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Bullets were flying, and they wouldn’t stop.
Neal hated, hated, hated guns almost as much as he hated Jail/Keller/Fowler, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. He was stuck, hiding down behind a broken out window, between Peter and Diana who were using everything they had to fight against the art theft ring that had them pinned down.
They’d already been there for most of three hours.
Jones had managed to leave, right before shit hit the fan, and they were hoping he’d bring backup-soon.
Because this?
This sucked.
Dark was falling, and the sun was setting behind them, getting the enemy into darkness faster, and making it harder to see where to shoot.
“Hopefully, when darkness falls-” Peter began, having to shout over the noise of the gun he was firing.
“-if Jones hasn’t gotten his ass back here by then, I’m gonna kill him.” Diana added, sounding like she honestly meant it-and Neal would’ve helped her too.
“They’ll cease fire,” Peter finished, ignoring Diana’s cursing. Neal felt like cursing as well. Especially when one of the bullets went suddenly through the wall, and hit him right in the bottom part of his left leg.
“Ah!” Neal shouted, falling down onto the floor out of his crouch, and clutching at his leg.
“Neal! Neal, are you okay?” Peter asked, sounding frantic, despite him still firing at the enemy.
“That has to be the stupidest question you’ve asked this year yet,” Diana snapped back at him, as she crouched over Neal and began to examine his leg. “Neal? Neal, don’t you dare pass out,” Diana said, wrapping a piece of her torn shirt around Neal’s injury.
“…not passing out,” Neal managed to say, wincing as she tightened the ‘bandage’ around him with quite a bit of force.
Diana barely heard him, she was already back up at the window, assisting Peter, leaving Neal on the floor, dragging himself up against a turned over table, and watching as Peter and Diana were being particularly bad-ass as they kept firing. Every now and again, Neal could hear someone outside yell, whether in pain or anger or giving orders, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that there were more bad guys than there were members of his team, and they were running out of bullets.
Fast.
The sun was fading fast, and Neal seriously hoped they wouldn’t still be firing their guns once it fell.
Finally the sound of gunfire was starting to become less defeaning-or maybe he just wasn’t able to hear properly since his ears had been ringing for what was probably hours. Then, when it was finally full dark…
The gunfire finally, finally ceased as it became clear that it was obviously too dark to see where to shoot.
“Oh, thank god.” Neal muttered, his eyes half shut as he laid propped up against the fallen down wooden table, holding his injured leg. Peter came up to his side then, Diana keeping an eye out for trouble by the window, with her gun still at the ready.
“Neal…are you…will you be able to hold out long enough for Jones to get here?”
“Provided Jones gets here at all,” Diana muttered from the window, but Peter pretended not to hear her, as he waited for Neal to respond.
“I think so,”
They fell silent, revealing in the silence for a short period of time. Neal knew that the situation was bad-they were pinned down, running low on ammo, injured and practically useless teammate, and it would be dark-and likely freezing for several hours.
“We should see if there’s any sort of food or water supplies in here, just in case.” Peter offered, after a few moments of quiet. “Diana? I’ll keep watch,” He added, and she slowly moved away from the window, taking care not to have anything flash or shine.
Peter sat next to Neal, checking his bandage while doing so, and for a few seconds they were quiet.
Then Neal couldn’t stand it, and said tentatively,
“Peter? Are you mad?”
Peter snorted, unable to help himself.
“Neal, if I’m mad, I’m mad about being in this situation. I’m not mad at you or Diana or Jones-though I will be mad at Jones if he doesn’t hurry his butt in gear.” He added, the last bit mostly under his breath, but Neal still heard him plain as day. Neal nodded, feeling relieved, and Peter continued, frowning as he did. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“I got shot, and I also got us trapped in here when I pointed out it’d be an excellent place to hide paintings.” Neal informed him, shrugging. His leg felt like it was on fire, and it hurt like a bitch just moving the tiny bit that he did. He hated getting shot.
“Nothing, boss. There’s a sink, but it doesn’t work, and the only thing I found in the kitchen was an ancient box of cereal that’s completely and totally empty and dusty besides,” Diana informed them as she came back and parked next to them.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Neal muttered.
“Maybe we can sneak out of here,” Peter said, considering.
