Unintended Consequences

DISCLAIMER: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA Network.

A/N: thanks for the reviews, they are much appreciated! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Frank's finger squeezed the trigger on his gun as he fell, the bullet's trajectory closing in on Grace's original target.

##

Chapter 12

Peter closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable. He didn't regret anything because he truly believed what he said. He had already forgiven Grace. Frank just didn't understand the concept of marriage and had no idea how to make it work, Peter was sorry that Grace had to learn the hard way. He couldn't blame Grace for being scared; Frank had a gun to her head and she was literally shaking. He heard the gun's report, found himself pushed backward and felt a heavy weight crushing his chest. He wasn't wearing the outer bullet proof vest emblazoned with the big gold FBI letters; he had instead chosen a slimmer version under his clothes. He had reasoned that if he went in gun drawn and obviously wearing a bullet proof vest, Frank wouldn't hesitate to shoot him somewhere he wasn't protected, like his head. If there was even the slightest doubt Peter wasn't wearing one, Frank might shoot straight for the heart where the bullet proof vest would prove useful. Peter heard shouting in the background and thought he recognized both Jones and Diana's voices; hopefully they got Frank on tape confessing. It would be worth it to take him down. Peter slowly cracked his eyes open to see a mass of black hair lying on his left shoulder. He realized it was connected to a body that was lying face down on top of him; his heart skipped a beat. What had happened? He tried rolling the body off his chest so he could see if they were alive, but it was like rolling a boulder from the entrance of a cave; nearly impossible, especially with one hand restrained. Suddenly he heard voices much closer.

"Sir. Can you tell us where you're hurt?"

His vision was a little blurry, but he assumed they were paramedics Jones or Diana had called in. He felt someone feeling his pulse, which he was sure was racing. Peter wasn't sure who they were speaking to but managed a weak groan.

"Can you get him off me? My chest feels like it's being crushed!"

He felt the EMT's trying to move the body and Peter felt a tug on his right wrist. They stopped suddenly.

"Get one of those agents back in here. We need to remove these handcuffs."

Peter heard the shuffling of feet and then Jones' voice broke through the fog smothering his brain.

"Boss? Here, let me help you. Why on earth are you handcuffed to Neal?"

Peter was too stunned to speak. Neal? He had shot Neal. He was lying dead on the floor. What was Neal doing on top of him? He came to the disturbing realization that Neal must have woken up, figured out what was going on and put himself between Peter and Grace assuming Grace would choose to shoot Peter over Frank.

Jones removed the handcuffs so the medics were able to lift Neal onto the gurney and then he helped Peter stand up. Peter wobbled a bit trying to get his balance back.

"Boss? You ok? We have Frank's confession on tape regarding the painting and also the intention to kill you, but he won't be bothering you anymore. He's dead."

"Frank's dead? Who shot Frank?"

Peter pulled away and sat down in the nearest chair. His head felt like it was going to explode. He remembered Grace holding a gun on him and Frank holding a gun on Grace. How on earth had Frank gotten shot?

"Who shot Frank?"

Jones wasn't sure how to respond to Peter's question, but realized Peter wasn't going to let this go.

"Grace shot him, Peter. She shot him in the chest. Before he fell, Frank fired at you. Neal must have sensed something and used himself as a shield. Diana and I got here just before Grace pulled the trigger. He had a gun on her. It was self defense, Peter. I'll testify to that."

Peter felt a huge sigh of relief that Grace was ok. He was also relieved he hadn't killed Neal if Neal was alert enough to try and save his life. Peter attempted to figure out why Neal would risk his life for him, but he was still reeling from the emotional trauma from the past 12 hours and his brain was not cooperating. His mind was so consumed with guilt, he barely registered the medics putting Neal on a gurney and rolling him away. He felt he had failed Neal, Grace and Elle. He was the one with the badge and he had failed everyone he cared about.

"Boss."

Peter didn't indicate he heard anything.

