What a hit! Thanks for all reviews guys. And the alerts. And the favs.

Neter and Peal. Who'd a thought such a mistake would be so popular. Now you too can go around confusing your friends and family with the new names.

And another bit of random fandom here. I actually have a Fedora hat. I wear it every Tuesday for the new episode. Others may laugh but I call it being a true fan.

Unfortunately I received too many reviews to properly thank each reviewer. Sorry, but all I can offer is one big THANK YOU!!! to all and everyone those who read and those who reviewed my fanfic. All compliments are greatly appreciated and they make me sooooo happy. I log on more than once a day just to read them.

Well, enough ranting. Keep on reading.

An Escape to Forget

Chapter 2

Peter stood and pulled Neal up from the ground. Groaning from the pain of his sore arm and swimming head, Neal slumped against Peter but remained standing. Peter quickly slipped Neal's arm over his shoulders and moved forward, dragging the younger man with him.

It took longer than he would have liked – since Neal still wasn't coherent enough to walk without constant support – but the two escapees managed to make it to the stairwell. Peter threw the door open and entered the unadorned room where a great staircase spiraled up from the ground level.

Peter swallowed uneasily at the sight of all the steps he would have to go down; at all the steps he would have to get Neal down.

Neal raised his head and whistled impressively. He turned his drooping gaze to Peter. "Ready partner?"

Peter grunted in response. Some partner. Peter was going to be the one doing all the work: walking and keeping Neal from tumbling down the stairs. But there was a thought. It would be easier just to push the unresponsive body of the ex-con down the stairs. Maybe Neal would learn a thing or two about sticking his nose in dangerous situations on the way down.

But it was just a thought. A fleeting one at that as Peter started down the stairs.

The process was painstakingly slow.

Neal was a heavy burden against him and the ex-con seemed to fade in and out of consciousness judging by his periodic spells of adverse movements. At times, Neal went completely limp and Peter had to work even harder to keep himself and Neal from slipping and tumbling down the steps.

But unconsciousness seemed to favor Neal more than consciousness. When awake, Neal gasped painfully from the exertion placed upon his unsteady body. His head hung low, his chin bumping against his chest. His arm swung uselessly at his side as his body jerked around with Peter's staggering movements.

When they had reached another level, Neal suddenly extended his free hand and shakily took hold of Peter's shirt.

"Stop, please," he gasped tiredly. "I need to rest. My head's gonna explode."

Peter looked from Neal to the amount of stairs they still had to descend. "All right," he finally agreed. "Just for a little while."

Peter carefully lowered Neal to the floor and then plopped down next to him. The two men both sat with their backs against the wall gasping from the mere labor of walking. Peter wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow and pulled at his collar to allow cool air to trickle down his shirt. He leaned his head back against the wall, exposing his glistening neck and closed his eyes to rest.

"Hey, Peter?" Neal's voice sounded faintly.

Peter opened his eyes blearily but didn't move.

"Are you going to leave me?"

Peter gave a violent start and bolted upright, his hard and confused eyes boring into Neal. But the ex-con was staring blankly at the ceiling; his blue eyes watery and sad.

"What kind of question is that?" Peter asked guardedly.

"If they find us, are you going to run?" Neal asked.

"If they find us, we're both going to jail," Peter admitted tersely.

"But you could still get away," Neal countered. "Would you?"

"Neal," Peter began gently. "I –"

The sound of a door openly abruptly disturbed the silence as footsteps echoed from above; the harsh sound banging against the walls of the stairwell.

Neal closed his eyes and winced at the sound. Peter's heart caught in his throat.

Wordlessly, he grabbed Neal's arm and jumped to his feet, pulling the younger man up with him. Neal opened his mouth to cry out in pain but Peter slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.

Without hesitation, Peter half-dragged, half-carried Neal through the door that opened onto the floor and staggered down the hall and around the corner. His sharp eyes instantly locked onto the camera and he carefully maneuvered out of its sight to stop directly beneath it.

He pushed Neal against the wall and, together, they slid down to the floor. Peter kept his body protectively in front of Neal; blocking the younger man from the sight of the hallway. He placed one hand on the wall beside Neal's shoulder and the other waited hovering in front of Neal's mouth, ready to silence the ex-con if he became inclined to break out into song. He looked over his shoulder to face the hallway; his ears straining to pick up the sound of the approaching footsteps.

"Keep walking," he muttered aloud. "Don't stop. Just keep moving. Don't come here."

His silent prays went unanswered as the door suddenly creaked open and the footsteps sounded in the hallway. Peter swallowed his curses as he tensed in preparation for a fight. If they were spotted, Peter would fight. It was only one person. He could easily take them out before an alarm could be raised. Then he and Neal could continue their escape.

The footsteps came closer and Peter clenched his fists.

The moment of truth was rapidly edging closer. It was going to be fight or flight. And to fight would ensure that Neal would get out safely.

_._._._._._._

Ooh, cliffies. It's a love-hate relationship with those things.

If you've read my other fanfics, you'd know I'm a sucker for bromantic moments. Just couldn't resist to put one in.

Oh, and I get so excited that I always forget to add this. Disclaimer: White Collar and its characters don't belong to me. But I can fantasize that they do.

Until next time,
Hobey-ho
(for those that recognize the saying, I've made a habit of putting the Pendragon saying at the end of every chapter of every fanfic. It's like a signature now.)