(Chapter 1)

Neal was rolling his eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he sat in the passenger seat of the Taurus, eyes scanning the back road they were on as Peter continued to lecture him.

"And another thing..."

The con was doing his best to think of anything other than the chiding tone his partner was using on him. Neal had gotten the witness to speak, why did it matter how he had done it? The information was sound and the man they had gone to visit had spoke honestly so what was the problem? His eyes were looking at the side mirror as a distraction when he spotted the bright red and blue flashing lights just half a mile behind them and catching up fast.

"Peter..."

The agent turned to look at him with a fatherly look of disappointment, brown eyes narrowing slightly.

"Don't Peter me... You know what you did was wrong. If it wasn't for..."

The agent's voice trailed off as he suddenly noticed the flashing lights coming up fast, an additional flash of headlights directed at them on the empty roadway. He gave a scalding look at his consultant, Neal shrugging helplessly.

"I was trying to tell you..."

Peter gave his own eye roll and started to slow down and pull to the shoulder. At least the lecture was put on hold for the moment.

"We'll talk about this later."

()()()

Neal felt the drummer in his head beating before the rest of his senses came to. It was a low throb on the left side of his head that made him feel less like waking up and more like falling deeper into the darkness that currently enfolded him like a cocoon.

Neal, let me do the talking...

Someone was speaking to him but it was in memory, his head throbbing more at the very thought of remembering what had happened. He tried to think about the recent past but the darkness was more comforting and the escape it brought to his aching head made him fall back into it like a warm bath. The voices continued.

What are you doing? Neal...!

He woke up with a start, eyes staring up at the dimly lit interior of some strange building. A strong scent of wet damp grass or hay filled his nostrils as he promptly sat up and gave a weak groan. He'd been right in his assumption about the hay, seeing nothing but dried piles of grass around him. The drummer in his head wasn't finished with their solo, Neal doing his best to ignore them as he checked out his surroundings and reached to touch his aching temple. His right arm's movement was cut short, a jingling sound drawing his attention downward to see himself cuffed at the wrist.

"Why am I cuffed?"

Neal was still trying to figure out what he had been dreaming about, the sound of a gunshot or at least the memory of one having been what had awakened him. His head continued to ache but he ignore it checking out the cuff and finding himself attached to another person. Someone in a tan trench coat lay on their side next to him an obvious wound on the back of their head. The con blinked in surprise as he realized who he was cuffed to, his hand reaching over to nudge his friend and finding a dark red slick along their neck.

"Peter? Hey... wake up!"

He was worried now, the agent laying beside him still and pale looking in the dimly lit barn loft they were taking shelter in. Neal felt his friend's hair, the area wet and clotted with blood at the base of his neck and skull. Peter was still, little movement from the agent as he moved to check his vitals. Luckily the chilly air helped to make the agent's breath obvious when he drew near to check for a pulse. Peter was alive but he was in a deep state of unconsciousness.

"Peter..."

Neal looked down at the cuff holding him to the agent and wondered what had happened. They had been driving down a back road from talking to a witness when... And then he drew a blank. His head hurt the more he tried to remember but he knew he needed to, but first things first. He started to gently feel around in the agent's pockets, opening up Peter's coat and feeling inside the top pocket of his partner and friend's trench coat until he found what he was looking for.

"At least you still have a key. Guess they didn't know you had a spare like I do."

He smiled to himself, unlocking the cuff and rubbing at his wrist a moment when he heard a soft scuffling sound nearby. Neal tensed, moving away from the still cuffed agent as he peered over the edge uncertain what he might find. The sound grew louder, followed by a dragging noise that made him wonder who was down there. A small raccoon scampered across the hay covered floor below them with babies in tow. Neal leaned back and gave a relieved sigh. It was just an animal looking for shelter from the weather as they apparently had, a hint of snow and sleet falling heavily outside the abandoned barn and hitting the roof above them.

