(Chapter 9)
Neal was only vaguely aware of the sounds around him, eyes opening. He managed to sit up against the wall, his vision blurring in and out of focus on his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, almost dark. He could just make out a door at the far corner, the muffled sound of voices on the other side. He managed to push himself to his feet and stumble towards the door, leaning against it heavily as he caught his breath.
He had to get out of here before Peter came for him. He felt around in his pockets but they had taken his phone. Neal cursed his weakness, his arm itchy where they had injected him the last time. He scratched at it as if he could tear the vile liquid from his arm that way but stopped when he started to see his skin bleed.
Peter... Don't find me. Please...
Neal finally slid down to the floor and slumped against the door, his breath coming hard. He needed to figure a way out of here and warn Peter but his body wasn't obeying him. He scratched at the injection spot again, his skin tearing beneath his nails. Neal could almost hear the voices now, pressing his head heavily against the wooden panel.
"I think every thing's ready. We let nature take its course and when the Feds arrive, we're long gone from here. Hurry up and finish! This needs to look good." Friscinetti's voice spoke clearly from the other side, Neal feeling a kind of impotent rage at the man he couldn't put in words. He felt one hand clench ever so slightly.
()()()
Peter woke up to his worse nightmare. He immediately began to struggle but his arms were bound behind him around the cot he was tied to. It was bolted to the floor as he felt straps pulled around him to hold him even more securely. He heard a soft scraping noise turning to see a large water cooler looking vat moved closer to the cot. His brow was suddenly covered in sweat as he knew was was about to happen, pulling harder on the straps but unable to do anything but watch as he saw the two goons from before attach the tubing yet again. Friscinetti stood within eye sight chuckling.
"What would you do Agent Burke to NOT go through this again? Would you kill someone? Would you let another person die in your place?" The mobster moved a bit closer, crouching at his side.
"Would you drown yourself in pills so you won't hurt the ones you love?" The man seemed to know everything about Peter, the agent gazing up at Friscinetti with a curious glance. The mobster just smiled back mirthlessly as he made a motion and the men held Peter down and pushed the tubing into his nostrils. He tried to fight them but the tubing just pressed further down his sinuses till they stopped just short of his throat.
"Drowning... always been a fascination of mine. The ocean, the sea... water taking back what it gave birth to. Men are said to come from the primordial muck that is now our oceans. Consider this your ticket back home, Agent Burke." The mobster continued to smile coldly. Peter struggled to breath, his mouth full of rags and taped shut. He swallowed hard, the tubing making it hard to draw air but he managed for the moment.
"If your friend has any sense, he'll come out here and save you but I think your little CONsultant is thinking of himself right now. It's interesting how selfish men are when lost in our own pain. You're both so very helpless to yourselves and any others. Enjoy what time you have left." Friscinetti patted Peter on the shoulder, standing up with a wave of his hand as the other men left but not before one had turned the water on. It flowed slowly down the tube towards Peter, the feeling of air being pushed through as the water descended apparent in his sinuses as his eyes watered from the pressure. He shifted slightly at the discomfort, the straps holding him tight.
He wondered if Diana and Jones would find him in time. They were headed this way but he wasn't in the same place. Before he had been on the 3rd floor but now he was in the basement. He saw the stairs off to the side just out of the corner of his eye. There was a door opposite them where he had heard sounds but wasn't sure from who or what. He had closed his eyes tight against the pressure in his head when he heard it. Peter opened his eyes and glanced towards his jacket pocket. He felt the buzzing of his phone and heard it through the rush of blood in his head. Someone was calling him but he couldn't reach for it.
Peter continued to stare, his vision hazing over some as he stared nearly cross-eyed as the water filled the tubing and he felt the cool liquid start to draw nearer. He choked as the water filled his sinuses and flowed down the back of his throat. His body shuddered as he tried not to breath it in but could only let it flow where it would. His eyes shut in pain, his struggles becoming more apparent as the water flowed freely.
Someone touched his right hand but he was too far gone as the water filled his mouth and he choked unable to spit it out. They reached into his pocket and took the phone as he felt the vibration stop and he felt his lungs give in as water filled them and he passed out.