"Peter!"

Peter finally looked up with an exhausted look on his face noticing Jones had knelt beside him.

"Let me take you home."

"Can't go home. I still have to find Elle."

One of the medics returned to check on Peter.

"Sir, we're going to need to check you out too."

"I'm fine."

"Sir, you did hit the floor and you were complaining your chest hurt earlier. I'd really like to check you out."

Peter ignored the paramedic.

"Jones, we're missing something here. There had to be a reason Elle left with the painting even though she didn't know what it was. I'm going to need your help."

The paramedic pulled a penlight out and shined it in Peter's eyes one at a time.

"Stop that."

Peter glared at the paramedic, not caring at the moment that he was only trying to do his job.

"Sir, can you tell me what year it is?"

"It's 2010, my name is Peter Burke and we're in New York City. Satisfied now?"

Jones felt bad for the paramedic. He was only trying to help and he didn't deserve first degree treatment from Peter.

"He's had a rough day. His sister and wife were kidnapped, so he's a little off kilter."

"That's understandable, sir. Your pupils do appear to be dilating normally; so that's a good sign."

"I'm fine, really. It's just hard to breathe when someone is on your chest. Now I really need to go. My wife is still missing."

##

Peter's cell phone vibrated insistently on one of the counters in the empty surveillance van vibrating itself closer to the back edge with each call that came in. Several missed calls later there was still no one there to see it vibrate right off the edge and fall behind the work area.

##

Elle tried Peter's cell phone again, but it just kept ringing. She had already left him three messages but he hadn't returned any of her phone calls. She decided not to leave another message and just hung up. Where could he be? She really wished she knew what was going on this morning with Peter's strange phone call. She had never had an opportunity to ask him about it and now Mozzie was telling her he was in danger. She had this growing feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was very wrong.

##

The doctor finished wrapping up Neal's ribs. He hadn't broken any, but there were a couple dislocated.

"You're a very fortunate young man, Neal. This could have been much worse."

"Am I free to go?"

Neal had no intention of sticking around any longer than necessary. He felt an urgency to get out of there. He knew he was supposed to find someone, but he wasn't sure exactly who. His head was hurting but he didn't want to give the doctor any excuse to keep him here. He really hated hospitals.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"I'm fine, doc. Nothing that won't heal."

"If you're sure, I would recommend going straight home and take it easy. No sudden movements. You need some rest and plenty of liquids. You have a large bruise on the back of your head. I would recommend putting ice on it for 20-30 minutes every 2 hours. Even something as simple as frozen vegetables will work. Here's a prescription for some pain meds. You'll want to get this filled tomorrow. In the meantime here's some free samples to last you through the night."

"Thanks, doctor. Oh, could you write that stuff about the ice down? I won't remember it when I get home."

"Sure."

The doctor pulled a tablet out of his coat pocket, scrawled a few things down and handed the paper to Neal.

Neal tried gently pulling on his shirt which would have been even more painful had the doctor not assisted him. He carefully scooted off the examining table and stood slowly. A slight wave of nausea overcame him but he held in to the edge of the table and it passed quickly. He reached for his black jacket but didn't bother zipping it; afraid it would be too tight and aggravate his ribs. The doctor gave him a concerned glance.

"Are you going to be ok getting home?"

"I'm fine, really. I'll just call a cab."

"Ok. Check out at the reception desk and schedule a follow up appointment. I want to make sure your ribs are healing correctly."

Neal walked up to the desk.

"The doctor said I need to make a follow up appointment"

"Certainly sir. What's your name?"

"Neal Caffrey."

"Would next week Monday work for you?"

"Uh, yeah."

Neal accepted the appointment card the lady handed him.

He moved away from the desk and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to call a cab. He wished the medicine would start working, his head was really starting to pound. He noticed he had several missed calls all from Mozzie.

