Sorry for the late post, but here is chapter 9!

Enjoy!


Chapter 9

The Search

"Wait a minute." Peter said as he looked down at his phone and redialed Mozzie.

"You have something already?" Mozzie said on the other end.

"No, we are still on our way. But I was thinking, did you ever get a trace on your phone? I put it in Neal's pocket before I was…taken outside. I figured you realized that when my phone went dead." Peter replied.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how I found the cabin in the first place." Mozzie paused. "Ohhh…you're wondering why I'm not tracing it right now. Well…that trace went dead too. I uh…I didn't get a chance to tell you…you start babbling about the riddles and needing to solve them and I didn't want to distract—"

"What do you mean it went dead?!" Peter interrupted, practically yelling into the phone.

Mozzie took a deep breath and replied, "It was moving steady for a while, heading away from the cabin, then poof! it was gone. But luckily, based on the direction they were headed, I was able to use the clues from the riddle to find the Arthur Kill, so I guess it all worked out."

"So I guess your idea of it being 'worked out' is me racing for Neal's life?" Peter said coldly. The line went silent, and Peter quietly muttered, "Sorry…I'm just worried."

"Just try to think positive, Suit. Wesley doesn't think you'll find him and we know where he is, so what's the worst that can happen?" Mozzie asked.

Oh, don't get me started on that one… Peter thought, but instead said, "You're right. I've got to go, we're almost at the graveya—" Peter stopped mid-word, "…the place."

I'm coming, Neal.


Peter is gone. He's really gone…

Neal's mind kept replaying the sounds of the gunshots he'd heard just a few minutes prior. He was leaning against the back window, eyes closed and feeling sorry for himself when he suddenly remembered the thing that Peter had put in his front pocket. He stealthily reached his left hand toward his front right pocket, wincing as his right hand shifted slightly, then felt immense relief as he realized the thing in his pocket was a phone. He slipped it out of his pocket and was about to dial when his thoughts of Peter resurfaced.

Peter was about to die and the last thing he thought of was saving you. This is all your fault. How can you live with yourself? What are you supposed to tell El?

"What the hell is that?!" Neal was interrupted by Wesley, who slammed the breaks and was out of the car in a split second. He swung open Neal's door, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him onto the ground before Neal could even think of defending himself.

"A phone?" Wesley said as he ripped the phone out of Neal's hand. He checked the outgoing calls, then smiled down at Neal when he realized he didn't make any. He then put the phone on the ground and smashed it with his heel. "Looks like your luck just ran out." He added.

"You're psychotic." Neal said. "And you're a dead man. You have no idea what's coming." Neal did his best to sound intimidating, which was hard when he was the one on the ground with Wesley standing over him.

"Oh really? Let's not forget who's in control of the situation here. Perhaps you need a reminder?" Wesley said, except it wasn't a question. He took a step toward Neal then rammed the toe of his shoe into his rib cage. Neal yelped and took in a sharp breath as he let his body curl toward his already bruised, now more bruised ribs. He felt Wesley grab his collar and jerk him back into the car.

"Geez, some chauffeur service." Neal said sarcastically, not caring about how Wesley would react, because the truth is, he didn't care about anything. Peter was gone and now he was stuck with this psychopath. He wished Wesley would just kill him, just put him out of his misery. He did not care about living anymore. The thought of trying to return to life without Peter was too much to bear. To his disappointment, Wesley simply shut the door behind him, got in the driver side, and drove away. Neal let his head lean against the window and closed his eyes once more, allowing the darkness to take him.

However, the darkness did not take him long because he awoke when Wesley braked hard and his head slid forward off the glass. He then heard Wesley's high, raspy voice say, "We're here!" and he felt a cold shiver go down his spine. Wesley opened Neal's door and pulled him out again. Neal squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, and he felt his muscles tighten in the cold air.

"Walk." Wesley said, shoving Neal forward, who did as he was told.

Neal was cradling his arm awkwardly while he walked and could feel the pressure in his head from all the hits he'd taken. Every breath was cut short as he felt pain in his left side from his most likely cracked ribs. But still, he kept walking.

"Where are we going?" Neal asked, genuinely curious and trying to distract himself from the pain.

"To your grave." Wesley replied, half enthusiastic and half pure evil.

Neal stiffened. Why does he have to make this so complicated? "Why can't you just kill me already? I'm sick of your stupid game." Neal said coldly.

"Well, where's the fun in that?" Wesley replied.

"You're stupid, you know." Neal said, then added, "You failed."

"How so?"

"You didn't prove anything to Peter or anyone. You're not better than him in any way. All you proved is that you don't have the mental capacity to get over a grudge that began over a decade ago. You're pathetic." Neal replied, no longer caring about what he said.

