A/N The words that are italicized in this text are Peter's thoughts!

It was around midnight and the FBI headquarters were basically empty. Peter sat at his desk, catching up on paperwork. Elizabeth was out of town for a friend's wedding, so Peter had opted for a late night at the office rather than going home to an empty house. He was finding it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open, though, and was about to call it a night when Diana walked into his office.

"Peter, Neal cut his anklet." Peter was instantly awake. He reached for his jacket and rushed out of the office without even a word to Diana in response.

The drive to June's seemed to last forever to Peter. Neal when I find you, you're so dead. NYPD had beaten Peter there, though that wasn't a surprise. He spotted the captain and rushed over to him.

"Peter, it's been a while," Captain Fuller said.

"Hey, Adam," Peter greeted, distractedly. "He couldn't have gotten too far. I want teams -"

"You haven't been in there yet?" Captain Fuller questioned, gesturing to the house.

"No, I just got here," Peter replied, worry creeping into his voice. Just then Jones came out of June's home.

"Um, Peter, you need to see this." Peter followed Jones into the house, hearing more sirens and someone asking how long until the ambulance would arrive. Ambulance? Peter was pulled from his thoughts when he walked in to see an unconscious June laying on the floor of her foyer. Blood was leaking from a head wound and an officer was leaning over her. What the hell, Neal?

"Is she…" Peter trailed off, not sure how to finish his question.

"She's alive, yes," replied the officer who was kneeling next to her. Peter nodded. Neal! Thinking of the con man again, Peter ran up the stairs. The door to Neal's apartment was already open, a handful of officers checking out the bloody scene. There were books strewn across the floor., shattered glass everywhere. Blood covered everything. Neal was laying on his back, his eyes closed, in a pool of his own blood. Peter watched Neal anxiously. Come on, Neal! When he saw the slightest rise and fall of his chest, he let out the breath he'd been holding. He rushed to Neal's side and crouched down. He picked up Neal's hand that had been lying motionless on the con's chest and held it in his.

"Neal? Neal, can you hear me?" Peter questioned, his voice full of concern. There was no response. "Neal, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand." Peter waited for a few seconds and felt the slightest bit of pressure on his hand. Thank God! He squeezed his own hand in response. "You're going to be alright, Neal. Just stay with me, okay?" Jones was standing on the other side of Neal.

"The ambulance should be here any second, boss," Diana informed Peter. Peter glanced up at her, but immediately looked down again when he heard what could only be described as a whimper come from Neal. Peter tightened his grip on Neal's hand.

"You're okay, Neal. You're okay," Peter reassured the con. Neal's eyes slowly fluttered open. He looked around the room with his unfocused eyes.

"P-Peter?" Neal asked.

"I'm right here, Neal. The ambulance is coming. Just stay with me, okay?"

"Peter." A moan escaped the back of Neal's throat as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

"Neal, you're going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"Promise?" Neal looked up at Peter, his eyes finally focusing on him. Peter was silent for a second.

"I promise."

With that Neal's eyes shut and his breathing ceased.

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