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He sat dejectedly in the snow by Peter's side for what felt like an eternity before he caught the sound of fast-approaching medical vehicles. The ambulance arrived moments later and Neal and Peter were swallowed by a sea of paramedics, prodding and rushing around and asking questions. One of them must have pulled a stretcher from the truck and another followed with various medical equipment, but Neal was lost to his own thoughts, most of them on Peter.

"Sir," one paramedic said, and repeated it until he got Caffrey's attention. "Sir you have to move." He gestured to himself and to Peter who lay behind Neal and the ex-con gave the man a sharp, indignant look. The medic gave him a sympathetic look. "I know he's your friend, but we can't treat him if you're in the way."

Finally seeing sense, Neal reluctantly moved from his post. He climbed slowly to his feet as the effect of the numbing cold finally gripped him. When he moved away towards the flashing lights of the ambulance, his teeth were chattering and there was ice in his hair.

"Are you the one who called, sir?" a paramedic standing by the ambulance's open back doors hailed him over. She handed Neal a warm blanket and the ex-con took it gratefully, wrapping it snugly around his shoulders. He turned to watch the other emergency personnel check Peter's vitals and put pressure on the head wound. Neal winced as if the wound was on his head when the medic's expert fingers brushed the spot and Peter jerked away reflexively.

The medic who had hailed him over repeated her question and Neal turned to her apologetically.

"Will he be okay?" he asked without answering, blue eyes wide and pleading. She gave him an understanding nod.

"Your friend hit his head pretty hard," she said. She caught sight of the blood on his hands. "What did you say happened, sir?"

"I didn't," Neal answered, suddenly wary. "He was hit by a van," he continued. "We were after …" Neal paused and decided he probably shouldn't be spilling FBI case secrets without Peter's authorization; it wasn't like he was giving a statement to the police. But he was saved the problem of continuing when the medic interrupted,

"'You were after'?" she quoted dubiously, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

Neal flashed a charming smile and stuck out a slightly bloody hand, before remembering the blood and hastily withdrawing it. "Neal Caffrey, I'm a consultant for the FBI. You may have heard of me." He winked but the stern paramedic's stony facade didn't crack. Obviously she hadn't heard of him. "That's Special Agent Peter Burke." He nodded in Peter's direction.

"Uh huh," she said, sounding unimpressed.

"Anyway," he continued earnestly. "We were after Daring. Peter thought he had already fled the country, or at least the city. And then we found his van." He grinned a Cheshire grin. "It was stuck in a snow bank."

"Lucky."

"Yeah, not so much." He admitted.

The medic gave him a sympathetic nod before she was called away by the others and she rushed off, leaving Neal alone. He pulled the blanket tighter about his shoulders, feeling useless. He watched the medics scramble about. They had Peter strapped onto a stretcher and looked about ready to load him into the ambulance.

It struck Neal then that it would be a good time to call Elizabeth and let her know what had happened. He hated the idea of troubling her with this news, on Christmas eve, no less, but she would be even more upset if no one told her what happened and she was left to wonder. He knew she would want to hear it from him.

He reached into his pocket and was momentarily surprised when his hand emerged with Peter's phone instead of his own, but then he remembered that his phone had died earlier in the day and he had taken Peter's phone to call 9-11. The screen flashed with '1 missed call' and Neal didn't have to think very hard to guess who had called. His stomach twisted with guilt. If Peter had just gone home to have dinner with his wife, he would never have come across Daring's van and gotten himself in this situation.

Neal shook off the self-blame and turned his attention to the matter at hand. He needed to call Elizabeth. As he flipped the phone open to dial, however, a hand tapped him gently on the shoulder.

"Sir," it was the voice of authority. Neal turned around to find a man in an NYPD uniform staring back at him. "The paramedic informed me that you were the one who made the call?" Neal nodded affirmative. "We're going to need a statement."

The ex-con looked over his shoulder at the ambulance in alarm, noting that they were loading him into the ambulance. A restlessness seized him and he bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet as he turned to look back at the cop with wide blue eyes.

"Can't you just get it from her?" he pleaded. "Shouldn't I go with him?"

"Relax, kid," the cop assured him. "Your friend should be fine. That head wound looks nasty, but head wounds tend to bleed a lot. You kept him awake until the medics got here, that's important."

"I can keep him awake on the way to the hospital, too," Neal offered hopefully. He was hoping to get out of giving a statement because things could get dicey if the cop learned who he was while Peter wasn't there to back him up. His probation was tenuous as it was. And besides, he didn't want to leave Peter alone, if only for Elizabeth's sake.

"Can't I just give the statement tomorrow?" he looked back at the ambulance again, anxiously and then he turned and gave the cop his best wide-eyed stare -- it always seemed to work on Peter.

For a long moment, the man stared him down and Neal flashed a hopeful smile, ready to turn on his heel and make a dash for the ambulance with or without the policeman's permission. Thankfully for his record, the cop finally sighed and motioned to the ambulance with an impatient wave of his hand.

"All right kid, you can come down to the station tomorrow and find me. Detective Morrison," he said. "And as for riding with your friend, you'll have to ask them." He nodded to the paramedics.

Neal flashed detective Morrison a parting grin and with a quick, heartfelt "Thank you, Merry Christmas!" he bounded over to the ambulance.

"--hey, hey kid!"

Neal turned back to look over his shoulder at Morrison curiously. He had bent to pick something from the snow and was dusting it off with his hand. He held it up to Neal when he looked back and grinned wryly.

"You forgot your hat."

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I was in the city yesterday and exhausted when I got home. But here's your update now! This is it for the stuff already typed, but I've got the next chapter written out and waiting to be typed. That one should be up sometime tomorrow. Thanks so much for the reviews, guys. I'm glad you like the story. :D

Agni