(Chapter 3)

Peter was in his office when Hughes stopped by and knocked on the door. He looked up from a pile of case files and tried to smile but he was still rather wore out from his search for Neal. He'd taken some days off but had not completely recovered from his lack of sleep or his worry over his partner. He had wanted to visit with him but had resisted after the other day. Hughes stepped inside and closed the door. Peter blinked, thinking this must be something official.

"I know you're less than trustful of OPR after everything Fowler put you, Neal and Elizabeth through but an old colleague of mine who works there is trying to help alleviate some of the damage. He just called me because Neal wasn't sure he could trust him even though he mentioned my name. I don't blame him." Hughes pulled a chair up and sat down with Peter who was nodding grimly.

"I don't either. I'm guessing he was satisfied when you told him your friend was there to help?" Peter didn't sound convinced, his suspicion of OPR still evident. Hughes shrugged.

"Maybe. He seemed to accept my word but it was hard to read his voice. He sounded pretty beat up." He leaned over and looked at Peter.

"So, how are you dealing? I know you took this hard and I'm sorry I had to let you stay away from it for a few days but it was necessary. You understand?" He patted Peter on the shoulder.

"I understand perfectly but I would have liked to be there when he was extracted. I deserved that much. He's my partner!" Peter sounded somewhat bitter but held it back as he tried to reason with all that happened over the past week. He was still dealing with Neal's reaction to him in the hospital room.

"If you want to talk, you know you can come to me, Peter." He stood, Peter following suit.

"Thanks, Reese. Would it be too much to ask if I could duck out early to visit Neal?" Peter pulled his jacket up and started putting it on as Hughes nodded.

"Of course. Let me know how he's doing. Tell him he's missed."

()()()

Peter showed up at the hospital barely 30 minutes later and found the guard on the phone outside Neal's room. He looked upset, looking up briefly as Peter came into sight. The agent hung up and walked determinedly over to him. Peter didn't like the looks of this, staring at the agent curiously as the man approached him. His face looked pale and he seemed less than happy about something.

"Agent Burke... I don't know how to say this. I just got off the phone with Hughes. I'm so sorry." The man looked more than upset, his green eyes tired looking but more than that he seemed reluctant to say anything more though Peter knew there was more to come by the agent's expression. What could have happened in the few minutes he had taken to leave the office and drive to the hospital?

"I don't understand. What's..." He saw the room that Neal was in being cleared out of equipment. He paused looking at the nurses and saw the doctor making motions as they pulled a gurney out with a covered form. Peter paused, his eyes stuck on the covered gurney. He heard the agent talking to him but he moved passed him without listening and walked slow at first then more quickly before the doctor and covered figure could leave. He took the edge of it in his hand as she turned to see who was next to her. She paled slightly, recognizing him and looked at him with sad eyes, nodding at the orderlies to wait.

Peter just stared at her a moment then down at the sheet-covered form. He was frozen as if someone had hit pause on everything, the world stopping as he just stared. It took ages it felt for him to finally make a move and get his hand to react to his brain. It pulled the sheet aside and he gasped, his eyes turning warm and wet immediately. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the pale form of Neal Caffrey laying there on the gurney. The young man was still, more so than he had ever known him to be. Peter felt a kind of strange calm take over as his mind tried to rationalize that this must be a joke. Some cruel prank played upon by him by Neal and the hospital staff. He nudged the young man ever so gently.

"Very funny, Neal. Wake up. Neal, this isn't funny." He was shaking the young man gently the doctor watching him curiously, her voice speaking to him but he didn't hear it. He kept trying to wake up Neal but he wasn't moving. Peter felt everything go blank around him after a moment as he lost track of time. When he came to, he was lying on a couch in the waiting room Elizabeth standing over him looking worried, her face pale and blotchy, eyes red from crying. She was still sniffling, hugging him and holding him.

"Peter..." She couldn't say anything else, her body shuddering with emotion. Peter nodded back, sitting up stiffly and holding her but he was still feeling that blankness. His senses weren't working nor was his brain, everything on auto pilot. He should be crying but he was frozen solid, everything turned off, isolated as he tried to comprehend what he had seen. The doctor walked by and started to talk to him. Ask him how he was. He nodded without really hearing and she said more things he didn't comprehend before moving on her way. His mind was occupied by one thing and one thing alone. Neal was dead. He was really gone. Peter felt something on his cheek but he wasn't sure what it was, looking up to find the source of the dripping and realized it was his eyes. He was crying, but how... he felt nothing as the water works started. El held him tighter talking but again, he didn't hear. The shock made him deaf to all but this emptiness. He felt his body shuddering slightly and then finally he buried his face in his wife's shoulder and cried.

