I don't own White Collar or the characters... blah blah blah. Please be kind...re[view]...

Chapter Nine

Peter eased the Taurus into his usual spot in the parking garage, and only paused long enough to lock up, before racing to the elevators. He was sorry he hadn't taken the time to thank Neal, and made a mental note to make sure he did when he got back to the hospital. The shrill ring of his cell phone broke the quiet hum of the elevator, about half way up to his floor.

"Burke."

"Peter…where are you?" Hughes's stern tone made his mind race along with the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins.

"I'm in the building." He knew it wasn't the answer Hughes wanted to hear. "I'm on my way up."

"Come to my office immediately." The line went dead, and the silence was eerily menacing. Fear clawed at him, pretty sure that Hughes's gruff demeanor didn't stem from him being in the building.

Peter hurried through the lower part of the office, nodding to the junior agents as he hurried by. He climbed the stairs up to the offices, two at a time. Hughes waved him into the office, as Peter approached, dismissing the junior agents that he had been talking with. They gave Peter a questioning look as they squeezed past, and hurried away.

"Peter, close the door." Hughes waved a finger as if mentally closing it himself. He waited until Peter had done so, before speaking again. "You might want to sit."

Peter took the chair opposite his boss; he could feel his chest tightening at the uncertainty of what was going on. He was terrified it was something bad, and that it had to do with Elizabeth. The whole day he had been trying so hard to focus on the little pieces of the puzzle that he could, trying to keep his mind occupied. He knew if he stopped being an FBI agent for just a moment, he was liable to break down. Now as he sat here, waiting to hear whatever news Hughes had for him, he wasn't sure he could keep it together much longer.

"Peter the hospital just called. Neal is missing." Hughes watched the confusion cross Peter's face.

"What? I was just there…" Peter thought his heart was going to pound itself right out of his chest, and he gasp for breath. A strange sense of relief flooded through him, when he realized Hughes wasn't telling him that Elizabeth was dead. He was grateful when a hot rage replaced the fear inside him. He couldn't handle fear; he didn't know what to do with it, but anger could be useful, and he refused to sit on the sidelines any longer. "You have to put me back on the case."

Hughes reached down and pulled Peter's badge and firearm out of his desk drawer, sliding them in Peter's direction.

"Don't make me regret this. You don't go anywhere without another agent." He waited for Peter to nod in acknowledgement, before continuing. "The hospital is sending over the security tapes. Apparently someone posed as a doctor, and wheeled him right out of the ICU about twenty minutes after you left. Jones and Diana are in the conference room."

Peter didn't wait to be dismissed. He jumped out of the chair, and hurried towards where he knew his team was working.

.

He looked down over the edge of the building at the long drop to the ground, some thirty stories below. He could feel a few snowflakes land on his face, as the cold December air chilled him to the bone. He knew he should go back inside, Peter would be looking for him, but he just wanted to be alone for a little while. He had just needed to get out of the FBI office for a few minutes, it was hard to center himself in there. He could feel everyone's disappointment in him, their eyes drilling into him like little lasers.

"I'm a little disappointed in Burke. He's a legend, but I think he's slipping a little, having so much faith in you." The words seemed to come down to him from the clouds, and he looked up at the black sky.

"I didn't compromise anything." He yelled at the cloud covered darkness. "This isn't my fault."

As he turned away from the ledge, he found himself standing in Peter's dining room, looking down at his mentor, who was sitting on the floor bleeding from his shoulder. Peter looked up at him, disappointment on his face.

"This IS your fault Neal. I never should have trusted you. Look at the mess you've gotten us into."

"No, please Peter." He spun around to run, finding himself face to face with Elizabeth.

"Aren't you going to find me, Neal? You have to help Peter find me." He tried to reach for her, but he fell to the floor, doubled over in pain. Blood gushed from a wound in his stomach. He reached for her again, but her image dissolved into the darkness. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

A quite moaning brought Elizabeth back to consciousness. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the lack of light, but she noticed that her wrists had been untied. She felt around with her hands, jerking back a bit when she ran into flesh and hair. She gently pulled her aching body to her hands and knees, crawling over to where she could barely make out what appeared to be a man in a hospital gown. With a little more probing, she found a thin hospital blanket thrown down in a lump at his feet. She inched around to the front of the man, pulling the blanket up over him, gasping in horror when she saw his face.

"Oh my god…Neal?" She sat back against the wall, pulling his shivering body up into her lap, wrapping the blanket around him as best as she could. She rubbed her hands up and down his arms, hoping to revive him. "Neal, sweetie, please wake up."

"I'm…sor…ry…" His eyes stayed shut as his body continued to tremble. Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around him, holding him as close as she could, trying to keep him warm in the cold night air.

"It's OK, Neal. It will be OK." She laid her head on his and closed her eyes, praying that Peter would find them soon.

.

