Shouting from outside the barn was what woke Neal. He couldn't focus on what was happening, though; his vision was blurry and he was dizzy just from raising his head from Elizabeth's shoulder. With a weak groan, he leant against the wooded wall as Elizabeth sat straighter, blinking and wincing when the barn doors were thrust open and flashlights were shone in their faces.

"Wus goin' on?" Neal slurred, also cringing from the bright lights.

"You've made a big mistake, Caffrey." he heard Keller say in a sharp tone as the man strode closer. "I don't know how the hell you alerted the Feds, but I promise you, you are not getting out of this alive."

The FBI was here? He was amazed someone had responded to the tracker he'd switched on and hidden in Elizabeth's pocket. The majority of him had expected the signal to just be ignored.

"Ni-Neal's been with me the whole time, there's no way he could have done anything." Elizabeth argued. "Maybe it was one of your men."

"You don't know Caffrey like I do, sweetheart." Keller snapped. "He always manages to squeeze himself out of tight spots." He crouched down opposite Neal and grabbed his left arm close to his shoulder wound, eliciting a sharp shout from Neal. "Not this time."

Keller straightened and turned to one of the four men behind him, who were spaced out and pointing their flashlights at the two captives. "Take her away from here." he addressed two of them. "One of the cars outside is already waiting for you."

As soon as the two guards got near Elizabeth, she lashed out with her foot and struck one of them in the groin. He doubled over with a groan while she scratched at and struggled with the other one, who was gradually dragging her to the door.

"Let her go, Keller, please." Neal croaked, trying to look at Keller directly but finding it increasingly difficult as his vision persisted in trying to escape him.

"Shut up." the other man responded. "I'm still deciding what to do with you."

"How close are the FBI?" he asked, trying to raise his voice so Elizabeth might hear him. At the moment, she and her guard – along with the other one, who had recovered from Elizabeth's attack – had reached the open doors, though she hadn't stopped struggling.

Keller was watching him with a menacing gleam in his eye. "They're here already. Lucky that this barn is far out from the farmhouse, which is where they are at the minute. Don't worry," he continued. "That still gives me plenty of time to kill you."

"Eliza–" he started to call in the loudest voice he could muster, but apparently she'd cottoned on to what he was going to tell her. As soon as she and the guards got outside, she screamed as loud as she could. It was loud enough to make Neal wince, and Keller swore as he turned towards the commotion. One of the guards reacted quickly, covering her mouth with his hand as they continued out of Neal's sight, and Neal could only hope their rescue had heard. At least then, Elizabeth would be safe.

What was unmistakeable was the sound of a car starting nearby, its engine getting quieter the further it got from the barn. Keller turned back to Neal with a triumphant smile.

"So then," he said, crouching down again. "I'm still undecided about you."

"Jus' get it over with, Keller." Neal sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. He wondered if he'd be able to slip unconscious before Keller made his mind up. It was likely at this point.

"Maybe I'll just dump you in the woods nearby. Blood loss and that infection will probably kill you before I do."

"Go for it." He didn't care anymore. Elizabeth still (unknowingly) had the tracker so the FBI would catch up to her eventually. Now that she was relatively out of danger, Neal had no more energy left to spend on worrying what Keller was going to do to him.

Keller was smiling at him. "Where's that perseverance, Caffrey? That lust for life that was always so annoying?"

Neal glared weakly at him. "Stall any longer an' the… FBI'll get 'ere." He could here himself slurring and it didn't go unnoticed that it was getting increasingly hard to keep talking, but he couldn't find it in himself to give a damn. Right now he just wanted to sleep and get this all over with.

"Not wrong about that, Neal." Keller said with a nod, standing up and gesturing to the two remaining guards. "Time is of the essence. Tie him back into the chair."

Neal felt two pairs of hands grab him and he moaned as his wound was jostled. He was dragged across the straw-covered ground to the wooden chair a few feet in front of him and unceremoniously dumped in it. He listed forwards but he was shoved back while his wrists were tied to the arms of the chair and his ankles were bound to the chair's legs. Neal could feel sweat beaded at his hairline and he was gasping from the pain that had blossomed from the copious movement. He blinked away the black spots that danced across his vision as Keller strode into his sight.

"Any last requests Caffrey?" he asked, fiddling with one of his shirt cuffs as he spoke. "Actually," He shrugged. "I don't care. Catch you later, Neal." he added with a wink. He said something to the guards that Neal didn't hear, and then he was sauntering off into the chaos outside, presumably to get as far away from the FBI as possible.

