White Collar Fic: Black Water Rising - for Caffrey-Burke Day 2015
Title: Black Water Rising
Author: dennih23
Rating: G
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey
Word Count: 1307
Beta: Sherylyn, all mistakes belong to meDisclaimer: Nope, not mine, wish they were, but they belong to Jeff Eastin
Summary: Peter’s handcuffed to a pipe; Neal is unconscious.
A/N: written for Burke-Caffrey Day, also fills the Wild Card Square on my H/C Bingo Card
Idea and artwork courtesy of Kanarek13 (what would this fandom do without her :D)
Peter slowly regained consciousness. His head was throbbing and he tried to rub his temples only to have his right arm jerk to a stop. He tried to move again and still it only came forward a little. He gave it one more tug and felt the metal cut into his wrist.
Slowly he cracked open his eyes and immediately regretted it; his head pounded even harder. It took a moment to adjust to the dark space, but as his sight became accustomed to the dimness he realized he was in a basement. Looking to his right, he confirmed what he already thought, he was handcuffed to something. It was a pipe that was running along a concrete wall. Closing his eyes again, he tried to remember what had happened.
Neal had heard chatter about a new forger selling passports to terrorists. So they partnered up in an effort to arrest the new counterfeiter. While they were discussing a deal with him to supply them with multiple documents, another conman crashed their meeting and blew Neal’s cover. Their suspect pulled a gun and herded them to an empty warehouse near the location of their appointment. They were tossed down a flight of stairs and that was the last thing Peter remembered.
He surveyed the area, but didn’t see Neal. He shouted out, “Neal - can you hear me?”
A low grown came from beneath a pile of garbage at the other end of the room, so Peter called out, “Neal, is that you, are you okay?" He strained, listening for any sound, but this time there was no response and Peter began to worry about how badly Neal was injured. He tried hollering a few more times, but the results were the same.
Peter needed to find a way out of the handcuffs, but he didn’t have anything to use for a lock pick. He leaned back against the cool wall and shut his eyes. He was busy concentrating on his next move when he felt a chill run through him.
He opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself sitting in a pool of water. Looking around he saw the liquid was beginning to fill the area. Peter was about to call out to Neal again, when he noticed the pile of refuse move. He hoped Neal was waking up.
“Neal. Wake up.”
The trash moved some more and suddenly Neal’s head popped up. “Peter, what happened?”
“Are you okay? You were out for quite a while?”
“I think so.”
“Good, because I’m handcuffed to this wall, and water is starting to fill up the room. I need you pick this lock so we can get out of here.”
“Okay.”
Peter watched as Neal shifted through the trash and stood. Just as quickly, Neal collapsed back into the garbage, while clutching his leg and screaming.
“Neal, what’s wrong?” Peter yelled.
Still grasping his limb, Neal looked over at Peter. “I think my leg is broken, I can’t put any weight on it.” He crawled out of his spot and dragged himself towards Peter. He pulled himself alongside his friend and proceeded to pass out.
Peter shook his CI but couldn’t wake him. He used his free arm to prop up Neal so that he was leaning against Peter. This would keep him out of most of the cold water. He could feel Neal shivering in the cool liquid. He needed to come up with a plan. He quickly checked Neal’s pockets for lock picks, but didn’t find any.
Suddenly there was a loud crash that startled Peter. Neal moaned and shifted, opening his eyes.
Both men looked in the direction the noise came from. They found the wall across from them had partially collapsed, and water was gushing through the hole.
Peter gave a quick glance at Neal and could see the other man’s eyes were starting to close again. He shook Neal, “Buddy, wake up. Come on, you need to get out of here.”
“Can’t, too tired.”
“Come on, Neal, you can do this.”
“Don’t want to.” Neal’s words were slurred and Peter realized that Neal probably had a concussion along with the broken leg.
“Hey, Neal, do you have your lock picks on you?”
“Don’t go anywhere without them.” He grinned rather drunkenly, and patted his left breast pocket.
The water had reached their waists and was gushing in at an alarming rate. Peter knew they only had a few minutes.
“Give me your picks.”
Neal hesitated; “Why do you want them?”
“Please, Neal, just give them to me.”
Neal reached inside his jacket and pulled them out of a secret spot in the lining.
Peter shook his head, he should have known they would be hidden.
