(Chapter 10)

Neal coughed, the smoke already making it hard to speak. He could hear Jones on the other end trying to get him to answer, but he dropped the phone into Peter's pocket so they could trace them. It was all he could think of, his mind a bit hazy still. It took him a moment but Neal managed to push himself to his feet, his eyes falling back on his friend. He wasn't sure what to do when he saw the medicine cabinet in the corner. He stumbled towards it, pulling on the handle but it was locked. He found something to pick the lock and opened up the cabinet. Inside he found a first aid kit, quickly sifting through till he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the item and stumbled back towards his friend.

"Pe... ter..." Neal coughed out, holding the item under his friend's nose and squeezing his fingers together. There was a quiet cracking sound. Peter's nose started to crinkle immediately, the older man coughing as Neal pulled the item away and smiled, tossing the small capsule to the floor. Peter continued to cough, eyes closed but he was at least waking up now. Neal gently patted his friend on the arm, looking around the room. He noticed the still form on the floor, unsure who it was. Neal walked over and checked the figure, the doctor cool to the touch. He shuddered, moving back towards Peter.

He was looking for a way out but saw nothing other than the front door where smoke continued to seep in. He had to find a way to get some fresh air into the room his eyes moving up just along the far wall. There were some small decorative windows up near the ceiling like a border. Neal glanced around and saw a heavy wooden cane leaning against the bookshelves and grabbed it. He carefully climbed up onto a small stool and reached up with the cane to smash the windows. It took a couple of tries before he heard the glass shatter. Neal ducked his head to avoid the falling shards but lost his balance, falling backwards. The cane hit the floor first with Neal following, his head cracking against the edge of a small end table as he collapsed to the ground and lay there twitching slightly then slumped against the floor unconscious.

()()()

Peter could hear Dr. Erickson's voice in his head. He remembered holding the gun and then... then...

The agent smelled something strong and pungent, crinkling his nose and trying to pull away from the scent. It made him more alert as he felt the scent fade, his mind feeling a bit more awake now. He coughed ever so slightly, a new scent filling his nose and making him reach up to cover his face. Peter thought he heard something break and then another louder thud. He opened his eyes and glanced up at the ceiling overhead, the room hazy with fog. Peter blinked, his eyes burning from whatever this haze was. He sat up confusion evident as he tried to recall what he was doing in Dr. Erickson's office. Peter saw a figure on the floor towards the door, eyes widening. He stood up, walking towards the figure and flipping them over. It was Dr. Jacobs but he was in Erickson's clothes.

What was going on here?

Peter tried to remember why he thought he had had a gun and how he'd ended up here when he saw the smoke seeping in under the office door. He needed to find a way out and then get to Neal. The younger man was probably still in his room. Peter found a side door behind a chair and opened it up. It led to a supply closet with a sink and lots of linens and medical supplies. He ignored the inventory and moved towards the door at the opposite end, its frosted window flickering with a bright glow. He reached for the knob and promptly pulled his hand back. The knob was hot to the touch. Peter cursed, moving back into the office and looking at the main door. He looked behind him and saw the broken window overhead, his eyes following the path from the glass down to the floor and a second figure.

"Neal?" Peter walked over to the figure, crouching down as he gently shook them, a low groan coming from the younger man. He sighed in relief, coughing from the ever growing cloud of smoke as he continued to nudge his friend and tried to wake him. He felt something wet on the side of the young man's head and saw blood, a gash where Neal's head had hit something hard. Peter wiped his hand on his shirt and moved back to his feet, lifting his partner with him, carrying the unconscious figure towards the front door. He gingerly touched the knob and it was merely warm, Peter opening it up.

Outside the hallway was completely filled with black smoke, Peter trying to see as he moved his head around. It was too hazy, his eyes burning. He went back into the office and lay Neal on the settee a moment while he went back into the supply closet, grabbed two clean towels, wet them in the sink then pulled one around the lower half of his face and another around Neal's. Then he went back out into the hall carrying Neal along and back towards his own room. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out.

"Burke..." His voice sounded muffled with the towel.

"Peter? Where's Neal? He was using your phone earlier. Are you still in the clinic?" Jones' voice spoke on the other end, Peter nodding.

