Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar…
"Stop him!" Agent Peter Burke's furious voice called into the radio.
"Peter!" Agent Jones said, his voice tinged with worry and concern.
"What is it?"
"Caffrey. His car spun out of control. We're heading there now."
"What the hell was a fifteen year-old doing driving a car? And how does he know how to drive a car?!" Peter demanded as he slid into his car, angrily twisting the key and pulling out, the tires squealing on the pavement.
"He grabbed it on the way out and it is Neal Caffrey we're talking about. He's got a $50,000 painting on him." Peter heard Diana yell something in the background as Jones yelped. Judging by what Diana was saying, Peter guessed that the driver had made some sort of error and now Diana was reading him the riot act.
"Alright I'm here-" Peter said, and stopped, freezing in horror as he took in the sight before him.
The car was a large piece of twisted metal on the tarmac, flames licking at the front where the engine was. He couldn't even see Neal Caffrey in the wreckage.
Jones met him at the edge of the caution tape.
"It's about to blow. I wouldn't go in there," he cautioned.
"So we're just going to let him explode?" Peter demanded. He angrily pushed past Jones and ducked under the caution tape. He saw that the flames were licking even higher at the car, the metal starting to burn and melt. He broke into a run, hearing footsteps on the ground behind them, and instantly knowing them to be Diana's and Jones'.
"Neal!" Peter yelled as he dropped to his knees, frantically pulling at the seatbelt restraining Neal's limp body. He pressed the seatbelt and it finally broke loose, allowing Neal to slide forward into his arms. Together, Diana and Jones managed to pull Peter back from the burning car.
He stumbled to his feet with Neal cradled in his arms and ran, ducking under the safety of the caution tape, just as the car finally exploded in an enormous ball of flames.
"Neal!" Peter tried to wake Neal, the fifteen year-old finally stirring, his eyes weakly fluttering open.
He saw the agent leaning over him and immediately panicked. He thrashed in an uncoordinated, un-Caffrey-like way. For all the times Peter had ever seen him (mainly on a security camera), the kid had been all fluid and grace. Now he was more like a wounded animal, struggling because he was scared. Diana and Jones each moved to help Peter subdue Neal, each agent holding down a different part of Neal's body. Feeling the different hands on him, probably hurting him even more, Neal started to hyperventilate, his eyes widening and his chest heaving as he struggled for breath.
"Easy Neal, easy" Peter spoke calmly, running one hand through Neal's dark hair. Jones and Diana also released their grip, Diana immediately starting to check Neal for injuries.
"Ambulance ETA is 5 minutes," Jones said.
Neal tried to curl up, whimpering as Diana gently straightened him out.
"Neal relax, you might have spinal injuries" she said gently.
Neal shook his head "no", and let out a choked sob, as the movement obviously pained him.
"Jones, see if that ambulance can get here any sooner" Peter growled.
"Peter, he's got bad injuries on his wrists, hands, and torso. It looks like one of his wrists is possibly fractured and a few of his ribs are also fractured. He must have a concussion as well."
Peter nodded and looked up as he heard sirens wail and he saw the ambulance pull in. Neal saw the flashing lights reflecting on the pavement and he resumed struggling, managing to sit up, but immediately crying out in pain as his ribs protested at the sudden movement. Peter caught him and lowered him back on the ground.
"Shhh…Neal it's okay. You're gonna be fine" Peter was still trying to comfort Neal as the paramedics stepped around him and efficiently started to work on Neal, transferring him to a gurney.
"P'ter" Neal spoke for the first time, his blue eyes wide and scared as he tried to reach for Peter.
"I'm going with him" Peter stepped forward. One of the EMT's looked over and nodded briefly, before continuing what he was doing.
By the time they got Neal to the hospital, he had an IV in his arm, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and Peter's hand firmly clutched in his.
He wouldn't let go even when the doctors tried to separate him and Peter.
"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave" one of the doctors firmly tried to pull apart the conman and the federal agent.
"No" Neal's fingers whitened as he clung to Peter.
"Neal, I'm sorry" Peter regretfully loosened his grip, doing his best to ignore Neal's sobs.
"No!" Neal managed to fight off most of the doctors and lunged forward, trying to keep Peter from leaving. The agent bit his lip and turned, about to go to Neal, when one of the doctors managed to inject a sedative into the back of Neal's neck. The conman let out a cry, his fingers immediately going up to the spot where the needle had pierced his skin.
Peter lost no time in hurrying back to Neal's side and gathering the young conman in his arms. For some reason he couldn't quite place, Peter was actually feeling sorry for the kid. And then he remembered the painting that Neal forged and stole.
Glancing down, he realized Neal had fallen asleep in his arms, courtesy of the sedative.
"You can see him when we're finished" one of the nurses efficiently steered Peter away from Neal. Peter nodded numbly, fishing in his pocket as his phone began to ring.
Glancing at caller-ID, he answered.
"Hughes?"
*TBC
Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave a review. I will be updating this within the next week. :D