()()()
Neal listened to the conversation on the other side of the door, a part of him wanting to help but he was too far gone to do so. He kept scratching at his arm, his nails bloody now. Neal looked down with nothing more than a blank stare at the wound he had made. Normally something like this would horrify him but the drugs had made him complacent. He wanted the stuff out of him but it was there and he was only able to hurt himself, the pain actually starting to wake him from the worse of the effects.
Cowboy up, Neal!
Neal jerked his head up and looked around.
We all have to do things we dislike. Deal with it!
He heard the voice clearly in his head as he glanced up at the knob and used it to slowly pull himself upright. The other side of the door was quiet now as he leaned against the wall by the door and turned the knob. The door squeaked open a bit more noisily than he liked, the sound making him wince but not so much as the brightness of the room next door. He covered his eyes and took a moment to adjust as he stumbled into the room.
The room was slightly bigger than the one he had been in, empty of all but an old water heater, wooden stairs leading up and out, a large water cooler or vat of water and a figure on a cot. His eyes locked onto the figure and cot as he moved slowly forward. There was a buzzing sound like a bee and he reached towards the figure and pulled something out of their pocket. It was a cell phone, the buzzing coming from it as he pushed it to his ear and listened.
"Peter? It's Diana... where are you? Peter? (he's not answering!)" Neal kept listening as the voices kept on and he heard the words "tracing." He was too tired to speak, leaving the phone connected as he dropped it into his pocket and crouched down beside the figure on the cot.
The figure had stopped moving, their face ashen, cheeks slightly flushed. Neal looked at them closer as if trying to figure something out. His eyes followed the tubing from their face back to the water cooler looking device which bubbled as water continued to flow out of the vat and into the figure. He reached down and pulled the tubing from the person's nose, water dripping out steadily as he dropped it to the floor. He noticed the tape over their lips and carefully removed it along with several rags he found in their mouth. Liquid dribbled from their nose and mouth, something he knew was wrong but his mind still wasn't working right.
Neal's eyes continued to study the figure a moment, his hands deftly removing the straps and cuffs holding them in place. They remained unmoving, eyes shut tight but he finished freeing them before he felt their neck and blinked. There was a pulse there if only a weak one. Slowly he pushed his lips to the figure's and started to blow air into their lungs. The figure didn't move but he kept on, his mind working on auto pilot as he continued to push air into their mouth. Finally he felt a slight resistance and a sputter as water flowed out and up. He moved back and watched as their body sat up a bit, rolling off the cot to the floor as they coughed up more water and finally collapsed there in a heap. He felt a ghost of a smile form on his lips as he moved closer to them. They were breathing, a wheezing sound coming from them but they were alive. His hand reached over and gently mussed the man's hair as he collapsed near by and closed his own eyes.
()()()
Diana heard breathing on the other side of the phone but nobody was speaking. She turned to Jones as they prepared to enter the apparently abandoned building. They had a small SWAT squad with them just in case of resistance. They pushed the doors open and rushed in swarming the first floor and moving up around the many levels but finding nothing.
"Mozz and Peter were sure Caffrey was here. They couldn't have been mistaken. This just seems too convenient. Try calling Peter's phone again. Did we get a trace?" Jones asked as he spoke into his head piece, Diana had come back to where he was near the entrance. The rest of the crew swarmed still looking through the few areas of the apparently empty building. They heard the dialing sound on and then soft answering ring. Both agents perked up and listened.
"Everyone quiet a moment! Listen!" Diana called out and they were quiet enough that the far off ring tone was just obvious and below them. The two agents made a motion and started to follow the sound till they found a hidden door. Jones pulled it open jumping back but nothing happened. SWAT went down ahead as they followed and someone called up they had found them.
"Them? I thought Neal was the only one here. Oh my God... Peter! Someone call paramedics down here STAT!" Diana and Jones ran to their boss and Neal's aid, the two figures laying deathly still on the stone floor of the basement. Jones managed to get a low groan out of Peter but Neal remained quiet, his skin cool to the touch as Diana checked him. She saw the nasty wound on his left arm where he had been scratching at the injection site. It looked infected.
