Peter had just said his goodbyes to Mozzie on the airstrip, when he saw Collins jeep approaching.
McLeash had gotten here two minutes ago and had boarded the one plane that was going to the mainland, not aware of what is going to happen.
Peter approached Collin's jeep, which had just stopped near the plane. The first thing he noticed was Neal's pale complexion and that his hands were cuffed in front of him.
"Look at that, Peter. I caught your favourite con-man again and nothing is going to stop me from bringing him in. But it's nice that you are concerned about him and are here to see him off." Collins snarled.
"That's not why I'm here. There is someone else on that plane. It's Dobbs. Whose real identity is the FBIs number four on the most wanted list, McLeash. And he is in the act of fleeing the island. If you do the right thing, you can earn yourself the biggest accomplishment of your career."
Collins had gotten out of the car and now held the door open for Neal to climb out. "Yeah, right. McLeash, huh?" He looked at Peter, but pulled on Neal's elbow and yanked at his prisoner.
Neal got out slowly and swayed in place, before he slumped against the side of the car with his back.
"No resting, Caffrey. Get a move on."
Neal pushed himself off the car and started staggering towards the plane between Peter and Collins.
Peter dared a side-glance at his friend and Neal did the same thing, indicating with his large pale blue eyes that he wasn't going to last much longer.
Peter knew that he needed to make the deal now so that he could get professional medical aid for Neal, not just some short bald nurse with field medicine skills who means well but certainly isn't a doctor.
They came to a halt outside the small plane. "If you make the arrest, Collins, there will be a lot of press waiting. And it was very clever of you to come here to expose McLeash with the help of Neal, whose old deal would be re-installed."
"You tricked me." Collins was obviously fuming but also considering his options. Caffrey certainly was the smaller fish to catch.
Collins slowly got out his keys and uncuffed Neal, who sighed visibly, sagging a little to the left, leaning into Peter a bit for support.
Relief washed over Peter and he relished the feeling of his friend leaning into him for a second albeit knowing it was because he was unwell, but at least their plan had worked and they would be back to their normal lives in New York in no time. As normal as it could get with one Neal Caffrey.
What no one was expecting at that moment was McLeash who, out of nowhere, bolted out the plane-door, propelled by desperation and the conversation he had just overheard.
He sprang at Collins and they both tumbled to the floor, both swearing under their breath as they grappled with each other until McLeash gained the upper hand by hitting Collins across the jaw, hard.
Collins lay there stunned and the blonde man towering over him spotted the revolver sticking out of the agent's pants.
He grabbed it in a quick motion, pointing it at Peter. "You're all FBI. I can't have any of you arrest me." Peter and Neal just stood there, slowly raising their hands in a defensive gesture as McLeash got up.
"I'm sorry."
"NO!" Neal took one step in front of Peter as McLeash pulled the trigger.
Peter heard the shot and felt Neal being thrown against him and going completely slack. He reacted at the same time and caught Neal's upper body, panic rushing through him. The kid can't be shot twice in such a short amount of time, can he?
He crouched down and lay Neal onto the tarmac carefully. Neal's head rolled to the side away from Peter, his lips parted and his arms just lying by his side.
"Come on, Neal. Don't do this to me." Peter felt for a pulse and found one. He sighed and looked up to find the most curious picture.
McLeash lay on his stomach, half-conscious. Behind him was Mozzie, holding a metal pipe of some sort and Collins had recovered and was cuffing McLeash's arms behind his back.
Mozzie looked at the FBI agent, at Neal and then at the pipe in his hand. He dropped it like a hot potato and started running back to the hangars, clearly spooked by his own actions, exposing himself to the other agent.
"I am taking this plane and you are going to be on it, McLeash. And your criminal record just got longer. Up, let's go." He hauled the criminal to his feet and approached the plane's steps.
"Take care of your con-man, Peter. Looks like he was shot again." Collins almost seemed amused.
Peter scowled at him and returned his attention back to Neal, who still hadn't moved.
He hastily patted his friend down for any bullet holes and almost sobbed in relief when he found a large gash on Neal's upper arm, which was clearly a bullet graze. It was not life-threatening, but bleeding quite a bit. For a moment, Peter was certain he had lost his best friend.
"Neal." He gently shook the young man. When he got no response, he wrapped his hands around the back of Neal's neck and turned his face towards him, which was completely slack. He touched Neal's cheek and could feel the fresh spike of fever radiating off him.
"Damn it." Peter looked around and saw that Mozzie was waving at him from across the tarmac, a phone in his hand, indicating that he had called for an ambulance.
He also realized that the plane had closed it's door and started the motor, about to roll towards the runway. He needed to get Neal out of there, away from the plane and out of the heat.
So by sliding one arm underneath Neal's knees and the other under his back, he lifted him up carefully. Neal was like a rag-doll in his arms, completely slack, all limbs dangling uselessly and his head tilted backwards over his arm. Oomph, the boy is heavy.
Peter took small, quick steps towards the cars and rounded Collin's jeep. Behind it, he lay Neal down in the shades the vehicle provided.
"Ambulance is on it's way. Is he okay?" Mozzie had appeared by his side, a concerned look on his face as he lay one hand on Neal's chest, seeking comfort in the fact that his friend was breathing.
"And shouldn't we wrap something around that graze?" He asked.
"I can hear the sirens, Mozzie. Let's wait for the medics to take care of Neal. Good job in knocking out McLeash by the way." Peter winked at the smaller man.
Peter sat in a hospital chair reading a newspaper when he heard a small groan coming form the bed in front of him.
Neal had been admitted to the local hospital and Peter was glad that he was being treated here, before they took the long journey home.
"Hey, Neal?" The agent brushed some dark curls from Neal's forehead, whose brows were drawn together. He could see that Neal was slowly blinking his eyes open, looking up at him and grinning lopsidedly.
"They got you on the good stuff, my friend. I bet you'll feel better in no time. They re-stitched your wound; both of them actually and your fever is down."
"Got sh't twice, Pt'r."
"I know, buddy. I'm sorry. You saved my life." Peter sighed and patted Neal on the head in a grateful and paternal manner. "And I can't wait to get you home on our couch for El to fuss over you."
"Can't wait eith'r." Neal whispered. His eyes closed on their own accord and his head fell to the side. Peter looked at the con-man for a while. He was glad, all of this was over and he was glad he got his best friend back.