An: I can't wait anymore. This isn't Betta'd, but i think im going to ask my friend who is a spelling feind to help me out. She's going to ridicule me, but ill suck it up. Enjoy.

Peter ascended the few steps into June's home and found that the door was unlocked. Not a good sign. He opened the door and stepped inside with his gun ahead of him. Darkness clung to the walls and extended its murky claws from every protruding angle. Peter had to use the soft light that streamed through the window to see by. He didn't want to turn on any lights in case it alerted his presence to the intruder.

Training had taught him to check all rooms on lower levels before climbing to the next floor to avoid any nasty surprises sneaking up from behind. Painstakingly slow though it was, Peter knew if routine was not followed, bad things could happen. After glancing into each room at either side of the foyer and finding them clear, he made his way through the rest of the lower ground rooms until he was back at the stairs.

He strained to hear beyond the sounds of the silent house and the noise of the city outside. When he reached the landing of the second floor, he scoped his gun down one direction of the empty corridor before turning its aim the other way. Opening each door as he passed and checking inside, the old building gave no clue away as he stalked slowly down towards the few set of stairs that lead up to Neal's apartment. All was clear on this floor as well.

He reached Neal's apartment door, and slowly grasped the handle and turned it silently. Poised, he held his gun arm at the ready.

Then from within, he heard an agonised cry.

Before he realised what he was doing, Peter was charging through the weak door calling to Neal. He searched frantically around the apartment before his eyes settled on two figures, one standing over the other. A stunted man Peter didn't recognise, with bland features stared back at him with deep set oval eyes.

And there was Neal. Blindfolded and positioned on the couch with the man over him. A syringe in his hand, Neal's hair clutched in the other, forcing the young mans head back with such ferocity that his back arched and his throat bulged under strained muscles.

A rage filled Peter unlike any he thought that he could feel. Gun raised, he aimed and pulled the trigger wanting nothing more then to blast the stranger away. But as Peter squeezed, The Beholder was already moving, dropping out of the bullets path and charging towards him. Head first, The Beholder slammed into his chest, forcing all of the wind to gush out of Peter's lungs. He hit the floor with a thud, smacking his head on the wooden boards beneath him. The gun in his hands blasted off another explosion before it too was smacked away.

The Beholder, now above Peter threw wild relentless punches, anywhere Peter wasn't protecting himself, he was being struck by frantically strong blows. Still winded and disorientated, Peter desperately tried to block the beating that he was being dealt. As another fist swung, he brought his raised arm down, caching The Beholders arm beneath his own. Trapped, the man fought to pull away, but Peter clung on. In desperation, another punch was thrown, but it too was deflected. Then, lurching forward with all of his might Peter head butted The Beholder square on the nose, breaking it in one crunching moment. Blood gushed down onto him as The Beholder howled and clutched at his face.

Peter clambered away from the bloodied man that now glared at him with a new ferocity. "You broke my nose," he spluttered. "How dare you!" For the second time that night, The Beholder charged at Peter. Ready for it this time, Peter used the force of the man and flung him towards the terrace glass doors. The Beholder clung to Peter as gravity pulled on him, and both men hurdled through the shimmering panels into a heap on to the cold stone floor. Splinted glass rained down around them, slashing at them before it landed.

Peter pulled himself up and crawled through the shattered pieces trying to gain enough strength to stand. It crunched beneath him. He could hear his opponent who lay beside him, panting and muttering to himself. "You can't stop me. Never. Never can." Peter looked over at The Beholder, he too was reeling from the impact, and trying to pull himself up on to wavering legs. "I'll have him, one way or the other. He's mine!" He was ranting, screaming now, ignorant of the police sirens that echoed in the distance. All Peter had to do was keep the raving fanatic away from Neal and in his sight until they arrived.

He searched for where his gun had landed and saw it had travelled to just inside the now broken doorway. The Beholder had seen him looking at the gun. Caught, the two shared a tantalising moment. Then The Beholder threw himself onto Peter as Peter lunged for the gun. Consumed by his own insanity, The Beholder continued to yell his possession over Neal. Desperate, Peter threw a wild punch, smashing his fist across The Beholders face. Connecting with already broken cartilage, a howl erupted from the mad man, and he was sent reeling backwards towards the edge of the terrace, where he landed against the wall in a crumpled pile.

Glass crunched underfoot as Peter reached the gun, then turned it on The Beholder. He levelled his weapon. But The Beholder was no longer where he had landed. He was up on the ledge of the terrace, poised to jump.

He stared back at Peter, almost daring him to make him leap from the tall building.

"Don't." was all Peter said.

He fired his gun, but The Beholder was already gone.

Time seemed to stand still.

Moments after the gunshot had echoed Neal was swallowed by a paranoid frenzy. He fought the darkness that was closing in on him. He couldn't let it take him now, not until he knew if Peter was alive. Whether or not The Beholder had shot him. He struggled against an onslaught of nausea and drowsiness that threatened to take over. Determined, he struggled to hear anything beyond a dead hum that rang in his ears. The shot had been the last thing that he had heard with any clarity, and he could still hear the echo of it in his ears. Or was that police sirens, he didn't know.

Hands unexpectedly griped themselves onto his shoulders and began shaking him. A surge of uncontrollable panic surged within. He cried out and struggled against the grip. But was hushed by a familiar voice. "Your ok Neal, calm down. Its Peter."

"Peter?" He heard himself slur.

"I'm here Neal." Peter said, removing the blindfold that had suffocated his mind into a frenzy. Light filtered into his blurred vision, and he strained to focus on Peter's face.

He didn't seem to be shot, he was covered in blood, but there were no holes in him that shouldn't be. Neal was glad. Peter was talking at him, something about a place called Surry and he should have stayed. Why Peter was talking about a place in England that he regretted leaving he didn't know, and he hardly thought this was the time.

"Beholder," Neal managed to say when Peter took a breath.

"He's gone Neal, he got away." Gone was good enough. Peter wouldn't let Neal be taken away. He could relax now, it would be fine.

Peter was here.

Before the world faded, Neal heard shouts erupt from behind him, then they were all around. Faces he didn't know swam into view. At one point, he was sure he saw Lauren loom into his vision, then she was gone, only to be replaced by another blurred face. People were prodding him and asking him questions, a lot of questions. Surely they didn't expect him to answer. Even if they did, he didn't care. Neal had decided he was going to pass out now, and nothing was going to stop him from doing it.

Short, i know. But the next one is almost done. So i shant keep you waiting too long. =) Also, do you guys think i can change the rating of this story? I don't think its going to get more explicit then it already is. xx