More OC + Peter + Neal H/C. Enjoy! And keep reviewing! Still don't own White Collar.
Peter and Neal knew their way around New York City. They didn't know their way around the heavily wooded Allegheny valley where they'd finally managed to ditch their psychotic captors. Clara, a new asset they were working with, was badly hurt. She'd taken a knife under her shoulder blade in their escape. And a hard fall on the rocky terrain had given Neal some bruised ribs and a nasty cut along his side. Peter had, thus far, escaped unscathed. Clara and Neal were, thus far, still conscious and on their feet. But Peter knew he couldn't count on that to last.
When Peter was satisfied they were far enough away to be out of imminent danger he insisted they stop. He knew Neal and Clara were running on adrenaline. He knew they needed to stop. He needed to stop and he was uninjured. He tried not to imagine how hard the trek must have been on his young companions.
Clara was coping surprisingly well. She was a corporate lawyer from an aggressive firm well known for its off the wall tactics and refusal to give up a case – no matter how desperate it seemed. She'd been helping them investigate the forging ring they were taking down – and posing as their attorney when Neal and Peter decided to go in under cover. Though she'd likely never suffered more than a sprained ankle or broken wrist before, she was oddly, unswervingly calm through the trauma of her injury.
She didn't complain or protest as Peter helped her sit down on the forest floor. And suddenly, he realized why.
"Neal," Peter's voice had an unmistakable edge.
"What's wrong," Neal asked, struggling to his feet and coming over to them.
"She's going into shock," Peter whispered, "I need to get this knife out. You need to keep her with me."
"Recommendations? Ideas?" Neal prompted.
"I don't know make small talk, ask her how she's feeling, kiss her for all I care just keep her from going unconscious," Peter replied.
"Clara," Neal said, his demeanor changing in an instant, going from terrified, desperate CI to suave, prepared con artist in the blink of an eye.
She registered his words, shuddering as she also re-engaged with her own pain. Her gray eyes gazed up at him with confusion, fear, pain, and something close to admiration.
"Hey this is gonna hurt," he murmured, stroking her cheek with a bloodstained hand, "But I need you to stay with me. Alright?"
"What happened?" she asked, rubbing her temples, then wincing at the movement.
"You took a knife under one shoulder," Peter answered, trying to get a hold on the slippery, bloody hilt, "I need to get it out and get the bleeding under control."
"Right…right…okay," Clara murmured.
"You okay? You still with me?" Neal prompted, coaxing her chin up and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, it's just…I thought this was the white collar division?" Clara replied, her voice gaining a bit of an irate edge even through the shock and the fear and the pain.