A Minute

A/N: Hey there everyone! :D Here's the next chapter! :)

Happy Reading! :D :D

Chapter 2

"Neal?"

"Disappointed?"

It took him a minute after the conversation to process that his wife was safe.

"Mozzie I'm going to need a car like this..." muttered Peter once his attention was fully back to the present, his mind now travelling in circles about where Neal could be and what Keller may be doing to him.

"There..." replied Mozzie, opening the unlocked car like it was the most obvious solution in the world.

Peter gave him an amused look.

Sitting into the car, he gave Mozzie half a nod before he brought the vehicle to life, rushing over the mapped route as quickly as he could. El may have been safe, but his troubles were far from over. He knew what Keller was capable of, and the fact that Neal had volunteered to take him on did not leave behind anything to feel assured about.

Not because he was worried about Neal fleeing the scene with the treasure.

God no.

It was because Neal was going to play the self-sacrificial lamb.

Peter had seen that look in his eyes when he'd thrust Neal against the backdoor wall in his house demanding to know about the treasure. He could see those crystal blue eyes look back at him fearfully, not because of what he'd done (or not done), but because of the ultimate price Peter had to pay for it. And yet when Neal had taken him to the empty warehouse facility, Peter noticed the conman go stiff even in the wake of his own demented rage. Neal had been calm and understanding.

Perhaps a little too calm for his liking.

The next morning when his anger had been reigned back into control, he'd asked the young man about what the falling out was exactly about between himself and Mozzie. And that's when Neal had confessed - that he had a life here. With him, Elizabeth, Sara, the view outside the balcony and even stepping off the 21st floor every Monday. That was his life. A life he'd chosen over sharing the treasure of a lifetime with Mozzie.

It took him a minute to absorb that Neal had chosen this for himself.

As his mind hammered on with the traffic now killing his patience, Peter found himself left with ample time to think. If someone were to ask him what he felt about the conman, he was at a loss of words. The predominant emotion he felt at the moment was relief. Intense, heart-warming relief. But he couldn't shake off the feeling every time he thought about Neal. Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

He was still mad about the entire affair. After all the false reassurances and speeches, he'd been right after all. Neal may have not stolen the treasure, but he'd withheld information on the same. He may have given up the treasure for Elizabeth by bringing Mozzie back, but his wife wouldn't have been in that situation had it not been for him. He may have walked away from the treasure, but it had sauntered back to him again in the end.

He was proud yet disappointed, relieved yet worried, calm yet angry, conflicted yet certain about what his opinion was on the entire situation.

It took him a minute to realize that he was feeling too much.

He knew what he felt about the situation, but not about Neal. The young man was no longer his CI - that was a bridge they'd crossed the day he'd given up the oxygen breather and had trusted him with his life.

"Five minutes for one, two and a half minutes for two."

Somewhere through their experiences together, starting with Kate, Neal had become a partner. When Neal was going to board the plane with Kate, he'd already become a friend. In between helping Neal cope with her death and the entire U-Boat fiasco, they'd floated through different levels of exploring trust with each other, realizing that they had each others' backs when it really mattered and for now, it would do. Somewhere down the line, they'd grown into a dysfunctional family. A family that fought, bickered and even fell out, but walked out together at the end of the day.

And yet knowing that Neal had hidden his knowledge about the treasure from him in spite of his repeated questioning hurt. Why it did so, even he couldn't fathom. It wasn't not as though Neal had actually stolen it. From what it sounded, he'd never even voluntarily taken it on. The only thing he was truly guilty about was trying to protect Mozzie. And yet... it felt like everything was his fault.

It took him a minute to realize that he was being unfair.

He was unaware about his car coming to a halt in front of the docks. Neither did he step out from it, too lost in thought. Why was it that this felt like a betrayal? Maybe it was because he'd let emotions cloud his judgment to the point where he'd forgotten that at the end of the day, Neal was ultimately a conman. He wasn't a child that was being trained to remain on the right path by resisting temptations. He was a grown man accountable for his own choices.

