A/N: So sorry it took so long. The time flew by I can't believe it's been three days already!!

Penguino: Thank you much! Next? Um.. lots. Heehee.

RascalFlatts: You're very welcome. My pleasure… Ooo.. I feel like such a freak saying that about that… lolz. XD

Dragonbriar: Ooh, I love that description, thanks!! Here's more!

Katie: I'm afraid it's not quite explained yet, but will be in time. For now, enjoy this second helping of angsty whump and intrigue. ;)

Lelann37: No, I'm afraid he's going to have quite a bit of trouble here.

AnneWentworth: you are welcome! Glad you like it!

YukinaKid: That makes me feel better. :] Muchas gracias.

Mayo: Hope this one's better! Haha.

Aingeal Logan: Sorry it took so long! Enjoy.

Cheetahsaurus: Don't worry. He won't be. In fact, I think you'll be very pleased with the remaining chapters. Read on.

Spookysister: here you are

ShadowWolfDagger: Thank you! Playing out below…

Love you guiz. And on we go!!

CH. 3

Neal couldn't believe what was happening. He really shouldn't have come today. White-hot flames of agony shot up his arm to his shoulder, and he could feel his own blood slip through his fingers and to the floor. And it wasn't going to end anytime soon, he could tell. This man was a maniac!

Even so… he was right. Neal was being pathetic. He'd suffered worse than this… right? He pulled himself up from the floor and leaned against the wall, wiping the blood off his hand and sending Peter a reassuring smile.

"Feeling better? That's good. I'm afraid, if Peter is anything like he used to be, you're in for a lot more today. Terribly sorry. I don't like to do it, you know."

Neal would have shot him some witty retort, but Clemence had turned away from him and was walking back to Peter.

"Now, Petey… Isn't this fun? Just like old times. Anyhoo… Next question."

This guy was enjoying this way too much.

"Oh. Right. That bible you recovered? Where is it?"

With a puzzled but still steely look, Peter answered, "where it was stolen from."

Clemence narrowed his eyes. "Dangerous attitude, Petey. I thought you'd be more sensitive than that. Apparently you don't care as much as I thought you did."

He walked over to Neal and withdrew the knife again, brandishing it threateningly over his shoulder. The only reaction Neal gave was a nervous glance.

"It was a… a church. With the mob boss."

Clemence raised an eyebrow, then shook his head and muttered something into his wrist.

"Right. Be just the least bit more cooperative, won't you? I'm not doing any harm."

At that, Neal snorted. Clemence gave him a bemused glance. "Where do you live now, anyway, Petey?"

Peter immediately tensed. There was no way he was endangering Elizabeth.

"Oh, lighten up, Petey. It was just a friendly question. Nothing more. Unless you want it to be."

Peter swallowed, grinding his teeth.

"Truth be told, I already know where you live."

Peter froze for a moment, then relaxed. "You're bluffing."

"Am I? Tell me, is this address wrong, then?"

He was handed a worn slip of paper with the exact address of his home on it. Red clouded his vision.

"You didn't even recognize me! How could-."

"Relax, Petey. It's not like I've been stalking you. I just got curious, wondering where my old buddy was, how he was doing. Very well, obviously."

"Until you came along."

Clemence tsked. "You need to learn how to be nice once in a while, Petey. It's not healthy to be so uptight."

"I'm not… 'nice'… to criminals."

"Oh? How about him?"

Neal stared at Peter, his gaze chilling. It seemed to be echoing the same question.

"He's no longer considered a felon. He is a consultant."

"Psh. You've gotten soft."

Peter saw it then. Clemence was only keeping Neal with them because he knew Neal meant something to Peter. But just maybe….

"Soft? I haven't gone soft."

"Really? So, you're telling me you don't care about him?" Clemence pointed to Neal with the knife.

Peter licked his lips. "Nope. Like you said, he's a criminal. I see it now. He.. he means nothing to me."

It was all Peter could do not to wither under Neal's shocked stare. He stared instead at Clemence, who almost looked slightly agitated. Had he made a mistake?

"Then why were you so broken up earlier when I hurt him?"

"He's still a person. It was cruel. I work for the FBI, I'm not going to stand by and let you torture someone, even if I do consider them a 'criminal'. He's not a serial killer."

Clemence looked thoughtful for a moment, then circled to the back of Neal. He suddenly dropped to his knees and grabbed Neal around his torso, trapping his arms. The younger man started, eyes wide, muscles tense. Clemence brought his knife hand around and pressed it against Neal's chest, right above his heart. Peter struggled furiously to hide his growing panic.

"So you're telling me that if I shoved my hand in right now, that it wouldn't hurt you in the least?"

"Of course it would! I just talked about this. I'm not going to let you stand by and let you murder someone."

"I sense some passion, Petey."

"I'm in the FBI. My whole life is about fighting crimes and murder, of course there's passion."

"Now you know that's not what I meant." Without warning, Clemence moved the knife down and slashed it across Neal's ribcage, leaving a gash at least eight inches long and two deep, if not more.

Neal couldn't keep back the grating yell that escaped his lips. Peter jumped up instinctively, and Clemence laughed loudly.