The guards, meanwhile, were ambling closer to him with sickening smiles on their faces, and Neal suddenly decided that no, he didn't want to be killed by these guys. He tugged at the ropes around his wrists and was surprised to find that one of his wrists could move around a bit more than the other. Apparently, the thugs didn't think he'd have the strength to move so they hadn't worried too much about how tight the restraints needed to be.

Well, they'd be kind of right about the no strength thing, but Neal was hoping for an adrenaline rush to see him through if he got free.

"Prefer a knife or a gun?" one of them asked in a gravelly voice, and Neal fought against rolling his eyes.

"Get on with it already." he murmured, his act of weakness while he tried to subtly pull his right hand free not entirely an act.

"Alright," the guy said, stuffing a small knife into his waistband as he got closer. "I think I'm gonna rough you up a bit first, though, hey?" By now he was standing directly in front of Neal, his arms crossed while he looked down with a smug expression. The other guard was poised behind him, his back turned while he pointed his flashlight at the doors.

The thug wasn't waiting for a response, though, for as soon as he'd spoken he slammed his left fist into Neal's face. Neal grunted as his head snapped to the side and the bruises that had been lying dormant on his face were reawakened, sending bolts of pain streaking across his cheek.

While he was catching his breath the guards had stepped away to speak to each other. Neal took that moment to tug his right hand back again, pleased to note that he was close to getting free. He kept a wary eye on the two men while he worked, wondering if the men were deliberately holding the flashlights under their chins to create a spooky effect while they spoke. Were they ten?

It also meant, though, that Neal struggled to see the barn doors. He assumed Keller had closed them when he left – he couldn't really remember, and wasn't that worrying? – so if he did get out of these ropes in between bouts of beatings, he could be slowed by the need to pull the doors open. He wasn't even sure if he had the energy to open them.

"So, has it 'scaped you that your boss…" Neal had to pause for breath as a wave of nausea passed over him. "has lef' you to be caught by th' FBI?"

The guards paused in their chat and looked at him. He shrugged. They turned back to one another and began whispering furiously.

Meanwhile, Neal had finally managed to pull his hand free. He quickly started untying his other hand, taking deep breaths and trying to stay still during a surge of dizziness. He had to stop, though, when the guy who'd hit him marched back over to him and punched him in the stomach. Neal cried out and leant forward as far as the bonds around his left wrist would allow. He'd loosely placed the ropes back around his free hand so no one would notice, and right now it was taking all his strength not to curl his arm around his stomach as he wheezed for breath and desperately fought to stay conscious.

"If we kill you now, there's still time for us to get out."

Neal anticipated the guy reaching for his knife and he got there first, reaching out and snatching the weapon before the guard could. He struck out with the hilt and hit his jaw, sending the guard staggering back. The other rushed forward, pulling out a gun and gripping Neal's hair, yanking his head back and pressing the barrel against his skin.

Neal ignored the spots in his vision and swung his hands upwards before the thug had a chance to fire. The pair struggled with the weapon as Neal gathered up what little strength he had in order to keep the barrel away from him. The thug was stronger, though, and yanked it out of Neal's grip, swinging it and hitting the side of Neal's head.

A derisive grin crossed the guard's face as he pointed the gun again. Neal had his head bowed as he tried to recover from the assault, but he knew what was coming, and he found himself closing his eyes while he waited for the sound of the gunshot.

"FBI! Freeze!"

Neal opened his eyes as a frown formed on his face. Out of his peripheral vision he saw the guards spinning and raising their guns, only for two consecutive gunshots to send them to the ground, clutching their arm and leg respectively. Their guns were kicked away and then Neal felt someone touching his arm.

"Caffrey? Can you hear me?"

"Peter," Neal breathed, letting out a faint smile at the sound of the agent's voice. "You foun' me."

"Yeah I found you." he heard Peter reply with a huff as he began hurriedly untying the ropes around his ankles. "I've been trying to find you ever since that damn tracker started transmitting. I was gonna drag you back to prison myself."

Neal choked a laugh and straightened slightly in his chair, lifting his head with a groan to get a look at Peter. He was frowning while he freed Neal's ankles, and when he moved to begin untying his wrists, Neal also frowned.

"You're hands… shakin'." he murmured. He blinked sluggishly and when he focused on Peter again, the agent was speaking into a phone.

"Diana, I need an ambulance ASAP. There's a barn north of the farmhouse, we're in there. Yeah, it's Caffrey, it's not good."

He hung up and pulled the ropes that Neal had already loosened away from him. "Was your shoulder the only place you were hit?" he asked, his tone serious.

Neal blinked again and felt himself tipping now that there were no ropes restraining him. Peter's hands gripped his upper arms before he fell flat on his face and slowly helped to lower him until he was kneeling on the ground.

