Hi everyone! Glad to see you all are enjoying this story! Thank you for all your kind words, you guys are awesome!

Hope you enjoy this next chapter, have fun!

:)

In…out…in…out. Peter looked at the steady fall and rise of his partner's chest, caught in a rhythm of it. June sat on the other side of the bed, dozing slightly. She'd rouse every so often and change the rag on Neal's head. Peter was thankful he'd had someone else there with him.

Neal fell back asleep not long after they'd given him some water. Peter had actually gotten a chance to tell Neal a bit about what was going on. It was a short time after the sun came up before the crew walked back upstairs again, looking down the hall and into Neal's room. Clark pounded on the wall next to Neal's room and looked at Peter, summoning him with the inching motion of his pointer finger. Peter got up, earning a look from June as she opened her eyes and looked up at Peter. She then looked behind her at the men before turning slowly back to Neal and tending to the rags on his forehead.

"So Agent Burke, we've come to the conclusion that there's something that goes with this…" Clark pulled out a key from his pocket, holding it up. Peter held out his hand for it and Clark put it into his hand. "What do you think it's for? Found it in an old book." Peter turned the key in his hand, walking toward the window.

"Hard to say….I mean it could be for anything." He said simply, holding it up to the sunlight. He watched as the light reflected off the key.

"Well…I mean do you think it's more of a..." Clark started off. Peter examined the key, listening to Clark's drawls about how the black scuff marks on the edge of the key could mean something about lead paint peeling off on the key from the inside of the keyhole. Peter then caught a very sharp glimpse of light in his eye, making him look up.

He suspected it maybe from a car, so as he looked up Peter didn't think anything of it. He looked back down at the key again, half listening to Clark. Peter felt same sharpness ping his eyes multiple more times…almost like a…pattern? Peter looked back up, looking for the source. Suddenly he saw it. He saw it and he recognized the patterns associated with it. Morse code.

P-E-T-E-R

Peter looked up and his back straightened, looking at the code in the rays of light. He turned the key in his fingers.

N-E-A-L

It repeated. Peter didn't have anything to reflect back with. He swallowed tightly, thinking of who it possibly could be. Peter tried to manipulate the key in his hand to reflect light back, but it was very dim.

M-O-Z-Z-I-E

The pattern spelled out. Peter's eyes grew at the sight. He kept a short smile to himself and hid it again before turning around and looking at Clark, who was finishing his ramble. Peter shifted a bit and looked around him.

"It could be…but I mean it also could be a key to the shed." Peter said honestly, not knowing, as he handed the key back. He walked slowly into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves on his white button down shirt. Clark walked with him.

"Who would keep something like that in a book?" Clark asked. Peter shrugged, opening the fridge. His mind wandered with a plan.

"I don't know, but I've seen a lot of weird things before so…" Peter told him. "You don't mind if I grabbed some breakfast?" He asked, gesturing toward the fridge Clark rolled his eyes.

"I'm not your mother, Burke." He said plainly, moving back on to the same topic of the key. "What do you know about trying to unlock safes, huh?" He questioned. Peter's eyes roamed the fridge. Common Neal, common…

Peter looked for something that needed a spoon to eat. He actually found some yogurt and pulled a cup out, moving to the draw to find a spoon. They had indeed taken the forks and knives, but not the spoons. Peter pulled it out and flipped open the foil on the top, speaking with Clark about what he thought about the key. He then turned back to face the window, seeing the light.

-T-E-R

Peter moved the spoon to reflect the sun, discretely shielding it from Clark and his men with his body as he spoke about the possibility of a safe. He quickly picked up his spoon and held it to reflect the light.

H-E-R-E Peter spelled out. S-O-S He said, waiting for a response as Clark still rambled. Peter began to eat some of the yogurt with the tip of the spoon, trying to be desecrate. He didn't want them to see what he was doing.

W-H-A-T W-R-O-N-G Mozzie's light spelled out.

C-L-A-R-K W-A-N-T J-U-N-E-S S-A-F-E Peter replied. He knew that Mozzie wouldn't know who the man was, but at least he'd have his name. It might help.

N-E-A-L

S-H-O-T Peter spelled back. B-A-D

C-O-M-I-N-G Mozzie said back O-V-E-R Peter watched, looking at him through the window. He wondered how Mozzie could have even known there was trouble…Then again Mozzie has his ways…his very strange ways.

"Hey, Burke. Have you been listening to anything that I've said?" He asked angrily. Peter turned his head toward the side and nodded carefully. "What the hell are you doing?" Peter froze. Shit. He hadn't seen him, had he? Peter turned toward him.

"Eating?" He asked, taking a full spoon of the yogurt finally. Clark narrowed his eyes.

"You'd better not be into anything fishy, agent…or else I can have someone go in there and carve some more of that little pet con you've got up in there…wouldn't want that." He said, eying the agent. One of the men from the side looked at Peter skeptically and slyly moved toward Clark. He whispered something into his ear.

Peter could feel his veins constricting, nerves picking at his insides. A smile formed on Clark's face...no not a smile. An evil grin.

"So ya think you're the king of the hill, ey Burke?" He chuckled darkly. "Pulling that little spoon trick on us? Tell me, who were you signaling to? Your little FBI friends?" He asked, circling Peter. Peter crunched his brows together.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Peter answered, pausing in his eating. Clark's eyes picked up a bit further onto his forehead.

"You'd better hope you don't…cause if you do we're not gonna be too happy…and if we're not happy, no one is...and then people get hurt." Peter kept eye contact with him. Clark scratched the back of his neck.

"Alrighty…well have it your way…My friends, can you bring Agent Burke back to his little family room and lock them in? I've got work to do and he can't be trusted." Clark insisted. The men took Peter by the arms and roughly walked him down the hallway. By the time they did, they threw him into the room, causing Peter to fall to the ground. June looked up from her spot from Neal as the goons shut the door and locked it with a click. She stood, seeing Peter.

"Peter are you okay?" She asked, moving toward him. She placed her hands onto his upper back and arms as he stood. Peter nodded.

"Fine, fine…" He insisted, getting up. "Help is on the way." He told her in a hushed tone. She tilted her head.

"What?"

"Mozzie…he was…well I there were patterns of light that kept hitting me, really bright. It was Mozzie…and he actually was using Morse code." Peter said. June smiled.

"Oh, well that's a good thing then." She said in an optimistic tone. Peter nodded.

"I just hope he's got a good enough plan…one not involving the police or the FBI…June if Clark sees them he's gonna kill all three of us." He said grimly. June looked away briefly.

"Well if there's one thing about Mozzie it's he sure does know how to get out of things, Peter…we'll be okay." She said. Peter was quiet for a moment, nodding as his eyes tore away and roamed the room. He looked at Neal.

"How's he doing?" He asked quietly. June swallowed a little.

"Well…he's a bit warm, Peter." She said, her eyes tired and concerned. Peter walked toward his partner and moved a hand to his head. He felt the warmth and pulled his hand back after a few seconds.

"I sure hope this isn't getting infected…he needs a doctor." Peter sighed. June came up alongside of Peter.

"Well…all we can do is hope…Mozzie will get us out, Peter…he will." She told him, looking at Neal's sleeping form. She dismissed herself, straightening up a few things around the room. Peter sat by Neal's side and watched.

He could see the youth of Neal's features. The smooth lines, the quiet innocence. He could see the child within his partner. Peter wondered why sleep always seemed to take years off a person. Perhaps it was just the blindness, the dependence which wasn't available when awake. It was the natural way the muscles in his face relaxed, which weren't tainted by the stress of day. Ignorance. The beautiful, innocent ignorance.

Neal was running. Neal was running from the terror chasing him, running to Peter.

"NEAL!" Peter shouted almost in an echo, extending his arm toward him. He was stationed on a tall rock above the path Neal ran on. Surrounding them were rocks, sharp and crumbling. His hand opened, thirsting to curl around Neal's hand. Neal could feel the heat of the environment suffocating him, burning him from the inside out as if it had caught fire in his lungs. He saw Peter's desperate eyes as the ground was crumbling beneath his flailing feet. Neal looked backward and realized that if he were to miss a step, he'd be falling into whatever flaming pit was below him.

"Come on, Neal!" The steadying voice shouted again, sweat dripping off his drenched locks. Neal could make out the reflection of sweat on Peter's face as the light from the flames licked it. He concentrated on that, extending his arm out to the older man. However, as he reached to grasp at Peter, Neal felt the pain. The blistering, hotter than the fire behind him pain.

It hit him in the back, making him stumble and cry out over the roar of the fire. He fell to the floor. He turned quickly and looked behind him, seeing the ground falling…falling…falling.

"P-P-PEEETERRR" It was coming for him. Neal cast his eyes toward Peter, looking up at him with the largest pools of blue that Peter had ever seen…what he wished he would never see.

The pools of silent, fearful hostage.

"NEAAAALLL!" Peter cried, looking at his partner. Neal fell away…fell into the flames and burning dust that swallowed him. Neal's fear turned solid cold in his veins, the pain and fear stunning him into a state of rigor mortis.

Yes, Neal had been running.

But suddenly so was Peter.

Annnnd cut!

Thank you all for reading/favoriting/reviewing/following!

Hope you have a great night/day!