"Dammit... Where are those paramedics?" She turned looking around as she took off her jacket and pushed it under Neal's head and Jones did the same with Peter. Both men were in pretty bad shape. Soon the medics had rushed down the stairs with two stretchers, Diana and Jones moving aside to let them check the two men.
It didn't take long before Peter and Neal were upstairs and being pushed into an ambulance. Peter was put on an IV drip while Neal had a respirator over his face, his lips looking a little darker than normal. Diana rode with them while Jones stayed behind to keep her up to date. She watched the paramedics working on both, Neal apparently the worse of the two, his heart stopping at some point but they got it back up. She worried about the younger man knowing that if something happened to him Peter would blame himself. Diana was still worried that Friscinetti would try something again. He had managed to get around their defenses once too many times and Hughes was arranging for some private quarters in a clinic safe house just outside of town. She was thinking about it when her cell rang.
"Barrigan. Yes sir... we're headed for the hospital now. Caffrey is in bad condition but Peter seems to be holding up pretty good. Yes..." She nodded a few times then spoke once more.
"Not a problem. I'll call you from the waiting room once we're there." She hung up the cell, the paramedics looking at her curiously while they continued to monitor both of her colleagues' conditions. Neal looked ashen while Peter's color had seemed to improve. She just hoped they were in time to get Dr. Jacobs antidote to Neal. There had only been a small window to put the serum in that would help reverse the worse of the drug's effects. Neal would still have withdrawals but they should be less severe than they had been the first time around.
She sighed as the ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. Her cell rang once more, a glance from the medics telling her to make it short. She nodded and picked up.
"Barrigan... Elizabeth? We're heading for St. Mary's. You can meet us there. I'll be in the waiting room once they're out. I'm sorry." She felt her eyes water as she talked to Peter's wife, a sense of relief and grief overcoming her. How would she feel to know Christie had been hurt? She sighed sadly and after a moment hung up as they finished. The ambulance was slowing. Now came the hard part.
()()()
Peter woke up two days later, his color had returned to normal by then and he sounded a bit congested from his experience but was otherwise ok. Dr. Jacobs said he was doing well considering. Dr. Erickson visited once Peter was alert enough to answer questions. Neal had yet to wake up, his body responding to the antidote but still going through withdrawals. They hadn't needed to strap him down this time around, Dr. Jacobs keeping him in a medicine induced coma to keep him from hurting himself. He was unconscious and slowly healing they hoped, El and June visiting him as much as possible.
El sat by Peter's bedside, three more days having passed. They had moved him to a private clinic along with Neal. Dr. Erickson and Jacobs were there to monitor them, agents guarding the safe house. El stayed in one of the spare rooms feeling a bit cooped up but not complaining so long as she was able to visit with her husband. They were all under FBI watch in case Friscinetti tried anything. They weren't taking any chances this time around, Hughes in touch with Diana, Jones and Peter. They were still looking for the mobster but had no idea where he was hiding the Cordoba Cardio Complex catching fire mysteriously along with the abandoned tenement they had found Peter and Neal at. Any evidence that could have been found was gone and it was suspected arson under the circumstance.
Peter sighed, holding his wife's hand and looking worried. She was patting his shoulder with her free hand, moving closer to kiss him.
"It's ok, Peter. They're sending two agents with me. I'll be safe. I have to take care of this client and then I'll be back. Just an hour at best." She turned after a moment, walked over to the small fridge in the room and opened it coming back.
"I made your favorite. You can eat them for lunch." She handed the bag to him and he smiled as he opened it up and a whiff of devilled ham wafted out. He looked at her and hugged his wife tightly.
"Just call me. I have my phone and you have yours. Ok?" He kissed her again and she nodded with a smile.
