Hello faithful readers! Thank you guys for all the hits to my story! There were not as many reviews as I had hoped, but thank you to all that did review!

Genre: Angst/Tragedy

Rating: Still a strong T!

Characters: Neal, Peter, Elle, Evelyn, Violet, Vincent Adler, and the doctor lady, whose name may be revealed in this chapter…

Parings: None, as far as I can tell.

Warnings: Note the rating! Strong T! Neal whumpage, violence, torture, the whole shebang. Just so you are warned! Also: I am including some medical treatments that may be or are probably incorrect. So, sorry to any doctors, of people of medicine out there, my medical references are BS.

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Sorry guys!

Enjoy and S'il vous plaites! REVIEW!

PS: Tomorrow is my 18th Birthday! As a present to me, please drop me a review! Yes?

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Peter rubbed the crème pearls between his thumb and his index finger, contemplating the situation.

The sounds of Neal's mangled scream played over and over in his head. He could not even imagine the damage or the pain that had been inflicted on the con man. All he could think about was the possibility of what seemed inevitable at the time. The pale and broken face and glassy unseeing blue eyes of his partner became eerily lifelike in his mind. No he thought, I can't let that happen.

Peter tried to appear strong in front of his team, but the truth of the matter was that this was just a façade. On the inside was anger, turmoil, and desperation.

Peter was sitting at his desk in his office. He leaned forward, and placed his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table. He took a few deep breaths, and continued thinking.

It wasn't that Peter was afraid of not finding Neal, it was the fact that if he didn't find him, he would lose the man he considered to be the closest thing that he had to a brother, or even a son.

The darkness of his palms seemed to sooth Peter, and reminded him to focus on the task at hand. He put his head on his clasped hands, and allowed his eyes to roam his office while he thought. He moved to get up, with newfound determination to try to find the ex-con.

As he did, a picture fell out of his pocket and onto the floor. Staring at it, he wondered where it had come from. His mind flashed back to the bloody alley, and the burning paintings that had rained down overhead. He bent down to pick it up, turning it over in his hands. Kate's ocean blue eyes stared up at him. They seemed to be pleading with him to allow Neal to return to her.

He threw the piece of the painting down on his desk, angrily. Even though he didn't trust Miss Moreau, they shared the common feeling of need for everyone's favourite con man.

He took another look at the painting lying on his desk. A question flashed through his head. Why was this burning instead of the treasure? The question was followed quickly by a flash back. To Neal's apartment, where he had been painting the Empire State Building, and claimed to have filled a storage room with "nerve-calming" paintings. A light bulb went off in Peter's head as he connected the two. He had the answer to the question that had put his friend's life in jeopardy.

He raced out of his office, nearly knocking the door off its hinges, heading towards the conference room.

Everyone looked at him questioningly as he barreled through the door.

A smile widened on his face, as he declared, "I think I know where our treasure is."

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Neal felt like he was sinking underneath the waves of a restless ocean. He trying to fight against the currents, but every time he tried to swim upwards he was shoved further down.

"Clear!" Something or someone in the ocean whispered. That wasn't supposed to happen.

A jolt jerked him upwards. Pain swelled through Neal's wet body, yet the jolt thrust him upwards. His hand could touch the surface of the water.

"Clear!" The ocean seemed to call out. The voice was no longer a whisper, yet a call, getting closer and closer to Neal.

A second jolt pushed Neal's head above the surface, and Neal opened his eyes.

But he wasn't in an endless pool of blue water, but a dirty boat's cabin, laid out on the floor, with his white dress shirt open. A woman's dark hair tickled his stomach, as she seemed to listen for a pulse. She looked up, sensing Neal's presence.

She gave a pained smile. "Welcome back, Neal. I thought that I had lost you." Worry etched itself in lines surrounding her eyes as she smiled.

She held two plate like things in her hands, resembling a defibrillator. She noticed his staring.

"You actually went into cardiac arrest, after Vincent Adler left."

She paused a moment, contemplating how much she should tell Neal. "I think that you may have collapsed, from all of your other wounds, and then that bastard slashed you right above your ribcage. The slash was pretty deep, and it caused you to lose blood flow to your heart, hence the cardiac arrest."

She took a shaky breath, and sighed. "Neal, you need a hospital, the pain is literally eating away at you." Her eyes flashed with anger, then the sadness returned to them.

She returned the defibrillator to her black bag, and pulled out some gauze and antibiotic cream. Carefully, using her index finger, she dabbed the cream along his slice on his usually pretty face. She winced along with Neal, every time she hit a sensitive spot. She placed the gauze over it cautiously, allowing the blood to clot under the pressure.