“And go where? Into the wild dark woods and hide where it’ll be even colder? It’s winter, Peter, and not to mention there’s quite a few bad guys out there. We might accidentally run into them, and then what? If we shoot them, it’ll draw all the others at us,” Neal said seriously.
“Neal’s right boss. We’ll wait at least until morning for Jones to get back,” Diana suggested. “And if he’s not back by then…we’ll have to think of some other way of getting out of here.”
The silence seemed to stretch far longer this time, but finally Peter nodded.
“Yeah, alright. We’ll follow Diana’s idea-wait for Jones. Plan B is if he doesn’t show up, then we’ll try to hold out until dark again, and then we’ll head out of here,” Peter said.
“Those are both terrible ideas,” Neal said, sighing. Diana looked as though she agreed with Neal.
“Unfortunately for us, it’s all we’ve got.” Peter responded with a scowl. Neal shook his head, and tried to get more comfortable. Maybe he might actually be able to get some sleep, at the least, because it had been a very, very long and exhausting day.
Neal propped himself between a wall and the overturned table, lowering his hat onto his eyes to cover everything else around him, and crossed his arms over his chest. Soon, Peter and Diana could see that he was actually asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. Diana turned towards Peter, both of them obviously worried about Neal, but at least he was out of immediate danger.
“Boss?” She asked softly. “Do you want to sleep?”
“No…you sleep. I’ll wake you for your watch,” Peter promised, and Diana half smiled in gratitude. She was so tired, she could feel it deep in her bones, and wanted desperately to get more than the few hours she was about to get, but she was grateful to get any at all. She snuggled up against the wall, and shut her eyes.
Soon, only Peter was awake and keeping watch in the dark, waiting for signs of Jones and backup, or at the very least for their enemies to come at them again. Peter could hear sounds in the woods-whispers of the trees moving in the dark, the faint sound of people talking…though he wasn’t sure if that was actually people talking, or just his imagination and he couldn’t quite make out the words anyway. He kept dozing, his head jerking up as he realized that he was falling asleep. He didn’t think he’d ever been this tired before…
Several hours went by, as he kept watch. Neal was out cold, and looked it too. Diana slowly roused about four hours later, and yawned as she sat up from the corner that she was propped up against.
“You doing okay?” She asked, quietly.
“Fine,” Peter said, his voice equally soft. They were almost whispering, not wanting their attackers to hear them and start firing again.
“Jones didn’t show up then?” Diana asked, scowling. Peter almost laughed, even though it wasn’t even remotely funny.
“No,” He shifted the gun, trying to warm his hands with the movement. It was very cold, but not freezing-not yet. On top of being cold, tired, and miserable he realized that he was also starving. El came into his mind then, and he whispered a promise to her that he was going to come home.
“Boss? Think maybe I can get out of here and get help?” Diana asked, startling him out of his thoughts of El and home.
“What, go after Jones?” Peter asked, staring at her.
“It would probably work. And it’s not the worst idea. Neal really can’t move with his leg the way it is, and I don’t get lost,” Diana’s tone was matter of fact, and Peter knew that there was absolutely no choice in the matter.
He sighed.
“I don’t like it.” He admitted, and she waited patiently knowing that wasn’t all that he had to say. “If you think you can get back before dark by later today,” He said, checking his watch as he said the words. “Then…I give you permission to go. Please bring back reinforcements and-if possible-Jones.”
“Yes, sir,” She whispered, and seemed to hesitate. “Want me to check Neal’s bandage one last time, sir?”
He considered, and nodded, and Diana quickly moved to do just that. She changed the bandage as best as she could, and Neal murmured in his sleep but didn’t wake. Peter wondered if that was a bad sign or not, and wished that he knew more about field medicine to tell. He knew what his next weekend project was likely going to be, anyhow, if he could get some time to research it.
Finally Diana finished fixing Neal’s injury, and turned towards Peter.
“I’ll bring back those reinforcements, boss. Don’t worry.” She promised, her voice low but her tone serious.
Peter smiled.
“Don’t forget the coffee,” He whispered, and she grinned before moving to the back of the cabin, and climbing out the window in the kitchen that they’d discovered when first arriving there, which felt like a lifetime ago.