"Of course. Now rest. Doctor says you're more than capable of going home but I want you to rest. When I get back we can visit with Neal. June's going to drop some stuff off with me for Neal after the client meeting. Be good, Peter." She kissed him again and left the room with a little wave. Peter sighed once she was out of sight, unfolding and refolding the bag over and over till he finally stopped and put it aside. He really wasn't hungry anymore. He was worried about his wife and he wanted to go see Neal. He wasn't hooked up to any IVs or anything else for the last day or two since Dr. Jacobs had given him a clean bill of health.
Peter rolled out of bed and paced the room in his socks. The floor felt cool through his white socks, the air a bit chilly but he didn't really notice as he continued to pace and think. He felt clearer than he had in a while. They no longer had him on the prescription, Dr. Jacobs thinking it had been too much medicine for his condition and now he felt better. He was feeling less anxious on the new meds which he only took once a day now. Dr. Erickson seemed happy enough too, their last session going quite well.
After a few minutes of pacing, Peter pulled his robe around him and slipped on some loafers El had bought him for his stay. They were comfortable and soft but more indoor than outdoor shoes, just perfect for their stay. He opened the door and glanced outside the guard peering up at him.
"I need to go talk to Dr. Erickson, I'll be right back." He watched the agent nod at him and go back to reading the paper. The place was enclosed so he didn't have to worry about the agent needing to follow him around the place, it was remote enough nobody was going to break in. He padded down the hall in his robe and slippers feeling a bit silly but it was technically a clinic and so he had to be in his sleep pants and shirt while he was inside. Peter was annoyed by the requirement but glad he was finally safe enough to heal and rest, Neal not too far down the hall he could visit.
Peter stopped by the office but the door was locked and nobody answered. Maybe the doctor stepped out? He shrugged turning to head back when he thought maybe he'd just go see Neal. The younger man had been unconscious since their arrival and they had kept him in a drug induced coma to ensure he would heal with little interruption. The agent padded down the hall quietly as he stopped before a certain door and quietly opened it. He paused as the door shut behind him with a quiet click, his eyes a bit watery as he wiped at them. Peter made his way towards the figure laying still on the bed, a respirator firmly planted over their face as machines hissed and beeped quietly around their sleeping form.
"Neal?" Peter sat down at the chair by the bed and took Neal's left hand in his, the young man's hand looking small and fragile in comparison to his own. He sighed and held the thin artistic fingers in his own larger hand, Neal's skin cooler to the touch. Peter tried to think what to say, his mind drawing a blank. The younger man had saved him twice and spared his wife from Friscinetti despite his own demons. Neither of them deserved this especially Neal. Hughes mentioned the higher ups discussing the kidnapping of Elizabeth as a possible breaking of Caffrey's parole with Burke but considering the circumstances, they had to understand he had been coerced by outside forces. Peter cursed to himself, running a hand through his hair and standing up. He mussed the young man's hair gently before he walked over to the small bathroom and closed the door.
Peter washed his face and smoothed back his own hair looking at his tired face in the mirror. He barely recognized himself. He wasn't sickly looking but he had a few bags under his eyes from the past month or so. The experience was something he hoped to never repeat again once they were done with everything, Neal healed up and Friscinetti behind bars for a long time. He splashed a bit more water on his face, turning off the faucet and drying his face when he heard voices.
"What do you mean he's not in his room? Find him and when you do, bring him here! This one should be easier to corral. He's already unconscious. Help me unhook all these wires and monitors. We'll hook them up to the unconscious agent here and nobody will be the wiser till they come check in person. Hurry up!"
Peter held his breath unsure what to do as he heard what was happening just outside. It sounded like the same men who had taken them the previously times. He had to be imagining it but his ears weren't lying to him he realized when he heard them continue to talk outside. He wondered how they had gotten into the complex when he saw the door knob start to turn. Dammit!
()()()
"For a government run facility, these bathrooms are pretty fancy. I'd like to stay here for a bit if I were sick." Friscinetti's henchman walked into the bathroom and looked around the roomy bathroom, looking at the sink curiously and the closed shower curtain before leaving.
"You were just being paranoid. No body's hiding in the bathroom. You really need to stop watching those late night horror movies already. I'm sick of hearing you pace at night." Friscinetti's man was still talking to the other before their voices grew quiet and the sound of the outer room door closing was evident.
