CH. 2
Peter knew Clemence would pull the trigger. Probably without any qualms, too. He didn't know exactly why he wanted Neal to live so much. He tried to tell himself it was just because he was probably the best dang consult this department would ever get, but really, he knew that wasn't it. The two shared a bond now, a nearly unseverable one, after these unbelievable years, and…. Seeing the terrified look the ex-con's face, his crystal blue eyes wide with horror…. If Neal were actually to die---
"Stop!"
Clemence pulled the gun off of Neal's sweaty forehead and turned it towards Peter.
"I-I'm Peter. You want me."
Clemence cocked his head. "You look different."
Peter shrugged.
"Come with me."
The agent obediently stood up and trailed the man, who led him to a barely-used wing. They traversed down a dusty hall and into a large, old office.
"Have a seat," Clemence offered, gesturing with his gun hand to a plush wooden-framed chair on the other side of an oak-paneled desk.
"Well, Petey, it's been a long time."
"Not long enough." Peter spat.
"Ooo, harsh. Anyway, I had a few questions and figured you, being.. well, you, would still be here and would be the best person to ask."
Peter clenched his jaw.
"So unfriendly. Well, as long as I get what I want. First off is an easy one. Who worked the Shaw case?"
Silence filled the musty air. Clemence shook his head. "Now don't be tenacious, Petey. I traveled a long way to get here. It's a simple question. Who. Worked. The Shaw case?......." There was a sigh. "Alright. I really didn't want to do this, Petey. I noticed you found a friend."
A slight gesture brought in two very large guards, carting between them none other than Neal, looking even paler than usual. The door slammed forebodingly behind them. Peter swore under his breath.
"That's what I thought."
"What do you want, George?"
"You remembered my name. I'm touched." He stood and slowly walked around the desk, trailing his finger in the dust. He eventually got to Peter and crouched so he was nearer the agent's ear. "You know what I want."
Peter shook his head. Clemence straightened and pulled out a long object that glistened in the light. A knife.
"You'd be surprised how many… tactics… I've learned since leaving."
Peter's face slackened. Clemence drew nearer to Neal, who was visibly trembling in his captor's arms. George pulled out a lighter and flicked it on, running it up and down the blade.
"Sawyer!"
He stopped. An eyebrow cocked. "See? That wasn't so hard." He suddenly turned and drove the now-searing hot knife into Neal's forearm a good inch, down off-center between two veins.
A surprised, choked cry tore from Neal's throat and the guards dropped him and left at their leader's command. Neal curled around his injured wrist, grasping it, trying to avoid the blade that still protruded from the wound. Peter shot up and lunged toward the fallen man, but was violently shoved back into the chair by Clemence.
"I gave you what you wanted!"
"Oh, that was just a demonstration. We are far from done. Stay there or I'll be forced to tie you."
He walked back over to Neal and squinted at him, then crouched.
"So weak. How pathetic." His voice rose a little in merry mocking as he turned his head toward his former partner. "Honestly, Petey, I thought you'd find someone a little…" He grasped Neal's arm and pulled the knife out, bringing forth a gasp from him. "Stronger."
Blood slid down Neal's wrist and onto the crème-colored carpet. He clutched it to his chest, sweat pouring down his face.
"Leave him out of this."
"Sorry, no can do. I know agents are trained to endure torture, so it wouldn't help much if I did anything to you. However…. You seem to have formed quite the soft spot for this…. Criminal. I don't care how or why, but you have. This… this is much more effective." His grin was malicious. Peter knew he wouldn't stop until Neal was dead.
"What else do you want to know?"
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A/N: Crap, that was really short, too. Okay, I swear the next one will make up for this and the last. Pinky promise. :] Reviews are the pepper to my mint.