The man approached until Neal was in full view. Between the glare from the flash light in his eyes and the shadows, Neal couldn't see the features on the violent thief's face. He wasn't sure if it would matter; would he even be alive to identify the man when Peter and the rest of the FBI rushed in to save him? Having heard Hughes tell the teams to move in, it was obvious his rescue was close. He just hoped it was close enough. He gulped as the aggressor lowered the flashlight.
"Who the hell are you?" He growled. Neal looked up, meeting his eyes confidently. God, he hoped Peter would get there soon.
"Neal Peterson. If I'd known you'd be robbin' the place tonight, I would have come at a different time." He joked. The other man didn't say anything, his expression growing stonier. Neal cleared his throat nervously. "So, uh, who are you?"
"What's it to you?" He growled.
"Well, we're obviously both on the same side here. Considering we both snuck in." Though, personally, Neal wouldn't have called what this man and his team did 'sneaking'.
"Mike." He said finally.
"Just Mike?" Neal asked.
"Yeah. Just Mike. What are you doing here?" His eyes narrowed in distrust.
"Same as you. But, probably a little quieter than you guys, huh?" Neal laughed nervously. Mike did not.
"Then why ya hiding?"
"Right. Well, I'm not really much of a confrontation guy. Don't like guns. Just want a couple of paintings. You know, to pay the rent, and put food on the table. That kinda stuff." His voice was remained even as his body began to shake. Shouldn't Peter be here soon?
"Oh yeah? You got some little lady at home?" Neal would have been comforted by the show of concern if the man hadn't sounded so threatening.
"Yeah. She's back home. She just had a baby, so…we need all the extra money we can get, ya know? Diapers aren't cheap." He played the sympathy card shamelessly.
"Huh. Too bad for her." He stepped closer. Neal took a step back, bumping into the wall.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we can't just let you go."
"Who am I going to tell? I can't call the police and tell them I met some thieves after I broke into the Guggenheim. I'd have to be out of my mind." The guy shrugged.
"Or maybe you tell that little lady of yours…and she mentions it to the cops. It's a chance we can't take. I haven't left anyone alive yet, and I'm not starting tonight." He stepped closer, close enough that Neal could smell his aftershave.
"I-I won't tell anyone, I swear. Not even Kate." He winced as he said her name. He'd always wanted to get married and settle down with Kate. He wondered what it would have been like. The back-story he'd created for himself sounded like paradise; him and Kate in a little apartment, raising a child together. He wished it wasn't a lie.
"Well, you made your Kate a widow and your kid an orphan. That's too bad, Peterson. Too bad for them." Neal closed his eyes, images of Kate flashing in his mind. Her smile, her eyes, everything in the world he'd ever loved. Everything he'd never had to steal.
"Please, can we please just talk this out? Don't you think this is a little rash?" Panic was now obvious in Neal's voice. Mike pushed him against the wall, his hand firmly on his chest. Neal's saving grace-and the thieves' demise- was this: the pressure triggered the mic.
"There's nothing left to talk about. Far as I'm concerned, you're a dead man." Peter heard the tinny threat in his ear as he stood outside the Guggenheim. A chill ran through his body as he glanced at Hughes. The older man wasted no time as he spoke into the radio.
"All teams move in. I repeat: all agents move in." He yelled. They rushed in, guns drawn. Neal drew a deep breath at Hughes' command. Soon, he'd be safe. Mike shoved him into the wall.
"Hope you told your wife and kid good-bye, Peterson. 'Cause you won't be seeing them again." Neal closed his eyes, letting himself be slammed against the wall. His head stung, but the pain was quickly numbed as the circular metal of the gun barrel pressed against his chest.
"Peter, hurry." He whispered, not knowing Peter could hear. The agent ran faster, all thoughts other than saving Neal melting away. He ran down a long hallway, hearing a shout that echoed through the empty building and screeched on the radio. Immediately following the scream was a sound Peter was too familiar with: A gunshot. He turned, running towards the sound.
At first, Neal didn't know what happened. Mike had pulled the gun. Neal had panicked. Then the gun fired. Neal screamed when the pain registered. His efforts to free himself had likely saved his life; the bullet seemed to have pierced his shoulder.
"FBI! Drop the weapons! Get on the ground!" Neal closed his eyes as he sank against the wall. Peter watched as the criminals dropped to the ground before he turned to find his consultant. Sweeping his flashlight beam across the room, he spotted Neal, pale and blood splattered. The consultant was slumped down against the wall.
