Peter.
When Neal was guided into the van, his dazed mind at first didn't register what was happening. He could only focus on his friend, the man who captured him years before, sent him to prison for the crimes he committed, and then let him out so they could work together and create a strong friendship.
Neal knew, more than anything, that Peter worked hard on him. Neal couldn't have given up his old life for just anything, and if Peter hadn't stepped in Neal knew he would have been right back to his life of crime.
So when the white van opened its doors, and Neal was pushed inside, all he could do was lie down and rest his hot forehead against the cool metal floor. Somebody was leaning over him, and he ignored them until they lifted him up.
Somebody was speaking. For a second, he couldn't understand their mumbled English, but he soon realized they were speaking in Italian. "Will he be all right?"
"Lay him on his back, and stop the car as soon as possible. We need to stop the bleeding." A feminine voice spoke in his ear and he muffled a groan with his arm. "Hold him down, I don't want him moving more than we can help it."
When his arm was pulled away from him, and then pressed against his chest, he opened his eyes and focused on the speakers. "Annabelle...Anthony?"
"Hey Buddy." Anthony smiled and wiped something off Neal's face. "How are you feeling?"
"Like crap." Neal answered honestly. "Where's Peter?"
"I'm sorry, Jean Paul." Anthony lost his smile and stroked Neal's hair once. "I'm not sure, we didn't get the chance to see. But I'm sure they'll take care of him."
"I need to see him. I should be with him." Neal muttered, and he turned to Annabelle. She was working on his shoulder quickly and didn't pay any particular attention to him. "What's going on?"
Nobody answered, and Neal's senses slowly came back to him. He looked around the gutted van and noticed Rolando sitting on the far side, watching him. Neal tried to sit up, and Anthony pushed him back down gently.
"Let me go. I need to go." Neal whimpered when he tried to move again, but Anthony's knee was now pressed into his stomach, effectively pinning Neal to the floor.
"You're injured. We need to take care of you, just hold still and it won't hurt as much." Anthony said, trying to be kind.
"Lift him up, I want to take care of his back." Annabelle spoke gently and Anthony lifted Neal from behind. "The exit wound is a little larger, but it passed through muscle. It should heal in a few weeks, tops."
Feeling helpless, Neal weakly tried to move away from the prodding hands. They cut away his bloodied shirt and wiped away most of the blood. Every time Neal closed his eyes, either Annabelle or Anthony would wake him up. "Stay awake, Jean Paul," they would say over and over again.
At one point Annabelle made him drink some water. Neal struggled on it, and Annabelle commented that they would most likely need an I.V. until he could hydrate on his own. Only then, Neal desperately drank the rest of the water.
He finally fell asleep when Annabelle said the rudimentary bindings were complete. Rolando got up and moved toward his three children. He looked at Neal's face, tense in sleep, and said, "when he wakes up, we'll tell him Peter Burke is dead. Its time Jean Paul starts learning who's important, and who isn't."
….....
Peter woke up with a pounding headache in the ambulance. His chest was tight and he pulled back his shirt to see a deep, black bruise blossoming.
"You're lucky you were wearing a vest, Agent." A voice spoke near him. "Some officers neglect these most basic safety measures, and its always hard seeing the results."
"What happened?" Peter spoke softly, trying not to aggravate his headache.
"We're not really sure. You have a lot of blood on you, but almost none of it is yours. The man who died looks like he was too far away, but I know the police are looking in to it." The man answered, truthfully. He had blonde hair and a slight beard growing in.
Peter's mind slowly processed this. "I took the one shot?"
"Another bullet grazed your temple, which is what knocked you out. You were very lucky, any closer and it would have flat out killed you." The blonde man kept answering.
The other guy elbowed him. "Did you miss the class on talking to the victims? We're not in charge of that, so shut up."
Peter remembered going to the house....with Neal "Where's Neal? Is he all right?"
The two men looked at each other carefully, before turning back to Peter. "Are you referring to the other man? Or is there a third?"
