A/N: Hi White Collar fandom! I've been wanting to write here for a long time, and it feels good to get a new story out. I can't take full credit though, I only co-wrote this with the awesome Emmaz1098. She has another story on here. Go check it out if you like whump. And I do mean serious whump.

This takes place after the awesome summer finale. The next chapter will be up probably sometime next week. We hope you like it, and, as always, please leave a review to tell us what you thought :)

Neal stood still as Peter turned to him "Peter," it was the only sane saying he could get out of his mouth at the moment.

"He took her, he took my wife," the words hurt worse than a bullet as they harassed Neal's ears.

"Peter I'm going to make this right, I am going to make this right and after that put me with Keller as a cell mate for all I care, but I'm going to make this right."

"You've done enough," Peter hissed, hard brown eyes attacking the soft vulnerable blue, "cuff him Jones."

Jones walked over and put handcuffs on Neal, then began to walk him toward the door. Neal quickly twisted and slipped his wrist thorough the cuff. "Sorry Neal," Jones whispered in his ear.

"I'm really sorry too Jones, just know I wish I didn't have to do this, but it's going to work out in the end" Neal said.

"Wha-" Jones only uttered half the word before Neal pulled his hands up and smashed them into Jones's face wincing in sympathy as he felt Jones's nose crack. He didn't have time for apologies; he took off, leaving a bunch of FBI agents to scramble after him.

Neal ran as fast as his imported Italian leather shoes could carry him, surprising even himself with what he was doing. He didn't have time to consider things though, and Neal was known for his impulse issues.

He dashed across the sidewalk, about six FBI agents on his trail. He had to lose them, and quick, before one of them got the brilliant idea to go after him using the van. He ran through all of the usual get away maneuvers, sneaking through alley ways, trying to remain inconspicuous enough so as not to draw any more attention to where he was going than he had to. Unfortunately, this was not as easy as it sounded.

Neal just hit the ground running; high school track had paid off. He knew one way out of this. He ran as fast as possible at the oncoming traffic, and ran right into it, immediately side stepping a Sudan and sliding over the roof of a Ford. He saw a dump truck slowing down at a light. He was indeed crazy and he knew it. He ran toward the dump truck ignoring the blaring horns. He grabbed the truck and hopped on the back just as it speeds up, the wind whipping his face leaving Peter behind.

He seemed to have lost his captors, at least for now. He couldn't take chances, though, so he had to think fast. He obviously couldn't go to June's, and going back to Peter's and accepting defeat wouldn't work for him.

Peter wanted to toss him in jail without a second thought, but he had to make things right first, to redeem him self at whatever it cost. Though a few years ago he couldn't imagine saying this truthfully, he didn't want to be a conman forever. It seemed now that Peter was right; he could be a con, or he could be a man. Clearly he hadn't pulled of being both tonight.

Neal aimed his foot just right at the side of a mailbox, slamming his tracker against it with a spray of sparks from the line breaking, his anklet went red. He didn't need that anymore, not for now, and after he assumed a comfy cell at Guantanamo was what Peter had set up for him.

A few feet later, he hopped off the truck, doing a barrel roll in the grass and clutching his scraped side in pain for a moment while he thought.

Sighing deeply in misery, Neal picked up pace again and instinctively snuck to a place he knew he shouldn't have, a place where he would be neither welcomed nor safe.

Peter was in shock Neal had just ran from him, Neal ran from him, again. He didn't even bother looking out the door he had saw the swarm of agents take off after him. He ran to Jones, who was leaning against a wall, his nose pouring blood at an alarming rate.

Peter guided Jones to the kitchen table and helped him onto the counter like a father helping a hurt child, he knew Diana was his daughter, Jones was a son, and Neal, Peter didn't know what to think now.

He handed Jones a wad of tissues to help him stop the tremendous amount of bleeding. Jones pushed them away and tried to speak, "Pe-pet-"The blood kept bubbling at his mouth stopping his words.

Peter ignored him and looked at his nose examining it and when he touched it Jones jerked away. "Definitely broken, you'll be OK; all the main blood vessels in your body are connected to your nose so a lot of bleeding is normal when it breaks." Peter winced at the tidbit of information he had gotten from Neal during a random conversation. "Just stop the blood, we can talk on the way to the ER, the shock is going to ware off soon, and that is going to hurt a lot." Jones nodded as they went for the car.

When they arrived at the Emergency room all Peter had to do was flash his credentials and Jones was whisked away, leaving Peter to think of El, and Neal.

Peter looked at Jones as he slept the cartilage fracture he had from the blow had required minor surgery and Jones had not woken yet. It had only been four hours scene they arrived and five scene El's abduction. Peter thought he looked funny with the polka dot hospital gown and IV.

Peter was lost in antagonistic thoughts. He knew he wasn't allowed near this case from his connection so work was a no go. Now he knew how the family of the victim felt; helpless. Diana was able to convince their superiors that she was disconnected so she was working and Jones...well that one was obvious.

Jones then stirred opening his eyes, "hey buddy, how you doing. Do you want any water?" Peter asked putting on his best bed side manner he could muster.

"Bello," Jones slurred.

"What?"

"Jell-O," Jones said clearly now, sitting up with a groan, "Lime Jell-O."

"You want Jell-O?" Peter asked in amusement.

"Do not question the motives of the guy on a morphine drip." Jones said raising an eyebrow.

"Jell-O it is," Says Peter raising his hands in defeat and backing out of the privet room.

Peter was back within three minutes with two cups of Jell-O. He cracked open one and handed Jones the other, witch Jones readily ate.

"You Never told me what you were trying to tell me in the kitchen." Peter prompted.

Jones swallowed his spoon full before his face became serious, I told him I was sorry before he hit me and he said something weird back, he said: "I'm really sorry to Jones, just know I wish I didn't have to do this, but it's going to work out in the end." He was apologizing for hitting me, and he was going to make it better."

Before Peter could respond his cellphone rang, he answered, "Hello, yes...damn it, when did he cut it? OK thanks, bye."

Jones gave Peter a look. "If he is off his leash and said that it is going to work out in the end" He hesitated, letting Peter take a terrible possibility into consideration. "Peter..."

"He's taking Keller by himself."

"And what makes it worse is-"

Peter finished Jones's sentence, "He doesn't just want Neal he wants Neal dead."