(Chapter 3)

Once they had finished playing two rounds of Parcheesi, one round of checkers and another of Sorry, the two men were tired out despite having just sat around chatting all morning and early afternoon. It was just after 1 PM according to the clock but it was still dark and stormy outside as if it were night time. Maybe it was the gloom but they were both sleepy, Neal moving to his bed to take a nap while Peter crashed on the sofa, his soft snoring evident as the agent quickly passed out. Neal smiled as he watched his friend a moment before rolling over to get some rest of his own.

Neal... Hey buddy... wake up. Neal...

He perked up, turning his head to glance over his shoulder but saw that the agent was still asleep. Odd. He could have sworn he heard Peter calling him but it had been soft and almost whisper silent as he pulled the covers back up and started to fall asleep again.

Neal... (He won't wake up. What did you do to him?) Neal... come on... It's Peter.

There was a combination of fear, worry and anger in Peter's voice as Neal closed his eyes tighter and tried not to react. Something told him he should get up as he turned his head to look at his friend, finding the sofa empty.

"Peter?"

Neal sat up and glanced around the room with a worried look, moving first to the terrace but finding it still closed, the storm raging outside as he moved aside and entered the back hallway by the kitchenette. Nothing. Peter was gone. He went to the main door leading from his room to the rest of June's home but it was locked. Neal pulled on the doorknob but found it wouldn't budge no matter how he tried to open it.

"Peter? June? Anyone?"

He was fighting with the door certain he had to get out when the terrace doors exploded open and the wind started to howl more loudly. He moved closer to push the doors shut when something moved out of the darkness and tossed him aside, throwing him to the floor and holding him down. He tried to scream for help but he couldn't breath, a pain in his chest and head as the sounds of wind were replaced with the blood rushing in his ears.

Neal, relax... Neal... it's me. Wake up.

Someone hit him firmly across the cheek as his room melted to darkness and a new scene came into view. He squinted, closing his eyes a moment at the bright yet blurry images he saw, someone hanging over him as they spoke softly. He sensed a smile there, eyes trying to see as they started to slowly focus on the figure.

"Neal... it's me. It's Peter. Come on buddy. Answer me."

The agent was looking down at him, honest brown eyes full of exhaustion if not concern staring at Neal as he tried to figure out what had happened. They had been at June's and now...

Neal felt nauseated, rolling over despite the pain he felt. He pulled away from his friend who let him go as he crawled a few feet away and threw up. It was mostly dry heaves but it helped for some reason, a strange metallic taste making him gag some but he managed to get over the feeling as he collapsed. Strong arms caught him and he felt his head leaning back against someone, a trembling figure who talked softly to him and wiped off his mouth before gently caressing his hair.

"It's ok, Neal... I'm here. (He needs water!)"

Peter was talking to someone else, Neal finally noticing other figures around them he hadn't seen before. One of them looked familiar, they waved at another man to bring something over as his mind started to adjust to reality. Jaren... Jaren Morrison.

It all started to come back to him in flashes of memory that made his ears ring and head throb. His body spasmed in pain as a reaction but Peter held him close and kept him calm until finally the episode was over and he was certain he knew what was going on. His eyes glanced up at his friend curiously, hoping what he remembered wasn't so.

"Peter, Diana... Jones?"

The agent nodded, giving him a quiet look that said more than words. So his memory was right, a groan escaping his lips as he felt a jagged pain in his side and tried not to cry out. Peter reached up for something, Neal noticing one of the odd men around them, goons from the looks of it, hand the agent a plastic bottle of water. Peter opened it up and very gently held it up to Neal's parched lips. He was suddenly so very thirsty, guzzling the water down despite his friend's attempts to get him to drink more slowly. He coughed a bit as the water went down the wrong pipe but finally the taste of bile and metal started to fade some as he spat a bit of the fluid out, collapsing tiredly against his friend.

"Neal... do you remember why we're here?"

Peter said it quietly but it was obvious that the others could hear, especially Jaren as he nodded back. He remembered it despite the odd dream world his mind had created. That had been his attempt to hide from the truth but he couldn't now that he had finally woken up. Reality was setting in and it was obvious their captor knew it.

"I think he does remember, Agent... so, if you'll kindly follow me. I think we can get you started on your tasks."

The agent started to get up helping Neal in the process as he groaned, the pain in his stomach and side still evident. Poison did that to you although whatever this stuff was just made you feel bad more than anything. He glared coldly at Jaren as the man and his goons surrounded them in a less than protective manner. They were ready for either man to try and run for it but Neal would no more risk Peter's life than the agent would his. Once he was on his feet it seemed the world swayed a bit, legs rubbery but Peter supported him until he pushed away enough to let him know he was ok.

