A/N: Thank you to everyone who's left reviews, they really make my day!
He had been unable to ignore the guilt. It had gnawed away at him as he'd sat opposite Peter in a darkened interrogation room, watching the way Peter stared at him with a blank expression that was void of any fondness he might have once held for Neal. He'd wanted to talk to Peter, tell him that he hadn't been playing games, hadn't been teasing him. Whatever he might have been feeling for Peter had been tentative and new, and he certainly didn't think of the possibility that Peter might have been starting to reciprocate.
The guilt he'd faced at the thought that Peter assumed he'd been messing with him had him blurting a confession. Neal knew he wouldn't have been able to construe a believable lie about the blueprints Peter had found, and so he'd decided to just give in. With him out of the way, Peter and Elizabeth would be able to get on with their lives and forget about the man who conned them. As well as that crime, the FBI had tried to get him to confess to the theft of the artwork he'd been witness to with Elizabeth, but there had been insufficient evidence and Neal wasn't about to confess to a crime he didn't commit. He also didn't confess to any of the thirty plus thefts and forgeries he was allegedly involved with.
Those long hours spent in an interrogation room and then standing in court led him here, his back aching as he lay in a cell, his orange clothing itching the back of his neck. It had been four weeks since his sentencing, and still each night Neal was confronted with the image of Peter's face when he'd confronted him in his apartment. It was an image apparently burned into his retinas, and he remembered feeling sick that day, knowing he'd lost Peter's trust and friendship.
A curse from an inmate nearby shook him from his reverie, and Neal sighed to himself, staring up at the naked light bulb above him. He'd had no visitors, though that wasn't really surprising. Mozzie would have undoubtedly fled, Elizabeth wouldn't want to put a strain on her relationship with Peter, and had he really expected Kate to show up? He was beginning to wonder if he should give up on her, let her go and leave her to whatever it was she was doing now.
"Caffrey."
Neal turned his head to see one of the wardens pressed against his cell, watching him with an irritated expression.
"I was gonna turn my light off in a second." he said, flashing the guy a smile.
"C'mere." the warden grunted, and to Neal's amazement he unlocked the cell door.
He sat up slowly and swung his legs onto the floor. "Why?"
"Just fucking do it." he sighed, holding open the door. "I ain't got time for your questions."
Neal got to his feet and cautiously stepped forwards. "Where are we going?"
"This way." The warden grabbed his arm and yanked him in front of him, roughly pulling his arms behind his back and binding his wrists with handcuffs. Neal felt his heart rate increase but he forced himself not to worry as they marched down the prison corridor. They came across no other guards on their route, and each time they passed a camera, Neal glanced up at it and wondered if the person behind it knew what was happening.
Soon enough they reached the infirmary, though the warden stopped just outside the doors. From what Neal could see, no lights were on and by the looks of it the half dozen beds were empty. Neal's confusion grew when his handcuffs were released, and he rubbed at the reddened skin.
"As much as I appreciate a nighttime stroll, I'd really rather be getting back to my cell now." he said, turning to the man behind him.
"Not happening, Caffrey." he said with a grin that Neal really didn't like the look of. "See, you're being admitted."
"To the infirmary?" he asked, frowning whilst turning back to the mentioned room. "What for?"
"I haven't decided yet."
The warden lunged forward suddenly and Neal felt a fist hit his stomach. He gasped and doubled over, only just blocking the second fist that came at him from the left. The warden was fast and Neal was still reeling from the shock of being punched, and so he wasn't quick enough to deflect a solid blow to his chest. He stumbled backwards but the warden matched his stride, striking his leg out and sending Neal to the ground, a groan escaping as his battered body smacked the tiled floor. A pair of hands grabbed the material around his shoulders, lifted him, and then slammed him back down. His head collided with the floor and Neal knew he was close to passing out.
He felt himself being heaved to his feet and then the warden was dragging him through the doors of the infirmary. The floor was swaying and Neal closed his eyes to fend off the waves of nausea threatening to spill. Footsteps approached and he felt somebody else take his other arm, and the warden and whoever else was there propped him up and tugged him forwards.
"What happened?"
"Punctured lung."
Neal frowned at that. He was fairly certain he didn't have a punctured lung, otherwise he'd be having a hell of a hard time breathing.
"We'll have to transfer him out, get him somewhere with better facilities."
"I don'–" Neal began, but he was interrupted.
"Quiet down, Mr. Caffrey." The doctor (presumably) and the warden led him to a gurney and lay him down, and Neal felt his left wrist being shackled to the rail. He opened his eyes and tried to spot the doctor, tell him there had been some sort of mistake.
"'S not punctured." he slurred, his head still pounding as he was wheeled to the prison's exit.
"You're not in a right state of mind to be diagnosing yourself." the doctor responded, staring ahead as the two men steered the gurney.
"M'not coughin' blood." Neal added, and he rattled his wrist to get attention. The doctor paid him no heed, though, and so he switched his gaze to the other side of the gurney where the warden was walking.
"He in on it too?" Neal mumbled, and the warden grinned.
"Money goes a long way, Caffrey." he said, staring ahead like the doctor. "Even reaches inside a prison's walls."
"Who bought you?" he asked, and as much as he wanted to know, he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay awake.
"Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise now, would we?"
After a few minutes they reached an exit and Neal was loaded into an ambulance. The doctor got in with him and Neal closed his eyes when he saw the man fiddling with a syringe.
"Who am I gonna tell where m'going?" he murmured, and the doctor smiled ruefully.
"Just following instructions, I'm afraid." The needle was inserted into his arm and Neal resisted the urge to squirm. He could already feel the drug taking effect; his eyelids felt heavy and his limbs felt looser. Before he knew it, his eyes closed for good as unconsciousness washed over him.
When he woke up, it was to a pounding headache and achy muscles. Neal was fairly sure some of his ribs were cracked, too, and he winced as he rolled onto his side, faintly celebrating the fact that he wasn't tied up.
It was with some reluctance that he cracked open his eyes, and he frowned as he took in his surroundings. He was in a barn? It was hard to see since it was still apparently night time, but he was ninety-five percent sure he was in a barn. There were no animals, but straws of hay were strewn across the floor and the wooded walls loomed high above him. Definitely a barn.
Neal had no idea how long he had been out, but judging by the lack of daylight streaming in through the slats, he guessed it had only been a couple of hours. Biting back a moan, he pushed himself upright and shuffled back a bit until he was leaning against a wall. Glancing down at himself, he noted with confusion that he was wearing a grey suit, and he was fairly sure it was his own. He'd only been wearing it a month ago, the night Peter had shown up drunk at his apartment.
What the hell was going on, and who had supposedly been considerate enough to change him out of prison uniform and into his own clothes? Kate flashed through his head briefly, but he knew (hoped) she wouldn't have let her cohorts use violence to get him out of jail. Following on from Kate, Mozzie seemed the next candidate, but Neal was doubtful. Mozzie might be dramatic but he wouldn't have beaten and drugged Neal all the while keeping his identity a secret.
It was then that the far door opened with a creak, and someone hidden by shadows entered. Neal was able to discern that he was male and perhaps slightly shorter than he, but that was it.
"Come on, then," he croaked. "Who do I have to thank for getting me out of prison?"
The figure continued to saunter forwards until he stepped into a patch of moonlight about ten feet from where Neal was slumped against the wall. Neal's eyes widened and he sat up straighter, determined not to let his panic show.
"Well that would be me, Caffrey." Matthew Keller said with grin.