"Yeah... Neal's hurt and the place is filled with smoke. Erickson..." He was trying to say something but his head started to hurt. He heard Jones reply.

"What about Erickson... isn't he the shrink there? Where are you, Peter?" Jones sounded like he was moving, voices in the background and sounds like men shouting and sirens.

"Headed back to my room. The agent outside my door is out cold. I think he was drugged. I... I had his gun but someone took it from me. One of Friscinetti's men..." Peter found his memory faulty suddenly, shaking his head as he came back to himself, opening up the door to his room to find it smoke free for the moment. He cracked open the barred window at the end after he lay Neal down on the bed. Peter went back outside, pulled the agent inside and put him on the sofa. Jones answered finally.

"We're just outside but the fire is pretty intense. Stay put as long as you can. Elizabeth is safe with June and two agents. Hughes is talking with the higher ups about taking this Friscinetti business more seriously than they have been. I think they're starting to believe the story about Neal being coerced." Jones sounded a bit tired but his voice held promise.

"Thanks. I'll see if I can find others and get them to this side. There's less smoke for the moment. Tell Elizabeth I'm ok, Clinton." He felt a tear roll down his cheek as Jones made a sound of assent and hung up. Peter sighed, putting the phone in his pocket as he check on the guard who was slowly rousing and then Neal, using the towel around his face to wipe at the gash on his head. The younger man groaned softly but didn't wake up, shifting slightly. Peter found a blanket and draped it over his friend before he went back out into the hallway, haze making him cough as he looked for other survivors. He found the agent in Neal's bed Friscinetti's men had placed there and carried him back but those was all the agents he found as he discovered fire further down the hall by Erickson's office.

Peter stuffed the little room, tired from moving in the smoke as he covered the bottom of the door with a sheet to keep most of the smoke out. All the agents he'd rescued, two total, were starting to slowly wake up with Peter's assistance, Neal still curled up on the sofa, eyes closed tight. He let the younger man sleep for now, having found some bandages to dress the gash on his head. Neal's breath was labored and wheezy, the only thing that worried Peter as he gained an audience with the now alert agents.

"Friscinetti's men set fire to this place and we're trapped inside for the moment. Hughes is outside with the cavalry trying to get us out. We seem to be ok for now but my partner is unconscious. We need to find a way to get out of here or at least make it easier for the FBI and emergency crews to find us. Any ideas?" Peter sat down with them, each with a cup of water as they looked between the lot of them and tried to brainstorm. The agent that had been outside his room raised his hand, Peter nodding to him to speak.

"I've worked here a few times. There's an old duct big enough for people to crawl through. This clinic is pretty old so the ducts aren't very modern. I know a way in that leads out to a side vent. It's locked though. We'd be trapped without a saw or something to cut through." The agent spoke quietly, Peter nodding.

"What's your name, agent?" Peter asked, looking at the man with a smile.

"Henricks, Agent Burke sir!" He wasn't too much younger than Neal but he seemed seasoned enough. Peter smiled.

"You know me?" Peter seemed surprised the agents both nodding.

"Agent Allard, sir. We've heard of your reputation and your consultant. Glad we're able to help out." The other agent spoke up, looking eager. Peter smiled and nodded.

"Let's discuss this lock. Henricks... is it pickable?"

()()()

After a thorough discussion on the where and how, Peter and Henricks left to check out the duct and see if they could get it open. It required going through the section where the fire was worse but Peter had his phone and gave his number to Allard in case something happened.

Allard closed the door and locked it once the agents had left. He pushed the sheet back under the door to keep the smoke out. Once he was done he walked over to a medicine / supply cabinet in the room, cracked it open and took out a scalpel. He walked towards Neal who was still unconscious on the couch, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and putting them on the young man, drawing his arms behind him. Neal didn't resist much, moving very little as he lay on the sofa.

"I don't want to do this but Erickson said I have to or she's dead. I'm sorry."