"See? I told you, Petey." He shoved Neal to the ground with a disdainful expression.

Neal gritted his teeth hard and lay there, good arm wrapped around his abdomen. Clemence slunk back over to Peter, who was seething.

"He means nothing to you, huh? Well, I'm betting she does." Clemence turned around the laptop that had been sitting on the desk, previously undisturbed.

Peter's eyes bulged at a live feed of Elizabeth, sitting pale and frozen at their kitchen table. Behind her stood a man with a silenced, sawed off revolver. He was holding it to her head. Peter stood, knocking the heavy wooden chair to the floor, causing a leg to break off.

Elizabeth saw him, and whispered, "Peter? Help. Please… Peter….

"You let her go!"

"Well. We certainly hit the mark, didn't we?"

"What do you want with me, George?!"

"I've told you-"

"Enough with the BS, tell it to me straight! I know you, Clemence, and you have an ulterior motive."

Clemence grew sober, leaning in and hissing in Peter's ear. "You know what, Petey? You're right. Do you have any idea what you did to me after you ran, after you left me for dead?!"

"That's not how it-"

"Your turn to shut up, Burkes. You asked me my motive? I wanna see you suffer. Just like me. Only, I'm taking it a step further. You know what's even worse than going after a man's physical being? Going after his mentality, his family, his friends… his very life. You tear it to pieces. That's what's worse."

A slow, evil grin split Clemence's face. "Think of it this way. I'm being nice. After all…. I'm only going to take one thing. I'm even letting you choose which."

Understanding dawned on Peter, and he turned to Clemence. "No. No! You can't. I won't."

"Oh, then I'll just have to choose for you."

Clemence turned and opened a drawer in the desk, taking out a pistol. He strode back out into the middle of the room, confident, in control.

"Let's see…. Which to kill? I always did like doing it myself…" He turned to Neal, extending the gun.

"Wait."

Clemence turned to him expectantly.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. "You… take me. Shoot me instead."

"No!" Elizabeth screamed. Neal's head snapped up, eyes wide and shocked. He slowly shook his head.

"You---you can't…." The hoarse whisper was a far cry from Neal's usual charming boom.

Clemence glanced at the three parties, grinning wildly. "As much as I'd love to, Petey, I'm afraid that's not how it works. You've got five minutes."

And with that, he sat at the desk chair, smiling smugly.

Neal crawled over, grunting with the pain and effort. He reached Peter's feet and climbed to his knees.

"Pete…. Tell him me. You've gotta…. You can't let him shoot Elizabeth. I'm not… I'm not scared to die. Not anymore. Just tell him. Get it over with."

Peter dropped his head into his hand, biting his lip. Somewhere deep inside, he knew Neal was right. He could never give the order to kill his own wife… And Neal was a criminal, wasn't he? He would spend his life in jail anyway, wouldn't he? No. What was he thinking? He couldn't…. But Elizabeth….

"George. Listen to reason. Please, you were a smart guy…. You're telling me to choose someone to kill!"

"Yeah. Between your wife and a felon. Really, Peter? Come on, it can't be that hard."

"I can't condemn someone to death! It's against every-"

Clemence pulled the gun up. "Sorry, Peter. Wrong move."

Peter saw his finger pull the trigger back. He heard the gunshot. He heard Elizabeth's scream in the background. He even saw Neal fall, but it didn't really register. Until. Until Neal's shocking, desperate, agonized blue eyes met his, and it snapped Peter out of his reverie like a rock out of a taut slingshot. Then Peter's heart stilled and dropped like a stone, as his whole world became the man before him, lying in a pool of blood, pouring from a whole in his left side.

"Oh…." Peter sank to his knees beside Neal, tearing off his jacket and ripping the sleeves off. He didn't even notice that Clemence had left, or that Elizabeth was still watching. His life consisted of Neal and only Neal, this former forger that had gone from enemy to accomplice, to best friend, to…

Peter shook his head. Indifference, that's what he needed.

"Neal. I need to look at your back. Do you think you can roll onto your side for me?"

Eyelids fluttering, Neal did so, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. Peter gently but quickly pulled his jacket and shirt up, cursing violently when he found no exit point.

"Pete…"

"Yeah, Neal. Right here."

"It didn't come out, did it?"

"… No. But that's okay, we'll-."

"You've gotta get it."

"What?"

"I—I've done it before. You have… to take…. The bullet out."

"No, Neal, we'll call an ambulance, they'll be here in no time."

"No … phone. Check … door." Peter stood and pulled on the door handle, swearing upon finding it locked. Slowly, realizing the awful truth of Neal's soft words, checked his pockets for a cell phone and found none.

"How did you..?"

"Tell ya later."

"Wait… Elizabeth!! She can call!"

"Police…. Yeah. Make sure they bring… all units." He winked. "But they'll take too long. Face it, Pete… gotta do it. Elizabeth… can help."

Taking a breath, Peter nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Just…. One question."

"Anything."

"Got any tweezers?"

* * * *

A/N: Much better length, right?? I'm a horrible person, I know. So so mean. And to be honest, it only gets worse. *wince* Hold on for a couple more chapters, Neal. Reviews are the spinal to my tap.