The World in White and Red

by x Varda x

The road may have been completely straight, but Peter still manages to crash his car in the snow.

Title: The World in White (and Red)
Rating: PG13
Genre: Gen, h/c
Words: 3265
Characters: Peter and Neal
Summary: The road may have been completely straight, but Peter still manages to crash his car in the snow.

A/N: For Vanae's prompt on the Livejournal Collarcorner Comm. Special thanks to Race the Ace for the word wars to get me going (I'll have you next time lol!)

xxx

"Why do you always have to come in guns blazing?" Neal asked from the passenger seat in Peter's car.

"You were in trouble, I made a decision."

Neal frowned as snow continued to fall outside. It was early afternoon, but the sky was already a dark and dull twilight grey. The surveillance van had been ahead of them, but had long since been lost in the flurry.

"I had it covered," Neal said. "I was just about to get a confession, when you burst in and ruined it."

Peter gripped the steering wheel hard until the skin over his knuckles pulled taut and went white. "He was pointing a gun at your head,Neal."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Neal looked out of the side window sullenly. It was one of the first chances he'd had to leave the city to follow a thief who'd tried to get away and it was snowing so he could barely even see their surroundings. Neal secretly cursed the operation taking them away from the city and out into the wilds surrounding New York. He felt safe in the city where he was in his element surrounded by people and buildings and never more than a block or so from somewhere to eat. Out here there was nothing for miles.

The windscreen wipers waved from side to side with a swish and thump, pushing the sticky white globs of snow from the glass, not that they did much to help make the road more visible. Whiteness coated the surface of the road and the grass verges and trees on either side, making it hard to see where the road ended and the grass began.

The road was straight at this point. Peter didn't slow down even when the snow starting coming down more heavily until visibility was reduced to only a few metres. Neal gripped his seat. "Can you slow down a little?" His voice was small, betraying the fear he felt.

Peter huffed out a sigh. "First you tell me how to do my job, now you're telling me how to drive? Remind me again who's in charge?"

Neal shrunk away from Peter. Maybe he was angry because Neal had nearly been killed again. Maybe he was also scared of the freezing weather outside?

But Peter was barely going 20mph, wary that it was not only his life that he was responsible for in the treacherous conditions. He was certainly not driving dangerously, but he couldn't help it as the wheels slid over an unexpected patch of ice and the path of the car was no longer his to command.

20mph is still fast when a car loses control and leaves the road. It hit the grass at an angle and the coating of snow gave way to a steep embankment. The car flipped and rolled a couple of times and then righted itself only to slam sideways into a large tree. The tree juddered unhappily and dumped more snow on the roof of the stricken, dented and smoking car.

Snow continued to fall in the silence.

xxx

Peter woke up with a cough and wince at the pounding in his head. He pushed the now deflated airbag aside and looked around in a daze. The windscreen was cracked, but intact. It was covered in snow, making the inside of the car dim. A cold draught was blowing in from the right side and Peter shivered.

Peter remembered that he hadn't been the only occupant in the car during their eventful off road trip. "Neal?"

There was no answer and Peter turned his head to the passenger side, much to the displeasure of his sore neck and throbbing temples.

Neal was unconscious, his face a mess of bruises and blood from his nose and numerous cuts and Peter didn't imagine that he looked any better. Only Neal's seatbelt prevented him from slumping forwards in his seat.

Peter reached over with a shaking hand and gently touched his CI's left arm. "Neal? Can you hear me?"

There was a low groan and Neal's face twisted in a grimace. He opened his mouth and sucked in a short breath with his brow furrowed.

"Open your eyes."

"Don't want to."

Peter looked the situation over more carefully to try and find the source of Neal's pain other than his battered face. The window on Neal's side was broken and a thick tree trunk pressed up against that side of the car, shielding them from the snow and some of the biting wind, but not all of it. The car door was caved in alarmingly too, but as Peter turned further, he saw that a low branch on the tree had come inside the car through the open window. It stopped when it reached Neal's right side.

Peter unbuckled his belt and leaned over to touch Neal's side where the branch ended. Neal flinched and breathed harshly. Peter's hand came away bloody. The branch stopped, not because that was the end of it, but because it had gone into Neal just below his ribs. Peter tried not to be sick as nausea rolled through him and his head throbbed painfully.

Neal had been impaled by a tree branch.

Peter fumbled inside his jacket with numb fingers and grabbed his phone. He tried to dial but it kept saying there was no signal. He might be able to get one up on the road or flag down a passing motorist if anyone else was crazy enough to go out in this. But Neal was trapped and Peter couldn't risk moving him in his current condition or he could bleed out and die in the next few minutes.

"Neal, wake up."

Neal opened his eyes blearily and smiled. "Oh, hey, Peter. Did you make me run again? I've got a pretty bad stitch in my side." He huffed at his little joke and frowned. "Oh, that's really bad... maybe I need more exercise?"

Neal looked over at Peter and frowned in concern. The blood streaks weren't completely hiding how pale his skin was. "You look awful, Peter! What happened to your face?"

