Thank you guys for the feed-back so far! :)
_

Things had gone so spectacularly wrong. So unbelievably, spectacularly wrong.

The White Collar agents in the van had been forced to listen to a meeting between Neal/Nick Halden, Williamson/Allistar, and a handful of unnamed crooks.

In Peter's mind, he could piece together exactly what was happening. The audio alone was enough to cause nightmares, but his analytical mind and his knowledge of all things Caffrey… It was in the things Neal didn't say, the things he refrained from doing… it was these things that colored the pages. Neal was brilliant as all get out, but Peter knew Neal, understood how the younger man carried himself and acted. Hell, he might even call himself a Caffrey expert (though never to the young con's face).

And the facts were these:
Neal only spoke when directly spoken to.
His breathing was labored yet controlled.
He'd given up reasoning with the man and seemed resigned to his fate.

Peter understood that Neal was trying to conceal his weakness, the true depth of how badly Allistar had hurt him, from everyone in that board room… and likely from everyone in the FBI van as well.

Peter heard as Neal walked to the conference room, no doubt Allistar and those goons accompanying him. In his mind's eye, he could picture it. Neal, his head held high, shoulders back, living the role, playing the part as necessary. Neal, trying to be steady, to be strong.

"I-I'll try not to react, try to keep strong… s'not as bad as it sounds, okay? I'm okay."

That's what Neal had said, and, being Neal, he was going to do his best to con everyone into believing it.. but could he con himself, con his weakened body?

On a few occasions, during the walk to the conference room, he could discern a tiny hitch in Neal's breathing—the sound of a man trying to conceal torment. His leg. Dammit, this can't be good for it. Peter had to laugh, bitterly, at that train of thought. Because really, was any of this good?

Days like today… days like today made it harder for Peter to believe in the goodness of mankind. Evils like today… men like Allistar… God, he was so damn angry, so pissed off he couldn't even complete the thought. Because Neal.. God, how could anyone want to hurt Neal? Even when they'd been in their game of cat and mouse, FBI agent and wanted conman.. Peter had never wanted to hurt Neal. Yes, he'd wanted to catch him, shake some sense into the man, get justice… but he'd always admired the man's veracity, his talent, his drive (even if that drive and desire for sparkly things didn't serve him well).

Ten minutes.
Eleven.
Twelve.

The board meeting continued, endlessly to every agent in the van… hell, he couldn't even wrap his head around what Neal was going through. Peter couldn't even put himself in that place.

Allistar seemed to find delight in asking Neal questions, seemed to hang on Neal's every word as it was clear what each word was costing him. Pain spiked his voice, his controlled voice. Neal drawled responses, slurred his speech occasionally.

"So let's wrap things up for now. Halden, Vickers, you two hang back. The rest of you, I'll be in contact."

There was the scuttle of papers being gathered, the shuffle of feet.
Faintly, a door clicking shut could be heard.

"Nicholas Halden, meet Jason Vickers. Jason Vickers was an associate of mine regarding the project, as I'm sure you're familiar with, Halden."

"Was? Sammuel.. what's going-"

SHOTS FIRED.
SHOTS FIRED.
MAN DOWN.

A thud could be heard.
Neal's voice could not.

Come on, Neal, Come one. God, say something.

Diana threw a look to Peter.. Peter, who was already grabbing his gun.

"MAN DOWN. Radio for EMS, Diana. Clinton, cover me, we're going in, we're-"

"Y-You killed him."

Neal's voice.

Peter's heart started beating again. Allistar hadn't shot Neal. He'd shot this Vickers person… but why?

"Jason was a dear friend of mine. Grew up down the street from me, actually. It's a shame, really."

"What-What kind of a game are you playing here, Allistar?"
Neal's voice had an edge of panic to it, a very un-Neal-like quality.

"So imagine how disappointed I am when I get waves of some whistle-blowing. When I get wind of the FBI poking around, looking in to my organization. Learn from Jason, Nick. Learn from his mistake, because you are less to me than he was. And if there's one thing I won't tolerate, it's disloyalty. Vickers dug his grave the second he went to the FBI."

But Vicker's hadn't… and God, if Allistar found out… if he found out, then he'd kill Neal.
Please, Neal. Play this conservatively. And please, just get out of there.

From Neal's silence, he could gather that Neal had reached the same conclusion. He'd misjudged Allistar, misjudged his violent streak. And Christ, he'd just seen a man gunned down in front of him. That couldn't be good for his psyche. Neal hated guns. Neal didn't do guns.

"Now, Nick. Friend. Shall we resume business?"

Peter could only assume that Neal nodded, because the two were walking again.

"You don't look so well, friend. Here, let me support you. Let me help. Give me your arm—yes, see? I'm not so bad after all? We really should get some ice for that leg."

That sick bastard. Peter's blood was boiling.
And it didn't help that Neal had gone so quiet. What's happening in there?
A slight whimper could be heard, and then presumably the sound of a door being opened, of white noise.

"Allistar—what… what is this? God…"

"Boss, I've paged EMS. They're a block out for when Neal gets out of there."

Peter nodded his thanks in her direction. Smart Diana. He hadn't even thought of that. Hell, Neal had even requested EMS and he hadn't given enough concentration to it.

"Bonds. Bonds."

Neal's voice was quiet, hushed, breathless.

"Well, hiya, Caffrey. Tell Burke I said hello, will ya?"

Keller. God, it was Keller. Keller was in the room. Christ.

"I don't want you to hear this." Neal's voice again.

And the audio went dead as Neal cut the watch's power off.