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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Completed:
2009-11-23
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5,126
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2/2
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Minhah

Summary:

After "Threads" episode 2 in White Collar, the Ghost escapes and stalks Neal and Peter. Spoilers for Threads

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Minhah

Notes:

Minhah is a burnt offering. Neal offers all of himself.

Chapter Text

Title: Minhah

Author: Ursula
Rating: PG
Genre and/or Pairing: Peter Burke and Neal Caffrey future tense
Spoilers: episode one and two
Warnings: slash implied, violence, hurt and comfort
Word Count:
Summary: The Ghost inflicts havoc on Peter and Neal. A Minhah is a burnt offering, referring to Neal's willingness to be offered.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.  The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.  No copyright infringement is intended.

OooOooO

Lunch was a given. Peter had been amused and flattered that Neal wanted to eat lunch with him every day. It took him a while to figure out that Neal really couldn't afford to buy lunch for himself on the budget the bureau kept him on. That day Elizabeth and Peter met in the park, Neal's stomach was growling loudly and he looked a little pinched by the end of the day.

Odd duck as he was, Neal was perfectly happy to accept expensive gifts, but too proud to take food for lunch from June's kitchen. Peter had asked him why he didn't bring a lunch for emergencies and Neal had looked at him with those big blue eyes for a long moment before saying, "She already does too much for me."

Elizabeth had taken a break from her busy schedule to eat with them today. Between Neal and his wife, Peter could not get a word in edgewise. It was not a problem. He loved to watch them laugh and chatter. Beautiful birds, surprisingly alike. Which might be why Peter's cock kept getting confused around Neal. Sad thing was that Elizabeth had guessed that and she thought it was sweet. Although she said, Peter should never look at another woman the way he looked at Neal. It was not quite permission, but damn close.

Elizabeth had to run back to a booking. Peter could tell that Neal would love to have gone with her. He loved parties, loved sexy people, good food, good liquor.

"Chin up," Peter teased. "I'll ask her if she needs kitchen help. Think you would look good in an apron?"

"I can look good in anything."

Twirl. Damn, Neal moved like a dancer. He was graceful, fast, and it was hard not to watch him.

The flitting attention was caught by hat in the window of a boutique full of vintage clothing. It was not quite THE HAT, but similar. Neal tugged on Peter's sleeve and said, "We should buy it for you. Come on, Peter."

The thing was that Peter caught himself walking into the shop without thinking about it. He balked. "Neal, I don't need a hat and, besides, we'll be late back to the office."

"We worked late two days in a row, Peter," Neal said.

"That's the way it is," Peter said.

"Well, I don't get overtime, hardly get paid at all," Neal replied sulkily.

"I feed you," Peter said defensively. He grabbed Neal's arm and spun him around away from the store.

"Uh!"

Neal's sudden cry surprised Peter. He hadn't been rough.

"Peter," Neal cried, suddenly aggressive, shoving Peter to the ground.

White collar crimes or no, Peter knew the sound of a bullet hitting flesh.

Neal crumpled, his face looking frightened and shocked.

Peter managed to catch Neal and draw his gun at the same time. He saw the weapon first without registering the man who aimed it. He fired as if his heart was not pumping out of control, as if Neal was not bleeding all over him, as if he wasn't frightened to death that he was going to lose Neal.

Perfect like on the firing range. Only targets don't make a grunting scream. Don't fall down and flop.

Professional training overrode personal concerns. Peter stuffed a handkerchief into Neal's hand and said, "Press this against the wound. Hard. Hear me? Neal, listen!"

The faint nod was sufficient. Peter was up, kicked the gun out of the perp's way, yelled at one of the idiot gaping bystanders, "Call 911. Damn it. Call 911."

The Ghost, for the shooter was he, was still alive. Peter cuffed him, checked to make sure the Ghost had arrived alone before holstering his gun. He called for backup, "Officer down," because that was how it felt regardless of how others might view Neal.

Although it was not professional at all, Peter went back to his partner, took off his suit jacket to pillow his head, and lowered Neal to the ground.

"But the sidewalk is dirty!" Neal complained weakly. "My suit," he wailed.

"Afraid it's ruined anyway," Peter apologized. He did keep his eye on the Ghost who just lay there in handcuffs, unconscious, which was really a good thing because the professional ethics committee is not a gentle thing with unnecessary shootings of wounded perps.

Although modern first aid techniques recommend that the wounded victim hold the compress with their own hand to avoid possible infection of the rescuer, Neal was not pressing hard enough and was bleeding a great deal. Someone handed Peter a towel and he moved Neal's hand, taking over the task of applying pressure to the wound.

"Too hard," Neal yelped. "You're hurting me worse."

"Sorry, Neal, but you're really bleeding," Peter said. The freed hand reached up, gripped Peter, and anchored itself to him.

"I thought it wasn't supposed to hurt so much," Neal whispered. "Shock and all."