()()()

Peter followed Henricks into a maintenance closet and then up into the ceiling through a large vent. The agent had a Swiss army knife using the blade to quickly remove the screws as they pulled the grating out and climbed up. The duct was sturdy enough, both men able to crawl through it without much problem. The metal barely creaked as they shuffled through as quickly as they could avoiding areas where the smoke and heat were dangerous. They finally made it to the opening, a large grate that was locked in place with a chain. Peter cursed, sitting as best he could in the small space, Henricks beside him, both men resting as they tried to catch a few whiffs of fresh air from the grating, their only view of the outside, before they headed back in. Both men temporarily removed the wet cloths from their face that kept the smoke out.

"Caffrey... that's your partner's name isn't it?" Henricks was fishing, trying to start a conversation, being as diplomatic as he could. Peter had heard the hesitation on the 'partner' part but ignored it.

"Yes, he's been my consultant and partner for over a year. Smart kid." He left it at that seeing Henricks nod without much expression before speaking again.

"I... I'm not trying to be rude but maybe just a little curious... he's an ex-con isn't he? You caught him and put him away. You're not afraid he'll run or anything?" Henricks blushed now, his face looking rather boyish despite the slight shadow of a goatee around his mouth. Peter blinked then shook his head.

"I'm not afraid he'll run. He... well his reason for running is gone but he has plenty of friends and family here to keep him occupied. And I did catch him but he's not your typical con. Why do you ask?" Peter was curious now, the young man shrugging.

"I heard Allard talking to Erickson about the both of you when they brought you on the ambulance. I only heard a little bit but it sounded rather odd the tone of their conversation. I didn't think anything of it at the time but Allard was a bit upset he was guarding you and not your partner." Henricks shrugged again, looking back the way they came and getting on this knees.

"Maybe we should head back before we're trapped here. How are we going to get this open?" Henricks seemed honestly concerned about the situation but his words about Allard were bothering Peter, the distraction only momentary as he started to follow.

"Neal... I think my partner can open this but I need to wake him up. He's been pretty beat up so I don't know how conscious he'll be but he's picked worse in his sleep. Let's go."

()()()

It took them another 15 minutes or so to get back to the maintenance closet. The smoke was thicker now and Peter felt his cell ringing.

"Burke... what is it?" Peter listened, nodding.

"We found a duct out but it's locked up tight. Can't get out that way. Going to see if Neal can pick it but he's still unconscious last I looked. It's at the rear of the building if you want to take an axe to it. Thanks Jones." Peter hung up, turning to Henricks as they approached the room where Allard and Caffrey were.

"Let's see how my partner's doing. Maybe he's up by now." Peter smiled at the other agent, his hand reaching for the knob. He grabbed it and it didn't turn, a tight sound as if the door were locked. He tried it again but it wouldn't budge.

"We left the room open didn't we? ALLARD? Open up! It's Burke and Henricks!" Peter coughed as he finished yelling, smoke still thick in the hallway. He saw the look on Henricks face, both of them moving back far enough before they ran at the door. It took a few tries before the wood splintered and they could push the door aside.

"Neal? Allard?" Peter called out and heard a sound of someone breathing hard. A figure sat on the floor, blood on them and a gun in their hand, cuffs hanging off one wrist.

"Neal? What happened?" Peter moved forward seeing the younger man glance up at him with a horrified expression. The agent drew nearer seeing the body of Allard on the floor near his partner, the man obviously dead of a gunshot wound. Peter crouched down and felt the man's neck. He was definitely dead, Peter rubbing a hand through his hair worriedly as he turned his glance back to Neal, the younger man looking like a frightened deer, body shaking as he held the gun in his lap.

"Neal... What happened? Neal?" The young man was looking at him and then down at the gun, blue eyes wide with terror, body trembling. He was in shock, Peter nodding with a soft smile as he slowly reached for the gun removing it from Neal's hand and lap and handed it to Henricks. The other agent went and dropped it onto the bedside table before coming back.

"He shot Allard? I thought you said you trusted him!" Henricks was looking a bit freaked out suddenly, uncertainty in his voice. Peter turned and looked at the agent with a scowl.

"Neal doesn't shoot people! Let me find out what happened first." Peter spoke firmly before turning back towards his partner and consultant. Neal hadn't spoke yet, his breath still wheezy and dangerously audible. Peter touched the younger man's shoulder and saw those blue eyes grow wider, Neal pulling away as he curled up against the side of the sofa like a child hiding from a yelling parent.