"Thanks."

Peter nodded in silence, keeping a hand on his shoulder for either comfort or support. He wasn't sure as they were led in the small convoy of men after Jaren inside the shell of a burned out warehouse and Neal finally realized where it was they were. This was where Adler had kept his treasure. Where they had been kept prisoner. A cold chill ran down his spine as his eyes turned to Peter who just kept his eyes looking straight ahead except for a quick peripheral glance back. The agent knew where they were too but Neal worried about Jones and Diana. Were they still ok or were they as sick as he felt. There had been another agent he didn't know well named Atley... were they here as well?

"I think you may recognize this place Mr. Caffrey. It belonged to our former employer."

Jaren was being formal as if showing a client a residence but Neal didn't fall for it, trying his best not to use Peter as a crutch. The agent was the only one not poisoned far as he knew. He still wasn't certain what they'd been given but his stomach hurt a lot more than he'd admit to their captors, his throat feeling parched but he wasn't going to complain.

"The treasure of a lifetime was here. I heard you gave it away... Matthew Keller took credit. It's a shame really. All those priceless artifacts..."

The man was trying to push his buttons but the gentle yet firm squeeze of Peter's hand on his shoulder was telling him to stand back.

"Keller found it fair and square. I had nothing to do with it, Morrison."

He left it at that, Jaren glancing back at him with a curious look.

"Really? So your little friend... He was lying when he said he had that Degas for sale?"

Neal swallowed hard, a combination of the poison in his system and fear at being discovered. Had Jaren bid on the item when Mozzie had it up for sale? He felt the grip on his shoulder change, turning to see Peter giving him a narrow eyed glance. Jaren laughed, obviously bemused by the situation.

"You didn't know, Agent Burke? Neal and Mozzie have a side-business. Some months ago his little bespectacled friend had a Degas up for sale. I bid but for some reason it was suddenly removed. Let's just say I figured out who was in charge of the sale and tracked it to your "snitch" here. Biding my time I had hoped to get that Degas one way or another."

Neal felt himself shrinking or maybe it was the poison but Peter seemed to relax but the narrow eyed look continued as he seemed to be thinking of something but didn't say a word. There was a discomforting silence interrupted by Jaren's cold chuckle.

"Did I reveal something I shouldn't have, Caffrey. Shame... how secrets are exposed. So... shall I tell you what I want you to do?"

Peter's hand remained on his shoulder despite everything which meant the agent was still with him but Neal was certain if they got away from this there would be some kind of long discussion. He would think of it later as they were led into a small dilapidated office, a dusty folding table with matching chairs set up along with two burner phones. Jaren clapped his hands loudly, the sound echoing through the open space.

"So... I'm certain you must still have this Degas despite what Mr. Keller says. It wasn't in his collection when I was allowed access."

Jaren dropped something for them to see as they were seated at the table, Peter staring down at the small wallet and reaching to open it up when motioned to. It was a fake Interpol badge. Neal recognized the work as someone he knew on the street but hid his knowledge behind a bland expression.

"I just need you to find me that Degas, Mr. Caffrey. I know you kept it."

His throat was dry, Neal licking his lips not just because he was feeling tense. His stomach was cramping up and his chest felt tight as he felt a hand on his and saw Peter looking at him with a pointed glance. So he believed that Jaren was telling the truth? Neal didn't care at the moment other than protecting those he cared about. He would deal with the discussion later.

"What Keller had is all there was."

Neal was feeling worse than he had earlier, beads of sweat on his brow starting to drip down the side of his face as he watched Jaren smiling coldly back. Sweating had nothing to do with nervousness but something else he could only vaguely recall. Morrison made a motion, two men grabbing Peter and pulling him back against the chair so he couldn't move. They tied him down securely as one of them with a Kbar pushed the serrated part of the blade up against the agent's throat as the other pulled his head back to expose his throat.

"Except for your agent friend here who showed up last minute... the rest of your party was poisoned. I can't tell you what until you've done what I want. There are only have a few hours to give me the Degas before you and the other two agents die of the symptoms. Your friend here will die of other more deadlier means if you disagree with me again. Understood?"

Neal swallowed hard, nodding as he watched Peter struggling despite the blade to his throat. His stomach felt sick, a gurgling sound that wasn't good making itself known as he stood up, blood rushing to his head but he stayed on his feet despite feeling faint. Jaren walked over and patted him mockingly on the shoulder.

"Good. Now, he will go with you so that if you don't obey, you can see the consequences up close and personal. Shall we?"

Jaren made a motion, Peter was untied and cuffed with his arms behind him as they walked back outside of the small room and Neal stopped him.

"The others... I want to see that they're ok before I finish this."