But he'd forgotten that.

He had nearly come to believe that if Neal was constantly reminded of what was right and wrong, he would automatically learn the difference and become a changed man. True, Neal had changed in a lot of ways in these two years. But one thing that Peter had expected - that at the end of the day, no matter where they went or what they did, he could always trust Neal. Not with both eyes closed, ofcourse, but just enough. Neal may have always omitted facts, but he'd never outright lied to him. Not then, not even now.

Just when his thoughts began to spiral out of control, he was brought back to reality by the sound of a gunshot.

It took him a minute to push down the ill-feeling that boded his heart.

Rushing out of the car and into the direction of the shot, it hardly took him a minute to locate the gigantic truck and the scene around him. Neal remained fallen upon the group with blood smeared around his head while Keller had his gun fully aimed at him, ready to make a shot. Before he could though, Peter tackled him, throwing him off balance as the gun flew sideways.

"Whoa, easy there Burke. Remember I've got the wife, right?" chuckled Keller, instantly getting into stance.

"Not anymore," growled Peter as he punched him square in the face, hearing a nice crack from his nose. The force of the punch sent Keller staggering a few steps behind.

"What- what you're bluffing me?"

"You can call ahead and check with your guy on 23rd and 3rd," he shot back, eyeing Keller with menace. All the pounding hatred he felt for the man came back in a single go, obliterating everything else from mind. And then, all Keller had to do was speak.

"'Tis alright. So I'll get your wife again. And again. And ag-" Peter felt his hands smash across the British con's face in repeated fury, letting loose all his pent-up restraint as Keller now got into combat. Catching a few blows himself, he nearly had an upper hand until Keller drew out a knife from one of the artifacts with the intent to stab.

It took him a minute to hold his ground against the blade set to slice him.

From somewhere in the distance went off another gunshot and Keller yelped back immediately, falling to the ground now clutching a bloody leg. Peter turned around, instinctively expecting the FBI having arrived with the full cavalry but all he saw was Neal. Neal with a gun that shook violently in his hands, barely halfway up from the ground. Peter returned to assess Keller before cuffing his hands forcefully behind his back.

He then turned to look at Neal again, surprised at the accuracy of the shot before a singed hole in his trousers caught his attention.

He looked up to draw Neal into a challenge of explaining himself, all thoughts from the car forgotten. And then his smile faded away. Even before he could let go of the breath he was holding, the gun slipped out from Neal's grip, Peter noticing the growing pool of blood around him clearly for the first time. A few seconds later, he seemed to gurgle blood from his lips before he swayed violently and fell back to the ground, Peter barely reaching in time to break his fall.

It took him a minute to let the sight sink in.

Neal's forehead was a mess of blood and bruises as he bled from somewhere behind his head while a sharp cut protruded from the front, blood drying all the way to his lips. But it was only when he pushed aside the lapel of Neal's suit to see why there was such an unusual amount of blood on the floor that his breath seized. A hole was burned through his shirt caught square to the left of his chest, oozing blood profusely. Neal's hands were coated red and even as Peter tried to stem the bleeding by taking off his own additional jacket, he could feel Neal grow cold in his grasp. His eyes had closed shut.

"Neal? Neal!" caled Peter, tapping his face in urgency. He couldn't let Neal close his eyes; the shock would set in instantly and would complicate matters worse. But Neal didn't stir. Peter continued tapping his face.

"Come on buddy, don't you dare die on me! We got Keller and El is safe! Jones and Diana found her at the right time... El has called you over to dinner this weekend, she wants to thank you for what you did for her-" Peter noticed Neal's eyelids flutter with a strained wheeze. He realized with a start that Neal was having trouble drawing in air, his chest nearly flat.