A few minutes passed and Peter peered out from behind the closed curtain and stepped from the shower. He looked both relieved and slightly panicked all at once. He reached into his robe pocket and saw his phone wasn't there. He had left it back in the room when he left. He cursed looking around the room but seeing nothing but a phone that he knew only took inside calls between the clinic staff and rooms. He needed a cell or outside line and would have to leave the room to get one. Peter reached for the phone and paged the one number he thought might be safe. The line rang for a few before someone finally picked up.
"Front office... who is this?" Peter was about to say something when he realized it was one of the men who had just left. He held his breath and left the phone off the hook as he went back to the bathroom and opened up the adjoining door to the next room. He locked the bathroom door on the inside, jamming the lock before he exited the other end and slipped through as many rooms that way till he made it back to his own.
Peter found his phone and quickly changed into some normal street clothes El had brought for when he was finally released. He kept the soft soled slippers to keep his steps quiet as he slipped back out into the hallway. He hadn't seen the outside since he'd come in through a side door, finding the agent from before slumped at his chair drugged unconscious. There was a bruise on his neck where he'd been stuck. Peter sighed, borrowed the man's holster and sidearm and hurried down the hallway to Dr. Erickson's office. The door was now slightly ajar, the agent pushing it open quietly and seeing a figure laying on the floor.
"Hey... Dr... Jacobs?" Peter stared at the still form there on the floor curious why the physician was in this office. Peter checked for a pulse but found none, the doctor dead but still warm. It had happened recently. Peter cursed quietly, looking around the room for signs and seeing very little to tell him what happened. He was about to get up and leave when he heard footsteps hurrying towards him from the hall. Peter glanced around for a place to hide ducking under the huge oak desk off to the left.
"Stupid mobsters and their petty requests! I can't create miracles when he sends morons to work with me." It was Dr. Erickson's voice, his tone far from professional or helpful. He sounded like a totally different person.
"Kill the agent... so easy for him to say when I have a doctor calling shots for the patients too. I would have had Burke under our thumb if not for Jacobs. Dammit... so curious why the drugs I gave him were making him freak out. Mind your own damn business... but no. Have to make me kill you. Stupid physicians." The man sounded pretty pissed, his rant continuing as he moved noisily around the room but not near the desk luckily.
Peter peeked up at some point seeing the man had closed and locked his office door as he moved towards a wall and pulled a few books off the shelf. Behind it was a safe. Peter crawled out from under the desk quietly, gun pulled from the holster without a sound as he stepped up behind the man and held the gun right up to his shoulder blades.
"Give me a reason I don't shoot you right now." Peter's voice was cold and menacingly despite the hissed tone. He watched Erickson stiffen and put his hands up as he turned his head half way.
"Agent Burke... how long have you been standing there? It's a bit early for our session..." Peter poked him with the gun and the man shut up fast.
"Long enough. Where did they take my partner? I know you're working with Friscinetti." Peter was pissed, holding the gun tightly in his hands as he motioned for the shrink to turn around and face him. Erickson looked a bit put off more than scared. In fact he had a slight grin on his face which made Peter wonder if someone was behind him but he could see there wasn't by the picture on the wall that reflected the scene behind him. He smirked back.
"I know there's nobody behind me, so what else could be making you smile when a man holds a gun on you?" Peter was curious what was going on in the man's head but he was more interested in finding Neal safe. Erickson's smirk matched his and grew.
"Oh, maybe that fact that as smart as Jacobs was, he wasn't smart enough to know that I traded your meds out for something a little more potent. And your sessions. You don't remember much of it other than what I told you to recall." The man's grin turned absolutely terrifying as Peter felt a bead of sweat drip down his temple, gun still held before him.
"Now give me the gun, Peter. You know you don't want to shoot me." Erickson's voice took on a weird quality that made his head ache for a moment.
"Come on... you don't want me to tell them to kill your partner do you? Give me the gun."
The words were regular words but there was something else, the tone was just off enough he could sense his mind fading away as his hands loosened on the gun and someone took the weapon from him. He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder and he was turned around and sat down before he could recoup.
