Chapter 5

Neal-

Neal Caffrey woke to the sound of faint shouting and waves of pain rolling over him. He blinked, letting out a small groan as he tried to find out where the source of the shouting was coming from, and why he hurt so. He let out a small whimper as he tried to move, finding that his broken arm lay pinned by a large piece of the rubble from the building. He looked upwards, wondering how he was still alive, when he saw the answer. The metal pole he had been tied to had been knocked to where it stood over him at an angle, part of it laying on top of him, almost crushing him as it supported a fair part of a chunk of the building on it. He shuddered, thinking about how close he could have been to dying from being crushed under it.

The shouting grew louder, more frantic, and his blue gaze flickered around to find the source of the shouting, and realized it was coming from the phone he had used to call Peter. Reaching out towards the phone, fingers outstretched and his face lit with pain, he managed to drag to phone closer to him, pushing the speaker button so he could hear better.

"...Neal, are you there? Damn it Neal, answer me!" Peter's voice seemed almost high-pitched from what sounded like fear. Neal blinked slowly, trying to shift through the fogginess that clouded his mind.

"Pe...eter." He rasped out, shocked at the sound of his voice. It sounded off, weird, not like him at all. Apparently, Peter noticed too.

"Neal! Neal, are you ok? No, of course you aren't ok, a building collapsed on you and you don't sound good to begin with..." Neal noticed Peter hesitate before his friend, his best friend, began to speak again. "A-are you hurt badly?"

"That depends. What's your definition of bad?" He asked, almost sarcastically. He heard hear Peter give a weak chuckle.

"Always the smart-aleck." Came the reply.

"Of course." Neal said, giving a small chuckle only to break off with a bout of coughing.

"Neal?" Peter sounded so concerned as he said Neal's name.

"It's ok Peter...I'm...I'm fine. Just do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Hurry." Neal's voice was a whisper as he spoke, pulling the phone closer to him so Peter had the chance of hearing him.

"Of course..." Peter paused before continuing. "Neal?"

"Hmm?"

"Keep talking to me. Please."

"I'll try to Peter. It's...harder to talk every second that passes."

"I know Neal...hang on, we'll get you out of there."

"I know. I trust you Peter. I know you'll get me out of here."

Peter-

Peter swallowed as he heard Neal tell him that he trusted him. His friend sounded so exhausted, and his voice was filled with pain. He had noticed Neal had never really answered his question when he had asked him if he was hurt bad. And then, when he had said Neal's name, he had said he was fine, but Peter knew the young man all too well. Neal would say he was fine even if he was dying.

Need to get him out of there...doesn't sound like he can hold on much longer... Peter thought with a frown, turning towards the people, construction workers, FBI Agents, police, paramedics, all the people who had shown up soon after Peter had called it in that the building had collapsed with Neal inside. Meanwhile, he had bruised and bloodied his hands clearing away a small part of the rubble while screaming his friend's name into the phone when he hadn't answered. The paramedic's had taken care of his hands, wrapped them in bandages, and although they told him he shouldn't do any more digging, he was anyway. He could feel the glares of annoyance and hear the sighs of exasperation coming from everyone but the FBI Agents, who knew how important Neal was to him, and so on and on, through the hours, he and everyone had worked.

"So, Neal..." Peter's voice trailed off, unsure of what in the world it was that he should say.

"How are you Peter?" He heard Neal ask, barely audible, though the voice was concerned, before the young man broke off into a series of harsh coughs. Peter grimly waited it out, telling himself that Neal would be out of the rubble soon.

"I'm fine Neal. It's you I'm worried about."

"Worried. I'm touched." Came the quiet, yet sarcastic reply. Peter smiled slightly, and then felt a rush of pure shock as he head Neal continue. "You are close, I can hear you when you speak."

"You can hear me right now, not phone wise, but you can hear my voice as if I were close to you?" He asked, stunned.

"Yeah." Came the weak reply. Weaker than all the others, which automatically alarmed Peter worse than before.

