Ch. 11

A/N:Aaagh!! What?! What happened to time!? I'm sorry. I can't believe how long it's been. Ugh. I should probably stop apologizing, though, because that infers that I'll be faster next chappie and I probably will, but you know, if I keep having to do this, obviously… well, yeah. Pssh.

So just a random note… the last chapter was named in reference to the famous bunny because that's what this fic is like… it just keeps going and going… :] Oh my goodness…. So, (okay, two weeks ago… :c sorry!) last episode wasn't quite what I was expecting, but WOW! That was freaking amazing. And hilarious. Neal drugged.. singing… stumbling… genius. And when he told Peter he was the only one he trusted I just fell to pieces. Love it. By the way, not that any of this fic is, but this chapter especially is not for the kiddies. Gets pretty darn dark. You've been warned.

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Peter Burke was trained as and FBI agent not to panic. In any situation, he was physically trained to stay cool and collected. Freaking out could only get people hurt. But now… in the back of an insane man's van going to God-knows-where, with a trembling, barely coherent Neal, that training was failing him completely.

"Hey, Neal, stay with me. Come on. You've gotta stay strong."

Neal glanced at him, maybe nodding, but Peter couldn't be sure if it was actually a nod or if they'd just gone over a bump. The agent tipped his head back against the wall of the van, briefly closing his eyes. This was insane. Clemence had gone completely off his friggin' rocker. No, screw that, Peter thought. He had no rocker to begin with.

Clemence had always marched to the beat of a different drum. Back when he'd been Peter's partner, that had been good and bad. It had given him new and different perspective on most cases, but also… on the people. He had a much darker edge to him than most people saw, but spending half his young life with the man, Peter had seen it. Or at least, part of it. There was a specific time that had stuck with him. They'd been investigating a string of stolen art pieces that had eventually turned into serial killing after the perp began killing every art collector he stole from.

"Ugh. I never get used to this." Peter turned away from the ugly scene on the bed in the luxurious room.

Clemence didn't. He peered at the blood spatters clothing the wall and floor in a grotesque pattern like it was the most interesting thing in the world, department camera clutched firmly in his right hand. Moving closer to the body on the bed, his eyes narrowed.

It was a girl, mid-twenties. She was quite pretty—or at least had been. Now, though, her body was mauled, features marred by black, blue and crimson. The killer's MO was an eighteen-inch old-fashioned dagger that he'd stab through the victim's left eye. The girl had struggled, that much was obvious from the visible blood and skin under her fingernails. Her stomach was deeply slashed, blood and guts spilling out over the edge of the bed. Her one good eye was still open, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Clemence leaned over, taking a snapshot of her face. He stepped back, capturing the whole messy scene. Peter frowned and searched the wall for the spot the painting had been in. He found it quickly, as it was one of the only clean spots on the pale green wallpaper.

"You know, we really have to hand this over to another department after this."

Clemence said nothing, but Peter swore he'd seen a flash of angered depression on his partner's face. It was immediately covered by one of casualness.

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm glad, personally. This stuff makes me sick."

Clemence glanced at him. "You're in the FBI, Pete. You should be used to it."

"You should never 'get used to it', George. Not this crap. It's disgusting. No matter how many times you see it. Why do you think I'm in the White Collar division? This doesn't usually happen."

Clemence merely shrugged, and Peter shook his head, looking away. Sometimes he really worried for his partner.

"Hey, Pete…"

"Pete… Peter…."

Peter snapped out of his memory, mentally scolding himself for getting that out of it in the first place. He turned to his newest partner, features softening.

"Yeah, Neal."

"We stopped."

Peter paused a moment and cursed himself yet again. How had he not realized?

"Right, right. Well, then, we can't be too far out. He's only been driving for what, thirty minutes?"

Neal just shrugged, face with a little more color than before. The doors opened then, and Clemence was revealed, eyes feral and dangerous. The grin on his face somehow seemed wilder than before.

"Come on out, boys and … well, boys. We're here…"

Peter frowned at the sing song voice Clemence was using. It made him seem even more… unstable. Like this was all some sick game.

"Out!"

Peter pulled Neal to his feet, pulling a trembling arm over his shoulder. Neal was still out of it, even though Clemence had dialed the freakin' thing down and it was put away for the moment.

"Come on, Neal… you've gotta man up and pull yourself together. It's not over yet."

Neal glanced at him and mumbled a quiet 'still here'. Peter shook his head and followed Clemence through a gate and into… a carnival.

"Seriously?!" Neal whispered. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Exactly my thoughts." Peter rasped back. He glanced at Clemence, who was still gleefully leading them on, back turned. Peter thought fast. "Neal, can you run?"

"What?"

"Are you able to run?"

A flash of realization swept across Neal's face, and he looked behind them a moment.

"No guards? It can't be that easy."

"It's worth a try."

"Can't argue with that."

"Alright. Ready?... One… two…. Three, go!"

Peter and Neal turned as one and booked it, out the gates and past the van. Clemence heard their footsteps and pivoted around, features skewing into an expression of fury. He marched to the gate and reached into his jacket, pulling out something bright red. Neal had just enough time to mutter an 'oh, crap' before collapsing. Peter, a bit ahead, pulled back and spun around. Neal caught his gaze, and clearly mouthed 'go'. Peter's jaw dropped slightly and he shook his head. Clemence caught up to Neal and pulled him up by his hair. Through his grimace, Neal managed to say it again, a pleading look seeping into his eyes. With a locked jaw and final glance back, Peter shook his head and took off running, out into a nearby clump of trees.

"Well, looks like Peter's just as unfaithful as always." Clemence sneered, forcing Neal to his feet. "You're on your own now, buddy boy."

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A/N: Omigosh!! I can't wait TWO WEEKS!! Why, TPTB?! WHYYY?

Anywho. That wasn't as bad as I thought. It's going to get worse though.. I just can't resist delving into the insane villain's psyche. It intrigues me. And hopefully, it does the same to you, my dear readers. Reviews are the getaway to my van. :]