Peter groaned, "There were three of us, why? Where's Neal?"
The blonde man carefully looked at Peter. "We found a lot of extra blood on you that couldn't have been yours. And it wasn't the dead guy's blood either, so it looks like your friend wandered off."
Fully awake now, Peter remembered everything until he got shot. "They shot him before they got me. He's been shot. I need your phone, right now."
Unwilling to argue, the blonde paramedic handed his phone to Peter and Peter called Hughes.
…...
When Neal woke up he was in a brightly lit room. For a few minutes, he had to keep his eyes closed from the light, but when he finally adjusted he was grateful for being able to see. He was in a tan room with a ceiling fan. It was a small room, and his twin sized bed seemed to extend across the length of it, but at least it didn't seem like the cell block at the super-max.
Anthony sat by his bed, his eyes closed and his head leaning back. Neal couldn't tell if he was napping or just resting his eyes. Not really caring, Neal looked down at himself. His shoulder and arm was bound tightly to his side by several white strips of cloth. His arm crossed his stomach and the cloth bandages were tight and clean. When he tried to move, he realized they had completely immobilized his left shoulder and arm.
He tried to sit up and a wave of nausea swept over him. Leaning back into the soft bed, he couldn't hide a small whimper.
Anthony stirred, and noticed Neal was awake. "Jean Paul!" He said enthusiastically, but then his enthusiasm turned to concern when Neal didn't turn to look at him. "Are you all right?"
Neal swallowed and risked opening his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Where am I?"
"We're in Father's home. We're in a 'secret' room, so we don't have to worry about any unwanted visitors."
Neal glanced around, trying to remember everything that had happened. "He finally replied, "I don't remember this room."
"You wouldn't. Father moved a couple of years ago; in fact, we're not even in New York." Anthony reached down and grabbed a cup of water. He placed a hand behind Neal's back and slowly lraised him into a sitting position. "Annabelle wants you to drink lots of water. She doesn't want to do an I.V. unless we have to. We're trying to keep this as natural as possible."
Terribly thirsty for water, Neal drank the little Anthony provided and asked for more. Anthony handed over some pills, and Neal swallowed them to get the second cup. When he finished, Anthony helped him lay back down where he closed his eyes, feeling tired and used up.
"What were those drugs?" Neal finally asked. If they chose to poison him, he didn't really care anymore.
"Just some painkillers. Annabelle doesn't want you on anything stronger unless she's around." Anthony replied.
The dizziness came back and without the stinging pain Neal felt himself slide into darkness once again.
…..
"Where is he." Peter pounded on the table in front of Rolando, trying to scare him into giving an answer.
"I've told you many times already, I don't know." Rolando intertwined his fingers and leaned back with his frustrating, superior air. "I'd like to know as much as you do. If my son's been kidnapped, I believe I have the right to worry more than you do."
Peter's hands were shaking, they'd been at this for a while now and all he got from Rolando Rinolli was that he hadn't seen "Jean Paul" since they all met at Anthony Rinolli's house. Rolando admitted to seeing Neal the night before at their dinner party, but nothing had happened so Peter couldn't do a thing about it.
"Where's Anthony Rinolli?" Peter finally asked. They had seen Rolando and Annabelle, but they hadn't seen Anthony because "he was on a trip."
"My other son is at my residence in Canada. I asked him to take care of my plants, they need watering every couple of days." Rolando looked at the time. "I believe the FBI's free hour of questioning is up. I've been cooperative, and now I'll ask you to show me a warrant."
Rolando stood up and walked to the door. "Agent Burke, I expect to see my daughter in five minutes. If you wish to speak to Anthony, I'll send him back to New York tonight, but after that I want you to leave my family alone."
A few minutes after Rolando left, Hughes walked in. "I'm sorry that didn't go as well as we liked. The judge is signing a warrant on Anthony Rinolli's home, but if he's actually in Canada, we have problems."
