Title: It's All Fun and Games Until...
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Neal, Peter
Words: 765
Summary: Neal gets blindsided. Gen.
A/N: Written for Kriadydragon's prompt over on Livejournal's Collarcorner comm. I'd have no idea what to write if it weren't for the prompts. I intend to have a go at the other two plot bunnies dropped off too.
xxx
It was a bright sunny day in Central Park. The birds were singing, the endless honking traffic was well hidden behind the trees and Neal was feeling good.
"Hey man, wanna buy a watch?"
Neal paused and eyed the man addressing him. Quickly taking in the proffered case of gleaming gold, he said, "They're fake."
The man smiled, showing off an equally counterfeit gold tooth. "You have a good eye. But what about these?" He tucked the closed case of watches under his arm and drew a small pouch out of his pocket.
Neal gave him a charming smile. "Look. I'm not interested. I'm going for a walk to meet up with a friend." Which wasn't true, but Neal lied so easily that everyone except those who knew him best took his word for it. He turned and carried on walking, hoping the man would leave him alone.
"Hey!"
Neal sighed as the man drew alongside him and moved in a little too close for comfort to scrutinise Neal's face.
"I know you."
Neal could sense things were about to go downhill. In his line of work, there were plenty of people around who would recognise him, and they were most likely to have been on the receiving end of his FBI keepers' wrath. He glanced around quickly, but the path he was on was deserted and tall trees on either side kept them well hidden.
The man grinned, his fake gold tooth gleaming in the sunlight. "I remember! You're that guy from last week. You crashed the party and called the feds in!"
Neal's heart plummeted, but he didn't show it as he smiled in confusion. "I think you must be mistaken."
"What are you doing here?" The man asked with his eyes wide. "Did you come to get me?" He drew a gun and pointed it at Neal's chest.
Neal held up his hands and backed away. "Relax, I'm not after you."
The case of watches held under the man's left arm prevented him from holding the gun steady and it wavered around, aiming for various different parts of Neal's anatomy in turn, each one of which he would like to keep bullet-free.
"You sold us out and now I've got nothing."
"You don't want to shoot me."
The man looked at the gun and frowned, then looked back at Neal. "You're right. I don't want to. I think I'd rather kill you with my bare hands." He tucked the gun back into his pocket and put the case down.
Neal thought about running, but that was asking to be shot in the back. "I said relax!"
Neal blocked the first punch and dodged the second, but he'd never been much of a fighter, preferring to use his wits to outsmart his opponents. The third punch caught him in the jaw, and while he was reeling, another fist got buried in his stomach, making him lose his breath and sink down to the ground. As Neal curled up around the pain, there was a heavy impact to his chest and he would swear later that he had heard a crack.
"FBI! Step away from him or I will shoot you!"
Neal coughed as he opened bleary eyes and blinked away the water gathering. He watched his assailant and the one they had been tracking down for the past week for a whole string of money laundering offences being led away in cuffs by Diana.
Peter crouched down next to Neal. "Ambulance is on the way."
"Took you guys long enough." Neal winced at the pain building in his chest. It was getting harder to breathe. "I thought he was... going to kill me."
"You left the path we were covering."
Neal smiled, although from Peter's reaction he suspected it had looked more like a grimace. "I had a... hunch our guy... would be... round here."
Peter placed a hand on Neal's arm and looked at him in concern. "Are you all right? You seem breathless."
"Too much... excitement." Neal closed his eyes and concentrated on taking one breath, then another. He felt dizzy like he'd stood up too fast, but he was lying down. The ground was hard, but his head was resting on something soft (Peter's jacket?). Through it all, he felt hands loosening his tie and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. It helped, but only a little.
A familiar, friendly voice kept him grounded and stopped him from floating away, no matter how much he wanted to and it really hurt.
"Hang in there, Neal."
And he did.