"Oh my God, what did they do to you?"

Elizabeth came rushing over and knelt next to him. Subduing the panic he could feel at the sight of her, Neal gave a wry smile in response and shrugged, finding that it was best he could do at the moment with what little energy he had left.

"You should see what I did to them." he murmured, looking her up and down with a frown. Her shirt was rumpled but intact, as were her jeans. "Did they hurt you, Elizabeth?"

"No, I'm fine." she responded, shaking her head. "Nick, I…" She trailed off, suddenly looking hesitant.

"Peter told you?" he asked quietly, and Elizabeth nodded.

"I'm sorry." he breathed. "I didn't mean to involve you."

"It's 'Neal', right?" she asked, and it was Neal's turn to nod. "Were you really part of that robbery?"

"No." he said. "Bad timing on my part."

Elizabeth smiled slightly. "Peter was so angry at you when he found out you were lying to him."

"I don't blame him." Neal said. "Are you saying you're not?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I was," she began, shifting to lean against the wall next to him. "But it's kind of hard when you look like this."

"How dare you." Neal croaked with a smile, prompting one out of Elizabeth, too.

"So why are we here?" she asked, and Neal sighed and shifted, immediately regretting it when bolts of pain coursed down his arm.

"Matthew Keller." he said. "A rival of mine who needs me to do something for him."

"And what's that?"

"Forge a painting I think. I assume he wants it to be a lost piece that he's miraculously found."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked with a frown.

"He's got a debt to pay." Neal answered. "Keller has a tendency to owe money to people and then disappear before he pays them. Guess they've caught up to him."

"So why am I here?"

Neal swallowed and rolled his head across the wall to gaze at her. "Leverage." he muttered. "I'm sorry."

Elizabeth reached over and squeezed his hand. "We'll be ok."

"I won't let anything happen to you, Elizabeth."

"I can handle myself," she said with a smile. "And I don't think you're in any position to be fighting those guards."

"I'll do as he says, though." Neal replied. "No need for us to get hurt needlessly, right?"

Elizabeth squeezed his hand again. "Right." she said softly. "You know, I didn't think conmen were this noble."

"They're not." Neal said. "Must have a concussion."

Elizabeth laughed and shook her head, though it died when she glanced at his shoulder. "What happened?" she demanded, reaching out.

Neal leaned away. "Don't touch it." he rushed, blinking away spots at his sudden movement. Elizabeth frowned.

"I – I wasn't going to." she answered. "Were you shot?"

"Stabbed."

"Stabbed? It doesn't even look like it's been treated." Elizabeth reached out again but Neal leaned back even further.

"I just want to look." she said. "I'll be gentle."

Reluctantly, Neal conceded, and Elizabeth gradually pulled back the bloodied and crusty bandage that the guard had haphazardly applied the night before, wincing whenever Neal flinched. A small amount of blood was sluggishly oozing out of the wound, adding to the dark tint of Neal's shoulder.

"That…" Elizabeth murmured with a frown. "Looks infected."

"Feels infected, too."

"When did they…?"

"Last night." he murmured.

"Oh." Elizabeth bit her lip, still studying the wound.

"Yeah," Neal breathed with a slight smile. "Not got long left."

"Don't be silly." Elizabeth said, though there wasn't much conviction in her tone. "You'll be fine, we'll get out of here."

Neal was about to open his mouth to respond when the barn doors opened and Keller strolled in.

"Well Caffrey, now that you've had a nice little reunion, have you got a different answer for me?"

Neal glanced across at Elizabeth, who smiled warmly and squeezed his hand. He knew he'd never be able to forgive himself if she got hurt because of him, and he could only imagine the look on Peter's face if he lost her.

"Alright," he said wearily, glaring up at Keller. "I'll do what you want. Elizabeth stays out of it, though."

Keller shrugged. "Don't mess me around and we've got a deal." he replied. "I'll get you some supplies later on."

"Get someone to treat his shoulder, first." Elizabeth demanded, staring at Keller with a cold expression.

"Elizabeth," Neal warned, but she only tightened her grip on his hand in response. Keller turned to her with raised eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips, but she didn't back down. Eventually, he returned his gaze to Neal.

"Alright," he conceded. "I'm not a monster. But that's the only thing you get to ask for, Miss Mitchell." He turned to go then, but a sudden thought entered Neal's head, and he called out.

"Keller," The man stopped and raised an eyebrow at him, waiting. "I've already got a piece ready." he said. "In my rooms. It's finished."

It wasn't a lie, but Neal had no idea if it was still there. The piece he'd painted for Peter when they were planning to lure out the gallery's robber had been sitting in his room when Peter arrested him, and he could only hope it hadn't been seized as evidence. It was a risk worth taking, though, if it meant Elizabeth would be safe. The thought of her being harmed because of him made him nauseous, and if anything happened to her while he got out alive, Neal would be taking a ride to Riker's himself.

Keller seemed to be evaluating what he'd said, weighing the pros and cons. "Alright, Neal." he said. "I'll bite. But lemme tell you this," He pointed a finger and smiled coldly. "If your FBI buddy is waiting for me, my friend here is gonna have a lot of fun with you and Miss Mitchell."