A gun was drawn on him when he approached Jaren but the man waved a hand as a signal to put it away.

"Certainly... Jack, show Mr. Caffrey where his friends are then bring him back here."

()()()

Peter held his friend down, Neal thrashing some but finally the con had calmed down after his bout with nausea. He'd noticed something wrong with his friend immediately but couldn't call anyone out on it considering the circumstances. Morrison had them covered so he had to hold back until he knew where everyone was. He remembered some of the past day.

They'd been on a stakeout in the van watching Morrison's place. The man was supposed to be selling blackmarket pieces stolen from art galleries. One of Mozzie's contacts had hooked them up with the site and this was their first attempt to see Morrison in action. Once they had proof, they just needed a warrant. Peter was going to relieve one of them later in the evening, the agent driving to a spot around the corner to park from where the van was. He had on a baseball cap, jeans and a blue polo as he grabbed a small backpack to blend in and walked over towards the van not more than half a block away. He recognized the other FBI cruisers in the same spot, a sign that everyone was where they should be as he left the Taurus and started towards his destination. He was actually early by a few minutes, hoping to surprise everyone with some of the goodies Elizabeth had cooked up for himself and the crew. He hoped they'd be happy as he whistled to himself and started round towards the van.

"What the..."

There was a hint of smoke pouring out of the cracks in the door of the van as he wondered what was going on. He didn't see anyone on the street as he approached the Municipal City van that was their cover on stakeouts. Was someone hurt? Was there a fire inside? Why wasn't anyone around or emergency crew there to help? Peter dropped the pack and moved forward prepared for flames as he pulled at the door and coughed at the toxic fumes flowing out. He started to feel woozy immediately as he held his hand over his face to keep from breathing more of the thick cloud of whatever it was in. He was holding his breath, squinting into the gloom when he saw Neal looking at him, one of his foofy handkerchiefs held to his face. Everyone else was out as three dark figures turned towards him. It was too soon, the agent unable to grab his gun as one of the figures jumped him and everything had gone black.

Peter had his weird dream about being at home with El and meeting up with Neal to see that game. Then there's been that weird storm. What did it all mean as he remembered waking to the nightmare of Jaren and his goons. His memory was coming back but now his partner was looking sickly and he wasn't sure if Neal was well enough to help himself much more him and the other agents. Now he found out maybe there was more treasure to be had... He wasn't angry considering the circumstances. They had to stay on task and save themselves and their colleagues then he could chide his partner if need had it. If anything, Mozzie was behind this fiasco. Neal had given up the treasure for Elizabeth and himself, for his new life here. Peter believed that more than anything and he would stand behind his partner regardless but didn't make him worry any less as he saw the pale, drawn look on Neal's face. Jaren said they were poisoned but by what?

"Stay..."

He had tried to follow as they stopped a few blocks from June's but the goons held him back. The one with the knife held it up with a gleam in his dark eyes. Jaren smiled.

"Now Caffrey... get us that painting and you get a cure for you, your friends and this one lives. Got it? You have three hours."

Peter wanted to tell him not to worry about him but Neal despite his sallow appearance nodded tiredly, his expression way too calm for a man in his situation. Something was obviously wrong as the young man left alone to trek to June's. He watched his partner stare at him without much emotion but for a sad look in those blue eyes before he disappeared around the corner. Jaren chuckled as they held Peter in the back of the van and sighed as if he were bored.

"Your friend will do anything for you. Did you think I didn't investigate this before setting up the phony sting? You were set up by the best and so was Caffrey. Nobody lives once we have what we want... but you won't be telling anyone anything, Fed."

Jaren made a motion and one of the men covered his face with their hand, the other holding him tightly as they sat there. Peter struggled, nostrils and mouth covered securely until he thought he might pass out from lack of air. Suddenly he felt his mouth freed, nose still pinched as someone pushed a bottle of water to his lips. It tasted oddly, the color off but he was forced to drink it, the tepid water choking him until his mouth was held closed and he could only swallow or drown. Once he had finished they let him loose, cuffed and laying tiredly on the van floor as Jaren continued that cold smile.

"Now you have what he has. It's not necessarily deadly in most cases but this is a special strain a friend made. Botulism is a terrible way to go but this version accelerates the process."

Peter didn't know what to say, realizing now what had been so familiar about Neal's illness. He'd had this same thing before only on a smaller scale from bad meat. He struggled to attack their captor but someone punched him hard across the chin and stunned him as he felt rags stuffed into his mouth and tape pulled across his lips.

"The end will come soon. I hope your friend hurries so you can all go together."

oOoOoOo

Author's Note: Well now we know what he wants. Does Neal even still have the damnable thing after everything that happened? I guess we'll find out in the next chapter.