A/N Hi guys! Sorry it has taken so long to update the story! Real life tends to be busy etc. so I rarely have time to sit down and really focus on revising what I have already written or write more, but don't you worry, I have not forgotten the story and will also be writing the comfort part. A little nervous on how I will do writing that ( I am much better at kicking my favorite characters around than comforting them, even if I am a sucker for good comfort myself) Thank you for all the reviews! Always makes me nervous to read them, do not know why since you are all so nice :) Anyway, on with a new chapter!
Chapter 4 – Can't Just Walk Away
Neal felt himself being lifted and his whole body seemed to scream at him for moving. His head lolled forward as he struggled to open his eyes. He had heard Rick's commands and a small voice somewhere in his brain was trying to coax him awake. He knew he was in danger and he didn't like the idea of being dragged away from Peter, but there was very little he could do about that now.
The man dragging him moved surprisingly quickly and before Neal knew it he, was already outside. It had started to rain; the cold water greeted him as he could not protect his face from it, seeing as the other man held him from his arms. The rain was the first lucky thing of the day though, since it was exactly what his brain needed to snap back to reality. And even if his reality was not a good place to be, it was worse to be so out of it.
The man that had been called Martin practically threw Neal to the ground. Groaning Neal did a quick survey of his surroundings. None of the other Ricks men seemed to be out and about on the yard, he was fairly certain he could remember some of them being in the barn as Martin had brought him outside. They were alone and this was his only chance to escape.
"Just stay put and this will be over quickly." Martin said as he reached for his gun. While his attention was diverted, Neal took his chance and attacked the man. Martin went down easily, since the element of surprise was in Neal's favor. He got up as quickly as he could and ran staggeringly towards the forest.
Neal heard Martin curse behind him and start to get up, but he didn't stop or look behind him. He had to get away, no matter how much pain he felt throughout his body. He had to get help somehow. Neal was just about to enter the forest when he heard the report of the gun and felt a burning pain on his left shoulder. Neal struggled to keep his balance but after he found his footing, the hit only made him run faster. He didn't hear the gun go off anymore, but couldn't be sure. He just ran.
"Fuck! That fucking mutt got me!" Martin fumed at Ryan, who had heard the racket and emerged from the barn.
"You were supposed to kill him?"
"Yeah, but the asshole jumped me and ran away. I got a shot in though, don't know where. He ran to the woods." Martin sulked.
"Well, if you got a shot in, he'll bleed out soon enough. Make up a story for the boss and let the forest animals do the rest." Ryan consoled and went back to the barn. It was not like a pathetic snitch could do them much damage, especially if he was injured. Ryan had seen Martin drag him through the barn and the man had already been in poor condition after the treatment from Rick. Martin spat to the ground and made his way back to the cellar, already spinning a story in his head.
The agents winced at the sound of a gunshot. Peter closed his eyes and prayed Neal had somehow magically gotten away. He heard Diana stifle a little whimper and felt Jones and Hughes tense since he was wedged between them. Rick picked up the hat that had fallen off Neal's head when the man had attacked the consultant and set it on his own head. Peter felt like ripping the hat from the man and figuring out a way to beat him senseless with the accessory.
"Ah, as I heard, he had impeccable taste. Guess he won't need this now. Or maybe I should put it on him if I decide to mount him. Those eyes are incredibly blue…" Rick mused, caressing the hat on his head. Peter's stomach roiled and he felt bile rise up his throat. A quick glance around and he realized he wasn't the only one about to meet his breakfast again. Before he could keep the contents of his stomach down long enough to answer, they heard footsteps. Martin returned and was carrying nothing. A small relief washed over Peter until he remembered the gunshot.
"Is it done? I thought I requested for the head?!" Rick questioned his hired muscle.
"Sorry boss. It is done but the rat tried to run away at the last minute. He threw off my aim and… let's just say there wasn't much of a face left for you. So I tossed him into the forest. The animals will take care of the rest." Martin's words didn't do any good for Peter's nausea. He closed his eyes and fought tears.
Neal was gone. It felt impossible. All Peter wanted to do now was hug the young con, despite not being a hugging kind of guy if the recipient of said hug wasn't his wife. He should've listened to Neal from the get go. He should have put the anklet back on after Neal's morning meeting with a mark from another case instead of deciding to deal with it once he got back to the office. He should've told Neal how sorry he was. That he would forgive him. That he missed his best friend.
He should have done as El had told him and invited Neal over for dinner.