"Call ambulance! Man down!" He yelled over his shoulder. Rushing to Neal, he was relieved to see those blue eyes, though they were duller than he remembered. "Neal! Neal, hang in there, buddy." Neal looked up wearily.
"He…Kate…I wanna see Kate, Peter." Peter felted the blood drain away from his face.
"No! Neal, you can't see Kate yet. We need you here. You're gonna be alright."
"No…Peter, let me go. Let me go." He mumbled. The hand he held to his chest was covered in blood doing little to stop the flow that soaked the dark fabric of his sweatshirt. Peter shrugged off his jacket and pressed it over the wound. The younger man shrieked in pain as he struggled against Peter, but the agent was stronger.
"Neal, you're gonna be ok."
"…Just let me go…She can't be dead. Peter, she can't be dead. Maybe she got out…Maybe she's ok." Peter groaned.
"Neal, c'mon Neal, wake up. C'mon, you promised. You said you were gonna be alright. Neal, please." Neal struggled a little but finally relaxed in Peter's grip. Both men heard the faint scream of sirens, growing louder as they made their way closer.
"I'm sorry, Peter." Neal whispered.
"No, no, you don't have anything to be sorry for. You're gonna be alright, Neal, everything's gonna be fine."
"I wish it wasn't a lie."
"What was a lie? Neal, stay awake. Tell me about the lie. What was the lie?"
"I told him…told him me and Kate…married. Had a…kid. I wish it was true. I wish…" Neal closed his eyes, slumping lower against the agent.
"No, no Neal! C'mon, Neal, stay with me. Neal! Neal, wake up, C'mon, Neal, wake up!" Peter's voice was laced with fear, echoing hollowly in the empty space of the museum.
Within minutes, paramedics had taken Neal from Peter's arms, leaving a cold, bloodstained spot behind. He watched as they loaded Neal onto a stretcher, shutting his eyes to avoid seeing the look on Neal's face. He couldn't stand to see him like this.
Hughes and Peter both waited at the hospital, sitting together in silence. Peter glanced at Hughes a few times before speaking.
"He'll be ok." He didn't know that for sure, but he needed to say it aloud. He needed someone to hear it.
"He will be." Hughes agreed. "Have you called El? She might want to know." Peter sighed.
"I hadn't thought about it. I will. Excuse me." He stood and pulled out his cell-phone, stepping out into the dark chill of night.
"Hello?" El's voice was confused and tired. Peter suddenly realized how late it was. Almost two in the morning now.
"El, its Peter." His voice betrayed his message.
"Oh, God, what happened? Its Neal, didn't it?" Her breath caught in her throat.
"Yeah. He's…he's in the hospital now…He was…he got shot."
"Oh, God…What hospital are you at? I'll be right there." She slid out of bed even as she spoke.
"El, no, you don't need to-"
"Peter! I'm coming! What hospital?" Peter smiled a little in spite of himself. After relaying the necessary information and telling her to be careful, he returned to the waiting room. Hughes glanced up at him.
"Is El coming?" Peter nodded. "Good. For you and Caffrey." Peter glanced sideways at his boss but remained silent. The older man sighed heavily. "Caffrey'll be alright, Burke. He's a tough kid." Peter looked at his superior, smiling a little.
"I guess Neal is growing on you, huh Hughes?" He chuckled darkly.
"Like a fungus." This time Peter laughed. Leave it to Neal to slowly worm his way into everyone's hearts. Even someone like Hughes, who pretended he didn't have one.
"Sounds like Neal." Hughes laughed a little as well
When El arrived, she ran across the waiting room, wrapping her arms around Peter in a hug.
"Have you heard anything yet? How's he doing?"
"We haven't heard anything yet." El ran a hand through his hair.
"He'll be alright, Peter. He'll be alright."
Together, the trio waited for almost two hours. Finally, a nurse approached.
"Family for Mr. Caffrey?" They stood. She told them about Neal's condition, but Peter couldn't really hear her. Neal was alive. That was all that mattered. He was alive and he would be alright. Maybe a little worse for the wear, but alive. Alive.
After being assured that Neal was going to be fine, Hughes excused himself, leaving the Burkes to wait by Neal's bedside. El sat on one side of Neal, holding his hand, while Peter sat on the other side. It seemed that all the adrenaline drained away from Peter suddenly. He couldn't remember ever being so tired. A hand resting on Neal's bed close enough to feel if the con-artist moved, he fell asleep.
He awoke slowly. Something pressed into his arm. And then disappeared. Then it happened again. And again. Finally Peter managed to open his eyes. Blinking groggily, he saw Neal smile weakly at him and poke his arm another time.
"I told you. In a few hours, I'll be back to bugging you."
