Peter looks down at his pant leg, inspecting the tiny hole. That was close. He had seen his CI's skills with guns, but he is still surprised. He makes a face at Neal, who is lying on the floor, now putting the gun aside and pulling himself into a sitting position, smirking at Peter.

Agents are swarming the place around the truck now, which contains the stolen Nazi treasure. While Matthew Keller is being lead away by agents and EMTs, Peter turns around and walks towards Neal. He extends a hand for Neal to take and pulls him to his feet. Neal wavers. „Woah, buddy. Take it easy. Keller got you good with that cane. Let the EMTs check you out." He puts an arm around Neal's shoulders.

"I'm okay", Neal states. Peter shakes his head and inspects his friend. His face is bleeding, his movements are sluggish and he is holding his side.

„Okay, I'll drive you to the hospital myself then."

„Pt'r, please. I jus' wanna g' home." Neal is slurring now, leaning more into Peter's embrace. His head starts to droop towards his chest, while one arm is wrapped around his midsection.

Concussion and cracked ribs, Peter assumes.

„Caffrey, you can barely stand! Let's move." They slowly make their way towards Peter's car and Peter can see the ambulance with Keller inside leaving the premises.

When they made it halfway, Neal suddenly pushes Peter away from him, stating wide-eyed: „I don't d'serve your help. El was kidnapped b'cause of me. G' home to her." He staggers backwards a few steps, then stops, wavering dangerously. He looks Peter straight in the eyes, blinking sluggishly. He looks so sad and forlorn, it breaks Peter's heart.

„Neal..." Peter's voice is soft and full of care.

Neal looks down at the arm which is wrapped around his ribs. „P'tr, I don't feel so good.", he breathes. He raises his head and opens his mouth as if to say something, but slowly sinks down on the floor instead, sitting there, looking a bit dumbfounded.

„Oh god, Neal. What is it?"

„D'zzy."

Peter sits down in front of Neal, putting one hand on his shoulder to steady him. He feels small tremors wrecking Neal's lean frame. It's obvious that Neal is in pain.

„I'm so sorry. I treated you way too harshly. I was just concerned for El. She's everything to me and you endangered her, Neal."

Neal nods with tears in his eyes.

„But you are also my best friend and I forgive you." Peter pulls Neal into a bear-hug, one arm wrapped over his CI's shoulder, the other around his lower back, pulling him in to his right shoulder.

Neal's arms are hanging at his sides, his breathing is labored and he is still trembling, Peter notices.

Suddenly, Neal stills and goes completely limp. Peter reacts by holding on tight, bearing Neal's weight. Neal's head drops backwards, lips slightly apart, eyes closed and face slack. Peter's heart skips a beat.

„Neal!", he shakes his friend, but Neal's head is rolling loosely on his shoulders. Through the jostling, Neal's lips part even further, revealing his straight white teeth.

A couple of agents who were still at the place come rushing over. Among them is Jones.

„Peter!", he calls out.

„Jones, calling an ambulance would take as long as me taking him to the hospital myself. Help me get him to my car."

Jones nods.

Peter gently lowers Neal to the ground, who is now lying there spread-eagle, unmoving.

Instead of carrying Neal between them, Peter is surprised when Jones leans over Neal, takes both his arms and pulls Neal upward like a ragdoll, his head falling back first, then forward when landing on Jones's back, his hair flopping over his brows in thick waves, as Jones now has him in a fireman's carry. His limbs are dangling around Jones's shoulders. It would be comical, if the situation wouldn't be so severe.

Jones grunts under Neal's weight, but they make their way to Peter's car quickly. Peter opens both back-doors and gets around the car, halfway climbing into the back. Jones, on the other side, lowers Neal towards the backseat and slowly slides him off his shoulders and into Peter's waiting arms, who cradles Neal's head and shoulders, so Neal wouldn't hit the seat on his way down. They turn Neal onto his side and adjust his legs so he fits in the car fully.

They both get in in the front and drive off to the hospital. Peter keeps glancing over his shoulder worriedly. Neal starts stirring slightly, whimpering in the process.

„Hold on, Neal."

Peter steps into the cubicle, where Neal is dozing in a half-elevated bed.

The doctor's had said that Neal had indeed a concussion and two broken ribs. He'd have to stay overnight for further monitoring. He's going to be insufferable.

Neal looks peaceful as he sleeps. His face slightly turned away from Peter, a nasal cannula snaking over his ears, his breathing even. Only the bruises and scrapes along his jaw remind Peter of the beating he took.

Peter sighs and sits down in a plastic chair beside the bed. He went to see El earlier while Neal was being admitted. Peter was glad to have the love of his life back. And he was sure that his best friend would recover and everything would go back to normal. Well, as normal as it can get with Neal Caffrey...