"It's ok, Peter. Everything is ok. Just let me get you more comfortable." Erickson kept talking, his tone just off enough it kept him from responding as he lay against the settee and felt his hands strapped back behind him to the legs, a rag pushed into his mouth and tape pulled over his lips.
"Now sleep... This place is going up in one big ball of fire and we can't have our evidence walking off, can we?" Erickson gently patted the agent on the head, Peter's eyes closing as he slumped back as if by some kind of hypnotic suggestion. Someone knocked softly at the door and the doctor turned, walking over and opening it up. Friscinetti's two henchmen stood there Neal between them.
"Good... bring him inside. His friend is waiting for him. Lay him... over there on that easy chair." The men did as instructed and left, Erickson smiling.
"It's a fortunate thing I was off running errands when the place caught fire. Oh wait... maybe I wasn't." He changed clothes with Doctor Jacobs quickly before leaving the room.
()()()
Neal had been trapped in darkness, his mind unable to wake up. He was only vaguely aware that people talked to him, were moving around outside of the darkness. Finally he felt someone touch his hand and hold it firmly in their own. They were quiet but he knew who it was and wanted to desperately wake up and talk to them but his body wouldn't respond.
Neal?
He heard the familiar voice speak but nothing else was said for a long time before they gently mussed at his hair and then left, their hand leaving his. He wanted to reach out and grasp their hand but again, hid body didn't follow his commands, his mind screaming in frustration.
Neal heard water running somewhere nearby then it shut off and silence again till he heard the soft click of the door opening.
Peter? Is that you?
He wondered to himself but the voices speaking weren't Peter's. They were those men again. Friscinetti's men. He felt anger and fear in one huge emotion beginning to slowly combine and form rage in his current helpless state. He wanted to be awake and help his friend. Did they have Peter? He wasn't sure as they spoke he barely heard their words as he worried about El and Peter.
They carried him around, his mind sleeping at some point after they took him away. He was tired, so very tired but he had to wake up if only to be certain his friends were safe. He finally woke up at some point and heard a door closed again. His eyes fluttered open a crack and rolled slowly to and fro as he tried to get a bearing on where he was.
Neal saw books and diplomas and snobbish dark wood shelving and furniture that made him think of stuffy profs and dusty college libraries. He tried to shift his weight and groaned looking down to see his arm that had itched was bandaged. It was no longer itchy but he had bruises forming where they had roughly removed his IVs and from the former abuse at his captors' hands. He took it all in and then turned seeing a figure across from him sprawled upon a small settee.
Peter?
He thought but he wanted to open his mouth and speak. His lips felt dry, parting ever so little.
Peter?
Still no sound but he thought the words. He could speak. Neal wanted to.
"P... ter..." His voice was raspy but he had spoken hadn't he?
"P... ter..." Neal moved a little, sliding a bit in the leather easy chair and wanting out. He got his wish when he slipped literally out of the chair on to the floor with a soft thud. Neal pushed himself up enough to crawl towards the figure.
"P... ter..." He tugged on the man's sleeve when he got close enough to lean against the seat but Peter just lay there, eyes shut, twitching a little. Neal pulled himself closer and saw that his friend was bound to the seat, carefully removing the bindings as he managed to sit on the edge and shake his friend as he removed the tape and rags from Peter's mouth.
"Pe... ter... wake... up." He was nudging the agent but Peter was out of it, his eyes slightly dilated when he checked.
Dammit! he thought as he tried to think what to do. He saw the phone in Peter's pocket and pulled it out as he made a call and pushed it to his ear.
"Peter? I was just heading over there. Diana should be following soon. Bored already?" Jones sounded pretty chipper considering. Neal opened his mouth and hoped he was going to be able to speak.
"Jo...nes..." His voice cracked as he spoke but he had said something. There was a short silence.
"Neal? Where's Peter? Neal?"
Jones was still talking but Neal was distracted as something strong and acrid hit his nose. He looked at the door to the office and saw something gray seeping underneath into the room. Smoke! He lifted the phone back to his ear.
"Fi.. re... Hur... ry"