"Have you contacted the Canadians? If that's where Anthony Rinolli is, that's also where Neal Caffrey will be. I don't think they'll leave him alone; at least, I hope they won't." Peter sighed and rubbed his forehead, careful to avoid his injured temple.
"We've contacted them, and they're being very cooperative, but there's only so much they can do, Peter." Hughes replied. Together, they walked out of the interrogation room. "All we know is that somebody took Neal away from the scene of a crime, because I heard that over the phone. That's not much to go off of, since there were no signs of a struggle and he sounded willing to leave over the phone."
"That's a product of being shot." Peter growled. "He wasn't thinking clearly, and now we don't know how bad his injury is. We can't even help him."
Hughes shook his head sadly, it had been a long couple of days, and it didn't seem to be getting better. "I know. You know what's frustrating? They're almost admitting to having him. I offered to have the paintings sent over, and Rolando said they 'didn't need them anymore.'"
"I thought hints count as evidence?" Peter remarked, hope lighting is face.
"That's what Jones told Rolando. But Rolando said they didn't need the paintings anymore because they found the connection between Neal and Jean Paul already, and they don't believe the paintings will help anymore." Hughes rolled his eyes. "I think we'll get the Canadian warrant pretty soon. Meanwhile, let's follow the Rinolli's as far as we can."
…..
Neal woke up to some noise. The door to his room was opening, and Anthony sat up a little straighter. When Rolando and Annabelle walked in, Anthony sighed in relief. "Father, how did it go?"
"Fine. That Agent Jones is a real messed up guy, though. He's the worst interrogator I've met." Rolando smiled at Annabelle, and she grimaced. "I expect that's who you'll have as well, Anthony."
"They want me to come in?" Anthony asked, already knowing the answer and counting on it.
"That's right. I can see a 'political scandal conspiracy' coming up, that's what I'm going to make this all about. When they realize I'll alert the public to their harassment, they should back off." Rolando replied, before turning back to Neal. "Good afternoon, Jean Paul. I hope you're doing well."
Annabelle moved forward and began checking Neal's bandages. Without taking off the bindings around his arm, she pulled back the bandage covering the wound and inspected it professionally. Neal tried to ignore the prodding, and looked at Rolando, "Did they say anything about Peter Burke?"
Neal tried to ask casually, but the fear in his voice betrayed him. Rolando looked back at Annabelle and Anthony, who both looked away from Neal. "Jean Paul. He died, I'm sorry for your loss."
Neal felt like he was being choked, He turned his face away from Annabelle and tried to hold back the tears that burned his eyes. The tight room seemed to stifle him, and he could barely hear Annabelle talking to Rolando.
"He's got a mild infection." She said. "Its the one thing I was afraid of. The wound itself isn't dangerous, but without the proper equipment I can't do anything more. It'll look suspicious if I take anything from the hospital."
"You'll take a few days off work, tell them you're searching for your missing brother. Don't take any supplies if its suspicious, but do what you can." Neal heard the door open. "Call me if you need anything, I want to be on the alert."
After Rolando left, Neal felt himself being handled by Anthony and Annabelle as they cleaned the wound. The room still stifled him, and he let out a small gasp every time he thought of his dead partner. He wanted to be there for Elizabeth, since god only knew how she must be taking this, and he wanted to be there for the rest of the FBI.
But he also wanted to mourn for himself. When Kate died, Peter was there for him. He was always an anchor, holding Neal to the real world when all Neal wanted to do was run away from it. Peter stood by Neal when Neal first entered the FBI headquarters, broken from Kate's death, and nearly became a workaholic.
"Let me be alone with him for a few minutes." Neal heard Anthony say, and he heard Annabelle leave the room again. "Hey, baby brother, don't be sad."
Neal felt himself being lifted into his brother's arms and he grasped Anthony's sleeve in his good hand. He needed somebody, anybody, right now and he didn't care who it was. Anthony held him while he sobbed into his shoulder. He murmured, "it'll be okay, Jean Paul, it'll be okay. It just takes time."