(An hour later…)

Hughes showed up at the hospital when he heard the news. Elizabeth was with June in the lobby, both women taking comfort in each others company. Peter felt frozen, unable to express anything more than hollow words. He was still in shock. Neal was dead. He still couldn't believe it, excusing himself after a moment to take a walk. He found himself wandering the hallways till he came back to himself and realized he was in the depths of the hospital. He couldn't remember how he got here but then he was pretty far gone with emotion. He was glad to be alone, the floor quiet. He kept walking trying to figure things out when he saw something odd. Hughes had introduced him to his friend from OPR, Alistair Gordon. The man had been there when Neal died. He had expressed his condolences his manner cool and professional. Peter disliked him immediately or maybe he was still angry that he had been there with Neal instead of him. He wasn't sure but why was Gordon here? Peter saw the agent walking ahead of him and entering two swinging metal doors. Peter followed quietly, his curiosity piqued as he noticed the sign above the doors: Morgue.

Peter peered inside but saw no one. He pushed the doors open and nearly collapsed to the floor. Neal lay on the examination table, arms laying on his chest as if he were merely sleeping. Peter felt his eyes watering again, tears rolling down his cheeks as he moved closer, reaching to touch his friend. The young man looked pale, his cheeks sunken in. Peter touched Neal's hand, stroking it gently. He could feel more tears falling as he bent over his friend and pushed his cheek to the young man's chest.

"I'm sorry, Neal. I'm so sorry. Forgive me." He felt an immense sorrow wash over him, a hand gently touching the back of his neck. The hand felt cool but it caressed his hair and then Peter realized who it was as he stood up. He saw Neal's hand moving, the young man making a soft sound, eyes still closed as he drew in a shallow breath. Peter blinked.

"Neal? Neal..." He was relieved, shaking the young man gently as he took his hand in his. Neal's eyes remained shut, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if he were having a nightmare.

"Neal... you're alive!" He hugged the young man, pulling out his cell once he got over the surprise. He started to dial Hughes when some one grabbed him from behind, a rag pushed over his face. He dropped the cell with a clatter to the ground, the rag filling his nostrils with something sickly sweet. He struggled against the person, unable to see anything but Neal, the young man coming slowly back to life. Peter felt the world start to spin around him, his head growing fuzzy as his eyes closed and he passed out.

()()()

Peter felt the world spinning around him in the darkness. He wanted to be sick but fought the nausea, his hands trying to grip at something but unable to. His eyes popped open showing him a blurry scene. He was staring at a cold gray ceiling of stone. Peter tried to rise but found himself strapped down securely to some kind of cot or gurney. He couldn't move a muscle but to shift his torso ever so slightly. He made a muffled sound, rags stuffed into his mouth, a piece of tape firmly planted over his lips as he moved his head to look around the room. He saw another gurney in the corner with another figure strapped down. It was Neal. Peter made the loudest sound he could considering the circumstances and tried to shake the gurney but found it was bolted to the floor. It didn't matter, he heard a weak groan from his friend after a moment, relief washing over him. At least Neal was alive. He hadn't dreamed it.

He was still confused where he was and why, but knowing his friend was alive had made all the difference to his demeanor. Peter remembered little of what happened beyond entering the morgue and seeing Neal there. He tried to make a phone call and then everything had gone black. He looked around the room but there was nothing to look at other than gray walls and Neal across the room. He turned his head as much as he could at the sound of a door being opened somewhere behind him. He saw a man in a white mask enter the room, dressed in a dark suit that seemed vaguely familiar to him. If the mask didn't tip him off to something, the gold FBI ring on the man's left hand did. He thought back to the black and white photo Neal had showed him and this man's hands seemed to fit the profile. The figure closed the door and walked over with soft footsteps, standing over the bound agent. Peter gave a muffled protest, his face flushed with anger. The man clucked his tongue at him from beneath the mask, voice cloaked by some kind of device.

"Such spirit. You don't scare easily do you Agent Burke?" The man pulled something out of his pocket, a small cloth case and started to slowly unfold it.

"I'm sure you've heard of acupuncture? Pressure points can do much more than heal. Under the right circumstances they can render an opponent helpless." The man finished unfolding the small case revealing it's contents. Inside could be see several thin needles. Peter's eyes widened, his head moving but his body barely shifting, he was strapped in securely. The man laughed.

"Don't tire yourself out now. We've only just begun!" He pulled out a needle and grasped Peter's chin in his free hand as he lay the small case of needles on the edge of the cot.

"If I don't do this just right, I won't just blind you, I'll kill you. So please, Agent Burke… don't move a muscle." His voice was humorless as he pushed Peter's head to one side and slowly inserted the needle just behind the agent's ear. Peter tried to struggle, his eyes widening and then he blinked. He continued to blink, the man letting go of his chin as he moved his head and blinked again.

