is added as though Peter Burke feels a need to comfort Neal.
"Never thought we'd meet like this" Neal huffs a pain-filled laugh.
"Yeah well, there's a first time for everything" Burke responds. He's obviously trying to hide the fact that he's concerned for Neal.
"How bad is it?" Neal's eyelids start to slip closed.
"Not that bad" Peter says, sounding much calmer than he's feeling.
"Y'know you're an awful liar" Neal smirks, before pain flashes through his eyes. He lets out a quiet moan and tosses under Peter's hands.
"Hey, relax" Peter internally winces at the terror in the kid's blue eyes. Neal starts to gasp and Peter desperately tries to stop him from hyperventilating.
There's a distant whine of sirens and Neal's breathing speeds up even more. With a surge of desperate strength he pushed off Peter's hands and shakily stands up.
"Whoa there, kid" Peter quickly moves to support Neal. He stares at Peter wildly, as though he has no idea why he's here.
"No…no…I have to go…leave me alone" Neal frantically pushes off Peter and lurches only three feet before he collapses. Peter grimaces, El's gonna kill him when she sees how much blood is staining his suit. He carefully lowers Neal to the ground, wishing the ambulance would get there quicker.
"Sir, please move aside!" Peter looks up as medics come running in carrying various pieces of medical equipment. Suddenly Peter's reluctant to leave Neal's side and only moves when Diana comes up beside him.
The paramedics work on Neal, cutting away Neal's shirt and applying gauze and bandages to his shoulder. They shift Neal onto a stretcher and one of the medics comes to speak with Peter.
"Sir does he have any relatives or family?" he asked.
"No…but he's in, uh, my custody" Peter says, hearing Diana's "what?!" behind him.
"If you'd like to ride in the ambulance…" Peter nods and follows the man, turning back to tell Diana to follow them to the hospital.
Neal lay painfully still in the hospital bed, his face as white as the sheets that covered him. He had been in surgery for almost three hours, a time that the doctors had assured him was pretty good for a bullet wound. The doctors had been able to remove the bullet from Neal's shoulder and assured Peter that Neal would still have full use of his shoulder and arm.
The only complication was that between Neal's struggles and short escape attempts, Neal had lost a lot of blood. Now Neal had an IV as well as blood being pumped into his body. The doctors suspected he would be weak from blood loss but there would be no permanent effects.
Peter was startled out of his musings by a quiet moan from the bed. He turned and saw Neal's eyelids starting to flicker open as the kid stirred.
"Neal?" he asked.
"First name basis. If I knew it would've taken a bullet for first names, I would've gotten shot sooner" Neal's smirk turned into a gasp, "then again maybe not."
Peter huffs, and Neal can't tell if it's annoyance, exasperation, or amusement.
At that point, much to Neal's concealed relief, the nurse comes in and injects a sedative into his IV. Peter hides a smile as Neal visibly relaxes as the drug slips into his system.
"'Night, kid" Peter says, but Neal's already asleep.
~TBC
A/N: I'll keep this short and sweet! I was thinking of keeping this as the Neal teen fic. I feel this is stronger and I can write more. I also prefer this one to the other one, but if you like my previous Neal teen fic, please let me know and I will keep it. I am also not good at all of the hospital terms and I honestly have no idea if three hours is good or not. But its fanfiction! :) So enjoy!