Neal raced down the hallway, his heart pounding like so many staccato notes in a frenzied melody. He refused to slow down - even when his ankle screamed in protest and dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. Neal gritted his teeth against the pain and kept on running.
"He's clear! He's away from the kids! Open fire! Aim for the knees!" Neal swore explosively. The person barking the orders was Special Agent Diana Berrigan, and Neal had done his homework. He knew that she had excellent aim – best in the bureau. Neal thought fast. They couldn't shoot at him if he was surrounded by school children, so… With a sudden burst of energy, he skidded to a halt and dived into the nearest classroom.
Thirty sophomores stopped mid conversation as he burst through the double doors, their heads snapping up with frightening speed to stare at him. Neal shifted uncomfortably as sixty eye balls latched onto his. Mr Harris, the maths teacher who had almost confiscated his phone last week, stood up in alarm at Neal's abrupt entrance, his expression bemused bordering belligerent.
"Nick?" He asked, as a deadly silence descended on the classroom. "Next time, I would appreciate it if you, you know, knocked before entering my lesson."
"Uhh…" For once, Neal was lost for words. "Um, Mr Harris-"
"FBI! Dammit, Caffrey! FREEZE!" Neal whirled as Peter Burke entered the classroom right behind him. Everyone (including Mr Harris) screamed at the sight of the weapon toting agent who had appeared from nowhere. Peter lunged and grabbed Neal's arm, his fingers firm.
"Look, Peter." Neal started, as more feds rushed into the room. "We've been through this. I appreciate the effort, but I'm just not going to come with you."
"You don't have a choice, Caffrey!" Peter growled, utterly exasperated. Neal only tutted.
"Peter. There's always a choice."
And with that, Neal twisted free from Peter's grip and vaulted over the teacher's desk at the front of the room. Peter swore and dived after him, shoving the desk away furiously, fumbling for his gun at the same time - but the teenager was already grappling with the handle of the classroom's second door. Neal tossed Peter a 1000 watt grin and disappeared back out into the corridor.
Neal hit the stairway and slid down the bannister to the next level. His ankle was on fire. He was worried he was going to do himself some permanent damage if he kept on running – but he couldn't exactly call a "time out" and trot off to get an ice pack. The feds would probably give him medical attention if they caught him. The thought made Neal smile grimly. He would take burning pain over handcuffs any day of the week. He made it to the first floor and hopped off the bannister, stumbling slightly as he landed. Neal turned left. And stopped dead in his tracks. The entire left corridor was packed with federal agents, at least twenty. Every single one of them had a gun aimed at his head.
"Absolutely bloody marvellous." Neal muttered, as he slowly wheeled around to face back the way he had come. He swore again as he saw that the staircase was blocked by the team who had been chasing him since geography. Neal recognised the serious face of Diana Berrigan, but he couldn't see Peter anywhere. Maybe he had gone to grab a sandwich. Neal knew he liked devil ham.
"Caffrey." Diana implored. Her voice was soft, low, calming. The voice of a professional negotiator. "Please, Neal, just give yourself in. There's nowhere for you to go." Neal looked around, trying to keep his movements controlled and relaxed. It wouldn't do to come across as frantic. His eyes fell on the lonely window set in the stairwell wall. Neal did a quick calculation. What he was planning was mental, but it might actually work…
"Neal, if you surrender now, we could work out some sort of deal." Diana continued, speaking slowly. Neal held her gaze for a moment, his thoughts rearranging themselves into one, solid escape plan. Then he shot her a grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat himself purr with envy and sprinted for the window. "Caffrey!" Neal heard Diana shout in alarm. He ignored her. Limping ever so slightly, Neal raced towards the glass pane, head ducked, shoulder braced for impact.
That was when his world derailed.
There was a small explosion, and a blinding pain ripped through his consciousness. Neal clawed through the confusion that blanketed his mind, forcing himself to decode the situation. Someone had shot at him! He fought for breath. His arm felt curiously hot. His vision flickered in dizzying circles. But he still had his momentum.
With a resounding CRACK, Neal smashed through the window. Shards of glass billowed all around him, embedding themselves in his hands, nicking his face with their razor teeth. He was flying. No. He was falling.
Neal landed in the school's recycling bin with a delicate poof. Scraps of paper swirled all around him as he sunk beneath the surface, gasping for breath. "Note to self." Neal mumbled, as he rubbed his face and cradled his arm. His artist's fingers came away glistening with blood. "Don't smash through windows." His weak laughter at the feeble joke ended in a coughing fit.
"He landed in the recycling bin! All units downstairs!" Neal groaned as the shouted orders wafted towards him. He sat up and hissed sharply as an electric pain wracked through his chest. His ribs… Well, he would just have to tend to them later. Steeling himself, Neal looked down at his right arm instead. His white school shirt was soaked in blood, but as far as he could tell, the bullet had only grazed him. He battled against the urge to black out.
