AN: Please don't hate me for starting another one, please! This idea has been swimming around my head ever since I read 'Eleven' by 'BrandSpankingNew', so I really wanted to use it. Please forgive me! I have recently been obsessed with this show, so it had to be done. I love Neal, he's the best character I have ever seen ever! Anyway, I really hope you like this.

Warning: May be talk of abuse in later chapters, but nothing too graphic.

She pulled on the trigger, causing a loud explosion sound to echo in the still air, followed by a strong force on his chest, forcing him to fall backward to the ground. Pain fallowed. At first it was numb, but hen it got stronger, and more searing. He could feel hot liquid oozing out from his chest, and a heavy ache at the back of his head. He couldn't understand what was going on. It was all happening to fast, and he couldn't hear or see anything clearly. It was like he was trapped inside his own small bubble, disconnected from the rest of the world. But then, something – or someone- reached out to his. A pair of hand where touching his, running around his body, but he could barely feel it, like the hands of a ghost. Then he heard a voice. A voice he remembered.

"Neal?! Neal, can you hear me?!" the voice called through the bubble, though it was muffled and hard to hear.

"What's going on?" he asked, only to find that the burning pain return even more strongly to his chest.

"Can you see me?!" the voice asked, not bothering to answer his question. He tried to focus through the panic and confutation, wanting to see whom the voice belonged to.

"Your blurry… you moving too fast… everything's going to fast…" he pointed out, the pain growing once more.

"We're getting help now. You're going to be okay," the voice told him, before the hands began to press down against his chest, making the pain even worse. He tried to push them of, but he was just pinned down once more. "Don't get up," the voice told him. "Can you more your legs?"

"Do you want me to dance or something?" he asked, having do idea why the voice would ask a question like that.

"He's going into shock," he heard the voice say, but it didn't sound like it was talking to him.

"Did something hit me?" he asked, not really sure what had happened.

"Yeah, and let me tell you, it wasn't just a pinball," the voice said.

"Maybe a big pinball?"

"Just, don't move, alright? Just hang on, okay? Just hang on!"

A sudden blazing pain began to shoot through his body, forcing a loud, pleading cry to escape from his lips, as he tried desperately to clutch onto something, anything. Once of the hands drifted to his head, gently cupping around his cheek. It was warm and comforting. The voice spoke again. "Come on, Neal! You can get through this, you have to."

"I'm… I'm really tired…" he silently begged the voice, feeling the space around him start to get dark and cold, though the pain still didn't leave. The one thing he wanted the most at that point was to join with the darkness, to slip away with it.

"No! You can't sleep now, do you hear me?! You can't sleep no, you have to stay awake!" the voice shouted at him, though it was more distant this time, like it was drifting away.

"But… it really hurts…" he told it, as the pain started to reach unbearably levels, the thick liquid spreading everywhere. "If I sleep… it'll stop, right?"

"No! You have to stay awake. Come on, Neal, stay with me… stay awake… stay with us… stay alive… stay… please…"

But he couldn't do it anymore. The pain was too much for him. He began to let himself drifted away, losing his grip on that strange place with the voice and hands. He let himself slip into the darkness, to tired to hold onto the light, trying to make it all stop.

Special Agent Peter Burke paced up and down the hospital corridors, to anxious to sit down for more then a couple of minutes. He was still smeared with crimson blood, which was now starting to dry and turn a little deeper shade, almost brown. He had been too distracted to ask if he could have a pair of scrubs or even to wash it of. How could this have happened? How could Neal actually get himself shot at by that women?! If he had just let her go with the book then they could have easily caught her. But no, he had to choose a time like that to get heroic. But that was Neal for you, completely unpredictable.

"Peter!?" called a desperate voice from behind him. Turning around he found his wife, Elizabeth, running up to him, pulling him into a tight, warm hug. "What happened?! I got a call from your office saying that someone got shot. Are you okay? Oh, my god, it wasn't you, was it?!" Pulling away she saw all the drying blood on him and looked like she was about to scream.

"El! El, I'm all right! I'm okay, I didn't get shot," Peter said quickly, trying to calm her down as he sat her down on a spear chair.

"B-but… but, but all that blood! …Wh-who… who did? Get shot, I mean?" she asked, her hands quivering with shock.