Neal still couldn't remember what had happened but the memory of a gun firing made him think it couldn't have been good. He turned to see that Peter was still unconscious doing his best to make the agent comfortable before crawling over to the ladder to make his way down. Once at the bottom he felt around in his own pockets disappointed to find his cell phone missing. Peter's was gone as well so there was no way to make a call unless he found a farmhouse nearby or someone who might let him use their phone. Neal wandered over to the partially open doors of the barn and glanced outside. It was more than a winter wonderland outside, the scenery lined in bright white drifts which at the moment were far more treacherous than beautiful. There appeared to be no other structures much less a main house anywhere in view but it was hard to be sure in the tempest outside. Maybe once the storm passed through they'd be able to walk somewhere but even so, Peter was hurt and without food or water, they'd both be worse for wear in a day or two. He shivered at the thought as he pulled his coat tighter around him.

Neal removed his gloves, picked up a clean looking handful of snow and took a bite out of it. The icy slush warmed up immediately, dripping down his throat and making his thirst less than it had been. He ate a bit more snow feeling his stomach growl slightly before taking a handful up to the loft with him and using it to carefully clean the wound at the base of Peter's head. He had noticed the gash but had nothing to clean it with until now. Neal removed his scarf and wrapped the agent's head and wound with the ice inside to keep it clean. Peter remained unconscious reminding Neal of his own headache. He curled up beside his friend and did his best to keep them both warm as he piled hay around them as a buffer against the wind and cold and passed into a light sleep.

Why are you doing this? Neal!

He woke up with a start, that sound of someone shooting obvious again. It was in his mind wasn't it? He was starting to remember what happened although his mind was still fuzzy on the details, only the voices coming back to him. Neal reached to wipe at his face when he froze, the sound of a gun cocking shattering the silence. Someone hovered over him, blurry at first until his blue eyes finally focused and he could see who it was.

"Peter? What's going... on?"

He turned cautiously to look behind him but couldn't see anything or anyone the agent would be holding a gun against. Neal turned back towards his friend, moving to stand beside him when he heard the agent hiss at him.

"Don't make a move, Caffrey! I don't... know what... you did to me..."

Neal gazed up at his friend confused, hands up and in view when he saw a look he never thought he'd see from the agent: uncertainty and fear. Peter was staring at him as if he were still just a common criminal.

"Peter..."

He heard another hiss, the agent throwing something down beside him.

"Call me Agent Burke! Cuff yourself and don't make any sudden movements or I will shoot you Caffrey."

Neal didn't know what to do or how to react to his partner acting as if they weren't friends. He hesitated a moment, eyes watching the shaky trigger finger of his partner on the gun. Peter's eyes weren't nearly as brown as they should be, more black than anything filling the space. He must have some kind of concussion causing him to act this way. Neal held his hands up slowly, placing one cuff around one wrist and then starting to place the other when Peter pointed at a nearby post.

"Behind you and around the post. No funny business, Caffrey!"

Neal nodded, doing as he was told and leaned back tiredly against the post. It wasn't as if he couldn't escape the cuffs but with Peter acting off he had to pretend to be anything but what he was: Neal Caffrey con and escape artist. Peter looked satisfied as he continued to hold the gun but not so threateningly. The agent moved a bit closer, gun in hand at his side but at the ready as he crouched before the con.

"What did you do to me, Caffrey? Where are we? Did you drug me?"

Peter rubbed the back of his head, wincing as he stared at the now pinkish color of light blood on this hands from the gash. The agent was acting as if they weren't friends and were still playing cat and mouse. Neal wasn't sure how to respond but honesty at this point was all he could effectively use. It was worth a try.

"We... were hijacked. I don't know why or by who but I think you were grazed by a bullet, Peter. I was knocked out too. I woke up here with our wrists cuffed. Do you remember anything?"

It was all he could do not to free himself as he sat still and stared up at the agent with the most honest glance he could muster. Peter wasn't buying it even though he was telling the truth. The agent shook his head then looked a bit green around the gills as he faltered standing up again.

"Hijacked? I don't... No, you're lying to me. You did something. I was chasing you and now we're here, wherever HERE is. Now tell me where we are Caffrey!"

The agent was swaying slightly, voice starting to slur as he glared down at him. Neal knew immediately this wasn't a prank and Peter really didn't know him. He thought they were back before their partnership. The con swallowed hard before he answered.

