Hi everyone! I Love you all for your suportive coments, you all are so sweet! So after a lot of advil, loud music, no sleep for at least 24 hours, and blowing off studying. I pecked away at the keyboard and produced this because I felt so bad for you guys with no chapters! Also I put a poll on my page for your oppinon that would mean so much if you answered! Its about your oppinon on me adding side comments in the story. Also a shout out to morgo7kc for being a awsome Beta, Dont-Eat-My-Pie for the support, plus Holly Short of The Lep recon for giving me a spontaniou ideas for my story by what they said! Also I'm starting a random shout out so, comment, PM and stuff for a chance to be in a shout out!

Elizabeth was sitting on the couch curled up with a hot cup of tea and a romance novel. Despite all of this there was an empty pit in her stomach that would not cease to bother her. She just wanted Neal to be okay; he was like a son to her. El sighed and put the book on the coffee table. She was about to turn on the TV when she heard a thump outside. It was dark out and she was expecting no one, so she went cautiously to the door and opened it.

"Hello? Who's there?" she asked into the darkness. She looked around before her eyes fell to the ground. There lay a still figure spiraled across the ground. The man was bruised and battered plus blood seemed to cover his whole body. El bent down to get a closer look, brushing the hair out of the man's face. Her heart sped up as she looked into the face she recognized so well. "Neal! No, no, no..." she cried, El fumbled for her phone and dialed speed dial one. "Peter! Its Neal, he's at our front door Peter!"

"What? How... I'll be there with the EMT's in a couple minutes! Hang on El."

The line went dead and El turned back to Neal, she jumped into action quickly running inside and grabbing some towels. She folded one up and placed it under the unconscious young con's head, the others she used to wipe the blood off to find the source of bleeding, which seemed to be everywhere. Neal's breath was shallow and getting fainter by the minute. All El could do was sit there cradling Neal, stroking his hair and trying to stop the bleeding.

Peter drove faster than he had ever driven before, when he got to his house his stomach turned as he pulled in. He saw a trail of blood leading up to his house and the bloody hand print spread across the mailbox. Peter hopped out of the car and ran to the front steps; the sight that greeted him was not a pleasant one. His wife was on the ground holding the broken body of Neal Caffrey; Peter slipped to his knees beside El, moving her aside and taking over holding Neal. Sirens approached in the distance but Peter was transfixed on Neal's still face, it was covered in a mixture of sweat, grime, and blood, his hair was plastered to his face by dried blood that had dripped from a rather nasty glass-covered gash. Even though most of the injuries were old, they were still steadily bleeding. In Peter's life he had learned how much blood was in the human body-and it was a lot-but when the precious crimson life was spilling from your best friend, who is rapidly bleeding out on your side walk, it seems like so much more.

Peter was so transfixed on Neal's face, and was having flashbacks to the dock where Jones and Diana were saved, that he didn't notice the paramedics pushing him aside.

They worked quickly and efficiently, not wasting any time. They loaded Neal into the ambulance and were about to close the door when Peter jumped in. The EMT's tried to argue but Peter flashed his badge, making them submit.

Peter sat next to the unconscious man as the EMT's tried to stabilize him,. He now had an oxygen mask over his face, wires attached to his chest, an IV blood transfusion, and the EMTs were applying compresses and splinting bones. He looked so small on that back board with the neck brace, and all the padding holding him from even moving a centimeter.

As Peter got lost farther in his thoughts he was shocked by the strong death grip he suddenly felt on his wrist. He looked in shock to see Neal looking up at the ceiling with terrified eyes, unaware he was grabbing Peter's wrist. His other hand reached up, and despite the EMTs efforts to stop him, he ripped the mask off his face. He then fumbled at the IV in his arm, trying to rip it out but Peter grabbed his wrist in the same exact grab Neal had him in. Neal eyes locked on Peter with a look of scared confusion.

"P'ter….Sean…he's got a… a…a…-" Neal gasped and his hand started to shake violently on Peter's wrist. Suddenly his eyes closed and his hand fell. The next thing Peter knew the machines around Neal where making a loud continues beep that would not stop.