Neal really wasn't sure if he was going to be able to contain his nausea, though whether that was from Keller's words or blood loss, he couldn't say. Next to him, Elizabeth's lips were pressed tightly together while she glared at Keller.

"See you two later then. No funny business while I'm gone." The sentence was delivered with a chirpy smile, and he winked at Neal before he and his bodyguard left, leaving the two of them alone. Neal sighed and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

"Are you OK?" he heard Elizabeth ask, and Neal smiled wanly.

"I'm wondering what risks will be involved if I ask our babysitter for a cup of coffee."

He felt Elizabeth squeeze his hand. "Not sure coffee's a wise idea at the minute. No passing out on me, please."

Neal huffed. "Working on that." he said. His shoulder was killing him - quite literally, right now - and he could feel his hands shaking. He wondered if Elizabeth could feel it too.

"Do you think there's a way out of here?"

"Working on that, too." Neal added, his eyes still closed.

"Care to let me in on it?"

"Well," he replied, cracking his eyes open and peering at Elizabeth. "I've no ideas at this moment, but I'm sure something will come to mind."

"That's great." Elizabeth said with a smile. "It's just that, once your friend gets his painting, you're aware that he doesn't necessarily have to let us go?"

"I'm aware." Neal replied. He was very aware of that.

Elizabeth was silent for a few moments, before saying quietly, "You're a criminal, right?"

With a frown, Neal slowly turned his head to face Elizabeth properly. "According to some people."

She looked towards the doors at the other end of the building. "Then couldn't you... pick the lock?"

"You know, it's not just criminals who know how to pick locks."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Alright, I won't call you a criminal again. But could you?"

Neal sighed. "Probably." he answered quietly. "Haven't met a lock I couldn't pick yet. The only problem is if I move I'm gonna pass out."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That's... unfortunate."

"Yeah."

They were quiet for a few moments. Neal closed his eyes again and tried not to fall asleep. He hadn't been entirely joking when he'd told Elizabeth he didn't have long left, and he could feel himself getting increasingly frustrated at his lack of escape plans. He was concentrating so much on staying awake that he had no energy left to think of ways out. Unless they thought of something soon, their future was looking bleak.

"You could tell me how to do it."

Neal opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "That could work." he said. "Providing Keller's guys didn't take my lock picks."

They had taken them. Neal's fingers found the ripped seams where he normally stashed his items, and he bit down the swell of disappointment. With a nail or two, it could still work.

It was as he was pulling his hand away from his side that he brushed something inside his outer pocket. With a small frown, Neal slipped a hand in and his fingers closed around something small and circular. He pulled it out slightly and stared down at the little black tracking device sitting in his palm.

He remembered Peter arriving at his rooms a month or so ago, drunk and clumsy and woozy from the concussion Keller had given him. He remembered Peter dropping a handful of trackers on the floor, and cheerfully giving one to Neal. Why he did, Neal didn't know, but he could finally picture he and Elizabeth getting out of this safely. Well, as safe as he could be with the lack of blood currently in his body.

Neal also remembered how that night had nearly ended, but with Elizabeth waiting next to him, he resolutely pushed those thoughts away. Whatever Peter might have felt for him, Neal knew he definitely wouldn't still feel that way now, especially now that Elizabeth was at risk because of him.

"They took them." he told her, patting his pockets for show and trying not to wince at the movement. "Guess it was unlikely anyway."

"Couldn't we find something around here to use instead?" Elizabeth asked, scanning the floor as she spoke.

Yes we could, Neal thought to himself, but even if Elizabeth unlocked the door, there was no telling who was waiting for them outside. With the newly discovered tracker, though, there was hope that the FBI would save them the trouble of finding out how many guards were hanging around. That was assuming, however, that someone at the FBI would respond to the signal. Just because Peter had given him one didn't mean he would answer the call.

"No," he answered. "Nothing would be delicate enough to use as a substitute."

Elizabeth didn't look entirely convinced, but she didn't say anything in response.

"We need to get out of here soon." she said after some time, glancing a look at Neal's shoulder.

"We will." He wasn't sure why he wasn't telling Elizabeth about the tracker, but Keller's reaction to the FBI storming his little hideout was something to worry about. With any luck, Keller would take his anger out on him and leave Elizabeth out of it, but to ensure her safety even more Neal knew the tracker had to be on her. That way, the Feds would definitely find her.

And anyway, if Peter did show up and Neal was hoarding the tracker, he knew the agent would be less concerned with him and more worried about Elizabeth's safety. If the tracker was with her, everyone would be happy – well, as happy as anyone could be in these circumstances.

Neal was also aware that if he shared his plan with Elizabeth, she would refuse to take the tracker. So it was necessary that he kept this from her, as uncomfortable as it might make him.

Which was why, when night fell a few hours later and Neal was feeling lightheaded whilst Elizabeth napped next to him, he found the tracker's switch and slipped it into Elizabeth's pocket.

Finding himself squeezing Elizabeth's unresponsive hand for comfort, he settled in for a long night battling unconsciousness whilst he waited for the cavalry to arrive.