"Bloody hell." Neal staggered out of the recycling bin and limped back into the school, just as the first agents emerged from one side. Thankfully they didn't see him and Neal was able to meander through the empty ground floor corridors, one hand clutched to his bullet wound. He passed a reflective display case stuffed with trophies and stopped. He looked awful. Broken glass glittered in his hair, his face was covered with several small cuts dribbling blood and there were scraps of paper stuck to his forehead. His shirtsleeve was now utterly scarlet, and more blood continued to pulse from the wound. Neal cleaned himself up as best he could and stumbled into the cafeteria, thoughts awhirl.
He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. He should have listened to Mozzie. The little guy had wanted to leave when the feds had stormed the warehouse, but Neal had overruled him. Why? Because of Sara. Because of June. Because of his life in New York. But now it was all over. Sara was probably furious at him for lying to her about something as fundamental as his identity, and what good was living in New York if he was living behind bars? His time at Merrinote was history. For a dangerous moment, Neal almost wanted to cry, but he forced himself to focus. It wasn't over yet. The feds had most of the school covered, but if he played his cards right, he could still get out of this mess with his freedom still intact. Neal took a shaky breath and went to find what he needed.
If there was one person on this planet who Peter knew better than anyone else, it was Neal Caffrey. (And Elizabeth, of course, but that was beside the point). He knew that Neal was a clever kid. Athletic too, if anything could be said about the way Neal had leapt over his head earlier. But he was also cocky. Everything he did, he did with style and class and one hell of a lot of flair. So if Neal was going to escape, he would do it in the most daring way possible. A way oh so terribly daring, it would probably work. So Peter had come to the conclusion that Neal was going to escape the school by walking out the front door. Simple as that. The second he had realised this, Peter had abandoned the chase and sprinted out to the front of the school. Now, he was hiding behind a parked police car, waiting for Neal to appear and hoping that he hadn't just made a terrible mistake.
Ten minutes later. Peter was tucking into his devil ham sandwich when the doors of the school swung open and a man hobbled out. He was wearing a white lab coat, a bow tie and a fedora, and he looked exactly like one of those hair brained scientists you would find on kids TV. Peter studied him for a moment. The man was obviously elderly, and he had a distinctive, low-key furtiveness about him that made Peter suspect he was a teacher popping out to have a sneaky cigarette. The man pottered towards Peter's hiding place.
Peter suddenly narrowed his eyes. Now that the man was closer, he saw that the hair beneath the hat was a deep brown. So where had Peter gotten the idea that the man was… old? He clamped down on his suspicions and forced himself to think logically. The man walked slowly, arms barely swinging, back hunched. He walked like an old man. The man was acting! Peter swore and stood up. The "man" was Neal Caffrey.
"FREEZE!" Peter shouted, leaping up from behind the car. Neal nearly jumped out of his skin, before quickly blinking the surprise out of his eyes and standing up straighter. Now that he wasn't acting like some sort of ancient mad scientist, Peter realised that the disguise itself was pathetic. It needed Neal to bring it to life, make it believable.
"Show's over, Houdini." Peter called, slowly approaching Neal. He was worried that the kid was going to run, but as he drew in closer he saw that that wasn't likely. Neal's face was scratched in numerous places and he his left ankle hung awkwardly. The first hint of blood from a hidden wound was beginning to soak through the sleeve of the lab coat. Neal was obviously injured. The teenager was practically swaying on his feet. "Easy there." Peter said, voice firm but oddly gentle. Neal laughed weakly - a bittersweet melody - and stuck out his hand. Peter stared at it for a moment, suspecting a trap, then shook it. Neal's fingers were surprisingly strong.
"Well played, Peter." Neal murmured. "Points for persistence."
Peter nodded slowly. "You weren't so bad yourself." He held Neal's sky blue eyes for a moment. "Neal-" He started. He never got to finish. At that exact moment, Diana charged out the school with a savage battle cry and slammed into Neal. Neal managed a strangled cry of protest before they both went down in a tangle of limbs.
"Diana?!" Peter roared. "I had it covered!" Diana slowly clambered to her feet, dragging Neal up to stand next to her. The teenager brushed down his clothes and shot her a distasteful glance. Diana looked embarrassed.
"Sorry, boss, I thought…" Peter shook his head.
"I know what you thought. Whatever, it doesn't matter. It's time we wrapped this up anyway." Peter placed both hands on Neal's shoulders and pinned him carefully against a car, not wanting to further injure the young forger. He secured the handcuffs around Neal's slender wrists.
Neal rested his head against the cool metal body of the police car, wincing when Peter jostled his arm. He fought to stay conscious. Just before he was shoved into the idling vehicle, Neal strained his neck and was rewarded with one final glance at the school he had attended for 2 months. He had been genuinely happy there. The windows of the old building were dominated by faces – his classmates all pushing for a view of the action. He saw smart phones filming and shocked faces gazing. He saw Sara Ellis with an expression like stone.
"I'm sorry, Neal." Peter whispered. Then he pushed Neal into the car and slammed the door.
Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this crazy chapter! I would love to hear your views - especially those regarding my ability to write action scenes! Please tell me if this was too disjointed, too detailed or too confusing... I would also like to thank Pirate18 for helping me come up with ideas for this chapter :) Thanks for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts!