A/N My apologies for the delay. Real life. Screenwriting. Reasons, yet not excuses. The last couple days before the new episode gave me inspiration and I woke up yesterday morning with this chapter rolling around in my brain. I hope you enjoy it. One chapter left. ~Kelcor
Explosions and Injuries
Peter uncurled himself from around Neal to survey the damage. They were surrounded in black. With his ears still ringing from the concussive blast of the explosion, the seemingly impenetrable darkness was disorienting to say the least.
Knowing it was futile, Peter nonetheless called out to Henderson. "Agent Henderson?" No answer. "Vicky!" Still his answer was an all too telling silence. There was no way she could have survived that blast. She'd been right on top of it. Peter dreaded the letter he was going to have to write to her family but it was the least he could do.
The yelling startled Neal back to consciousness but, apparently, not to the here and now. "Johnny?"
This name perplexed Peter. In all his investigations concerning Caffrey, even in his probe into the younger man's past, he had never come across the name 'Johnny'. Of course, Neal could be caught in the memory of something that happened in the years before his 18th birthday, the truth of which Peter had never been able to uncover. Setting the matter aside for another time, Peter felt around until he was able to press his palm against his partner's face, hoping the contact would help solidify his words. "Neal? It's me, Peter."
"Johnny, please let me out. I promise, I'll be good."
The new context of Neal's words didn't bode well with the fact that 'Johnny' could very well be someone from Neal's childhood and this realization sent ice coursing through Peter's veins. Part of him wanted to play the scene out a bit further. But another part of him, one with a voice that sounded much like El, ironically enough, told him it would be unfair to take advantage of Neal's weakened state simply to satisfy his own curiosity, regardless of how good his intentions were.
Instead of asking questions, he tapped Caffrey's face with the pads of his fingers. "Neal? It's me. Johnny's not here. Come on back to me, kid."
There was a pause and Peter could practically hear the gears shifting inside the ex-con's head, then: "Peter?"
"Yeah, buddy. Welcome back."
"Didn't know I was gone," Neal said, his voice still rough from lack of use. He tried to sit up but collapsed back against Peter's chest.
"Easy, easy. You're still pretty weak. Just sit still for a bit."
"Why is it so dark?"
For the first time, Peter noticed the shivers coursing through his friend's body. "Agent Henderson set off a booby trap Keller left for me. The explosion sealed off our only exit."
Neal's shivering intensified exponentially. "You mean... we're trapped?"
"For now, yeah. But - " Before Peter could finish his statement, Neal was struggling fiercely to sit up. Peter placed his hands on the younger man's shoulders, doing his best to prevent further movement. "Whoa! Neal, what are you doing?"
"Gotta get out, gotta get out, gotta get out - "
"I told you, there is no way out. But I put in a call for help before coming down here, so I'm sure Hughes has sent backup. They should be here anytime now."
Neal continued to struggle, as if not hearing the agent's words at all. Worried that Neal was going to injure himself further, Peter wrapped him in a bear hug, pinning his arms in a criss cross pattern across his chest. Neal bucked and squirmed against the hold, causing Peter to fear that he may be doing more harm than good by restraining him like this. Finally, Neal seemed to expend the last of his energy and became almost dead weight in the agent's arms. He was breathing heavily, still in full-on panic mode, but too tired to fight any longer.
Keeping one arm wrapped around Neal's chest, Peter placed his other hand on top of his partner's head, much like he had done at the Hearts Wide Open clinic what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Just relax, kid. I'm sure Diana and Jones will be here soon. They'll get us out. I promise."
"Don't like the dark," Neal whispered, trying desperately to sound normal, even nonchalant, but unable to completely conceal the tiny shake to his voice.
Feeling a little out of his league, and wishing desperately that El was there for this part, Peter gave Neal an awkward one-armed hug.
"Did you just... hug... me?" Neal asked with a weak chuckle, needing to take a breath every couple of words. "You? The man who... describes himself as... 'emotionally... unavailable'?"
"No," Peter insisted, feeling his cheeks heat up in the darkness. "I was just stretching out a kink in my arm."
"Uh-huh," Neal responded, his disbelief clear. Suddenly, his muscles tensed, seemingly all at once.
"Neal? You okay?"
No sooner were the words out of Peter's mouth, and Neal was convulsing against him. Knowing that he shouldn't restrain a convulsing patient, but also all too aware of the various items protruding out of the dirt just waiting to cause more harm to his friend, Peter captured Neal in a two-armed grip once again and held on until the convulsion ended.
WCWCWCWC
Mozzie watched as Jones aimed his gun steadily at Keller, while Diana slapped the cuffs on him with a very satisfying clank of metal. Mozzie had missed the first time this had happened on the helipad, and was more than happy to be the proud witness this time. "Good riddance, dirt bag!" he thought to himself, saying just as much and more with his eyes as he glared at the scum who had kidnapped and tortured his best friend.
With the sting now complete, the FBI would confiscate Mozzie's treasure, and most likely arrest him in the process, but it was all worth it just to see Keller carted off like the trash he'd always been. Now all they had to do was find Neal safe and sound, and everything would be alright in Mozzie's world. Whether that world ended up being spent behind bars or not. Granted, he would definitely be more in favour of the 'not' version of that scenario but as long as Neal was safe, he could deal with the alternative, should the need arise.
As Diana stuffed Keller into the backseat of a nearby patrol car, a small stir of excitement began to ripple through the surrounding FBI agents and uniformed officers alike. Mozzie sidled up to Jones and whispered, "What's going on?"
In response, Jones smiled down at him and said, "It sounds like Peter found Neal."
"Really? I mean, are you sure?" Mozzie prodded, barely reigning in an undeniable excitement of his own.