"It… it was Neal…" he admitted, not completely sure how to put it gently to her. He didn't do a very good job of it. Her eyes widened with fear and disbelief, before she rested her hands into her cupped palms, her whole body shacking, like she was trying not to cry. Peter bit his bottom lip. He hated it when she cried. Heck, he hated it when any women cried.

"Is… is he going to be okay?" she asked nervously, her question muffled by her hands.

"I don't know," he admitted, sitting besides her and pulling her into a warm, comforting hug. That was what was getting to him the most was knowing that Neal was hurt, people were trying to save him and he couldn't do a think to help.

It was warmer now. Warm and quiet. The pain had almost stopped by now, in both his chest and head. He was free to float along peacefully, not having to worry about what was happening outside his bubble. He couldn't help but wonder if this was it. If this was what happened when you were dead. If so, it wasn't too bad, nothing near as bad as he had feared. But it was still dark. Very dark. He didn't like the dark. It hid things. A person, animals, all sorts of things, that's what scared him. But through the blackness he could here something. In what faint, but defiantly there. A low beeping notice.

Beep… beep… beep…

"Look, I don't care if I'm not family, he's my partner! I have every right to know what is condition is!" Peter snapped at a young, blond doctor, who looked very scared of him.

"S-sir," he tried to explain, but was cut of.

"Don't you dare 'sir' me, I am in no mood!? Neal Caffrey is an employee of the FBI, just an employee, and a temperamental one at that, he shouldn't even bee here! He works under me, meaning I'm responsible for him, so you had better tell me if he's going to live or not, so I know which paperwork to fill out!" he yelled at him, grateful that El had gone to get some coffee and wasn't listening in on their heated discussion.

The young doctor was so taken back that he couldn't even seam to get his words out, just opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Thankfully for his, an older doctor came from behind him to talk to Peter instead. "Sir, -"

"Special Agent Peter Burke," he corrected sharply.

"- Neal Caffrey has just come out of surgery, but he is still unconscious."

"So he's alive?"

"Yes, he's alive." Peter felt a small wave of relief come over him. "His condition is stable, for the time being, but we're not letting anyone see him for a while. He lost a lot of blood from the gunshot, and cracking his skull against the concrete didn't help him at all. We're still waiting for all the scans to come back, but as soon as they do you'll be the first to know."

Beep… beep… beep…

It was starting to get louder now, still quiet but louder. He had no idea what it was or where it was coming from but it was defiantly there. It was starting to get lighter as well much to his relief, the darkness around him slowly melting away. His body was getting stiffer and harder to move and the dull ache of pain began to flood back. He didn't like that bit, he didn't like pain. All the while the noise was getting closer.

Beep… beep… beep…

He was getting so still that he could barely move, all the muscles in his body where clenching up and becoming stiff. Why couldn't he move? Why was he hurting so much? Did something happen to him? Had he been bad? Was his father mad at him? Had he been punished? Or was he being punished? The countless questions swam through his head, making him even more scared, until finally it became too much. He had to know what was going on. He had to try and brake out of his bubble.

Beep… beep… beep…

He focused. He concentrated. Slowly but surly, the bubble began to burst and the light flooded back in. Everything was still blurred, still moving to quickly, but he could make sense of some of it. He was laid down, on a bed, a small bed, with sheets. The pain was still there, in the back of his head and chest, still hurting, but not as much as before. There where a few people in the room with him, two women, one blond one red, and a man, brown, all dressed in white. A bitter, sickly smell lingered in the air, making his nose burn. And there was… there was something in his arm… digging into him. Looking down, he saw some sort of needle speared into his flesh, held down, implanting some unknown liquid into his body. He couldn't understand how he had got there, or what was going on. His breathing got heavier, and he felt himself getting clammy, all the time staring down at the needle.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

He did the only thing that came to his mind. He lunged for the needle and ripped it out of his skin, sending blood spewing from the small wound. There where a lot of shouting, people dashing around, holing him down, fixing the bag of liquid which had been knocked to the grown, trying to stop the bleeding. He tried to struggle having no idea what was going on. More then anything, he just wanted to getaway from that place.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.

He felt another needle being shoved into his arm, and another substance flooding into his body. It make his skin crawl. He tried to struggle again, but he felt heavier, sleepier. He couldn't keep up with what was going on before he fell back into darkness once more.

Beep.. beep.. beep.. beep..

Okay, lets hear it. Good? Bad? Continue? Forget? Please let me know, and review!