"I wouldn’t know," Peter said. He had never been shot. Lucky, he guessed as all his perps were not Neal Caffrey. As if there was more than one. Probably good for the world as one was splendid and more than one could challenge the devil for hell.

"I'm scared," Neal admitted.

And he looked all of ten years old, lying there; face wan except where it was colored by some drops of his own blood that Peter dabbed away as soon as he noticed them. "You're okay. I have you. You know I’ll never let you go."

Which won Peter a small echo of Neal's usual smile.

Where the hell was that ambulance?

OooOooO

He couldn't go with Neal in the ambulance or even kiss him on the forehead as he was tempted to do before it bore him away.

Peter had a job, which he loved and took very seriously. Even when every part of him was screaming to be with this elusive creature, fragile yet very brave and resilient, Neal, Peter's fucking sense of duty kept him on the scene until everything was in the incident report and until the Ghost was bundled off to be treated and processed. Hope they gave him the wrong blood, Peter vindictively thought.

By the time, Peter reached the hospital; June was in the waiting room with that pretty young granddaughter and a gnomish man who would not meet Peter's eyes. He went up to the counter, flashing ID and was told, "His sister is in there."

If Neal had a sister, she was lost without a trace in the foster care system. Peter winced, thinking it was Kate and that would mean a very difficult and heart breaking situation for Neal and him.

However it was okay. The sister was Elizabeth, sitting near the bed, Neal clinging to her hand as if she could save him from drowning.

"Peter," Neal said. "Peter, you weren't here when I woke up."

"I had to stay on the scene," Peter explained, feeling very guilty. "I knew you were going to be okay. It didn't hit bone."

"Look who’s talking. It wasn't your shoulder."

"I have to get back to work," Elizabeth said. "I will come right back as soon as I finish my meeting."

Elizabeth disengaged her hand with a little difficulty as Neal kept holding on. She kissed Neal's forehead, smoothed his hair, and said, "Don't let Peter go grumpy bear on you, Neal. You are my hero. I would give you anything."

That Elizabeth looked at Peter when she said that probably did not mean a thing.

Peter kissed his wife goodbye and said," You may be spending too much time with Neal, Sister Elizabeth. The first thing you thought of doing was lying?"

"Well, one of us had to take care of him," Elizabeth explained. "And you were doing all those absurd reports."

Hmmph.

OooOooO

"Sit here," Neal commanded. "Hold my hand."

Well-trained by Elizabeth, Peter obeyed readily. Neal's hand felt butterfly light and cold. He had lost the color he had regained since prison. His mouth was faintly lined with white. "It still hurts."

"I'll call a nurse."

A little difficult as Neal was not letting go of Peter's hand. He succeeded in reaching the call button and, in a reasonable amount of time, a nurse appeared and ran off to get an order signed to give Neal some additional pain relief.

"Being shot sucks. I'm not doing it again," Neal said, big eyes gazing into Peter's.

Which made it sound like something Neal decided to try on purpose and found not to his taste. The scary part being that Peter suspected that Neal would try almost anything once for the experience, even being shot.

Peter stroked Neal's hand with his thumb. It seemed the right thing to do. Neal tugged on Peter's hand until it landed near his cheek. Neal turned his face into Peter's hand.

Fighting the impulse to pull away, Peter drew a deep slow breath. "It's my job to protect you, Neal. I'm the trained agent."

"But I'm your partner!"

That should have been an argument, but Peter definitely would not hurt Neal's feelings. Not now.

"Next time, just yell a warning."

"I talk quick but move even quicker," Neal said. "I sort of panicked. The gun looked fucking huge and you don't listen to me a lot of times until I poke you or something."

Neal's hand gripped Peter's harder. He made a small whimpering sound, brows furrowing, mouth working.

"Damn it, where is that nurse?"

"Right here," the woman said. "Sorry, the shifts were changing and I had to chase a doctor into the men's room to get this signed."

Neal found a smile for her some place and said, "Brave woman, I thank you."

June, granddaughter came in. Shady character had disappeared. At Neal's pleading glance after a brief visit, Peter said, "I think he should rest, June. I have to stay around for protection. Could be associates out there."

June nodded, patted Peter's head and said, "Don't worry about the suit. I'll find another one for you and the hat is fine. I'm having it cleaned and blocked so it will be ready when you are."

Granddaughter looked a bit relieved at being dismissed. Short attention span.

Neal had refused to let go of Peter's hand and Peter wouldn't break that grip, not even when June looked at the connection and aimed a small amused smile.

When the door shut, Neal asked somewhat nervously, "Do you really think he has gun toting associates looking for revenge?"

"That's my story if you want company tonight," Peter said. "Protection."

Now Neal's smile was delighted, but the pain medication was kicking in by the distanced look in his eyes.

"You should sleep," Peter said. "I'll be right here."

Which was the way they spent a first night together.

Peter knew there would be other nights. Spent less chastely.

Peter reflected that resistance was futile. Thank god Neal was prettier than a borg.

The end