"Charge to 200, clear!" Neal's body jumped with the electric charge but was still. "Charge to 250, clear! The monitors droned on. "Charge to 300!"

"Chris, he's gon-"

"Do it!" yelled Chris.

The yell of, "clear!" echoed through the ambulance, and like a gift on Christmas morning, there was a beep on the monitor.

Peter, who had been practically having a panic attack the whole time, looked up at the EMT-who he would probably send a holiday card to every year from now on-with grateful eyes. Before he could say a word, they screeched to a halt and Neal was whisked away, and the blur of activity swept him away once again.

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( Just to fill you in quickly)Mozzie Flashback: ( but is it really necessary to tell you it's a flashback I mean you could just figure it out on your own… you know what, I'm going to shut up and just type like the good girl you want me to be… AKA: a girl who updates faster. Oops, I said I was going to shut up, crap.)

He sat on the floor of Tuesday, (If you get that WC reference and tell me I will give you some sort of reward, probably something small, but who knows? I am talking again aren't I?) Alex was next to him on the ground, sobs racking her body. It had been ten minutes since she had come back and so far, Mozzie had not been able to do a damn thing to calm her, (His bedside manner was worse than Peter's.) in fact he had only made it worse. This was now a desperate situation in Mozzie's book, so he did the only possibility. He called Mrs. Suit to pick them up.

After unwillingly giving Mrs. Suit directions to Tuesday (Which would now "not exist"), he and Alex had waited for her to come. When she arrived, she had made him drive while calming Alex and dragging the horrible story of the video and everything else, that had happened out of her. They had divided a plan for money in the backseat in low whispers, before giving him instructions and leaving him in the dark. "Typical women," he thought as he left the car where Alex was yelling rather threatening things over her cell at assets.

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It had been eighteen hours since Neal had arrived at the hospital, and Jones had tried to stay awake for the whole time: keyword, tried. He had barely been able to keep his eyes open from all the sedatives they had insisted, to a testy Diana, were "necessary to keep his mental stability." Like hell they were. They had been pumping more into him every hour since he had gotten there, and he just wanted it to stop. Morphine alone was enough to keep him under but this was just overkill. He was now coming to again and he watched wearily as a nurse stood above him, checking his eyes and monitors. Now, she was about to inject more sedatives into the IV port. "Ahhhhhhhh!" Jones's ragged scream flew out of of his mouth, burning his traumatized windpipe on the way up, and he clutched his stomach.

The nurse dropped the syringe in confusion; it shattered on the floor. Jones's scream died, and his face broke out into a sweat, his breathing rapid. He saw Diana jump off her bed, despite the nurse's protest, and was able to make her way over before collapsing at the edge of Jones's bed on to her knees. Pain engulfed him and his vision swam. He felt himself convulse; suddenly he had no control over his body. He felt himself writhe while hands tried to hold him down. Monitors beeped wildly, it was too much. The last thing Jones remembered was the metallic rusted taste of blood as it came from his stomach and spilled from his mouth to the floor.

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Peter had been sitting in the hospital waiting room for far too long, his hands and clothes were caked in blood that was not even his and he had not slept in at least 24 hours. His head buzzed with Neal's words before he flat lined, he was going to tell him about something Sean had. But what was it?

Peter was jerked out of his thoughts from a terrible scream that protruded from Diana and Jones's room. Peter instinctively reached for his gun and realized it was confiscated at the front desk, (the hotheaded nurse had said that if he had a security detail he didn't need it to look like a "bad-ass government person." Peter now almost hated hospitals as much as Mozzie). He ran toward the room but was stonewalled by that EMT from the ambulance. Peter tried to shove him to the side but he was pushed back into the wall.

"Agent Burke?" the man gasped while struggling to keep Peter pinned or just from slugging him, "I need you to sit down or I will have to sedate you." Peter realized he was dead serious when he looked down and saw a syringe in the man's hand.

