Peter parked the car outside their hide-out. It was a beautiful terracotta stone-house with a spacious patio. The agent wished that El would be here with him. It reminded him of their last holiday in the Caribbean, which seemed ages ago. And she would know what to do right now.
They couldn't admit Neal to the local hospital, the risk of being found by Collins was too high. They needed to make the trade with Dobbs/McLeash first. He had sent Mozzie not only to distract Collins but also to go back to Dobbs' mansion to see if he can take a picture of the ominous man.
And also to obtain some antibiotics and pain-meds for Neal, he was sure that Mozzie had his ways to get his hands on the supplies. For once, Peter was glad that he and Mozz were in this together.
Peter heard a groan form the back-seat and turned around to see that Neal had opened his eyes. "'M glad, you found me." He said with a hint of a grateful smile on his flushed face.
The older man reached out to touch Neal's forehead and frowned at the heat.
"Come on, let's get you inside."
They made their way out to the patio slowly and painfully and reached a sunbed standing in the shades under the patio roof, onto which he lowered his friend carefully. The young con sighed deeply and sprawled out, completely exhausted from their little trip. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain, to find some sort of comfort.
After Peter had searched the house for a first aid kit, he had re-bandaged the wound, given Neal some Tylenol and was dabbing at Neal's forehead with a cool washcloth.
Neal seemed to be resting with parted lips and an utterly young expression on his face, despite the salt-and-pepper stubble.
"Hang in there, kiddo. I'm going to get you home." Peter said quietly more to himself.
Neal stirred and blinked his eyes open owlishly. "P'tr. Good to see you."
"You too, Neal. Sorry that Collins shot you. This never should've happened. You're running a fever, but Mozzie should be back any minute with some antibiotics and meds."
"Thank you. For saving me. Don't know what would've happened, if Collins got me on that plane. Am I still going to prison, Peter?" Neal looked at Peter with large eyes from underneath the cloth.
Peter sighed and patted Neal's chest with his free hand.
"Not, if I can help it. I may have a plan to trade you for Dobbs. But more about that later. Rest."
"...K." Neal's eyes were slowly closing and his head fell to the side heavily.
A couple of hours later, Peter had helped Neal shower and Mozzie had given them a demonstration of his best field medicine skills by patching up the young man's wound with expert quality. Or so he thought. They had also sent a picture of Dobbs to the FBI in NY, which was analysed and proven to be the infamous (now surgically altered) McLeash, who was on the most wanted list for years.
Now all they had to do was set-up a trap for Collins.