Chapter 13

"Shoot him," Ward ordered and Ryker tensed. He decided to go for the largest guy, who was right behind him, grab him and pull him in front as a human shield.

Gunshots sounded and Ryker instinctively lashed out. He grabbed the man, barely conscious of the other gunman and Ward on the other side falling to the ground, and yanked him between himself and the remaining gunman. He held his gun to the man's chin and cut off his air until he was unconscious.

There were shots as the forth man took cover. Ryker dropped his human shield and was thrown to the ground a moment later as the report of a gunshot sounded and then the sound of running feet.

He groaned as he moved to sit up, pain lancing through his side. His groan was echoed by a hiss from the figure which pounded him out of the way.

Neal- no, Bryce was lying across his lap with his hair thrown in all directions and sweat plastered across his forehead. Ryker's heart thudded in terror as he noticed the blood on his hand.

"Bryce!" Chuck called out, running over. Ryker snapped out of his haze and slid out from under Bryce, checking him over for injury.

"Bryce," he said quietly, trying to rouse the guy. He gave him a few gentle taps to the cheek, silently begging him to open his eyes. He tried to ignore the part of him that was screaming, 'Neal!', the part which was panicked by the sight of the conman and friend lying in a pool of blood.

He was, admittedly, exaggerating slightly; there were only a few drops of blood on the concrete floor.

"Stop that," Bryce groaned and opened one of his eyes. "I'm fine." He then tried to prove it by standing up, only for his legs to collapse under his weight.

Ryker felt obligated to point out the obvious. "You're bleeding."

Bryce looked at him in surprise, then turned his attention to his left sleeve.

"Ugh, he grazed me," he grumbled, fiddling with the fabric so that they could see the slice the bullet made through his arm.

"Ah, Bryce! You're bleeding!" Chuck stated in a panicked voice.

"Really Chuck? I hadn't noticed," Bryce responded sarcastically, "but, really, I'm fine."

Ryker had seen this too many times with Neal to not know what to do. In fact, his body moved instinctively.

"Chuck and Sarah can take it from here; we're getting you checked out," he said in his best authoritative tone.

"Please, this isn't my first gunshot wound," Bryce responded, standing up. This time he succeeded and he gave Ryker a look that said, 'see, I'm completely fine'.

However, he was clutching at his upper arm and applying pressure to the wound with nothing more than his hand, so he certainly wasn't fine.

"Then you should know how to treat it," Ryker responded, "and you should know that part of treating it is to get the professionals to look at it if you can. And you can."

"I can't go to hospital with a gunshot wound," Bryce pointed out, sounding almost pleased about it.

"I'll flash my badge and say you were injured while on duty," Ryker responded, grabbing Bryce's uninjured arm. "We'll get them to look at your ankle too." Because he noticed the way he wasn't putting any weight on it.

"I'm fine," Bryce insisted with a sigh.

"I got the last guy, hopefully he didn't warn anyone," Sarah pointed out as she walked back over.

"I'll check his phone in a moment and see if he called anyone," Chuck said. And then they both turned to Bryce. It was obvious that no one was going back to work until he was on his way to getting looked at.

He squirmed a little under their gazes.

"Come on," Ryker said, patting him on the shoulder. "The car's just outside."

"I can't believe I messed up that tackle," Bryce grumbled as he walked towards the car with a hidden limp.

"I'll get him checked out," Ryker promised the other two agents, "he won't leave unless the doctor says so."

"Make sure of it," Sarah said, almost like an order. Chuck nodded his agreement, clenching and unclenching trembling hands.

"We'll meet you there once we're done here," he added.

He only had a twisted ankle and a flesh wound that was cleaned and bandaged. As he kept telling Peter, the damage to his ego was worse than his physical injuries. He still couldn't believe he messed up the tackle, even if he had shot Ward and one of the gunmen at the same time. He should have been able to do that in his sleep.

"You hit their shoulders and knees," Peter pointed out, "I think you did good enough."

Neal wasn't convinced and he said so.

"I don't know what you want me to say or do; it's not like I asked you to go jumping in front of bullets!" Peter said in an agitated tone, "no matter how good you are with a gun, that was dangerous! Why did you do it?"

Shock flashed on Neal's face. He hadn't even though about why.

"You were in trouble," he said plainly, feeling like a fool for saying as much. He had forgotten that Peter was also Kieran Ryker, an experienced CIA agent. But, without his intervention, it was highly likely that he would have been injured, if not killed.

If he had let Peter die back there, what would happen to El? What about Diana, Jones, and even Mozzie? Cover or not, they all would mourn the loss of Peter.

"I couldn't just stand by and let you get hurt," he added.

Peter went silent and a thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

"Bryce?" Chuck questioned, his dark haired head popping around the door a moment later. "Ah! Good, you're still here."

"Where's Sarah?" Neal asked as she hadn't appeared.

"Talking with the doctor who treated you," Chuck admitted with a nervous and embarrassed expression on his face, "she absolutely wants to make sure you're okay before we drive you home."

Neal rolled his eyes in response.

"Can you blame her?" Chuck said, "the last time you were shot, I watched you die and she walked in to see your dead body."

"I was unconscious, not dead!" Neal pointed out, in an attempt to correct the facts, "you should learn to check for a pulse."

The angry and hurt glare Chuck sent him was enough to make him regret saying that and he wasn't going to bring this up again. Peter gave him a light slap on his shoulder, silently indicating what he should do.

"Sorry," he said, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. It was only now he noticed the way Chuck's shoulders were tense, how his smile didn't reach his eyes and the way his hands trembled. Peter gave him a nod, to tell him that he said the right thing so he didn't add the rest of it. Like, 'I hadn't planned on you being there'. Now that he thought about it, that would probably not be the best thing to say.