"Neal... look at me. I need to know what happened. Neal!" Peter didn't want to yell or mean to but it seemed to get a response from his friend.

"He said he was... supposed to... kill me. You too when you came back. No... witnesses." Neal's voice shook as he spoke, cracking here and there as he kept his face turned and pressed against the edge of the sofa. Peter blinked, his face shocked at the revelation.

"He was going to kill us? Why? What reason would he..." Peter paused thinking back to how this had all started. He had had a gun... Allard's gun but it had vanished sometime before he woke up in Erickson's office. He tried to think back to how and where but his mind continued to come up a blank. The sound of a gun cocking made him look back to see Henrick's holding the gun Neal had on the ex-con. Peter stood up slowly, hands in front of him as he glanced at the other agent.

"He's dangerous Burke... I don't know why you trusted him. Maybe he started this fire with Friscinetti. He's a criminal!" The man was panicking now but Peter kept moving slowly till he was between the agent and Neal, hands still up as he tried to think of what to say.

"Henricks... we don't know what happened here. Neal doesn't shoot people in cold blood. He doesn't like guns! Give me the pistol and we'll talk about this." Peter held one hand out, the other up to show he wasn't going to try anything. Henricks just looked at him with wide eyes, trying his best to point the gun around him but Peter kept moving enough to block Neal.

"Peter..." The voice was tinny, the agent trying not to be distracted but curious by the tone. Without turning he spoke back at his partner.

"Neal? What is it?" He kept his voice calm, soft so as to not make anyone nervous.

"I..." Neal didn't finish his voice trailing off as he collapsed to the floor. Peter turned despite the threat from Henricks and the gun, the young man unconscious in a heap at the foot of the sofa. There was more blood than before, Peter curious where it was coming from if Allard was already dead. He turned back to Henricks, his manner desperate.

"Stay down!" His tone apparently worked as he saw Henricks nod and put the gun at his side uncocked but at the ready. Peter crouched back down next to his friend and looked Neal over. It took a moment but he found the source of the bleeding finally.

"Dammit... get a first aid kit!" Peter pulled the sheet from the sofa that had covered the con and started tearing it into strips. He used part of it as a compress as he pushed against a wound in the younger man's shoulder and another along his wrist. He'd been cut deeply, blood seeping out slowly from both cuts. Peter turned when he heard Henricks drop the kit beside him.

"Thanks... help me with this. Hold this on his shoulder while I work on his wrist." Peter wrapped the young man's wrist after sewing the wound shut as much as he could. Neal twitched a bit as he did the actual stitches but it was necessary. Once he was done he started on the shoulder and did the same after he had also cleaned the wound and stitched it shut. The bleeding was only minimal now, both wrapped tightly as Peter sat back and saw Henricks looking at the con curiously.

"Those don't look self-inflicted. Defensive wounds? I don't understand..." He was looking over at Neal, Peter nodding.

"He defended himself against someone with something sharp..." Peter finally saw it, something shiny glittering underneath Allard's arm in a pool of red. It was a scalpel.

Peter sighed deeply, this mess with Friscinetti was getting worse by the moment. Erickson was involved with this and so had this agent. He cursed softly covering Neal with the remains of the blanket and pushing a cushion under the young man's head. They needed to get out of here and get Neal some medical attention.

"FBI! OPEN UP!"

Peter heard the muffled voices of agents outside and motioned for Henricks to open the door. At least now they'd be rescued he thought as he gently brushed a hair from Neal's face. The young man had been through so much since this all started and it had to end. At least Elizabeth was safe. He turned as he heard the door open.

"Are we glad to see..." Henricks didn't finish his sentence a quiet 'popping' sound shutting him up as he jerked ever so slightly then collapsed to the ground. Peter's gut suddenly felt tight as he saw a familiar face pop in.

"Agent Burke, so nice to see you again."

oOoOoOo

Author's Note: I know this is dragging on but that jerk Friscinetti keeps trying to do what he wants. He's about to get his just desserts. Trust me. Whumpage fest is about to end and revenge will reign. Thanks for keeping up. I appreciate all the ocmments and reviews.