"You're hurt, P... I mean Agent Burke. I didn't know about the ambush. I was hurt too. Please believe me."

He turned his head to show the gash on his forehead, Peter's dull brown eyes focusing on the wound. For a moment he thought the agent was going to believe him but then he just shook his head.

"I don't remember an ambush, I just remember you running around the corner in the museum and then..."

Peter hesitated, face looking confused as he tried to finish the thought. Neal wondered if the agent was in pain as he had been trying to remember what happened. His mind was mulling over what museum he had been allegedly in when he noticed something.

"Agen... Peter!"

His friend turned towards him with a blank look, collapsing to his knees as he kept the gun at the ready but continued to stare at him with curiosity.

"The museum... I was... chasing... This feels wrong."

Neal saw that glimmer of memory coming to the agent, Peter fighting to remember something as the brown of his eyes started to be swallowed up even more by their pupils. Suddenly he thought knew what alleged museum chase Peter was remembering.

"Yes. You chased me at the museum Peter but we didn't end up here. Try to remember what happened."

The agent looked up at him and then back at the hay on the loft floor.

"Museum... You..."

It was all too sudden as the agent collapsed to the ground. Neal was out of his cuffs in a heartbeat, moving to help the agent when a gun was pushed towards him, Peter looking up as he held it. Neal held up his hands and stayed back despite the need to help his friend.

"Don't... try anything... Caffr..."

Peter slumped unconscious into the hay, the agent's body going slack as his hand loosened around the gun. Neal made sure to remove the weapon from his friend's hand before he gently flipped the agent onto his back and checked for a pulse. His vitals were stable but the agent was warm almost feverish, his breath hitching off and on as if he were struggling.

"Wake up, Peter. Come on..."

The agent gave a quiet groan before he was quiet again, a small tic off and on in one cheek as he slept fitfully. Neal didn't want to leave the agent but he had to go down and get more snow to clean the wound and possibly drink. He quickly made Peter comfortable, wrapping him in his own jacket as he climbed down the loft ladder and dug out more snow and took it up with him. He placed some of the cold slush on his friend's neck where the wound was and melted a bit in his hands for the agent to drink.

"Peter... come on, drink this."

The agent gave another quiet groan but drank the slushy melted snow to Neal's surprise. Brown eyes gazed up at him suddenly, a questioning look in them.

"What..."

Neal waited for the rest of the words, uncertain what to expect.

"... angle... are you... play... ing Caff... frey?"

()()()

Give him a chance, hon. People change.

A woman's voice spoke to him and it took a moment, shamed as he was to admit to it, to recognize it as his wife's. He wasn't sure who she was talking about as the fuzzy image of Elizabeth Burke reached up to kiss him and everything faded to black. Suddenly he was standing over a still figure on the ground, blood oozing from their body and an obvious sheriff's badge laying beside them. Peter didn't know what to think of the scene, eyes moving upwards to see a nervous Neal Caffrey still holding the smoking gun in his hands before everything went black again.

Peter Burke woke up to a splitting headache, the base of his skull feeling like someone had scraped it with sandpaper as he moved to sit up. He felt sick and remained lying down a moment before he noticed another figure laying unconscious beside him. The agent's eyes widened as he remembered the fuzzy scene from his memory and reached inside his coat pocket for something that felt cool and jingled with a quiet metallic sound. He wasn't aware of where they were but only that he had to take care of this one thing as he reached over and cuffed the figure's right wrist with one cuff and then clicked the other around his own.

"Finally caught you, Caffrey."

He whispered the words as he moved to shake the unconscious figure awake and instead felt himself start to slump over against rough stale hay. He had noticed little of his surroundings but for the figure laying beside him when he'd waken up. He was on his side now, eyes looking over at the criminal he had spent every waking hour trying to catch. Peter felt sleepy, the ache at the back of his head making him feel suddenly more exhausted as he slumped back against the rough scratchy hay, eyes closing until darkness overcame him once again.

Why are you doing this? Neal!