"At least I didn't sacrifice myself for a felon." Wesley said back. Then added, "And at least I didn't let my friend sacrifice himself for me. By the way, what are you going to tell Elizabeth? Will you tell her that you let him die?"

"SHUT UP!" Neal yelled, turning to face Wesley, his eyes narrowing as they met his.

"Why should I? This is your fault. Peter would still be alive if it wasn't for your selfishness." Wesley replied.

"No! You don't get to do this! You killed him! You're the piece of shit that ended his life! You're not allowed to guilt trip me. You've done enough already." Neal said, trying to control his anger.

Wesley smiled, which only angered Neal more, then said, "Don't worry, Neal, you can join him soon. We're here."

Neal turned around and saw they were just off the shore of a body of water. In front of them he could see sunken ships, boats that looked like twisted pieces of wood, and a few that were still barely floating above the water.

"Keep walking." Wesley said, and reluctantly, Neal did as he was told. If he was about to die, he didn't care. His mind was sick with guilt about Peter, and he just wanted to end it.

God dammit Neal, Peter died for you and this is how you repay him? His thoughts were flooding his mind as they walked out onto an old dock. Wesley stopped as they reached what looked like a large outer basement door sticking above the water. Wesley thrust it open and Neal looked inside, but all he could see was black.

"Get in." Wesley demanded.

"What? No!" Neal replied, backing up on the narrow dock.

If you go in there you'll die. This is the grave he was talking about.

Suddenly, Neal felt his adrenaline surge inside him. Before he knew what he was doing, he tackled Wesley, hitting him with his left shoulder. They both fell onto the wooden dock, Neal rolled on his shoulder skillfully to not hurt his hand, while Wesley, caught off guard, fell directly backwards and had the back of his head take most of the fall. Wesley yelled in frustration, then scrambled to his feet. As Wesley was struggling to get up, Neal managed to grab him and shove his knee into his abdomen, causing Wesley to double over. Wesley coughed several times and stumbled to one knee. Neal walked over toward him, ready to alleviate more of his rage.

As he reached him he said, "This only ends one way."

Wesley replied, "Tell me about it." Then suddenly spun toward Neal, lunging toward him. Neal didn't see that Wesley had grabbed a small, concealed knife from his ankle, he didn't see that Wesley was faking his trouble to stand, and he certainly didn't see the knife get stabbed into his lower abdomen—before it was too late. Wesley held Neal there for a moment, who was frozen in shock, then pulled the knife out of his abdomen. Neal let out a cry of pain and felt his knees buckle, but he was held up by Wesley. Wesley held the knife up in front of his face, it was covered in Neal's blood.

"It won't do too much damage, I got you low and to the center, there's nothing important there. But then again, not like it matters at this point." He said to Neal, who had gone pale and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, despite the near freezing temperature.

"S-see y-you…in…hell…" Neal panted out. He felt Wesley push him backwards and he let his body go limp. For a split second he felt the dreaded feeling of falling, but the icy water and the shock of his body landing against the hard metal soon ended it. He looked up to see a Wesley standing above the square opening. Despite his efforts, he ended up exactly where Wesley wanted him in the first place. Neal felt his blood run cold from that fact, or maybe it was the cold water, or maybe it was the blood loss…

There was about a foot of water in the submarine, and Neal had gotten himself leaned up against the wall. Wesley had slammed the door above him, leaving him in complete darkness. Although he couldn't see anything he could tell the submarine was tiny.

I might suffocate in here…that is if I don't die from hypothermia or… Neal stopped his thoughts right there and placed his hand where the pain in his abdomen was radiating from. He pressed down on it, despite the white hot pain that screamed at him when he did.

You have to stop the bleeding, you have to survive for Peter…he died for you.

Neal now had a reason to live…a reason to fight. He was not going to let Peter's death be in vain just because he was selfish, no, he would survive.

Except, it was just so damn cold. Neal felt his body shivering and his extremities going numb. He was suddenly overcome by an urge to sleep and could barely keep his eyes open.

No, keep fighting! You have to…you…for Peter

Despite his mind's protest, Neal lost his battle with keeping his eyes open and quickly slipped into darkness.


"Boss we're here!" Diana yelled, but Peter was already dashing out of the car.

"Diana! I see him!" Peter yelled back as he caught sight of Wesley walking away from the shore. "Set up a perimeter!"

However, they wouldn't need the perimeter, because Peter's adrenaline and anger was no match for Wesley. The chase did not last long, and Peter was standing ten feet away with his gun trained on Wesley's chest in a matter of minutes.

"Well this feels familiar." Wesley said with a grin. Peter could feel his finger tightening around the trigger, wanting more than anything to end the life of the man that had caused him so much pain.

"Don't do it Peter!" Diana shouted as she neared him. She pulled out her cuffs and cuffed Wesley, who was surprisingly submissive.

"Search him." Peter ordered.

