Menagerie - A collection of Short Stories and Drabbles in the world of White Collar. (I don't own anything but I do like playing with the characters when I can.)

Drabbles #25 - Last Man Standing (WIP)

(whump, friendship, hurt/comfort, spoilers for all seasons)

oOoOoOo

Peter's head ached, his body cold as he shivered against what felt like drops of water falling on him in a light steady flow. He had been dreaming about being at the office. Remembering.

Are you sure you can do this, Peter?

I've done my share of camping. I'll survive.

The voice was someone familiar and his own in friendly conversation, fading into the depths of fog and fuzziness that was now his aching head as he came to.

"Yeah, he's alive. He did the deed but I'll play with him a bit before leaving him for the wolves."

Someone was talking in the background, a cold gravelly voice with a bemused tone that made the agent feel anything less than amused. The tone was dark and unfriendly but he let consciousness wash over him slowly, the aches and pains of whatever had happened coming back to him ten-fold as his eyes eased open.

He was sitting in the woods, tall trees rising up into the fog above him like so many sentinels as he shook his head and tried to focus on his surroundings. The canopy hid him from the sky above along with the grayish haze which seemed to be the cause of the light drizzle on his face and body. His clothes were soaked, dirty and his arms pulled back securely at the wrist around a large tree trunk where he sat on the muddy, dew soaked ground. His legs and ankles were secured with zip-ties hampering his movements more as he kicked at the damp grass and earth. Peter gave a low groan of pain as he shifted and felt his left shoulder pull where he must have knocked it out of whack. He couldn't speak, something soft stuffed into his mouth, tape pulled over his lips. A low chuckle brought his attention off to his right and behind him where a silhouette stood in the gloom.

"You finally woke up. I'm surprised. I would have thought you'd be out a while longer but then the darkness is a good place to forget."

He didn't understand what the man meant, the shadow drawing closer until he could see the man's face a bit clearer. The figure stood just below 5'9, short cropped graying brown hair, scraggly beard despite the neat haircut and enough scars on his face to indicate the man had lived a hard life. Cold hazel eyes stared back, one a bit off, almost white on one side indicating the man had cataracts. There was a predatory manner about the man, a large K-bar knife in his hands along with a cell. A cold terror filled the agent's veins as he wondered who this man was and why he was here. The man seemed to sense his trepidation.

"You're probably wondering where you are... and why. Good questions to ask. Can't guarantee you'll like what I tell you, Stevens."

Stevens? The man thought his name was... Wait! Stevens... Jacob Stevens. That was a cover name. Neal had helped him come up with it for their current investigation. What had the case been about? His memory failed to tell him much but the man's voice distracted him from the little information it wanted to provide.

"It's a shame your partner didn't agree with you. It was easy setting him up for the fall and now it looks like you not only killed him but stayed out in the woods until a hunter accidentally shot you. Shame."

Partner? He had... backup? Who had been here?

"Oh don't worry, Jacob. You killed him well enough. His body was washed away by the creek swell below us. Good thing you had your argument near a cliff face. Makes things less messy that way. Mother Nature is a great housekeeper."

The man grinned coldly, yellowed teeth glaring back at him as he fought to get what little info his aching head could give him. Flashes of what the man said were coming to him but in small pieces he couldn't yet figure out.

"You've forgotten already? Guess a hard blow to the head will do that. Let me refresh your memory for you."

The man crouched before him, the K-bar evidently there for effect. It was working but Peter glared back, hiding his fear. The man laughed, a pungent scent of rotting meat and cigarettes hitting him in the nose and making him want to gag.

"My name is Oliver... you don't need to know anything more than that. I work for the man that hired you but your services aren't needed any more. You and your partner were doing a job for us and you killed him to keep both your cuts. That's just fine though because, your cut is mine now."

The man drew closer, that putrid breath making him ill as he held his breath some and felt a sudden flash of memory come back to him.

I thought were were in this together? What are you doing?

The memory of a gun going off drew him back to the nasty breath and his own need to draw in air. The man laughed, pulling the tape and rags from his mouth and smiling broadly. Peter wheezed, taking in a deep breath to ease his aching chest and body. The air was moist and cool making him cough more as he took in deeper breaths.

"Ah! You're starting to remember. It will come back. I'll be sure you remember every last detail before I'm finished with you. HE wanted to be sure it looked like an accident."

Oliver smiled again, cold and tiger-like as he stood and moved away out of sight and hearing. Peter was left alone, the silent trees the only witness to his capture as he shifted in the wet muddy ground and tried to get an idea where he was. It might be upstate for all he knew or further. These were aspen, some spruce but definitely from the New York area. He couldn't see the sky still as he gazed up through the haze and thought about his own foggy memories.

Kill me if you have to but you'll never be rid of me!

Peter didn't understand the voice talking to him. It was familiar and yet...

Neal. It was Neal Caffrey's voice he was hearing. Neal had... they had come out here together, the consultant reluctant but willing to help out when something went awry last minute.

I will now. Good-bye... Partner.

He heard the report of a gun in his head, an ache where he had been hit. Oliver had said he'd attacked him hadn't he? Peter glanced around and realized he wanted to go home, see his wife, pet his dog...

He heard the report again as if someone had shot and this time saw an image of Neal stiffening, something red on his chest as a large crimson stain grew larger and the young man fell backwards over a cliff face. Peter stood frozen in place, his mind trying to make sense of the memory. It looked so real as he watched his partner disappear over the side of the promontory and vanish.

NEAL!

He was suddenly back in the present, heart racing, mind a flurry with his memories broken and fragmented as they were. Had he really shot his partner? Was Neal really dead? What had he done?

(TBC)

Author's Note: Just a little taste of something that came to me. I might expand on it. Let me know what you think. :)