A wave of filthy water sloshed against them, drenching the two men. Neal leaned closer to Peter, who instinctively held unto the younger man using his free arm. As Neal quieted, Peter quickly worked on freeing himself while trying to keep his sagging friend from sliding into the murky water, which was now midway up Peter’s chest.
Contorting his body into a better position, Peter started working at unlocking the handcuffs. It was difficult with the slippery pick, and soon he dropped the tool and watched it float away. Taking a deep breath he grabbed another pick from Neal’s case.
A surge of water hit him in the face. He needed to concentrate, time was running out. Carefully, he moved the pick towards the handcuff, gripping it tightly to make sure he wouldn’t drop it; he couldn’t afford to lose this one. Slowly he began working the lock. A minute later he felt it release.
He shifted and the movement caused Neal to slip below the surface of the water. Peter grabbed his friend and pulled him up; Neal was coughing and spitting out the murky fluid.
Now that he was free, Peter leaned Neal against the wall and stood up. Neal was neck deep in water and Peter reached down and hoisted his partner up. Peter managed to get Neal balanced over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and began looking for a way out.
He found the stairs they had been unceremoniously thrown down and started the long climb upward. Neal certainly was heavier than he looked, and Peter had to stop and rest halfway up the staircase. A loud roar caused Peter to turnaround. One of the walls had collapsed and water now filled the room they were just in. Peter hightailed it up the rest of the steps, escaping a watery doom. Reaching the top Peter was glad to find an unlocked door. He burst through, not knowing or caring what was on the other side.
Jones and Diana almost ran into him. He was surprised, he didn’t think anyone knew where they were.
Diana looked up and immediately called for an ambulance and backup as Jones helped Peter lower Neal to the floor.
Peter looked at his two best agents. “How did you know we were here?”
Diana shook her head. “It was Mozzie. When you didn’t report in, we went looking for you; at the same time, Neal’s friend was looking for him. Apparently he had other plans for Neal today, and when Neal didn’t show up he went looking for him. I guess he ran into the guy who blew Neal’s cover. With a few threats, he was able to find out where you’d been taken.”
No one realized Neal was awake until he mumbled, “Good man, that Haversham. He always has my back.” Neal smiled and closed his eyes.
The others could only smirk and shake their heads, but Neal was right, Mozzie had taken care of them. Peter would have to remember not to be so hard on the little guy, but only for a few days.
Cross Posted at AO3
Author: dennih23
Rating: G
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey
Word Count: 1307
Beta: Sherylyn, all mistakes belong to meDisclaimer: Nope, not mine, wish they were, but they belong to Jeff Eastin
Summary: Peter’s handcuffed to a pipe; Neal is unconscious.
A/N: written for Burke-Caffrey Day, also fills the Wild Card Square on my H/C Bingo Card
Idea and artwork courtesy of Kanarek13 (what would this fandom do without her :D)
Peter slowly regained consciousness. His head was throbbing and he tried to rub his temples only to have his right arm jerk to a stop. He tried to move again and still it only came forward a little. He gave it one more tug and felt the metal cut into his wrist.
Slowly he cracked open his eyes and immediately regretted it; his head pounded even harder. It took a moment to adjust to the dark space, but as his sight became accustomed to the dimness he realized he was in a basement. Looking to his right, he confirmed what he already thought, he was handcuffed to something. It was a pipe that was running along a concrete wall. Closing his eyes again, he tried to remember what had happened.
Neal had heard chatter about a new forger selling passports to terrorists. So they partnered up in an effort to arrest the new counterfeiter. While they were discussing a deal with him to supply them with multiple documents, another conman crashed their meeting and blew Neal’s cover. Their suspect pulled a gun and herded them to an empty warehouse near the location of their appointment. They were tossed down a flight of stairs and that was the last thing Peter remembered.
He surveyed the area, but didn’t see Neal. He shouted out, “Neal - can you hear me?”
A low grown came from beneath a pile of garbage at the other end of the room, so Peter called out, “Neal, is that you, are you okay?" He strained, listening for any sound, but this time there was no response and Peter began to worry about how badly Neal was injured. He tried hollering a few more times, but the results were the same.
Peter needed to find a way out of the handcuffs, but he didn’t have anything to use for a lock pick. He leaned back against the cool wall and shut his eyes. He was busy concentrating on his next move when he felt a chill run through him.
He opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself sitting in a pool of water. Looking around he saw the liquid was beginning to fill the area. Peter was about to call out to Neal again, when he noticed the pile of refuse move. He hoped Neal was waking up.