He felt the gauze also around his torso, pain throbbing just under the bandage.

With nimble fingers, the woman undid the bandage around his ribcage. Even though his vision was a bit blurry, he could clearly make out the deep gash that ran across his lower chest. Seeing his own blood made him feel sick, and he turned his head and vomited. His stomach contracted, causing bleeding to resume in his chest. Neal had to squeeze his eyes shut, and force his mind to think of something else to keep himself from throwing up again, which he knew would take it's toll on his body.

The woman carefully slid his head away from the puddle that Neal had made. She picked up a black towel like thing from her bag and pressed it against his ribcage. It was an attempt in vain, the touch cause Neal to thrash about in pain.

"Neal. Neal, you have to stay still. I know it hurts but you have to stay still." He voice was soothing, yet commanding. Neal made an attempt at a nod.

She tried a different approach. "I know that you are probably wondering who I am." She took a breath once she realized that Neal had stopped moving, and his eyelids began to close. She placed a hand on his face to keep him awake. "Well, I guess you could call me a fugitive doctor. I have been on the run for about a year now, after I stole money from my… boss' company."

"I work on the streets as a doctor, because… well, let's just say, Vincent Adler isn't the deadliest con in the world. I try to help others who get themselves in predicaments such as your own, by treating them when their captors are away."

Even though Neal could not talk back to her, he forced his eyes to stay open, and listened to the woman.

"Vincent is an interesting man. You are not the first person to be tortured in this room, let me just tell you. Vincent has quite a temper, and whenever I get word on the street that he wants something, I hang around here to make sure that he doesn't take things too far."

She paused again; her green eyes searched Neal's for some type of response. She had been so direct with her comment about Adler, that she was fearful that she had scared him. She didn't know what kind of man Neal depicted Adler as. Noticing that he was still awake, she took her cue to continue.

"I guess you can call me Isla. That's the name that I have been going by for a while now."

Neal's eyes followed her as she talked. Her hands were still pressed down on Neal's stomach. Her hair was black as night, and pin straight down her back. Her outfit was still the same, a black hooded jacket and black yoga pants. She reminded Neal of Alex.

She carefully peeled back the towel, and Neal looked the other way. She quickly grabbed the gauze again, and began to carefully wrap it around his knife wound, taping the loose ends to Neal's skin to keep it secure. He noticed when he looked back, that her hands were tainted with Neal's blood, which caused his stomach to do a slow roll.

When she turned to return the gauze to her bag, Neal could make out a rough outline of a gun, presumably pressed against her back. His breath hitched in this throat, as he realized that she was willing to go as far as shooting Adler, if it meant keeping her patients safe.

With her back still turned, she continued talking to Neal, "We will have to stitch up your gash, but I need to wait for it to stop bleeding first." She gathered up her things. "I cannot stay much longer, for fear that he may come back. But I will sit with you for a little while, if that's okay."

Neal attempted a nod again. It was too painful for him to speak. She set her black bag down near her, and sat crossed-legged adjacent to Neal. She carefully took his hand. She just looked over him for a moment, registering everything that Adler had done to him. Her heart was in her throat as she saw all of the torture that he had endured. The basic hell he had been through.

And yet, he was still awake and fighting. Barely there, but just enough to survive.

-o-o-o-o-

Inaudible footsteps stalked down the hall towards the fugitive doctor and the damaged con man. He looked through the small portal that was the only way to view the contents of the room. A shocking scene met Vincent's eyes.

There, seated with his captives was a familiar looking woman, her hand in Neal's, her eyes fixed on him. Shock turned to anger. He quickly whipped out the remote that was in his pocket for emergencies.

One push, and the entire room would soon be flooded with water. He had devised a system for his unwanted guest aboard the boat. One press of the button, he could drown them, leaving him with nothing to deal with, no blood on his hands. One press was all he needed.

Vengeance sparked inside of him. The treasure was supposed to be his. He wanted it, even if it meant killing over it.

The smile on the woman's face was the final straw. His index finger pushed down on the button hard.

He prepared to watch his people die.

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Well, I tried to make that as long as possible. Just let me know what you think! I know that it is not the best, but still, just let me know. I also know that not everyone is a fan of a back story for an OC character, but it was necessary in order to allow Neal to stay awake...

I hope to get some reviews as an early birthday present, yes? Please? Thanks again for all of you all's support through out this! I really appreciate it! :)