Diana’s movements were soon silent, and Peter knew she was really gone from the cabin, leaving him with a sleeping Neal, and the quiet darkness outside. He kept thinking about El, Satchmo, and home. Where coffee was likely being made, even if he wasn’t there to drink it. He thought about the leftover cookies in the cookie jar. About the front porch that probably needed sweeping again, even though he’d just swept it last week, because it was winter and leaves of the trees nearby were still somehow getting onto his porch and sidewalk. He thought about work, Neal, and everyone there…
And just as he was beginning to nod off, he heard Neal’s voice.
“…Peter?” Neal’s voice was quiet and scratchy, and sounding confused. Peter was there in an instance, though he kept the gun within close reach. “Peter…are we still…”
“Don’t try to talk,” Peter said softly. “And yes, we’re still at the cabin. Diana’s gone off to locate help or Jones, whichever comes first. If she doesn’t get back by tomorrow night…we’ll be leaving too.”
“Can’t…slow…” Neal slurred, sounding exhausted and looking rather pathetic as he attempted to sit up. Peter pushed him gently back against the floor, checking his leg at the same time. It looked alright, but then Peter wasn’t a doctor.
“Yes, we can. And no, you won’t slow me down. Don’t worry, I’m sure Diana will be dragging Jones back by his ear within a few hours,” Peter said firmly, the unattached ‘I hope’ hanging in the air.
Neal mumbled something, but Peter couldn’t make out what it was, and watched with relief and more than a hint of jealousy at Neal falling asleep again. Or maybe going unconscious, as it was hard to tell.
Peter stared at him worriedly for a few moments, before sighing and turning back to the window.
Time to get back to business, he thought morosely-
But it was at that instance that floodlights came on from somewhere nearby, and shouting could be heard-both panicked, and calm and matter-of-fact. Peter quickly jumped to his feet, peering out the window-
And nearly sank to the floor in relief at seeing that it was none other than the FBI, having come to the rescue at last.
The door banged open, and in came Diana and Jones-Jones looking apologetic, Diana looking irrated but relieved-along with a bunch of medics, Director Hughes, and several other agents looking to help out wherever they could.
“Thank god,” Peter said fervently. Diana handed him a water bottle, which he gratefully accepted with a slightly shaking hand.
“Sorry about the long wait, Peter, but there was trouble at work, and I couldn’t get anyone to understand just how serious it was.” Jones began, looking embarrassed, guilty, and apologetic all at once. “I was trying to explain what all was going on, but they weren’t listening to me. Plus, it took me two and a half hours to hike through the woods and locate the nearest place with a telephone that actually worked. Then, just as I was having trouble, Diana called from the same place that I called from…and that seemed to help speed things along.”
“I should’ve listened in the first place, it seems.” Director Hughes said, eyeing Peter and Neal-who was being placed onto a stretcher, and taking out to the nearest ambulance.
“But I didn’t believe that there was an art ring with a lot of guns out in the middle of nowhere. It seemed…too unlikely.”
“Sir, what are you doing here?” Peter couldn’t help but ask, staring at him. A part of him wanted to lay down on the nearest stretcher, another part wanted to go after Neal and make sure that he’d be okay…he ignored both of those parts, in favor of gaining answers.
“Came to see it all for myself. And I was sick of paperwork,” Director Hughes added with a faint smile. “Also, I haven’t been to a bust this big since back in the olden days.” He said thoughtfully. “I do rather miss the action of those times…”
“Peter, if you don’t get on a stretcher and go to sleep, I’m going to knock you out, and then you WILL be on a stretcher,” Diana informed him as she’d been tugging him to one for the past few minutes. “I know for a fact you haven’t slept at all since I left.”
“Alright, alright already.” Peter grumbled, getting onto the stetcher. The medics all looked amused, and a bit relieved as he willingly got onto the stretcher without much fuss.
As soon as he laid down, he sat bolt upright. “Did someone call-” He began, but Diana pushed him hard back onto the stretcher.
“Relax, boss. I already called Elizabeth and let her know what was going on. She says she understands, and she’ll meet us at the hospital more later. But right now, you need to rest.” Diana said, seriously.
Peter yawned, and Jones covered him with a blanket.
“Don’t worry about it anymore, boss.” Jones said, grinning at him. “We’ve got this.”
And with that, Peter finally shut his eyes and fell asleep, feeling safe and relaxed now that help had finally arrived.
==
End