"Hey! Look at me! Open your eyes and that's an order! I own you for the next two years and you are NOT bailing out on me! NEAL!" bellowed Peter in desperation when he felt Neal's chest rise slightly, now raising his chin to clear his airway. He realized that he'd released some of the pressure on the wound and reapplied more. Neal's mouth opened but no sound escaped. Instead, his eyes pushed themselves open.

"That's it, Neal. Keep your eyes open. Come on, stay with me."

Blue eyes met his, strained now red as he weakly tried to grasp something. Peter slipped his free hand into his own, gasping at just how cold they had gotten. That wasn't good. In the distance, he could hear sirens even though his gaze was upon Neal, who seemed to be trying to speak. After a few seconds, a voice finally carried the word.

"El...?" he gasped thinly, and had Peter not been straining his ears, he was sure to have missed it. Looking closely, he realized that Neal's lips were turning blue. Knowing that he wasn't getting enough air, Peter knew it was only time before Neal lost consciousness again. He had to talk him into being awake for as long as he could.

"She's fine, we found her," Peter informed, unable to keep the setting panic out of his voice. It seemed just the answer the young man was looking for as his features relaxed and his eyes shut.

"No! Damn it, Neal, I need you awake!" whispered Peter in as close a plea he could muster. This was not how he imagined things ending. There was a long way to go still, a long lecture that Neal would have to hear. He would not let Neal off the hook so easy! He had to earn his trust back!

Reapplying pressure on the wound just as he sensed Jones and Diana stand over his shoulders, he noticed Neal's mouth open again, now weakly thrashing for breath.

"L'me go, P'tr..." was all he could muster before his body seized, convulsing into what Peter was certain was a cardiac arrest. Seconds later the paramedics stood beside him, trying to pull him out of the way. Neal fell still, the sight unbearable for Peter to take.

"Sir, you need to let go," instructed one of the attendants and Peter nodded, the voices around him sluggish. When he tried to pull his hand away though, he couldn't. Neal's grip had gone stiff, the hold too strong to be let gone of. The paramedics noticed this and made him sit at a better angle, trying their best to resuscitate the fallen man.

"There's no pulse. Pads, now!"

"Charged to 200. Clear!" One jolt ran through Neal's body. Nothing. The shock separated their hands. The paramedics shook their head at the still bleeding wound.

"Charged to 280. Clear!" Another jolt ran through his body. Nothing. Neal's chest remained still, his pallor now deathly grey. Peter felt himself grow numb.

"Charged to 300. Clear!" A third jolt ran through his friend and yet he remained as unmoving as ever. The paramedics seemed to have nearly accepted defeat. But not Peter.

"Charged to 360. Clear!" The fourth jolt made Neal's eyes snap open. He noticed the newly revived man's hand weakly flailing and Peter caught hold of it again, letting go of a breath he had forgotten to exhale.

It took him a minute to realize how close he was to losing his friend.

"...he's got a collapsed lung. We need to set him up for intubation stat! And call ahead at the hospital, he's lost a lot of blood," murmured the attendants between themselves as they strapped Neal onto a gurney and pushed towards the ambulance waiting in tow, Peter getting dragged alongside.

"Sir, we need you to step back-" began the attendant when Peter felt a tug, his eyes instantly latching onto Neal's.

"You're going to get through this..." he began but stopped when no more words of assurance flew out. He had been in some extremely tense and gruelling situations as an agent but never had he felt so scared or hopeless in all his life. Not even 12 hours ago when his wife had been taken.

It took him a minute to let sink that this could very well be the last time he saw his friend alive.

Blue eyes held his attention with his pupils blown cross his irises, but whatever it was couldn't seem to wait. Squeezing his hand, Neal spoke with quiet desperation.

"P'tr, thn'k you... f'r bein' a... frn'd..."

Shock and paranoia had barely settled into Peter's stomach before Neal's hand fell limply away. His eyes now stared at him, unseeing and it was a sight Peter knew would haunt him for the years to come.

It was the minute that Neal Caffrey's life had slipped out of his bloodied hands.

Constructive criticism will be more than welcome and sorry for any typos. :D :D