Peter felt himself wake up once again, the ache at the back of his head feeling a bit better but still making it hard to think straight. He had been dreaming about something, something recent. The agent tried to think what when he saw a flash of memory. He was running through a building, heading from the balcony towards the stairs and tempted to slide down the banister as he was in hot pursuit of his current assignment. His eyes focused on the space around him and then on a figure laying close beside him. It only took him a moment before he scooted away and reached for his weapon as he moved to his feet. He cocked the gun quietly, checking that it was ready as he stood and waited.

The figure continued to lay there a moment, a young man with a handsome face, wavy dark hair and an air about him of confidence laced with naivety as he slowly began to wake up. Peter couldn't figure out why he was in this loft with the person of interest in his current case. He looked at the jacket he'd dropped and realized it must be the suspect's as he waited for the figure to awaken. They had been elsewhere but now... Blue eyes looked up at him as he cocked his gun again and held it as steady as he could. He had to be strong, the agent noticing the look of surprise on the suspect's face.

"Peter? What's going... on?"

The young man looked behind him as if he were just an innocent bystander but Peter knew better. Neal Caffrey was a criminal and smooth one at that. He wouldn't let his silver tongue talk him into letting him get loose and escaping. Not this time. He held the gun in a defensive stance ready for anything although his vision was blurring in and out of focus.

"Don't make a move, Caffrey. I don't... know what you did to me..."

Caffrey looked confused at him as if he'd just spoken to him in a foreign language. There was something odd about the young man's attitude and his familiarity by using his first name but Peter wasn't going to be fooled. This was his victory and he'd finally caught the con red-handed. The theft from the museum was more than obvious...

"Peter..."

He shook his head with a hiss, throwing something down beside to the con as he continued to hold his gun steady.

"Call me Agent Burke! Cuff yourself and don't make any sudden movements or I will shoot you Caffrey."

The con continued to stare at him with a look of bewilderment; a look of almost genuine concern on his face. Caffrey was a smart one but Peter was smarter. He knew the con's game so he wouldn't fall for his tricks and it appeared the younger man knew that as he nodded back, conceding as he held up his hands within sight and started to cuff himself. When Caffrey started to cuff his hands to the front of him, Peter shook his head and pointed at a nearby post.

"Behind you and around the post. No funny business, Caffrey!"

The con nodded, doing as he was told, then leaning back tiredly against the post. It seemed too easy that the young man gave in, a worried look on his face but the agent was just glad to know he was cuffed. Peter felt satisfied as he continued to hold the gun but not so threateningly. His head continued to ache with a dull throb at the base of his skull making it hard to think straight. The agent moved a bit closer, gun in hand at his side but ready to be used as he crouched before the con and stared into those crystal blue eyes. There was something he was missing, something he was trying to remember as he recalled his chase in the museum. How did they get here and where were they? They'd been in the city but this was definitely a rural dwelling.

"What did you do to me, Caffrey? Where are we? Did you drug me?"

Peter rubbed the back of his head, wincing as he stared at the now pinkish color of light blood on his hands. He'd felt a definite wound back there, the pain tangible as he watched the young man debating something before him silently. He could see the wheel's turning behind that innocent looking face but he knew that Caffrey was an excellent liar. They weren't going anywhere, especially Caffrey so Peter would listen to see just how far the young man would go and how to proceed.

"We... were hijacked. I don't know why or by who but I think you were grazed by a bullet, Peter. I was knocked out too. I woke up here with our wrists cuffed. Do you remember anything?"

He sounded sincere enough asking him to remember something but his mind was still in the museum chasing the savvy young man through marbled rows of shiny white... No, this was Caffrey. Something was wrong here. He stared at the young man while trying to remember what wasn't fitting in. The agent shook his head feeling less than capable to continue his charade of strength. He faltered slightly as he stood up again.

"Hijacked? I don't... No, you're lying to me. You did something. I was chasing you and now we're here, wherever HERE is. Now tell me where we are Caffrey!"

The agent was swaying slightly, voice starting to slur as he glared down at him. Caffrey was looking at him with a hurt expression that confused him more than anything. Why was he acting like they were buddies when they were nothing more than Fed and Con? It was simple and yet those blue eyes were pleading with him in a manner he couldn't remember seeing before. He watched the con swallow hard before he answered.