Diana searched him, pulling out a gun—Peter's gun—from his waistband. She stopped when he reached his ankle, and pulled out a knife, still bloodied with Neal's blood. Both Diana and Peter gasped at the sight.

"What did you do to him?!" Peter yelled as he neared Wesley and grabbed him by the throat.

"If you hurry, you might get to say goodbye." Wesley replied, then laughed, coughing against Peter's tight grip. Peter released him, then took his fist and punched Wesley hard across the jaw. Wesley dropped immediately, unable to protect himself from the fall because of the handcuffs. Peter didn't get to enjoy the sight though, because he was already sprinting toward the ship graveyard. He ran out onto the only dock that was visible, scanning the area desperately to find what he was looking for.

"Neal?!" Peter yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Neal?! Can you hear me!?" Peter yelled again.

No response.

Peter felt his heart in his throat as he thought the worst.

"Neal?! C'mon buddy, help me find you!"

Neal was awoken by his own teeth chattering. When he regained his senses, he wished he hadn't. The cold was unbearable. His legs and some of his midsection were under the water, and they felt like they were frozen solid. The only thing good about the cold was that he couldn't feel his hand or the dull throb in his abdomen from the stab wound. He assumed the bleeding had stopped, especially when he could feel how slowly his heart was beating and how weak he felt. He decided that this was his time and there was no longer anything he could do.

I'm sorry Peter…I'm sorry Moz…I'm sorry—

"Neal?!" Neal shook the thoughts from his head. Did I just hear that?

"Neal?! Can you hear me?!" It was muffled and far away, but he was sure of what he heard. Someone was coming for him, they had found him, and he would be okay.

"I'm in here!" he tried to yell, but only came out as a raspy croak.

"Neal?! C'mon buddy, help me find you!" The muffled voice said again. Buddy? But only one person calls me that? Only Peter… No, he had to be imagining it. There was no possible way Peter was outside looking for him, it was his mind playing tricks on him. Even so, he let the adrenaline take over his body and he had shifted to his knees, sliding his left hand along the submerged floor, trying to find anything to make noise. His hand bumped into something hard, and he immediately gripped around it. It wouldn't budge at first, but he put his foot against the wall across from him and pushed/pulled with all the strength he had left. It broke free and he fell back against the floor, briefly submerging his already wet body in the water again. He grabbed the piece of metal that was now free and began banging it against the wall. It was so loud it made his head pound even more, but he no longer cared…this was his only chance for survival.

Peter began to feel doubt rising in his mind. Maybe Neal was already dead…maybe he was too late. But he was pulled away from his negative thoughts when he heard banging in front of him to the right. It was faint, but he knew what he heard and started running toward it, minding the uneven dock. The banging got louder and louder as he ran forward and he stopped when he realized he was standing right next to it.

"Neal! I'm going to get you out just hang on!" Peter said as he reached toward the door handle to the top of the sub.

Neal heard the door handle creak, then covered his eyes with his forearm as the light blinded him. When the silhouette in front of him came into view, he thought his eyes had deceived him.

"Peter…?" Neal said weakly, having expended all of his energy on making noise. He was still on his knees in the cold, murky water and had to strain his neck to look up at the person above him.

"Yes Neal, I'm here. I'm coming down." Peter replied.

Neal heard Peter yell at someone, then signal towards the opening. Peter then jumped through the opening and landed on the floor with a thud as water sprayed out in all directions.

Peter's eyes adjusted to the dimly lit submarine and he looked down at his partner, who was on his knees just a few feet away from him.

"Neal!" Peter yelled, and began trudging toward him.

"P-Peter? Is it really y-you?" Neal replied, the adrenaline beginning to wear off.

"Yeah buddy, I'm here." He reached his partner and let himself fall to his knees as well, taking in a sharp breath as the cold consumed his legs.

"B-but…Wesley…He k-killed you…" Neal's voice trailed off as he felt his eyes water and his words turn into a soft sob.

When Peter was finally in front of him, Neal let his head drop into Peter's shoulder, and Peter wrapped his arms around his wet and freezing friend. For the first time in over 12 hours, Neal finally felt at home.

"I…I just can't believe it." Neal said through Peter's jacket, still overwhelmed with emotion.

"Just shh Neal, help is coming, everything is okay now." Peter said gently as he ran his hand through Neal's wet hair, still embracing him. There was silence between them for a few moments as the reality of what had happened faded away. To Neal, all that mattered that Peter was safe and that both of them were getting out of there. To Peter, all that mattered was that his CI was okay and that he'd found him.

Peter said to Neal, "I guess I'm 3 and 0 now." And let out a chuckle—the first one since the night prior.

"Yeah, thank God." Neal said weakly, then let out a small laugh, but stopped and moaned as the pain in his abdomen sent a burning sensation throughout his nerves.