"Having trouble seeing? That's the idea. You won't know what I'm going to do next. Still... if you choose to let us have Caffrey, perhaps I can see it in my heart to letting you go with just your vision gone. You'd still be an excellent agent without your sight. There have been stranger tales. Or maybe I'll just take all feeling from below the waist." The man grasped his chin again and pushed his head to the side sharply. Peter couldn't see anything, only feeling what was going on. Something sharp pierced his skin just below the base of his skull and he gave a muffled groan as he lost feeling in his legs. He made sounds despite the gag, his eyes watering as he stared blindly ahead.

"Enough though... just nod your head if you wish to give your rights to Caffrey up. We require his skills to retrieve some items of interest." The man's voice was slick but Peter shook his head, narrowing his view despite being blind. He felt the man pinch his nostrils shut, cutting off his air supply. Peter struggled as the man continued speaking.

"Are you sure you want to fight to keep him? I'd hate to have to be the one to tell your wife you died in vain. Is he really worth making your wife a widow?" Peter struggled to breath, nodding his head despite his lack of air. The man let go and he struggled to breath through his nose again. He felt the tape and rags pulled from his mouth, a wheezy cough coming from his lips as he inhaled deeply.

"You... can't... ha... ve... hi...m!" Peter coughed out as he tried to breath normally. The man laughed at him in the darkness.

"Such a noble and chivalrous man you are, Agent Burke. It's a shame we don't agree. I really do respect your abilities as an agent but Caffrey is ours now." The man grew silent, only a soft sound of shifting making Peter aware the man was still there. He didn't know what to expect, feeling a hand unbutton his shirt, lifting up his tee.

"I believe the pressure point here will cause your lungs to fail. Let's see how well that works." Peter felt warm hands touching a part of his chest till it hurt, the soft prick of a needle following. He tried to resist when he heard another voice.

"Don't... hurt him!" It was Neal. His voice sounded rather breathless.

"Peter, let them have me. Go home to Elizabeth." He sounded hopeless but worried for the agent's well-being. Peter shook his head.

"Neal, no... you don't have to do what they tell you to do. I won't let them." He still couldn't see anything, only hear the soft movement of the masked man and Neal's breathing.

"Peter... go home. I want my freedom even if it means working with them to get it. I'm theirs. Please... just leave me alone!" Neal sounded angry, Peter struggling against his bonds despite the pain. The masked man chuckled.

"Well, Agent Burke... It seems your little protégé wishes to leave." The man stopped pushing the needle into Peter's chest, the sound of a door opening and more footsteps.

"Take him. I'll be there momentarily." Peter could hear the man whisper to someone as he was untied from the gurney, his arms bound behind him and then dragged away.

()()()

Neal didn't want to be here, he remembered now who this man was. The man in the white mask was Hughes' friend. Peter wouldn't know that. He heard the man chuckle at him.

"So you would stay with us if he is saved? Why do you care about someone who's kept you as a pet?" Neal stiffened at the man's words, glaring from where he lay bound to the gurney.

"Something you wouldn't understand. Just let him go and I'll comply." Neal's voice was cold, his blue eyes narrowing at the man. The masked man nodded, turning to leave.

"You choose well, Caffrey." The man spoke with no emotion.

"Just keep your word, Gordon." He saw the man stiffen and turn, the mask hiding his emotion as he nodded and left. Neal leaned back and sighed. At least Peter was safe. One last thing he would have to worry about.

()()()

Peter's arms was bound at the elbows, his legs bound above and below the knees as well as at the ankles. He struggled weakly against the men that dragged him outside. The hallway was just as gray as the interior of the room had been. He heard a door open and heard someone walking towards him with determined strides.

"He's a willing participant now but only if he thinks you're alive." Someone pushed a rag into Peter's mouth and pulled another piece of tape over his lips.

"Caffrey can think you're alive but that doesn't mean you have to be. Hold him!" Peter struggled harder but they held him tightly.

"I told you, just one needle right here would stop everything. Or appear to stop it." Peter felt the man touching his chest, something sharp piercing his skin slowly. He could feel his body reacting to the pressure, his heart beat slowing, breath growing more shallow.

"You'll feel everything and know what's going on around you, but you'll seem by all appearances to be dead. Good-bye Agent Burke." He could hear the man chuckling as his body fell into a kind of half-sleep.

"Take him to the crematorium."

()()()

"So they just dropped this person off? What's the story?" The man looked confused at the body in the coffin. The man looked healthy enough, dark brown hair, late 30s early 40s. Man barely looked dead. The other man shrugged.