"Do you think you can knock on something? Hang on." He asked, whirling around, signaling to everyone else to shut up and listen. "Go for it Neal." A few seconds later, a very small tapping sound came a few feet from Peter, to his left. He pointed to it, and everyone rushed over, clearing away the giant pile of rubble that covered where the tapping had been coming from. Peter could hear Neal coughing hard, and as he dug for his friend, his bandaged hands starting to bleed again, Peter was about to tell Neal that everything would be ok, they were there, they'd get to him soon, when he had noticed that Neal had stopped coughing, and he wasn't saying anything.

"Neal?" Peter asked, fear gripping him, just as fear gripped everyone else, making them freeze. "Neal? Neal? Come on buddy, answer me." There was no answer. Peter dropped the phone instantly and began throwing rubble to the side, moving swiftly. "Hang on Neal! Hang on!" He yelled, everyone moving just as quickly as he did, dust filling the air as the rubble was being thrown to the side. Then, they hit a wall. A big wall. "Dig around it! See if there is another way!" Peter ordered when they couldn't get through it, digging frantically. Everyone did as told until finally, Peter heard Jones call out.

"Here! I can see him!" Peter leaped over a small pile of rock towards the FBI Agent, and as he reached Jones' side, he too could see Neal. His friend was covered in a chalky white layer of dirt, one hand stretched out beside him, palm upward, fingers curled as his head rested against the wall that they hadn't been able to get through. Next to his head was the phone he had been using to talk to Peter. Even with the layer of dirt covering his friend, he could tell that Neal was covered in bruises, his lips covered with dried blood, and from the looks of it, one of the young man's arms was broken, trapped under a piece of rubble. What terrified Peter the most though, was the fact that Neal didn't look like he was breathing.

"NEAL!" Peter cried out, squeezing his way through the gap that was now being expanded so they could get Caffrey out. He lightly touched his friend's wrist, rubbing away the chalky white dirt on his friend to notice two things. The young man's wrists were rubbed raw, and his skin was alarmingly cool. Peter blinked, his hand hovering over Neal's mouth, then his eyes widened in alarm. The young man wasn't breathing, and looking closely, Peter could see that Neal's lips were tinged blue. "Oh god Neal! Come on, breath! Breathe Neal!" Peter said, performing CPR to his partner. A few minutes passed, though it seemed like an eternity to Peter, before Neal took in a ragged gasp.

As Peter breathed a sigh of relief, the ex-con's eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment before they finally landed on Peter. "I...kn-knew you'd fi...nd me." He heard the young man breath.

"Of course I would. Next time I'm going to put that anklet on you the moment you get out of the hospital. Not wait until morning." Peter replied, smiling slightly, relieved. Neal gave a small chuckle, but then his head fell to the side, his eyes closed. He was unconcious. Peter watched his friend grimly, carefully pulling free the young man's broken arm from out of underneath the rubble. Then, he gently dragged the unconcious man out into fresh air, and into the light. Then, Peter let an outraged gasp, seeing the full extent of his partner's injuries. Broken nose, broken arm, his head was bleeding a little, he had various bruises covering him, ranging from a deep purple to black. Neal's clothes were torn, showing a few bruises on his chest, and when the paramedic's touched his chest, they declared that the young man had a few broken ribs as well as a reopened bullet wound in the chest and a new stab wound in his shoulder.

You'll pay for this Sasha! He thought to himself, watching as they loaded Neal into an ambulance and drove him to the hospital. They wouldn't let him go with Neal, which he found annoying, but he could understand it. Besides, he had to go and explain all of what happened to Elizabeth.

(At Peter's House...)

Peter walked in the door, tiredly rubbing his eyes before he noticed the strange silence, and then saw Elizabeth laying on her stomach, on the ground. He rushed over to her, his eyes wide as he flipped his wife over, and once he realized that she was alive, but knocked out, he looked up, too late. A young woman and a man were there, the woman he recognized as Sasha Storm.

"You hurt my friend and partner!" He growled Sasha. Her lips twitched slightly.

"Yes, he wasn't supposed to die. The young man is like the Terminator and the Energizer Bunny. He just won't die and he keeps going and going." Came the reply. Peter smirked. Yeah, that sounded like Neal. Peter stiffened when he felt the muzzle of a gun being pressed against his head. There was sudden pain, and the word spiraled into darkness, the last thing he heard was Sasha speaking.

"Grab them both. We don't want his wife to go to his FBI friends, and I don't think Neal Caffrey will be able to help him for a long while..."