Breathless Peter slumped into the chair next to him in defeat, and looked up at the man. Now he knew why they had taken his gun. "So you work as a EMT and a doctor?" Peter asked in a bemused tone.

"Your director assigned me to do all over-seeing of your agents' health in the field and out," he stated, "I just got a toxicology report back and its seems your bad guy had a fallback plan to his fallback plan. He laced the the sedative with the toxin from the plant nightshade, its neurotoxin that is meant to kill. This person wanted these agents dead, bad. Fortunately we caught it in the nick of time, Agent Jones was in a weak state and…" a nurse that emerged from Jones's room, handed him a note, "the poison attacked him caused severe abdominal pain before he had a seizures, vomited blood on the floor and passed out. The blood was probably left over from our fixing his internal bleeding but if it's coming up that's not good." he said in a bored, matter-of-fact way, as if everyone sees this every day.

"Are they OK? Is Sea- I mean Ryker going after them?"

"You're the law expert, you tell me."

Peter knew that Sean was just doing this to complicate things, "The best things have been done in solitude, the worst in turmoil -Thomas Edison." Peter heard Mozzie's voice ring threw his head, crap; he had been hanging out with that man way too much for his liking."

"So what's the verdict umm...Dr…"

"Dr. Chris Warner, we'll put them on the antidote but the side effects are weakness and not thinking clearly. If it helps, we see this a lot when criminals don't want there victims talking right away."

"OK… how's Neal's condition?" And as if on cue, a bed carrying Neal came around the corner. At least Peter thought it was Neal. He lay there with his eyes closed, and he, like Jones, was naked except for Peter assumed his boxers because a blanket covered him from waste down. His body was covered with bruises that looked nastier than Diana and Jones's. He was covered with a number of monitors and an IV connected to a bag of blood and other liquids he could not identify, and of course a nasal canal.

"Mr. Caffrey suffered fractures to multiple bones, broken ribs, internal bleeding, a bullet wound to the left shoulder, a punctured lung, multiple sever concussions, skull fracture, and many banged up organs in general. It is amazing he is still in one piece, he should be dead." Dr. Warner stated bluntly, Peter was not really taking a liking to this guy and was rethinking sending him a Christmas card.

He watched as Neal was wheeled into the same room as Diana and Jones. Traditionally there were only two patients to a room, but this was a special case. As he was about to walk in, his cell rang.

"Hello," he answered.

"Petey," came the voice over the phone.

"You got the money, I got all my agents, now leave us alone!" Peter hissed

"No, Petey, you don't understand. Neal was mine, not yours, and frankly I am losing my sense of humor over this. Agent Burke you do not want me to lose my sense of humor over this, because things will get very ugly. If you think I'm twisted now, you just wait." Sean hissed in an icy voice.

Peter was taken aback by the man's anger, what had Neal done?

"Oh, by the way, your agent is going to call you to tell you he found the place I kept your agents in 3….2…1…BANG! Oops, my bad…scratch that." Then the line went dead.

Peter did not know how fast he drove to the site where shots were fired, but he made a 30-minute trip in 5 minutes…during rush hour. When he got there, all the agents were in full out, if-anyone-taps-me-on-the-shoulder-I-won't-hesitate-to-turn-and-shoot, paranoia mode. He saw a man sitting on a crate, cradling his hand while others tried to stop the bleeding.

Peter ran over, shoving people out of the way to get to the agent. He stared in horror at the clean through-and-through bullet hole in the man's hand. He wasted no time taking gauze from the nearby first aid kit, wrapping the man's hand in it, and laying him on the ground to wait for the paramedics. Then he continued on to the building behind him, the building where his agents were kept just blocks from his house.

As he walked inside he saw a main room and a hallway leading off with two doors at either end. He did not even want to check the rooms out, he knew what he would find. Instead, he walked over to a nearby techie.

"There was a security video left for you, I think Ryker wanted you to see it." The techie said before sitting Peter down with a laptop, and pressing play.

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"You're telling me, he just disappeared?" Sean asked his goons in disbelief. He stared at the wall with a look of total shock on his face. He ran his hand through his blond hair, messing up some of his styling he worked so hard on, but he did not care now.