Peter had moved to the quiet of his own office so he could think, and he sat mulling over the details that Diana had pulled up on Trent Severson. He had a nearly perfect service record, having trained both with the FBI's SWAT and the elite HRT. During his four years serving on the HRT, he had received the Shield of Bravery, and became a member of the sniper's "Quarter Inch Club". After getting married a little over a year ago, he had transferred back to SWAT. Peter stared down at the identification photo of the young man, wondering how such a promising career could be pushed aside and destroyed so easily. He glanced at his watch, it was almost eleven thirty. He was growing impatient waiting on the security officer from the hospital; every minute that went by was agonizing. A knock on the door drew his attention from the file. He looked up to see Diana escorting the hospital security guard, with Dr. Matthews lurking just behind.

"Diana, take officer…"

"Hanover, sir."

"Take Officer Hanover to the conference room and cue up the tape." He tried to hide his annoyance at the security guard as he waved the doctor in. He almost hadn't recognized him in his blue jeans, cream turtleneck sweater and black wool jacket. "I take it you weren't on duty tonight."

"No, I wasn't… the hospital called me." The doctor pulled the door shut behind him, and took a seat across from Peter. He drew in a long breath before continuing. "Peter, he wasn't in any shape to be moved."

"I know." Peter blew out a breath, clenching his hands to keep them from shaking. "Evan, they have Elizabeth as well."

Peter saw a look of distress cross the doctor's face. He wasn't sure why he had blurted it out, but hearing the words out loud made his stomach turn.

"God, Peter. I'm so sorry, I didn't know." The doctor watched torment twist Peter's face for a moment, waiting until his expression relaxed a bit. "I came by because I want to help. When you find them, I'd like to go with you…"

Peter held up a hand to stop the doctor from finishing his sentence. He didn't want to think of all the horrible things that could be happening to Neal; never mind what they could be doing to Elizabeth.

"Thank you. I will call you when we know something." Peter stood, and crossed to where the doctor was, waited for him to stand, and shook his hand. "Thank you."

Peter parted ways with the doctor, entering the conference room to find a black and white picture of Neal's hospital room on the large TV screen. He let his eyes roam around the room, making sure the whole team was assembled, his eyes lingering for a moment on the empty chair at the far end of the table, next to his. He could almost envision Neal sitting there, twirling the chair around in circles, or bouncing the ball made from Peter's rubber bands off the ceiling. Hughes came in the door behind him, startling him from his daydream, motioning for Peter to take a seat.

They all watched as two men approached the guard at Neal's door, one dressed in doctor's scrubs pushing a wheelchair, the other flashed a badge. Peter noticed Neal was sleeping as the two men entered, but awoke as they neared his bed. Neal's eyes flashed with recognition as the supposed agent held him down, and the man dressed as a doctor held something over his mouth and nose. Neal struggled for less than a minute, and then lay still while the two men disconnected all the wires from the monitors, and not so gently removed his IV. They picked him up and dropped him into the wheelchair, wrapping a blanket around his lower body, and pushed him out the door. As they left, Peter caught sight of one of the men's faces.

"Stop! Pause that." Peter leapt up out of his chair, rushing up to the screen for a better look. "Son-of-a-bitch. Severson."

"I'll get a search warrant." Hughes put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Get the team ready to go."

.

Peter watched the team pack up in disgust, as he slowly unfastened his own bullet proof vest. They had searched Severson's apartment, coming up with not much more than an earful from his terrified young wife. Diana had taken the brunt of it, once the woman had realized that Diana had been the agent that had killed her step-father. As uncomfortable as it was, he was proud of the way Diana handled herself, the situation was unavoidable. Hughes was still in there, trying to calm Mrs. Severson down, trying to see if she knew anything that would be helpful. Peter could hear that she was being less that cooperative.

"Boss…" Diana approached, carrying a small evidence bag, containing what appeared to be a brass shell casing. "Mitchell found this in a gear bag in the back shed."

"One single .308 casing. Why the hell would he keep it?" Peter slammed his car trunk, taking the bagged shell in his hand, and studied it. He knew they still couldn't confirm anything until they found the gun, and even then it would be hard to prove that it was the same bullet that shot Neal, but in his mind, it was proof that Severson was guilty. "We need to find Severson."

"I'm on it boss." Diana pulled out her cell phone and started calling in an APB on the agent's SUV.

.

Elizabeth found herself clinging to Neal's shaking body as she woke; she had no idea what time it was, but it was still dark in the room. She put a hand to his forehead, letting out a worried sigh when she found it warm and damp. She didn't have to be a doctor to know that a fever was a very bad sign.

"Hold on Neal. Peter's coming." She felt a warm tear creep down her check at the thought of her husband. Her own head was still spinning, and she was starting to notice a tightness in her chest.

"p..tr…" His voice came out in a low hoarse whisper. "s..rryy…din..int…me…nnn…to…"

"Hush Neal. Save your strength." He slowly turned his head up to look into her eyes. His blue eyes were dull and glassy.

"el?"

"Yes, Neal. I'm here." She gently brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"wh…res…p…tr…?"

"He's coming Neal." The young man dropped his head back down, curling himself delicately against her chest, comforted by her familiarity.