“Neal. Wake up.”
The trash moved some more and suddenly Neal’s head popped up. “Peter, what happened?”
“Are you okay? You were out for quite a while?”
“I think so.”
“Good, because I’m handcuffed to this wall, and water is starting to fill up the room. I need you pick this lock so we can get out of here.”
“Okay.”
Peter watched as Neal shifted through the trash and stood. Just as quickly, Neal collapsed back into the garbage, while clutching his leg and screaming.
“Neal, what’s wrong?” Peter yelled.
Still grasping his limb, Neal looked over at Peter. “I think my leg is broken, I can’t put any weight on it.” He crawled out of his spot and dragged himself towards Peter. He pulled himself alongside his friend and proceeded to pass out.
Peter shook his CI but couldn’t wake him. He used his free arm to prop up Neal so that he was leaning against Peter. This would keep him out of most of the cold water. He could feel Neal shivering in the cool liquid. He needed to come up with a plan. He quickly checked Neal’s pockets for lock picks, but didn’t find any.
Suddenly there was a loud crash that startled Peter. Neal moaned and shifted, opening his eyes.
Both men looked in the direction the noise came from. They found the wall across from them had partially collapsed, and water was gushing through the hole.
Peter gave a quick glance at Neal and could see the other man’s eyes were starting to close again. He shook Neal, “Buddy, wake up. Come on, you need to get out of here.”
“Can’t, too tired.”
“Come on, Neal, you can do this.”
“Don’t want to.” Neal’s words were slurred and Peter realized that Neal probably had a concussion along with the broken leg.
“Hey, Neal, do you have your lock picks on you?”
“Don’t go anywhere without them.” He grinned rather drunkenly, and patted his left breast pocket.
The water had reached their waists and was gushing in at an alarming rate. Peter knew they only had a few minutes.
“Give me your picks.”
Neal hesitated; “Why do you want them?”
“Please, Neal, just give them to me.”
Neal reached inside his jacket and pulled them out of a secret spot in the lining.
Peter shook his head, he should have known they would be hidden.
A wave of filthy water sloshed against them, drenching the two men. Neal leaned closer to Peter, who instinctively held unto the younger man using his free arm. As Neal quieted, Peter quickly worked on freeing himself while trying to keep his sagging friend from sliding into the murky water, which was now midway up Peter’s chest.
Contorting his body into a better position, Peter started working at unlocking the handcuffs. It was difficult with the slippery pick, and soon he dropped the tool and watched it float away. Taking a deep breath he grabbed another pick from Neal’s case.
A surge of water hit him in the face. He needed to concentrate, time was running out. Carefully, he moved the pick towards the handcuff, gripping it tightly to make sure he wouldn’t drop it; he couldn’t afford to lose this one. Slowly he began working the lock. A minute later he felt it release.
He shifted and the movement caused Neal to slip below the surface of the water. Peter grabbed his friend and pulled him up; Neal was coughing and spitting out the murky fluid.
Now that he was free, Peter leaned Neal against the wall and stood up. Neal was neck deep in water and Peter reached down and hoisted his partner up. Peter managed to get Neal balanced over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and began looking for a way out.
He found the stairs they had been unceremoniously thrown down and started the long climb upward. Neal certainly was heavier than he looked, and Peter had to stop and rest halfway up the staircase. A loud roar caused Peter to turnaround. One of the walls had collapsed and water now filled the room they were just in. Peter hightailed it up the rest of the steps, escaping a watery doom. Reaching the top Peter was glad to find an unlocked door. He burst through, not knowing or caring what was on the other side.
Jones and Diana almost ran into him. He was surprised, he didn’t think anyone knew where they were.
Diana looked up and immediately called for an ambulance and backup as Jones helped Peter lower Neal to the floor.
Peter looked at his two best agents. “How did you know we were here?”
Diana shook her head. “It was Mozzie. When you didn’t report in, we went looking for you; at the same time, Neal’s friend was looking for him. Apparently he had other plans for Neal today, and when Neal didn’t show up he went looking for him. I guess he ran into the guy who blew Neal’s cover. With a few threats, he was able to find out where you’d been taken.”
No one realized Neal was awake until he mumbled, “Good man, that Haversham. He always has my back.” Neal smiled and closed his eyes.
The others could only smirk and shake their heads, but Neal was right, Mozzie had taken care of them. Peter would have to remember not to be so hard on the little guy, but only for a few days.
Cross Posted at AO3