The bullet from Neal's thigh had been removed and the wound stitched up by Mozzie, but it was quite clear that the painkillers weren't cutting it for Neal and that the blood loss left him groggy and sluggish.
The punch on the thigh by Collins hadn't helped either. But they needed to move forward with their plan and Neal was utterly grateful that his friends had come to his rescue.
Who knows what condition he would have been in now, had he still been with that sadistic agent. Ironically enough, he was currently sitting in Collins jeep yet again, feeling a little too cold and too warm at the same time, his thigh was killing him and he could feel the stitches persistently.
Peter had driven him back to Dobb's place, where he had confronted the man about being McLeash and that he had been made. That word had gotten to the U.S. and therefore, more FBI men were on their way to arrest him. He receded quickly and back to where Peter was waiting in the parked car, before McLeash could recover from the news. On his way out and thanks to an anonymous tip by Mozzie where Neal might be, Collins was storming up the driveway, shackled and manhandled Neal back to his car and they were now en-route to the small airstrip near the main-town.
Collins was still very determined to haul Neal back to New York as soon as possible and he was extremely agitated about Neal almost slipping through his fingers.
Almost over. Peter will make things right. It'll work. Neal told himself as he let exhaustion wash over him, after his short trip to and the conversation with McLeash. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a minute. His curls were plastered to his forehead and he felt like he might fall asleep at any moment. Plus, Collins frequent side-glances at him were creeping him out.
Meanwhile, McLeash hastily packed some backs and was now also on the way to the airstrip in hopes of fleeing yet again and building a life somewhere else.
- There will be more whump in the last chapter- :)