"Beats me. Said it was his uncle and he had died suddenly. They don't have money for the big funeral so they're cremating him." The man passed a clipboard over and the first one nodded.

"Ok, I'll put him in the queue." He sighed, rolling the coffin over to a conveyor belt and placing it on top. He was going through the coffins one by one checking them out to be sure they were all good. He came back to the newest one and looked at the man again. He just looked too fresh to be a dead person, the pallor missing. His cheeks still seemed to have a slight flush to them, the appearance of life spooking the crematory employee.

"Well, I guess you're next." He spoke aloud to himself, peering briefly into the box again when something caught his eye. He reached in curiously and saw a tear rolling out of the corpse's closed eye. That was odd, watching as more tears rolled down the sides of the dead man's cheeks. He pulled the coffin aside reaching inside and touching the man's face. It was still warm, as were the tears.

"Hey Barney! BARNEY!" He ran over to the other guy and started talking to him excitedly, pointing back at the coffin.

()()()

Peter woke up in the hospital. A week had passed since he'd been brought in or so he'd been told. Elizabeth was there when he woke up again, her blue eyes pink from crying and lack of sleep.

"Hey sleepy head. How are you feeling?" He looked at her unsure what to say, his voice escaping him as he stared at her, the room and then at the ceiling. What had happened? He remembered Neal and himself in a room and then the man with the mask. He kept looking around in a daze till El sniffled, drawing his attention back to her. She was holding his hand and he gently squeezed back. She was real.

"El?" His voice croaked as he stared into her blue eyes. She nodded, hugging him close and he shifted feeling his legs again. He looked at them in surprise and smiled ever so slightly, the smile turning to a frown as he thought about Neal.

"Neal..." He muttered, El looking up at him.

"They haven't found him yet. Hughes and Jones are on it." She smiled at him confidently, Peter nodding.

"They still have him. I just don't know who they are. The man had a ring." Peter's voice trailed off as he remembered. He saw El nod, her face worried.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I'm sure they'll find him." She moved her cheek next to his and kissed him. He moved to kiss her back, his arms wrapping around her securely.

"He's working for them because they let me go." He was shaking now, emotion overcoming him as he thought about the deception. If only he knew who had done this, he'd get them. El shushed him gently, caressing his hair and cheek.

"Relax, Peter. Rest and get better. Hughes and Jones are looking for him. They said they'd call when you woke up."

()()()

Jones showed up the next day, the agent looking a bit tired if not frustrated. Something that was rare. Peter smiled at the younger agent and they shook hands.

"I see you're looking better boss. It was a close call there." Jones looked relieved, Peter nodding.

"How did they find me? I don't remember much." Peter looked a bit confused.

"Uhm… you were found at a crematorium. One of the employees noticed tears coming out of your eyes and realized you weren't dead. They sent you to a hospital where they couldn't figure out what was wrong till they did an x-ray. Apparently someone had used pressure points to make it appear you were dead. They removed all the needles and then well, here you are. Your image was passed around as a John Doe till you showed up on our radar." Jones sounded relieved if not a bit upset.

"Acupuncture. He tried to kill me. Make it look like I was dead. I couldn't see anything." Peter's voice sounded tired, shifting his weight as he tried to get comfy in the hospital bed. Jones nodded.

"Well, whoever it is, we've had a heck of a time trying to find them. Nobody could tell us who it was brought you in. Said you were their dead uncle. Paid in cash so nothing could be traced that way. Nothing remarkable about the man who brought you in and no surveillance cameras in the place. We only have one possible lead." Jones sounded suddenly upbeat. Peter looked at him curiously.

"A lead to what? Neal or my kidnappers?" He sat up a bit more, listening. Jones smiled.

"Well you said that they needed Caffrey's skills to get some things they wanted. There have been a string of unsolved thefts in the city. Small items but items of great value nonetheless. The thefts stink of Caffrey's style although the only sideline is that some of the people have been gassed or otherwise taken out. That's definitely not his style." Jones sounded somewhat disappointed, Peter nodding with a frown.

"Yeah, Neal wouldn't hurt anyone. He would just go in and do the job and not bother interacting with anyone. Must be the OPR people doing this. I can't see him being violent." Peter curses silently before he gave a frustrated sigh. Jones seemed to understand.

"I know how you feel, Peter but for now, you can't get involved. Hughes won't let you on the case 1) because you're still out of commission and 2) because you're too close to this. Still, I don't mind accidentally spilling some info to you off and on if you think you might have an insight." Jones let his voice trail off, Peter grinning in reply.

"Sounds like a deal. Let me know what you find and I have an idea to smoke Caffrey out or at least let him see who he's working for. Might help us get him back and catch the bad guys."