"You're hurt, P... I mean Agent Burke. I didn't know about the ambush. I was hurt too. Please believe me."

Peter watched as the con turned his head to the right revealing a fairly deep gash on the younger man's forehead. Peter focused on the wound seeing that he was hurt but that proved nothing. Maybe they had fought and this was a ploy to gain his sympathies. Neal Caffrey was non-violent by nature but the very fact they were here and alone after a chase made him wonder what had brought them here. Violence was obvious but by mysterious unknown persons or by Caffrey himself?

"I don't remember an ambush, I just remember you running around the corner in the museum and then..."

Peter hesitated, uncertain what it was he was trying to remember. They had been in the museum, every entrance and exit covered. The operation was flawless and then he had spotted Caffrey. He made chase and then... everything went blank. The museum was in the city and they were in the country. It made no sense as he fought to bring up the rest of the memory and felt a horrible aching pain in its place. The agent felt his legs go rubbery.

"Agen... Peter!"

Peter collapsed to his knees, keeping the gun at the ready but seeing that look of concern that seemed so alien in the young con's eyes. Why would Caffrey care how he felt? What was it he'd said about a hijacking? Flashing blue and red lights danced in his mind's eye as he finally gave his full attention back to the young man. The concern was real. Ca... Neal was worried about him.

"The museum... I was... chasing... This feels wrong."

Caffrey seemed to brighten a moment, looking at him with that pleading gaze again. The con seemed eager to convince him of the impossible and somewhere deep in the recesses of his blanked mind, Peter almost wanted to believe him.

"Yes. You chased me at the museum Peter but we didn't end up here. Try to remember what happened."

The agent looked up at him and then back at the hay on the loft floor.

"Museum... You..."

Peter felt the darkness pressing against the edges of his vision, weakness overcoming him as he collapsed to the ground, the rough hay scratching at his cheek and neck. He sensed movement nearby, holding up the gun in his hand and gazing upwards at the blurry form of Caffrey coming closer. Was he free? Hadn't he been cuffed? The gun made the con stop short but when Peter's vision focused for a moment he saw that look of concern again. Caffrey looked worried about him: the man who's chased him for the past 3 years. What game was the con playing?

"Don't... try anything... Caffr..."

He'd barely said the words when everything went black, his body going limp as he felt someone holding and shaking him gently. Caffrey's voice was faint in the background, a pleading there as if they were friends.

"Wake up, Peter. Come on..."

The agent gave a quiet groan before he was quiet again, a small twitch off and on in one cheek as he fought for consciousness and was losing. He sensed a tenseness in the young man before he was gently placed back on the hay and wrapped up in something else that made him feel so much warmer. He was shivering slightly without realizing it but his attention was on where the young man was. Neal was moving away from him, leaving. He heard the sound of creaking and then footsteps running somewhere nearby and just below. The man was a coward? It seemed as if Caffrey were abandoning the agent there in the loft for his own escape. He hadn't bought into his act...

Wait... he heard footsteps hurrying back, the creaking of something again and then someone holding his head up as something cool and wet was placed near his lips. Someone spoke.

"Peter... come on, drink this."

The agent gave another quiet groan but drank what felt like slush, the ice quickly warming in his mouth. He wanted more, his body suddenly craving food and water as he opened up his eyes and stared up at the blue eyed man beside him. The young man gave him that same look, as if they were friends and he was truly worried about him. The sentiment seemed honest enough but Neal was cunning and Peter knew that. This act of kindness confused the agent. Why did the con pretend to care about him?

"What..."

His voice sounded raspy as he spoke, pausing to catch his breath as those blue eyes seemed caught up by every phrasing.

"... angle... are you... play... ing Caff... frey?"

A frown played on the young man's face, an honest to goodness look of disappointment just before he passed out again and everything went black.

Put the gun down, Neal. It's ok. I'm here... just give me the g... What are you doing? Neal...!