"No," Jones admitted. "But he called for an ambulance to the location he and Henderson were going to check out. So, he must have found something. We're hoping it's Neal."
"It could also be that there was an altercation of some sort and there were casualties."
"Can you just be optimistic for two seconds," Diana interjected, climbing in behind the wheel of her unmarked sedan.
"Sorry," Mozzie muttered, having the good grace to be chagrined.
"Well, are you coming or not?" she asked him, a mock glare colouring her pretty features.
Mozzie looked up in time to see Jones slipping into the front passenger seat and wasted no time hopping in the backseat. "Coming," he declared.
But his response was drowned out by Diana gunning the engine and squealing the tires in her haste to get to her boss and - though she would never admit her concern to anyone, even under torture - Neal Caffrey.
WCWCWCWC
While Neal was still unconscious, Peter became aware of his partner's temperature rising to an almost alarming level. Peter was no doctor, of course, but he knew when a fever was high enough to warrant an emergency trip to the hospital and this was fast becoming cause for concern. He tried to ease out from under Neal to search for a water bottle with the intent to at least keep the younger man hydrated, when Neal grabbed his wrist in an iron grip, a strength Peter would not have guessed possible given the ex-con's current condition.
"It's okay, Neal. I'm just going to try to find some water for you, try to bring down this fever of yours. Okay?"
"Don' go."
The whimpered reply pulled at Peter's heart strings and led him to retake his position behind Neal and adjust his friend into a more comfortable position on his side, lessening the pressure to the wounds on his back - and mentally chastising himself for not thinking of that sooner. He absently carded one hand through Neal's hair, leaving it tangled in the unusually disheveled locks while using his other hand to dig into nearby piles of dirt and debris with the hopes of finding the aforementioned bottle of water.
Surprisingly, it didn't take long for him to find, not only the water, but also the missing flashlight. He turned the flash on and, after confirming his earlier intuition that they were in fact trapped in this cellar, he gazed at the ex-con's flushed cheeks with growing concern. Keeping his arm across Neal's shoulders, careful to put as little pressure as possible on the tender flesh of his recently tortured back, Peter eased his partner away from his chest and tilted the bottle back against the parched lips. Even barely conscious, Neal drank greedily from the bottle, his body instinctively knowing what it needed to survive.
Peter felt bad pulling the bottle away from his clearly thirsty friend, but the last thing they needed right now was Neal vomiting in their tiny enclosed temporary hide-out. The fact that there was very little in the younger man's stomach would only make matters worse, not to mention more painful for Neal. So, tiny sips was the best way to go.
A few minutes later, the shivers set in again. Neal was almost shaking right out of Peter's arms, so the agent held him closer, continuing to be careful of the wounds on his back. His concern heightened when Neal started calling out for his mother, begging Johnny not to hurt her... then begging her for forgiveness? Another nugget of information Peter filed away for future conversation with his CI.
Just when he started getting used to the odd but distinct comfort provided by the flashlight, the bulb started to flicker. The battery was dying. Perfect.
Peter felt Neal's cheeks and forehead. His fever had already risen drastically from only moments before. Seemingly out of options, Peter raised his eyes to the fractured ceiling of the cellar, his gaze reaching past those broken beams in search of a higher power he was no longer certain even existed. "I'm not asking for smiting and lightning here, but a little rescue would be nice. Please?" he paused, not sure how to proceed. Then: "Uh... Amen...?"
WCWCWCWC
They were standing outside the farmhouse. Jones was searching inside, while Diana attempted to scare a confession out of the only living person the EMT's were able to find on the property. He had been handcuffed to the porch railing when they arrived, so, Mozzie was willing to wager that he was probably one of the bad guys. One of Keller's men. Apparently, Diana was betting the same, if her blazing eyes and clenched fists were anything to go by. Mozzie could see a spark of fear in the prisoner's eyes, so the guy clearly had at least one brain cell going for him. Regardless, Mozzie feared he still would not tell them where Peter, Neal and Henderson were... not in time, anyway.
Unable to watch Diana put the fear of God into this man any longer, Mozzie turned in a circle, searching the vast open area surrounding the house, hoping to see something, anything that might lead him to his friends. His gaze moved past Jones' furtive movement inside the house, trailed over the EMT's waiting anxiously for something to do, then settled on the field of grass that seemed to go on for miles. That's when he saw it. It wasn't huge, so he couldn't be absolutely sure but... he took a few steps toward it, then a few more. Before he knew it, he was running across the field. "Over here!" he hollered over his shoulder, not even looking to see if Diana and Jones were following him, let alone the EMT's.
Only a few feet away now, was an area where the ground had caved in. The mound of dirt surrounding it was minimal, so most of whatever had been there had gone down. A booby trap. That was definitely something right up Keller's alley. Without thinking, Mozzie dropped to his knees and started digging with his bare hands. Soon, Diana and Jones joined in, then more pairs of hands that Mozzie could only guess belonged to the paramedics who were probably just happy to be doing something.
They weren't the only ones.
"Boss!" Diana called out. "Boss, can you hear me?"
A faint voice seemed to rise up out of the ground and grip each of them around the heart. "I hear you. I'm okay but... Neal needs to get to a hospital. Fast!"
The three sets of hands started digging with even more urgency. "An ambulance is already here and waiting. We're gonna get you out. Just hang on!"
TBC
A/N I just checked the stats for this story. I had no idea there were so many alerts placed on it. Now I feel even MORE guilty for making you all wait so long! I can only hope this was worth the wait. I'll do my best to get the next chapter up asap. Love you all! Thank you SO MUCH for your patience! ~Kelcor