Just as Jones was out of sight, Peter heard a thud, which made him jump.

None other than Neal was leaning against one of the glass doors on the inside. He looked ashen and his eyes underneath his disheveled locks were even larger than usual.

His expression seemed pleading and full of concern. But Peter could not afford to go soft on him now. He wanted to protect Neal, but he also wanted what was best for him. Which in the entirety of Neal's well-being was ultimately to just stay out of trouble. And he clearly hadn't managed to do that tonight.

How am I gonna get him out of this mess? The agent was fuming, but tried to stay calm on the outside, patiently waiting for his master-thief to pick the locks of the entrance.

Neal had bowed his head, concentrating on working with the picks.

Why wasn't he running away but rather willingly turning himself over to me?

At least, that's what it looked like to Peter and he could not fathom what this was all about.

Finally, he heard an audible click and Neal pushed the door open, eliciting a deep sigh, as if he just resurfaced from the depth of a very bad dream.

"Pet'r. 'M so glad you're here." Was Neal slurring his words? He wasn't exactly standing up straight either.

He was hunched over slightly, both arms crossed in front of his chest, a defeated look on his face, a thin line of sweat near his hairline and a sluggish way of speaking and blinking.

"Oh Neal, don't get me started. What did you steal this time? Hand it over!" Peter bellowed.

Neal seemed to list to one side under the weight of his friend's words.

"Can't. It's... you're not gonna like this. I swear I was going to tell you, but then there was Keller and … he threatened... and the knife." The young man swallowed visibly, lifting his eyes off the ground to seek out Peter's gaze and see, if he understood.

"What are you talking about? You're not making any sense. Give me the item you stole. And what does Keller have to do with it?" He demanded.

"Please, Pet'r. I jus' wanna go home. Let's... let's talk there. I'll exp'ln ev'rything."

The agent was barely able to hold it together. Then, two things happened at once.

Jones came out of the main entrance behind Peter, with an expression of shock written all over his face, not looking at Peter at all, but totally focused on Neal as he approached the younger man with long strides from behind but then stopped short as...

...two figures emerged from between parked cars nearby. They approached the museum and Peter as well as Jones could see that it was Elisabeth, held tightly in the grip of a stranger, who was pointing a gun at her ribs.

All three men gasped in surprise.

"Stop! All of you." The criminal demanded. They all froze in place.

"Please, let her go. This is my wife. Are you okay, hun?"

"Yeah, yeah, Peter. It's okay." Elisabeth stuttered.

"What do you want?" Peter tried to calculate how much time he would have to draw his gun, before the stranger could shoot El. He bet that Jones was contemplating the same, but currently they were at an impasse.

The man took a few steps away from El, who had her hands raised, still pointing the gun at her but now dialing a number on his cellphone, which he then, with an extended arm, carefully handed over to Peter.

The tension was almost unbearable for him. His best friend, his wife and his agent all at peril and he didn't know what to do.

Peter took the phone and put it on speaker.

"Agent Burke. I see you like my surprise. Don't worry, your wife will be released to you once I have what I want."

"Keller." Peter snarled. "What do you want?"

"Well, something that your ever so loyal pet-con stole for me. It's a coin. Have him hand it to you and you can exchange it for your wife. I should've known that you would end up here tonight and I have to say, this is so much more fun. "

Peter had his eyes fixed on El the entire time. She seemed pale but unharmed. He was going to get her out of this.

And Neal... god. He should have known. His friend had changed. He knew that, but it was still hard to trust him sometimes. He felt awful now.

He knew the young man had done what he would have done for El. And he felt proud to have a friend like him. Although he wanted to be the one doing the defending and protecting. He was the agent. He was in charge, damn it.

Peter turned on his axis to the left towards the entrance. Neal was standing near him and Jones behind the con.

He could see that Jones was trying to indicate something with his raised hands to Peter, pointing at Neal and gesturing, but he couldn't figure out what it meant. Puzzled, he said to Neal:

"Hand me the coin. It's okay. You did good. We'll all be okay."

Neal huffed in a relieved way. He was trying to put his weight from one foot on the other, swaying in place, his lips forming a thin line, his eyes a little unfocused as he looked at Peter.

Oh god. He's in pain. He's hurt. How did I not register this immediately? All that blood in the video... was Neal's?

Panic was creeping up his throat. And Neal was awfully silent.

Peter could see that it took all of Neal's will to remain standing. He was slowly and sluggishly reaching into his pant-pocket, his other arm wrapped around his middle. Peter's gaze followed his movements down to his pocket... suddenly realizing that the whole of Neal's right side was wet and glistening, from his waist down to his ankle. Dear god!

"P'tr. 'M sorry." The injured man whispered.

"God, what did Keller do to you?" Peter gasped.

Neal didn't answer. He withdrew his fist from his pocket, extended his arm towards Peter, turned his hand upwards and opened his palm to reveal to Peter what was inside.

Peter's eyes grew wide and his breathing picked up, completely panicked now. "Please, please, please, oh god", he whispered.

Neal's hand was covered in blood and in a pool of red inside his palm lay a crimson-smeared coin.