A/N I apologize for the end of this chapter right here and right now. I'm sorry!
"You idiot!" Peter yelled, stomping over to the rookie who had just shot his CI. "You shoot the criminal, not the goddamn man we're trying to rescue!"
Snatching the gun from the trembling Agent, Peter whirled around. Each member of the FBI was frozen, deers in headlights. He scrunched up his nose, and fought to contain the urge to punch the rookie in the face. For Christ's sakes Peter didn't even know how a rookie that stupid made it onto the team.
"For God's sakes, go collect Edwards!" Peter exploded, shooting a pleading look at Jones, who promptly dialed 911.
With the anger quickly dissipating fro his body, Peter made his way to Neal. His blue eyes were open again and he was clutching his leg where he was shot. Wincing as his shivers from the cool fall day was moving his leg. Neal's head felt like it was gonna explode and his back was back to feeling like it was on fire. Skin bubbling over, he groaned loudly and watched as Peter's brow furrowed and sympathy pain flashed across his brown eyes.
"Hey Peter." Neal said, a small smile taking over his pale face. His cheeks were flushed and his throat was raw. Neal knew he was going to be in the hospital for several weeks, the wounds on his back heeling, a concussion on top of that and a gunshot wound to boot.
"Neal. Neal. I thought…. never do that again." Peter whispered, his shoulders slumping at the pitiful sight of his friend. He remembered when he found out Neal was missing.
He had raced to Hughes the minute Neal had left his house, telling him to pull the entire operation. He didn't care how important this was, he needed Neal back in one piece. Peter laughed maniacally at this fact now because here Neal was and he was in more pieces than a puzzle. Heck, Peter was in more than one piece. His heart was crumbling at every moment he sat there watching Neal's glazed eyes become more distant and his cheeks become more and more pale. It was good that he was conscious but he doubted Neal would stay that way for much longer.
The team had then rushed to the warehouse, Neal and Edwards nowhere to be seen. Peter had wanted to quit there, scream and cry and just give up. He wanted to give in to the part of him that told him Neal was already gone. But he held out, putting a mask Caffery would be proud of on and telling his team to keep looking stoically. The missing red blink of the anklet's tracker was what had haunted Peter the most. He knew Neal wouldn't have cut it. No that was all Edwards. All him. They finally tracked him down, a chinese restaurant employee had reported seeing Edwards disposing of a needle.
Peter jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he shifted to the side as the EMTs packed Neal onto a gurney. Neal looked at Peter, his eyes big and blue and wide. They connected, actually looked at Peter for the first time in 3 minutes before rolling back. Before his body went limp and he relaxed into the gurney, his feet swaying at every jerking movement it made as it was loaded into the ambulance.
"I'm going with him." Peter pleaded, reaching for his badge when the two medical professionals shared a weary look. "Please. I'm the only family he has."
They nodded and motioned for him to follow and Peter thanked them, not caring that tears were streaming down his face. The ambulance ride was uneventful, the paramedics trying desperately to ask Peter questions about Neal's history. Earning glares and shrugs in response.
"You've got to know something." The EMT said exasperated.
"The only thing that I know is that has a history of seizures due to a trauma to the head. We've been over this." Peter sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, drained.
She rolled his eyes and he wanted to slug her. He was trying, he really was, he wished that he knew more. But it was Neal, Neal who dodged any personal matter, slinking away as the FBI Agents talked about their worst injuries, worst hospital visits and trips.
"You are so helpful." She deadpanned, her partner shooting daggers into her. At least he respected Peter enough not to mess with him.
They pulled up to the hospital and Peter sank into a green chair, drained, gone. it had been such a long day. Such a long operation. Such a long year. And it all tied back to Kate. Peter despised that women, hated her for hurting Neal, for running away, pretending to die, for coming back. God how much he hated her for coming back. But really he hated himself. He hated that he hadn't protected Neal enough, that he didn't keep him from running back into Kate's arms, into Sam's trap. Into the hellhole that landed him in the hospital.
Kate, the name now meant more to him than any other. It meant pain, it meant destruction, it meant loss and death and hatred all at once. But Neal was Peter's favorite (besides El) because it meant friendship and second chances, it meant happy endings, getting better. But most of all it meant hope. Hope that Neal would get out of this alive, that Peter would wake up to blue eyes and snarky comments, to art and intelligence. And the doctor that walked up to him held all that in the paper in his hands. In his words.
"Sir, Caffery is…"
A/N I know, I know I'm evil. Mwahaha. I think they will only be another chapter or so and then the fic will be over *cries* I'm gonna miss this story. I hope you liked this chapter, please review :)