A/N and here we go again... (:
I do not own White Collar or any character appearing in this story.

Neal looked up at Keller again. The man's fear had changed into a wide smile. With a scream he attempted to tackle Neal, but Neal was the faster one.

With all his strength, he threw himself against Keller's body. As the remaining glass of the window broke, it almost felt like diamonds, raining down on him.

Neal hit the floor again, pieces of broken glass cutting into his hands. It didn't matter to him. He picked himself up, but at the sight of Elizabeth, his knees almost gave way again.

She was just hold upright by her handcuffs. Her Blue dotted blouse was now stained in red. The shot must have hit her and he didn't even noticed it.

He heard loud noises, sounding like people running up the stairs. He was about to run over to El, but his legs wouldn't move. Just in the same moment the door busted open.

"FBI! Freeze!"

Neal turned, to see at least a dozen agents enter the room. The First of them was Peter.

"Drop your weapon!" Neal furrowed his brow in confusion.

Looking down his side, he noticed the gun, he still held in his hands.

Everything felt so unreal. He could hear his heartbeat pounding slowly in his chest. His blood rushing in his ears. His breathing. Like someone had pressed cotton to his ears, the voices got more and more quiet, until he could only see their lips moving.

He could see Peter staring at him in disbelief. Could see Peter's face drop, as he noticed El, unconscious in the other corner.

"Peter, I didn't…" he managed to get out finally, but Peter was gone by then. Neal could see him rushing to his wife, kneeling beside her.

Neal relaxed his muscles and felt the gun fall from his hands.

"You have the right to remain silent…" he heard the voice of a stranger in the distance. Without struggling Neal let them cuff his hands again.

All he could see was El. And Peter. And the tears shining in Peter's eyes.

He screwed it. It was his fault Elizabeth was dead now.

"Neal?" He heard a familiar voice calling his name, but he didn't react. His eyes still locked on Peter and El, he felt the sudden dizziness coming over his body.

He didn't fight it anymore. He felt no urge to do it. In fact he felt nothing. Not even pain. Just emptiness.

The last thing he noticed, were his knees giving way.

Before he hit the floor, he was unconscious again.

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He awoke to an evenly beeping. The sterile, white walls blinding his eyes as he tried to open them. He had to blink twice before his vision sharpened a bit. The room still span a little as he noticed the man with the suit, standing by the window and turning his back towards him.

"Moz?" Neal's voice wasn't more then a whisper and it still itched in his dry throat.

The man at the window turned. It wasn't Mozzie.

"Neal. You've said something?" Jones walked towards his bed, looking down on him in concern.

"No, just…" Neal's voice trailed off. He closed his eyes, trying to remember where he was and what had happened. The images flashed before his eyes. Peter. Keller. The call. El. The exchange. The Degas. El. The gun. El.

His eyes suddenly jerked open, wide in fear. His breathing was fast.

"Neal, everything's alright. You're save now." He heard Jones' soothing voice and felt a calm hand on his shoulder.

"El. What happened? How is she? How's Elizabeth?"

Everything around him was crystal clear now. He could focus on Jones, not missing the painful and concerned expressions on the other man's face.

"She hasn't woken up yet." He said honestly, biting his lip as he saw Neal's shocked and desperate face.

"The shot hit her stomach. It didn't hit any major organs, but she lost a lot of blood. The doctor said, the next 24 hours will be deciding whether she lives or not. You've been out almost three hours. It's afternoon." Jones added as Neal opened his mouth to ask the question.

Neal looked to the ground absently. In an attempt to run his hand through his hair, he found it cuffed to the bed. He looked down in confusion and then up again, as he heard Jones' deep sight.

"Rice took over the investigation, Neal. Keller's gone. He's off the grit. We only found the gun with your fingerprints on it."

Neal's mouth dropped open in revolt. As if all this wasn't enough already! He remembered the gloves, Keller had worn them the whole time. That son of a bitch…

"I didn't do it, Jones! You have to believe me! Why should I…"

"Damn it Neal, of course we believe you!" Jones cut Neal off.

"The thing is, it's Rice who's investigating. Of course we tried to interfere, but Hughes thinks we're to close to this and damn, he's right. We can't do anything at the moment. As long as Elizabeth doesn't wake up…"

"…I got no witness I didn't shoot her." Neal finished Jones sentence in disbelief. He closed his eyes again. This was just not right.

"So, I'm going back to prison?" Neal asked, his throat still dry.

"Neal, I'm sorry. Diana is trying everything to track Keller down and Rice is on it, too. At least we know he was there. Still, Rice only believes in what she sees and in evidence. As I said, the only thing we found was the gun with your fingerprints on it, Elizabeth shot and Keller gone. It really looks like you tried to kill Elizabeth and Keller, to run with the Degas. To Rice, not to us!" He added fast. "So, yeah. You're going back to prison tomorrow."

Neal let his head sink back into the pillow again and sighted.

This just couldn't be it. First time he tried to do something good. He should have had known, that it wouldn't end well for all of them. Maybe he really was like his father. Dirty cop, bad cop. Maybe it really was in his blood. Maybe, he shouldn't try to be any different anymore. Yes, maybe.

"Just…tell me when Elizabeth wakes up, ok?" Neal said quietly.

"I will. Just hang on a little, we're gonna get you out of this mess, I promise." With this word, Jones patted his shoulder lightly. Then he went away.

Leaving Neal alone in the small room. Alone, with his thoughts and his fears.

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Peter took another sip of the disgusting hospital-coffee. He had to keep himself awake, in case El would wake up.

It didn't matter to him what the doctors had said. He hadn't understood all the words they said anyway. Something about heavy blood loss, asystolia during the surgery. That there was no oxygen supply to El's brain for a few minutes and that they couldn't exclude long term damage until she wakes up.

He tried to clear his head. He couldn't lose hope. He was not allowed to. Not now.

Still, he couldn't bare the sight of his beloved wife, hooked up to numerous machines. All these tubes, to her mouth, her arms, the ventilator which helped her to breath. She looked so vulnerable. The white sheets of the hospital bed made her only seem paler.

Peter couldn't stand the slow beeping of the ECG anymore. It was scrambling his brain. Nevertheless it assured him, that El was still alive. And it soothed him in some way, making him tired and his eyelids heavy.

He was drained. The effort and exhaustion of the last days came crashing down on him now. He hadn't slept for almost 48 hours. And by now, he was remembered of that.

He wanted to shut his eyes, just for a short moment. Just a little break. Just…

After a few second he fell asleep.

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TBC