Peter gritted his teeth, "I could ask you the same thing. I'm going to get some gear out of the back if I can. Don't go anywhere and don't move."

Neal eyed the tree to his right and grinned. "Couldn't go, even if I wanted to."

Peter had to turn sideways and kick his door open with his feet where it had warped in the frame. His headache was getting progressively worse - like his skull was too small. His chest hurt from the seatbelt, but that pain paled in comparison to his head.

Peter stumbled out of the car into the snow. He fell to his knees and threw up, glad that the cold air had all but numbed his nose to the smell. He staggered upright and seriously contemplated going to the road now to try the reception on his phone, but Neal was seriously injured and Peter had to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible.

The embankment was steeper than Peter remembered from their fall. It would take him some time to climb it, even if he wanted to. The snow had already covered signs of the accident, so even if they were missed, it would take a long time for them to be found, if at all.

Peter stumbled over to the back of the car and popped open the trunk, immediately grateful that it opened. He grabbed the worryingly small first aid kit, the emergency blanket, their coats and gloves, and some water. He checked his phone again, but there was still nothing. He pulled on his coat and pocketed the gloves before he went and got back in the car.

When Peter sat in his seat and closed the door, Neal was looking at him intensely with his bright blue eyes blown wide open. "Peter," he said quietly, looking terribly vulnerable and more than a little scared. "There's a tree in me."

"I know."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"I was half hoping you wouldn't find out." Peter popped open the far too small first aid kit and pulled open the biggest roll of bandaging in there. He couldn't reach around Neal to get to the wound without jostling the other man unpleasantly. He passed the bandages to Neal. "Wrap that around it as tightly as you can."

Peter tried to ignore the pained whimpers while Neal worked. Neal's hands came back into his lap when he had finished, shaking uncontrollably and soaked in blood. His nimble fingers were turning red and purple in the cold. Peter's own hands were the same colour and losing dexterity in stiffness from the freezing conditions. He threw Neal's coat over him and passed him a pair of gloves. He then put the blanket on Neal too and tucked it in gently. Peter took some painkillers with a swig of their precious water to try and ease the pounding in his head and then helped Neal to do the same.

"I'm sorry about what I said," Neal said with a shaky voice, keeping his eyes closed. "Thanks for rescuing me from the crazy gunman. I'm not sure if I would've been able to stop him from shooting me if you hadn't come in when you did."

"Any time," Peter said. "You hang in there."

Neal opened his eyes. "I've got a coat, gloves and blanket. The blood loss has slowed down with the bandage. I can survive on my own for a while. You have to go without me and get help."

"Can't do that."

Neal looked at him earnestly, "But then we'll both die. If it weren't for me being stuck here, you would've gone by now." Neal shifted slightly and tried to move himself off the branch.

Peter held Neal's arm and said, "Stop stop stop!"

Neal desisted with a cry and closed his eyes tightly. "Ah! That hurts more than I thought it would." Neal's lower lip trembled as he gave Peter a brave smile and his eyes watered. "I think it's in quite deep. Ruined a perfectly good suit and shirt."

And a Neal Caffrey, Peter added in his head.

"June will be upset."

"Not as upset as I'll be with all the paperwork I'll have to do if you pull a crazy stunt like that again."

xxx

The car had ploughed a furrow and crushed lots of the vegetation in its eventful trip down the slope, but the snow had already obscured the uneven ground and Peter twisted his ankles more than once as he stumbled up to the road. The snow was still coming down and Peter blinked it away as it blasted into his face - at least the shock of the cold was numbing the pain in his head.

Ever at the forefront of his mind was his seriously injured CI lying in the car at the bottom of the slope. He only hoped that his departure didn't give the man the excuse to he needed to slip away now that he was left alone.

Peter made it to the road, shivering despite his thick coat and gloves. The painkillers had taken the edge off the headache, but he still felt terrible. No doubt Neal was feeling a whole lot worse with the tree branch piercing his side.

Peter held up his phone, but there was still no signal. The network might have gone down in the bad weather, but that thought didn't help him find a solution. The road was completely deserted and the snowed had laid at least 3 inches thick already. No help was coming for a while, if at all.

Stumbling back down the hill to his barely visible stricken car with its solitary hurt occupant was hard on Peter's ankles, but he eventually made it and collapsed back into the driver's seat and shut the door against the cold. Not that it did much with the passenger window out.

Neal's eyes were closed and his mouth hung open. His breathing didn't sound too good.

"Neal?"

"Hmm?"

"I made it to the road."

Neal opened his eyes narrowly, although it looked like it took all his strength to do that. He frowned when he saw Peter's expression. "No one's coming are they?"

Peter reached across and pulled the blanket up higher on Neal's chest where it had slipped down. "There's no signal up there either. The road isn't clear of snow and people would be mad to go out driving in this."

Neal huffed a pained laugh. "Like us then."

Peter was torn. He could go back up to the road and wait for a passer by to stop, but that could take hours. Neal's breathing was getting worse and he kept slipping unconscious. That he hadn't died quickly at least signified that no arteries had been ruptured, but even a slow bleed could sap his strength and kill him. He didn't think Neal had that much time. Peter trusted the rest of his team, but even he had had trouble spotting the car from the road and he knew where it was.