"Were so-rry- b-b-boss," whimpered Dumb. (He had not bothered learning their names he just called them Dumb and Dumber in which ever order he felt like that day.)

"Your hiding something from, me spit it out." Sean stated in a monotone voice.

"Someone moved the blueprints," blurted Dumber, or it could've been Dumb, he did not care. "Are you mad?"

"No," Sean said before quickly turning on the heels of his red Converse's and two gunshots rang out.

He stood there, breathing heavily. "Great," he hissed as he looked at his blood-spattered clothes, then to the dead bodies on the floor with bullet holes in between their eyes, "Well it was worth it." He chuckled to himself. Then he sighed as he stripped off his clothes, leaving him in his boxers, he grabbed a white Tee shirt, a pair of worn jeans, and then paused as he examined his red Converse's. The blood had sunk into the color perfectly, making it not even noticeable. He smiled and put them back on, then got to work preparing.

He quickly went outside set up an assault rifle and got down to business.

Sean Christopher Ryker was many things; an orphan that lived on the streets as a child, a killer, a kidnapper, a thief, a sociopath, and he was proud of every one of them. Or so he thought, as he drove toward Downtown New York Hospital at top speed.

When he got there he wiped the sweat that was collecting on his forehead away and grabbed a grenade out of his glove apartment, before making a neat homemade explosive that he was rather proud of. He looked over his contraption which was a grenade taped to the seat, leading to a string tied to the pin and a cell phone set on vibrate, weirdly perched on the end of the seat. It was simple: he calls the number, cell vibrates, falls off seat, pulls string, string pulls pin, and boom.

When he was a safe distance away he called, and slipped into a side room to dress in scrubs before he heard the satisfying sound of taking a parking garage apart in seconds. He smiled as he slipped a mask over his face and proceeded to slip into the hallway of the ICU. Sean Christopher Ryker was on his A-game.

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Diana scrubbed her skin with the wash cloth they had given her after Jones had puked blood on her. "Uck, just, uck." Diana looked at Jones as his eyelids fluttered open. He rolled onto his side to face Diana with a confused look. "You had a seizure and puked blood, on top of me because I was trying to help you, I might add."

"Sorry," said Jones meekly.

"All is forgiven since you weren't the one to poison us."

"We were- oh that bastard."

Diana was about to let out a piece of her mind and a string of very colorful language about Sean, but just then the door was opened and in rolled a face she thought she would never see again. The nurse shoved Neal's bed between Diana's and Jones's bed, hooked him up to some machines before leaving the room. With three beds, they had only centimeters of room from each other, Diana and Jones locked eyes before Diana reached a hand out to Jones who grasped it from across Neal. Then they both grabbed one of Neal's hands too. Diana looked at Neal's pale, pained face and tears began to fall freely from her face. Jones had his face buried in his blanket but she knew he was crying too, as they lay there holding hands, not wanting to lose anyone again.

It was later in the day and Peter had left for another "Sean emergency". There was rain pounding at the windows. Diana and Jones sat there childishly playing cards. This would be OK if they were not using Neal as a table.

"Got any fours?"

"For the last time, NO, GO FISH," said Diana to Jones as he grumbled and reached for a card. She slumped back and let her head hit her pillow; she was so tired but they said she had to keep conscious. God, she wished that this poison would get pumped out of her faster.

"You OK?" Jones asked and she shot him a look that said I-know-you-feel-the-same. Jones sighed and flopped back on his pillow, leaving his cards on top of the sleeping Neal.

"Did Christie come to visit while I was, well, out of it? asked Jones, the exhaustion finally showing in his voice.

"No, she is out in DC, I doubt she has been informed about t-"

Just then, there was a loud bang of thunder and the con beside them opened his blue eyes with a jolt. He sat up with haste and ripped the nasal canal that was over his nose. His eyes looked around the room. his breathing fast.

Diana grabbed his wrist the same way Peter had done and practically screamed, "Neal look at me! We're OK, you're OK! This is a hospital."