"Neal? What's wrong?" Peter said worriedly as he pushed away to look at Neal, still holding him by his shoulders.

"He….he s-stabbed me." Neal said as he felt his vision starting to blur.

Peter could feel Neal's body going limp, and carefully eased him back against the wall behind him.

"Hey, hey Neal hold on. Help is almost here." Peter said. With Neal against the wall and his eyes more adjusted to the light, Peter could now clearly see Neal's front. He grimaced when he caught sight of the dark red around his abdomen, soaking into his light blue shirt, which was already soaked from the water. He instinctively reached his hand down and put pressure on the wound, despite Neal's cry of protest.

"Wait…I thought…it stopped bleeding?" Neal asked, his voice faint.

"Well it may have, but with you banging on the wall it started again. Just hold still." Peter replied.

Neal felt his eyes slipping closed, but did everything to fight against it. He reached out and grabbed Peter's free hand and said, "I told you Peter…I told you."

"You told me what?" Peter asked, squeezing his hand and trying to keep his partner talking. The iciness of Neal's skin made Peter's heart drop.

Neal shook his head. "I t-trust you. I knew…" his voice faded and his eyes closed. Peter looked at him with alarm and squeezed his hand (his good hand) harder.

"Neal! Neal you need to stay awake." Peter ordered.

Neal stirred slightly. He sleepily blinked his eyes back up at Peter, although all Peter could see were two blue slits.

"I…I k-knew you'd find me." Neal said. It was just a whisper, but Peter heard it. Neal's eyes closed again and Peter felt his hand go limp in his. However, he could hear the paramedics approaching and stood up to guide them over.

"Over here! He's down here!" Peter yelled as they neared.

"What's his status?" One of them asked.

"He just passed out a few seconds ago." Peter said, then added, "He's been in the water for a little while. He's been stabbed…lower abdomen…along with a lot of other things. Please hurry." Peter could hear the pleading tone in his voice, but he didn't try to hide it.

The first paramedic yelled that he needed a ladder and the emergency gurney. Luckily when Diana called for backup, she had called every branch of the cavalry. A fire truck was parked just off the shore and some eager firemen were sprinting down the dock with a small ladder and backboard. They arrived quickly and put the ladder in the opening. Peter held on to the bottom as the first and soon second paramedic came down. They both rushed over to Neal and started working on him.

"I have no pulse!"

"No respiratory either."

Peter felt his legs go numb. He grabbed onto the side of the ladder to keep himself from falling. He felt helpless. Here he was, just feet from Neal, but there was nothing he could do to help him. Neal was dying and although Peter had found him, there was nothing more he could do.

"We need to get him out of here now!" The first paramedic said. The two worked together to get Neal on the backboard and strapped in rather quickly. They attached the board to a rope which the firemen pulled on, allowing the board to slide up the tilted ladder quite easily. The two paramedics went up next as Peter followed close behind.

They had Neal on the dock while one was cutting his shirt off and the other was in the process of intubating him.

Neal will hate to hear his shirt was ruined. Peter thought, and almost smiled at the thought of Neal complaining about such a small thing, especially after today. However, he stopped when he saw one of the paramedics drying Neal's chest and he caught sight of the deep purple bruise on Neal's side, as well as the stab wound in the low center of his abdomen. The paramedic then stuck two sticky patches with wires connected to Neal's chest. The other paramedic looked at him and nodded.

"Charging to 200."

"Charged."

"Clear."

Neal's body jerked in response to the shock.

"Still no pulse." Said the paramedic that was using the ventilator to push oxygen into Neal's body.

Peter watched helplessly.

"Charging to 300."

"Charged."

"Clear."

Neal's body jerked again, and Peter had to turn away. He felt relief flood over him as he heard the paramedic say, "I've got a pulse! Let's go!"

They carried Neal off the dock and got him into the ambulance within minutes. Peter trailed right behind them and climbed into the ambulance without asking.

When the paramedic told him he could not be there, Peter shot him a look.

"This man is my partner and my best friend. There is no way in hell I am moving from his side."

The paramedic nodded slightly and turned back to Neal and placed a blanket over him. Peter reached his hand out and grabbed Neal's, whose was still cold and limp. He wrapped both his hands around Neal's hand and stroked the top of it, doing anything to try to comfort him, however because Neal was unconscious, the act was more to comfort Peter. Touching Neal grounded him. He was no longer in fear of not finding him or what Wesley would do to him, now Neal was here, and it was real, he just had to keep reminding himself of that.

He squeezed Neal's hand before saying, "I got you buddy, just hang on."


Soooo? What do you think? I really didn't intend to stab Neal, but I didn't want him to go into the submarine on his own will…I wanted to show that he was still fighting and willing to do anything to stop Wesley from forcing him in there. Our boys are reunited :') finally! Deep convo will be coming soon between them…IF Neal can pull through! Bumpy road ahead…