The hole in Neal's heart wasn't agreeing, but Neal's brain told him it was true. Given time, Peter would slowly turn into a painful memory. And over more time, the memory would become a happy one.
…....
"The Canadians are signing off on a warrant." Hughes announced. "Rolando Rinolli is an American citizen and they agree that if the crime took place on American soil, they'll use our standards for bringing in the criminals. Their only request is that they get to try the Rinollis in their country first if they discover something in the search."
White Collar division sat with the Kidnapping and Missing Persons Division in the conference room. Kimberly Rice was seated quietly in the back, because every time she tried to comment on Neal Caffrey, Peter snapped at her. It wasn't that she was being rude, or saying anything untrue, but Peter didn't want to hear anything from her.
Peter looked up at Hughes, "Are they willing to let us go on the search through the house?"
"No. Of course not, Agent Burke, you know that." Hughes had sent a request in, anyways, but it wasn't procedure and they all knew it.
"They won't be able to find him." Peter scowled.
"He's not the one running this time, Agent Burke, and so they have as good of a shot at finding him as you are. Their law enforcement is not inept at what they do." Hughes commented. Peter had a strange notion that if he couldn't find Neal Caffrey, nobody could. Whether or not Neal was actually running.
"What are they doing here?" Peter motioned to Kimberly rice and her colleagues.
"This is their area, Burke, and you need to respect that." Hughes raised his eyebrows at Peter, warning him to back down.
The last couple of days didn't go well and tempers were high; except for the news on the warrant they only heard rumors of Neal's disappearance. Anthony Rinolli's interrogation went nowhere, and he had left remarking on how Jean Paul may have believed Peter was dead, and just 'ran away' because of it.
When Peter realized Neal might actually believe he was dead, he shuddered. He remembered how Neal became after Kate's death, and he hoped 'his own death' wouldn't have the same effect.
…...
The next day, Anthony relieved Annabelle from her place by Neal's side and said simply, "They're coming, we need to keep him quiet."
"I need to work on the infection, Anthony. And we can't make him sleep, not if we can't monitor him." Annabelle replied, her education making her stubborn.
"Hopefully it won't be long, then. I'm going to keep him quiet, you stay with Father." Annabelle gave Anthony some instructions and then left, leaving Anthony with Neal.
"How are you doing?" Anthony asked casually. "Annabelle says you're fighting the infection pretty well, but you have a fever."
Neal ignore the inquiry. "What's going on?"
"The house is going to be searched. We shouldn't have to worry about them finding you, this room is too small and too hidden for them to look around here."
Neal knew that was true, because he had seen the other side of the door several times already, on bathroom breaks. The room was situated just so that the walls looked a little thicker, but not thick enough to have a hidden room. There was no real door on the other side, either. It was up against the corner of the dining room, with a table pressed against it. When the table rotated, the door opened. It was the oddest arrangement Neal had ever seen, but it worked wonders on hiding the room.
They talked for a few minutes about politics, it seemed Anthony planned to run for senate in the next election. He had been serving as an ambassador in China for the last several years, and now he was trying his hand in the political setting.
About half way through the conversation, Anthony heard his phone beep and he looked at it for a few seconds. He turned to Neal, "I'm sorry about this Jean Paul, but we got to make sure you stay quiet."
Anthony pulled Neal to him and Neal started fighting hard. His good arm was pinned across his stomach and a hand covered his mouth. When he tried to kick out, he felt his body forced off the be and to the ground, Anthony's heavy body pinning him completely.
When Neal heard the police searching nearby, he could do nothing but wait and pray. They were close enough Neal could hear their voices but he couldn't do a thing. Tears of frustration burned his eyes as the minutes ticked past, and their voices faded.
It was a very long hour.
….
A/N: Don't worry, this doesn't get dragged out for too long. Hope you all enjoyed it enough to review! Thanks for your support and advice.