(Neal POV)

Neal nodded in understanding before he tried to lay back on his pillow but was stopped by a shudder of pain. Jones grasped his back (for Diana's wrist was broken, if you do not remember) and lowered him gingerly onto his pillow.

"W'ter," Neal croaked, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

Diana reached for an extra glass at the edge of her bed, filled it with water then held it to Neal's lips as he gingerly took a sip, wetting his dry throat.

"Neal, what happened to you?" Diana pressed.

"Give me a minute," Neal said, not feeling quite enough morphine flowing through his system for his liking. "Tell me what happened to you first."

Diana told her side of the story in length, from waking up on the boat, to the hospital.

When she finished, Neal was so flabbergasted, all he could think of saying was: "Jones, you seriously flipped out when everyone realized I wasn't there? A small smile appeared on his face.

"Well," said Jones blushing and trying to put his words together, "The paramedics and the lights, plus, come on, I just had freakin' drowned to death. It was too much, sue me! But I really want to hear your side of the story."

(And yes, I am going to type Neal's side because I rather enjoyed that part.)

"When I really came to, you were being injected. Apparently Sean decided that I had to have a different execution fate after he sent you to off, so he wanted me acutely aware." At this, a shiver ran through Neal at the memory. Just keeping awake and talking was draining all the energy from his system, but he continued, "He put us in the van; you guys were so out of it!" Neal laughed at this but regretted it for a shock of pain streaked through him.

"We drove to the dock; I tried to get you both near me but I was only managed to get you, Jones, and the pervert bastard had Diana on his lap."

Diana gave a look of disgust, and Jones looked like he was going to kill someone.

"After they took you guys I was taken to the warehouse that turned out to be near Peter's house…. After that I stole a wire out of a cell phone holder, picked the lock, got out to the Burkes' house, and that's all I remember.

"Well it's been a whole 24 hours since Elizabeth found you, you're lucky-"

Just then a loud bang rattled the room and the security outside went into turmoil. However, something clicked in Neal's brain at the sound; he gritted his teeth in pain as the memory surfaced in his battered brain.

Blueprints, he could see them, words flew everywhere: C4, detonator, building…what building? Oh yeah, New York FBI building.

When it clicked Neal screamed it out loud, "Sean's going to blow up the FBI tomorrow, we where a distraction from the real event! I saw blueprints, he is got to mad as hell! I have to, to, to-…"

Neal had no energy left in his body; he was drifting now, but was painfully brought back to reality by a doctor yelling at Diana and Jones for not telling him Neal was awake, and for upsetting him.

"Dr. Warner, Neal may have information vital to national security!" yelled Diana who was also losing energy fast.

Yah…" muttered Jones who was losing the battle with sleep even faster.

"Most patients in both of your conditions should still be sedated now, but the FBI wants you awake for security reasons! So if you want to stay that way I suggest that you don't order me around about my patients!" snapped Dr. Chris Warner.

He was so busy yelling he did not notice the nurse in scrubs behind him, Neal tried to warn him but it was too late. The nurse behind him grabbed Dr. Warner and twisted his neck; with a sickening crunch, he fell motionless to the floor.

The nurse swiftly pulled off his mask, revealing a dazzling smile to match the green eyes and fly away blond hair, then produced a 9mm handgun from behind his back, "Miss me, kiddies?" he quipped.

Diana opened her mouth to scream and Jones reached for the nurse call button, and Neal let out a tyrant of slurred swears. However, Sean cocking the gun silenced them.

"The guards are gone checking out that little show I put on in the garage and if you try anything I will not hesitate to shoot." Sean said seriousness coming over him, "Now you two shackle yourself to the bed," he said, throwing Diana and Jones two pairs of handcuffs.

Reluctantly, they handcuffed themselves to their beds. Only then did Sean approach and take some gauze, stuff it in both their mouths individually, then secure it with medical tape. When that was done, he threw his mask back on and took out a syringe of sedative, which he injected into Neal's neck.

Neal tried to say something or at least scream but the sedative was too strong and he felt his aching body fall into a restless sleep.