Elizabeth had forgiven Neal the second she heard the young man had put his own life on the line for the sake of her rescue. Peter hadn't been able to and now he regretted that bitterly. He had let this go way too far. He should have intervened a long time ago, when he heard the first rumors, when he started to notice how Neal looked day in and day out. Peter knew Neal had blamed himself for what happened to Elizabeth more than everyone combined, but still he had foolishly held on to his own anger, letting it feed the people around him. And now it was all too late.
El didn't even know. She didn't know why Neal had suddenly become so busy he could never make it to the dinner. She didn't know the young man was on house arrest or that everyone at the office was treating Neal like something disgusting the cat dragged in a week ago. In fact Peter had kept very quiet about the happenings at the office, hoping that El, who had been busy with her own job, wouldn't notice anything strange.
A tear fell from Peter's eye and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't believe he'd never see Neal strut to his office, play with his rubber ball or grin at him with mischief dancing in his blue eyes. He'd never hear him complain about his dress choices or his deviled ham sandwiches. No more stake outs in the van. No, his friend, a part of his family had been tossed to the forest for the animals to rip apart and the thought filled him with anger and sadness.
He had missed Neal since day one of their non-communication four months ago. And he'd never get that time back.
"You did what? I really shouldn't send idiots to do my errands now should I?" Rick screamed and rammed the butt of his pistol to Martins head, sending the other man to the floor with a yelp "I gave you very straightforward instructions and you failed. This is your punishment. Now go and try to be useful in packing the cargo will you?!" the man growled and Martin couldn't get away faster.
" Well, now that that is dealt with, if you'll excuse me dear agents, I'll have to make some preparations for my business, but not to worry, we will get to have our fun later…" the psycho grinned at his prisoners and gestured to the chilling box Martin had brought in earlier. With that he tipped Neal's hat and walked off, slamming the door behind him.
At first no one dared to speak. Then Jones broke the silence.
"Do you think Caff- Neal is really…?" the normally confident man's voice was hoarse.
"You heard the gunshot. We have no reason to think anything else. You saw how out of it he was when they took him outside. Neal is not a violent person; we have no records of him getting that violently attacked, ever. He was pretty hurt. I don't think he could clear his head that quickly…" Peter didn't recognize his own voice as he rambled on.
"Oh, Neal…" Diana's voice was broken. The new agents along with the Whites were quiet, hanging their heads.
"He deserved better. But right now we can do right by him by getting the hell out of here. Berrigan, start working on these cuffs. The second you get someone free, move to the next person. Anyone free will go to that box and get a weapon. We're not going out this easy, when we have been provided with a way out." Hughes assumed control of the situation, though the thickness of his voice fooled no one. Diana stood up and started to work on Hughes' cuffs.
Neal ran until he tripped on something and went flying to the forest floor. He panted and listened. After a while he slowly moved to a seated position and looked back the way he came. Nobody seemed to be following him. Sighing in relief he slumped against a tree. Now that he stopped running, the pain seemed to hit him all at once.
Taking a deep breath, he felt around his left shoulder to take inventory of the wound. As much as he could tell, it was a through and through. There was a lot of blood but the wound would probably not kill him if he could find a way to stop or at least slow the bleeding down. He was a bit worried about the pain in his lower abdomen, but decided to push that back now. He had gotten away.
Now he had to figure out a way to contact someone and get some help. A nasty voice in the back of his head told him to just get away. None of the agents trapped in the cellar had been too nice to him during the past months. But he managed to silence the voice almost immediately. The agents were still his friends, or had been at least. he owed Peter so much and no matter how he had treated Neal, the younger man would never do this to the agent. Also, the Whites were innocent in every way. He could never just leave them all to Rick's mercy, since he knew the man didn't have that word in his dictionary. He would also never do that to Elizabeth. Not after all the pain he had already caused.
But he was in no shape to try to help the others without contacting someone. Neal racked his brain as he removed his jacket and tied it around his shoulder as well as he could. He'd need a phone. But it was too risky to try to lift one in his current state. Entering the house was also out of the question. He wouldn't be able to call for help if he got killed by the morons on Rick's payroll.
Then realization hit. The stable. There should be a phone there. There should also be a first aid kit, which he desperately needed. Grunting, Neal pushed himself up, grabbed a reasonably thick fallen branch off the ground and used it for support as he started to walk back towards the farm. He would walk until he saw the house and then circle around to enter the stables hopefully unnoticed. He was pretty sure there were no guards there; at least he hadn't seen any proof of activity around the building. He had to try, since the stable was his best shot. Ignoring the pain he picked up pace, feeling the adrenaline return. He had to save Peter and having a plan to do so gave him new strength to press on.