##

Mozzie startled awake jumping up off the chair he'd been sitting in when his phone started ringing. Elle couldn't help but laugh at the panic stricken look on his face. She noticed he had fallen asleep, but didn't want to wake him. It had been a stressful day for everyone and it was the least she could do for him for rescuing her from Frank.

"Hello?"

"Hello. You called?"

"I've been worried sick about you. I just knew this whole operation was bad to begin with. Are you ok?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. I'm kinda fuzzy on that part yet. I'm looking for someone."

"What is this missing persons week? Who's missing now?"

Neal hesitated. Who was he supposed to be looking for? His mind drifted, he was sitting on a couch with a beautiful woman. 'I can't believe you have such an amazing wife, Peter'…'I'm putting you back in prison.' That must be it, Neal thought it must be Elle. She's Peter's wife.

"Elle. She's missing. Peter...Peter showed up at the drop and he..."

Neal stopped as the memory of what had actually happened sunk in. Peter had actually shot him. Mozzie interrupted his thoughts.

"Neal? Neal? Are you still there?"

Neal still grappling with the memory of the look in Peter's eyes just before he pulled the trigger. Neal leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes at the memory.

"What?"

"What do you mean Elle's missing? She's right here. Were you able to find Grace?"

"Grace? Was I looking for Grace? I...I was wasn't I?"

"Neal, you don't sound so good. Where are you?"

"I'm at a hospital, but they said I could go home. I don't want to stay here. I need to get a cab."

"Neal, hold on ok? Don't hang up the phone. Give me just a second."

"What?"

There was a pause at the other end if the line and then he heard a woman's voice.

"Neal? Are you ok? Mozzie says you don't sound like yourself. What are you doing at the hospital?"

"I need to go home. The doctor said I should go straight home. I need a cab. Maybe I could walk."

"No! Neal, don't start walking, please. Can you tell me the name of the hospital?"

Neal opened his eyes and remembered the appointment card. He carefully pulled it out of his pocket grimacing only slightly. Bellevue Hospital.

"It's Bellevue Hospital."

"Ok. I need to talk to Mozzie for just a minute. Ok? Don't hang up."

Elle put her hand over her cell phone.

"Mozzie? Do you think it's safe to go back to my place? Neal really sounds like he needs help."

"I think it should be, since the cops have already searched it and the drop time has passed, I think it's unlikely Frank will be back."

"I think I'll take that chance then. I'm going to call June and see if she can pick up Neal and take him to our place. We can meet him there. We should take the painting, maybe Peter can help us figure out what to do. You're right. If the cops have already been there they won't be back."

Elle uncovered the phone.

"Neal? Are you still there?

"I'm here."

Can you do me a big favor?"

"Maybe."

"I'm going to call June and see if she can pick you up at the hospital. You won't need to take a cab. Will you promise to stay until she gets there?"

"The doctor said I need to go straight home."

"Neal, June will bring you directly to my place ok? I'm sure that will be ok with the doctor.

"Ok."

"I'll see you soon Neal."

"Ok."

Neal realized he was very tired. He found an empty chair against a wall and carefully lowered himself into it. He leaned his head back against the wall and promptly fell asleep.

"Neal?"

Neal was dreaming he was back in the warehouse. He saw a figure sitting in a chair and he silently approached not wanting to scare them. The room seemed familiar to him; it felt like he'd been there before, but when he approached the figure he stopped dead. It was a much older lady than he had expected, but she seemed very familiar. He knew her.

"Neal?"

There it was again, a voice calling to him through the darkness. He tried to crack an eye open, but it was really bright.

"Neal, dear. It's June. I've come to pick you up. Mozzie and Elle are very worried about you. I am too, you don't look so good. Do you think you can stand up for me?"

June. Yes, that's who the older lady was. He lived in her lovely home. Neal breathed a sign of relief. He attempted to open his eyes again and could see her looking down at him; concern evident in her face.

"The doctor said I need to go straight home."

"I know dear, but Elle requested I take you to their home. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Let's get you out of here."