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Jones stared in horror as Sean disappeared around the corner with Neal in tow. He was so tired but had to stay awake. Suddenly from beside him he heard the click of handcuffs opening. He looked over, stunned, at Diana who had her hands free and was tearing the tape off her mouth before going over to him and painfully ripping the tape off his mouth. Jones coughed out the gauze then turned to Diana "How?"

"Listen," Diana said, hurriedly pulling a syringe she had been holding behind her back, and began to pick Jones's handcuffs. "You don't spend weekend stakeouts with Neal Caffrey without at least learning how to pick a lock, pick a pocket, and forge a fake ID."

"Oh," said Jones rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had dug in, while watching Diana rummage through the cabinets and overnight bag Elizabeth had left. She protruded with a white T-shirt, sneakers and jeans for Jones, a pair of surgical scrubs and a pair of clothes after for her, plus a load of medical supplies.

"May I ask, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK WE ARE DOING?" Jones almost screamed.

"We are escaping from this place to save Neal."

"Are you kidding, I can't even stand without crutches and with our health even jogging is a no-go! Look at you, you need to stop every five minutes to keep yourself standing, and we are still fighting poison in our body! We can't do anything!" Jones pointed out.

Diana turned to Jones and retorted, "In this turmoil we won't get help in time. I don't know about you, but if he dies I won't have the thought of me doing nothing weighing on me." Then she walked over to Jones and injected him with a liquid that sent a jolt of energy down him.

"What was that, pure caffeine?" asked Jones.

"It's like epinephrine except long lasting and I think I packed enough of that and painkillers to keep us mobile for now." She ripped the IV out of her arm, then before he could protest, she ripped his out too.

"Oww! Can't we wait for Peter?" cringed Jone,s holding his wrist, where the IV use to be.

"It will be too late," said Diana, throwing Jones's clothes at him. "Close your eyes I have to change," she commanded.

Jones squeezed his eyes shut, knowing if he tried to peaked he wouldn't come out of that coma for months.

When she told him to open his eyes he looked at her in the scrubs with the wheelchair for him, a pair of crutched, and a bag with medicine and extra clothes. He the looked at his clothes and with realization turned bright red.

"What is it?" snapped Diana.

"Ummm…I can't exactly get dressed on my own."

"Okay, okay," groaned Diana, "you're at least wearing boxers, right?"

Jones nodded and turned even redder.

Soon Diana was wheeling Jones down the hallway in her scrubs. To anyone from the outside they looked like a doctor pushing a patient to be discharged and nothing more. On the inside, they were desperately trying to save their friend.

Diana took a sharp corner before arriving at the basement leading to the garage, she parked the wheel chair and handed Jones his crutches and the overnight bag with supplies. Then she drew a gun from beneath her pant leg.

"Woah, when did you get that?" Jones asked in shock.

"When you were unconscious," replied Diana. Just then a sound came from in the garage. "Stay here," commanded Diana.

"With pleasure," muttered Jones as she disappeared around the corner. He stood for a moment feeling lonely, and was about to go after her when he felt a foot kick his crutches from under him. He fell to the ground but a pair of strong arms caught him as one held him tight around the chest and the other covered his nose and mouth.

"If you wanted to come along you could have asked," whispered a ice cold voice in his ear, "it would have been a lot easier for me."

At the sound of the voice behind him Jones reared back, throwing all his weight into his attacker, taking Sean by surprise and knocking him into some medical supplies, making them go flying.

"Well," said the irritated tone, "we're going to have to make it look more like a bloody kidnapping now won't we?" Jones barely heard this as his air-deprived body fought for consciousness. The last thing he saw was Sean taking his hand and slicing it with a knife, making blood drip to the floor. Jones tried to scream but with the weighing factors of a cracked trachea, and the lack of oxygen, nothing came out before he once again-adding to the way too many times-passed out.

DUN DUN DUN! I'm evil I know :P So plz answer the poll on my profile and reviews are LOVED they make my hand heal faster, I lie no they don't but a girl can dream! LOVE U ALL-Emma