Neal stirred and groaned next to him. "Tracker..."

Peter frowned. "I took it off for the operation."

Neal opened his eyes and looked at Peter intensely. "Put it back on me," he wheezed.

Peter gave him a sly smile. "The network might be out for the phones, but the Marshals can always find people. They have other ways of tracking it when the mobile network goes down so people like youcan't escape." He pulled the device out of his pocket and clipped it on Neal's left ankle. It flashed red straight away.

"Now we wait," Neal said weakly and closed his eyes.

It took nearly another hour for help to arrive. Neal woke up a couple more times and Peter held his hand tightly as he screwed up his face in great pain. Neal huffed out a breath during a brief lull in his distress and said, "That hurts a little bit." He glanced down at his hand locked in Peter's as if noticing it for the first time. "I don't want to hurt you too, Peter."

"Don't worry about it - you squeeze my hand as hard as you like." Peter fought back a wince, but a bruised hand was a small price to pay if it got Neal through this.

"Do you hear that?" Neal asked softly.

Peter strained his ears, but all he heard was the sound of Neal's laboured breaths and the crinkle of the coats as the two men shivered in the cold.

Neal whispered, "Sounds like something up on the road."

"Or blood loss is making you hear things."

Neal stopped breathing for a moment and Peter heard what he had. There was a rev of an engine above them. Peter squeezed Neal's hand and let go. "I'm going to get out and check."

"'kay."

"Don't go anywhere."

Neal glared at him, then went back to using his remaining strength to hold onto life by his fingertips.

Peter stood ankle deep in the snow and looked up at the road. He called, "Down here! We're down here!"

The engine sounds up on the road didn't abate, but a couple of well wrapped figures appeared through the falling snow. One of them called down, "Peter!"

"The car came off the road! Neal's trapped and hurt."

Less than a minute later, the two people were joined by several others. Paramedics and firemen appeared and carried lots of equipment down the slope. One of the paramedics tried to get Peter to go up to the road to meet the waiting ambulance, but he refused to move until Neal was safe.

"We didn't realise what had happened until we got back to the city," Diana said - one of the figures he had seen first.

Jones stood next to her. "We couldn't find you until the Marshals called in that Caffrey had run."

"I don't think he's going to be running for a while."

Peter watched numbly as the fire crew used their equipment to cut the roof off his car and very carefully and gently sever the branch stuck in Neal. A paramedic stayed with Neal in the car the whole time and kept hold of him, speaking too quietly for the others to hear. Neal had his brow furrowed and his eyes closed tightly and nodded every now and then.

"It wasn't going anywhere again anyway by the looks of things," Diana said of Peter's wrecked car.

"Wrap it up tighter," one of the paramedics said to his colleague as he pressed bandages against the stub of branch still visible. Blood had already soaked through the meagre bandages Peter had provided.

"Careful! His right ankle's broken - got jammed under the dashboard," the other paramedic announced when they got him onto the backboard with oxygen mask and IV lines and lifted him out of the car.

"His ankle?" Peter said quietly. "I didn't know..."

"It's alright, boss. Let them take care of him."

Peter followed them all up the slope, accepting the help as Jones shouldered his arm and supported him to the waiting rescue vehicles. There was a snowplough and a couple of ambulances as well as the fire engine. "Planning a disaster?" Peter asked tiredly.

"We didn't know what to expect," Diana said.

"We rode in the plough," Jones added.

"Figures."

Peter was too tired to protest as he was bundled into the back of the second ambulance and made to lie down. The trip to the hospital was a blur as Peter let his exhaustion and the trauma of the past few hours sap what little energy he had left.

xxx

"What am I going to do with you, Neal?" Peter asked the man where he lay in the hospital bed wrapped up in bandages and blankets. IV lines were feeding him and dulling the pain and a tube under his nose gave him extra oxygen.

Neal gave him an innocent looking smile. "I wasn't the one who crashed a car, rolled it down a hill then turned it around so that it was myside that slammed into a tree. Did they tell you that I also have a couple of broken ribs along with the obvious things?"

"I'm really sorry, Neal. It was an accident."

"I know it wasn't your fault and I don't blame you. We skidded on ice. If you'd been going any faster, we wouldn't have survived."

Peter lowered his voice as he asked, "Why didn't you say anything about your ankle?"

"There was nothing you could've done about it."

The cuts on Neal's face had been cleaned, but he was still bruised and pale. Blood transfusions and lengthy surgery had repaired the wound in his side and set his ankle, but it was going to be a while before he was out of hospital.

"What about your face?" Neal asked Peter with wide eyes.

Peter touched his nose gingerly. "Cuts and bruises. They kept me in overnight too you know."

"Really?"

"Head injury and I've got a cracked rib or two to match yours." Peter looked away sadly.

The beeping of the heart monitor attached to Neal broke the silence jarringly. After a while, Neal looked over at Peter. "You'll get another one from the FBI though, right?"

"Hmm?"

"Your car. See if you can get a big off road one like Diana's."

Peter smiled and Neal grinned back.