"Caffrey, focus!" he snapped, lifting Neal's chin.

"Are you angry?" he mumbled, muffling a groan as tendrils of pain circulated his body. He could feel his vision darkening again and he vehemently fought it off, wanting to keep Peter in his sights for as long as he could. If this was the last time he was going to see him, he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

"No, I'm not angry." Peter said, his tone softening as he released Neal's face. Neal was proud of the fact that he had enough strength to keep it raised. "But you need to answer my question. An ambulance is on its way, but are you hurt anywhere other than your shoulder?"

Neal was going to answer, but then another thought wrestled its way to the forefront of his mind. "Where's 'lizabeth?"

"Neal, please." Peter said, and Neal thought he heard his voice crack. "She's fine, she's safe. You gave her the tracker didn't you?" At Neal's nod, he continued speaking. "We found her before the car got very far. Only called one ambulance because we didn't know you were here until she said that you were nearby." he added.

"S'good," Neal slurred, his head drooping. "M'glad."

"Yeah, me too." Peter said hurriedly. "But I'm more worried about you at the minute. Do you have any broken bones? Concussion?"

"Prob'ly. M'too tired to think 'bout it."

"Neal, please focus on me, alright? Just keep looking at me."

"S'hard." he answered with a frown, and he felt Peter cup his cheek and lift his head again.

"I know it is but you have to try, okay? Hold on until the ambulance gets here, please."

"M'sorry, Peter." he sighed. Peter jostled his face slightly.

"No, don't. No falling asleep, Neal."

"No." Neal said. "M'sorry for lyin'. Din… Didn' wanna hurt you."

"You didn't–" Peter started to say, but he cut himself off. "Just don't worry about that now, Neal."

"I din break outta prison, either." he rushed, desperate for Peter to know that. "And the rob'ry… wasn' me."

"I know, I know." Peter said, hushing him. "We got the actual guy, I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault." Neal mumbled, his eyelids dropping. "M'still guilty."

"Just stop talking, Neal, alright? Focus on staying awake, please."

"You say 'please' a lot." he noted, and then he tipped forward. Any strength in his upper body deserted him and left him to collapse.

"Neal, don't–" His forehead hit Peter's chest before he could finish his sentence, prompting a muttered curse from the agent. He felt himself being shifted about with a lot of "sorry"s until his legs were stretched out along the ground and his upper body was supported by Peter.

"It's alright, Neal, I've got you." Peter said gently when Neal moaned as his arm was jostled. "I've got you."

"Hey Peter," he whispered, tapping Peter's chest with the back of his left hand. "Can I… ask you somethin'?"

"What?"

"You know when… when you came over the day 'fore you… 'rrested me," he said, struggling to say a full sentence without needing to pause for breath. It was taxing on his overexerted lungs, but he needed to ask this, he needed to know. "An' you… you were drunk…"

"Yes?" The word was drawn out slowly, as if Peter knew what he was going to ask.

"Were you… were you going to ki–" He had to stop as a rattling cough shook his body, and Peter quickly lifted his body a little to help. Neal squeezed his eyes shut as the coughing brought tears to his eyes, and when it finally passed he slumped exhaustedly against Peter, the side of his head resting against Peter's right shoulder.

"Don't strain yourself, Neal." he said in a quiet, controlled tone, but Neal was sure he could hear tendrils of panic in his voice. "We can talk about it later, alright?"

"I need to… I need to–" He began coughing again and Peter pulled him closer, rubbing his back soothingly.

"Ambulance is almost here, Neal, it's going to be okay."

Through streaming tears Neal glanced up at Peter accusingly. "You didn'… you didn' answer my question." The coughing subsided once more and Neal was left exhausted again, with no energy to direct a glare at Peter to ensure an answer. As he closed his eyes and felt the frantic thumping of his heart begin to die down, he became aware that Peter was whispering to him, though what he was saying, he wasn't sure.

And when a slight pressure pressed against his hair, he smiled tiredly. "That a yes?" he croaked. Peter hummed in response and Neal's smile widened.

"Don't be getting cocky, Caffrey," Peter chided. "We're not talking about it again."

"Hey Peter?" Neal whispered, his smile fading as the fight to stay awake began again.

"What, Neal?"

"I wanted… I wanted to kiss you back."

Peter didn't reply, but he started carding a hand through Neal's hair, which was a good enough answer for him. As the sound of sirens drew nearer, he closed his eyes and faintly noted that aside from the excruciating pain in his shoulder, he hadn't felt this content in a long time.

He didn't have a lot of time to reflect on that though, as the voice of unconsciousness became too hard to ignore and his vision faded to black, Peter calling his name the last thing he heard.