5 - Unfinished Business

"Where do you want these?" Neal asked as Sara unlocked the door to her apartment.

"Oh, uh, you can just put them right back there" She replied, dropping her handbag and gesturing to the corner.

"Thank you".

Dropping the boxes, he silently crept towards her bag where the letters she'd picked up lay.

"You know, Neal, for an art thief-"

"Alleged art thief" He corrected.

"Yea. For an art thief" Sara continued, "You certainly have your moments".

He flicked through the envelopes until he found the one from the FAA.

"Well, I doubt you'll be saying that after a shower and a few hours of sleep".

She turned to face him and he quickly stepped back.

"Yea, you're probably right... Brother, it never ends".

Picking up the stack of letters, he felt his heart rate increase as she got closer and closer to-

"What is this?"

-false alarm.

Neal let out a sigh of relief as she tossed the envelope up on the table with the others.

His relief didn't last long, however, when the door knob started rattling.

They both turned to face the door. Sara looked terrified. Raising a finger to his lips, he gestured for her to remain quiet. She slowly backed away as he softly treaded over to the door.

Turning the lock, there was a brief moment of silence, before-

*BANG-BANG-BANG*

Neal leapt back, grabbed Sara's arm and dragged her towards the bedroom. They hid themselves on either side of the partition while the nameless man, presumably the real Mr Black, kicked down the door and began to search the apartment.

His heart was beating furiously in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins and there was an odd ringing in his ears.

Sara's hands searched blindly through the dresser's drawers, trying to find her gun.

Mr Black turned and saw Neal.

"Hey-"

*BANG*


The mirror smashed into a million little pieces and the hit man rushed forwards as he realised it was only a reflection. Turning the corner, he pointed the gun at Neal's head, just as Sara found her own weapon and raised it on him.

"Drop it. Now!"

Mr Black hesitated.

"I said drop it!"

The front door was kicked open once more as FBI agents rushed in.

"I'd listen to her if I were you".

Neal wasn't sure if he'd ever been so relieved to see Peter.

"Get him out of here".

Which, now that he thought about it, was exactly what he said every time he got into trouble.

"Come on. Let's go".

But at least this time, he hadn't gotten hurt.

"Neal?"

He blinked and suddenly Mr Black was in handcuffs and Peter was standing in front of him and Sara was looking strangely concerned.

"Are you okay?"

He stared back blankly.

"Your arm" Peter explained, eyes a touch more worried than they should be considering that Neal hadn't gotten-

Oh.

So much for that theory.

Neal stared at the red stain slowly spreading out across his sleeve, his sleeve that now had a line cutting through it that hadn't been there before, a line so straight that it could only have been caused by something sharp or fast or-

His gaze drifted back to the door and the three holes left after Mr Black's shooting spree. The same door he'd reached across to grab Sara and shove her ahead of him so she'd be safe from any stray bullet that might have-

Oh.

"Neal?"

His knees wobbled.


Peter immediately rushed forwards, weapon already holstered and both hands coming up under Neal's arms as he fell. He managed to half-balance them both until they stumbled back to that hideous orange couch. Peter lowered him to it until he was sitting and then crouched down in front of him, tapping the side of his face to get his attention. He was distantly aware of Sara rushing off in the opposite direction.

"Neal? Neal! Hey, look at me, focus on me!"

He blinked again, belatedly realised that that's why his ears had been ringing because for a second there he'd thought he was losing his edge but… nope. He'd just gotten shot.

Again.

"Get EMT's in here!" Peter yelled over his shoulder before quickly turning back, "Hey, what's this make it, huh? Three, four times you've been shot?"

"... Three" Neal replied slowly, head spinning despite his body staying still, "The, uh… The first time was just a… a graze".

"Here" Sara said, appearing on the floor next to Peter with a towel in her hands, "Wrap this around his arm. Tight".