Peter glanced down to see the bleeding form of the sheriff at his feet and a very frightened Neal Caffrey holding a gun shakily before him. He was scared, knowing the young man was not a fan of guns, but something had happened to make him pick the weapon up. Neal looked about to hand him the gun when he suddenly stiffened and raised the gun right at the agent. Peter didn't know what to think as he saw those blue eyes go steely and suddenly he heard the report of a weapon...

NEAL!

He was sitting up suddenly, his face frozen almost from the chill in the air as he felt something slip off of him and saw the coat from before. It wasn't his coat, a more expensive cut than he'd usually buy. His mind was trying to piece together the scene from his nightmare and why he'd called out the con's first name and not his last. They weren't friends, at least why would they be? He shook his head to clear it, vision focusing more as he turned at the sound of someone gently snoring.

Caffrey lay off to the side by the post, hands cuffed behind him as he leaned against both the wooden beam and a nearby bale of hay. Peter was confused a moment remembering the young man had tried to help him. Hadn't he been free of the cuffs or had he imagined it? He tried to think about it as he edged closer to the young man and nudged him ever so gently. The con didn't wake up, his face unusually still as he checked for vitals and found he was just in a deep sleep. Caffrey had looked somewhat exhausted before but he'd been too out of it to really sense that until now. Peter grabbed the jacket that belonged to the con and draped it over his sleeping form as he gently freed him from the post. Neal never woke up as he cuffed his hands before him and tucked them under the jacket for warmth. This place was getting colder by the moment and if he was going to get his promotion by catching this young man, they both had to come in alive.

"No phone..."

He cursed quietly to himself, checking his pockets of his trench coat and finding his cell missing but his gun back in his holster with the clip intact. He gazed back curiously at the young man sleeping not too far from him and started to wonder if he'd been telling the truth. Was he remembering things correctly or had it been a dream? Peter sighed, moving to the far end of the loft and finding the ladder down. It creaked under his weight and he realized that was what he'd heard before when Caffrey had run off. Peter dug around the ground level of the barn quietly and found an old box of matches, kindling and firewood. This must have been someone's barn at one time but everything even the matches seemed stale. He finally managed to light a small fire and warmed his hands over it as he cleared the area so it wouldn't catch the whole place aflame. Peter moved towards the partially open doors of the barn and peeked outside. The world was white with snow which fell in near silent abundance. There was no traveling through this, at least not right now. They were stuck with one another for a bit longer.

"Peter... watch out!"

The agent jumped, turning to see what the danger was and realizing the voice had come from above. He moved away from the doors, back up the loft ladder until he was kneeling beside the still sleeping con. Caffrey was talking in his sleep, face taut with some kind of stress or fear.

"No... don't... Why are you doing this?"

Peter watched as the con sat up slightly, hands before him as if holding a weapon. The action seemed to chill him and remind him of some faint memory of what he'd seen in his nightmare as the deadly pantomime continued. He watched Caffrey pull an imaginary trigger before collapsing back with ragged breath against the hay again. Sweat beaded on the younger man's forehead, Peter feeling at Neal's forehead but not sensing any fever. Something made him brush a stray hair from the young man's face and then gently squeeze his shoulder, both actions seemingly calming the young man as he relaxed and fell into a deeper sleep. The action made Peter feel better too but he wasn't sure why as he lay back against the hay and stared up at the wooden ceiling above. It was growing darker out but there was no where to go for the moment in this blizzard. This was their only shelter and whether or not they were friend or foe, they were stuck with one another. In his mind's eye he saw Elizabeth and their puppy at home. They had just moved in. Was she worrying about him? How long had he been gone? Was there a search party...

"Penny for your thoughts..."

The agent turned to find Neal Caffrey staring back curiously at him, a stifled yawn on the younger man's lips as he wiped at his face with his cuffed hands without blinking in surprise. For some reason that made the agent chuckle slightly now that he was feeling less beat up. There was a feeling of familiarity but he knew they were anything but friends.

"I checked out our accommodations. Looks like we're trapped here for a while. If you meant for us to be stuck together, you got your wish, Caffrey."

oOoOoOo

Author's Note: Already have a new plot. Working out the kinks so you are getting TWO chapters. Tell what you think and thanks again for reading!