Peter did as told and wondered if it was a good or bad thing that his CI seemed numb to the whole thing.

"What is even doing here?"

"I needed a ride" She replied with a somewhat guilty shrug, "Didn't think I'd be leading him to a shoot out".

"'m not a dog" Neal complained, watching with sickening fascination as the white towel slowly turned red.

"Oh, I don't about that" Sara smirked "You followed me home, after all. Not to mind the fact you've got a Rapheal buried somewhere".

"Allegedly".

"Allegedly" She allowed, her smirk softening into a smile even as the man in front of her started to pale and tilt ever so slightly to the right. There was something oddly… vulnerable about seeing the suave conman like this. Something that made him seem more human.

"Sir! Paramedics are on their way. ETA ten minutes".

Peter nodded once at the nameless FBI agent before turning back.

"Think you can hold on that long?"

Neal slowly nodded, eyes still focused on his arm.

"'s not that deep. No bones, 'n no arteries hit".

"How do you know?"

His gaze briefly flickered up to meet hers.

"Cause I'd 'ave bled out by now if they were".

Sara immediately blanched and he momentarily felt a stab of guilt. He wasn't lying, though, he knew that a severed artery could kill a person in five minutes without help, and a worn old bathroom towel wasn't doing much good with just this much blood, let alone if the bullet had actually hit a major vein.

And besides, the almost comically grim look on Peter's face confirmed it too.


"Flesh wound?" He asked, and Neal nodded carefully once more, head still spinning.

"Or a bad graze. I dunno, it just… it hurts".

His expression immediately softened.

"What are we gonna do with you, kid?"

"Put me on the good stuff?"

Peter huffed a laugh.

"Yea, don't worry, I'll make sure the doctors put you on the good stuff".

Sara's concern was waning slightly as she listened, curiosity bubbling up in its place.

"Are you… I mean, it's just… You're taking this very… calmly" She eventually said, "Both of you".

"Neal's rather… accident prone" Peter replied wryly, "For a cat burglar, you'd never think it".

"Alleged cat burglar".

"You know, one of these days, 'alleged' is going to be your last word".

"Worth it".

Peter sighed and shook his head, adjusting his grip on the bloody towel as red drops started to drip softly to the floorboards below. In the distance, they heard sirens.

"This is a regular occurance, then?" Sara asked again.

"Try every single case without fail".

"Not every case" Neal immediately protested, leaning more heavily against the side of the couch.

"Name one!" Peter countered, "One case where you did not get shot, stabbed, beaten up, punched, or plain ole' slapped!"

"... Avery 'n the stocks".

"Avery and the- Neal. You suffocated".

"Yea" He replied, eyelashes flickering, "But I didn't get shot, stabbed, beat up, punched, or slapped".

Sara looked between them amused. It was clearly an argument as old as time given Peter's exasperated but fond smile and Neal's somewhat dazed but triumphant smirk. She still didn't trust the conman, not even a tiny little miniscule bit, but seeing him like this, seeing the way he and Peter interacted, seeing the way that the FBI agent genuinely cared about his pet criminal… Well. Maybe, eventually, she could... start to like him?

Maybe.

Eventually.


Neal caught her look and his smirk widened even as there was a screech of tires outside and men in white rushed in.

"Excitement and intrigue…"

"Follow me wherever I go" She finished, stepping as the paramedics took over.

Neal gave one of the men a scowl of utter betrayal as he cut through the sleeve of his suit, before returning her wry look.

"That's probably true for both of us".

Peter let go of the towel, now only suitable for trash, as the other paramedic pulled out a heap of bandages. Neal was hauled to his feet, staggering briefly before being steadied and lead towards the door where the ambulance waited outside.

Sara watched him go and couldn't help but call after him.

"Looking forward to trying that soup".

He flashed her a weak grin over his shoulder before disappearing through the broken door.

Peter waited until he was out of sight before frowning and turning back to her.

"... Soup?"