A/N You know guys, you had to wait long for chapter 5, so have another as an apology :)

Chapter 6 – Can Anybody Hear Me?

Neal was fighting to stay conscious.

Luckily Sundance proved to be a very well trained horse, who had no problem carrying an injured, soaked and barely awake stranger through the woods and on to the road. Neal urged the horse a little more to increase their speed. The faster he got to the phone the better.

Finally the small dirt road let on to the bigger well-lit road. Neal guided the horse to the left. He could see the booth now and thought he had never seen anything as beautiful in his life. His foggy mind thought he should paint a portrait of it after this was over, unable to remember in his state that he couldn't recall the last time he had as much as doodled to the side of a note.

Sundance stopped right in front of the booth and Neal faced another problem. The chilly rain and sitting on horseback had stiffened him so much, he wasn't sure he could move. He could feel pain everywhere, naturally centered to his shoulder and thigh, but his bruised abdomen and ribs courtesy to Rick and his goon at the stable seemed to also be declaring mutiny after his ride.

But Neal had to get to the phone. He gritted his teeth, released his feet from the stirrups and forced his right leg over the horses back, inspiring a new kind of agony on his leg. He held on with his right hand, but at his state it wasn't enough. With a yelp he fell to the ground, smacking his head against the corner of the phone booth.

Since the goon in the stable Neal had promptly decided to name "Asshole" had distracted him, he had forgotten the helmet. His vision blurred, but luckily, he didn't black out. Neal swore as he mostly dragged himself inside the booth.

Catching his breath, trying to reign in the pain that seemed to engulf his whole body, Neal leaned to the phone booth wall. He saw Sundance standing in the rain where he had left the animal. Neal had to smile a little. A very well trained horse indeed.

The pain subsided a tiny bit, so Neal dragged himself upwards enough to reach the phone and dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" a female voice answered. Neal identified himself, gave the address and started to tell his story, what had happened, how his agent friends were in danger and he needed to contact the FBI.

To his horror his words started to slur and nausea crept up his throat. The dispatcher grew suspicious and started to ask if he had taken something. A beating didn't seem to be the right answer to the lady and she started to get frustrated with him.

Neal tried to convince her he wasn't high or pulling a prank on her, told her repeatedly that they needed help, that they needed back up and an ambulance. Then he made a big mistake and mentioned he had ridden to the phone booth he was calling from on a horse. That was when the lady angrily told him off for taking up time from someone who might actually have an emergency and hung up. Neal stared at the phone and felt like crying. Why was it that anywhere he went anything he did no one ever believed him? This lady didn't even know him and still outright thought he was lying. Neal reached into his pocket and dug out the change he had gathered from the stable, thanking everything holy for doing so. It took a little more stretching to reach the coin slot and then to dial the number he knew by heart. He could only wish that Elizabeth was home.

In the cellar tension was building. They had waited for what felt like an eternity, but nothing was happening. The noise upstairs continued and it sounded like some heavy containers were being moved around.

The agents were starting to lose their composure, unable to stay on high alert for such a long time. They were silent though. Nobody cared to talk much, everyone guessing each other's thoughts, circling between Neal and their captors. The sounds their assailants were making upstairs were almost maddening, but suddenly they stopped and the complete silence that descended to the cellar felt thick enough to cut with a knife. It didn't last long though. The cellar door opened and the agents switched back to their alert mode.

"Burke residence, Elizabeth Burke speaking." Els chipper voice, the one Neal had missed so much answered the phone.

"Elizabeth, listen to me! I don't have much time and you have to believe me!" Neal couldn't help the panic in his voice. He had absolutely no idea how much change he had put in to the machine, no clue how much time he had to convince El about the severity of the situation. He rattled the story he had told the dispatcher at double speed. He repeated the address and thought he could hear El scribbling it on a note.

"Neal? Are you saying that Peter, Reese and the others are in danger at this address? Where are you?" El asked, worried by the uncharacteristic panic she could hear in her friends voice and the way he tended to slur his words and repeat himself like he couldn't remember what he had already told her. But Neal was fading; he could feel himself slip from consciousness. Suddenly he realized he had no idea where he was.

"I-I-I don't know… El please, you got to help them, 911 didn't believe me…" Neal stuttered.

"How badly are you hurt Neal, do you need an ambulance?" El asked, her own concern mounting by the second.

"I don't know, I guess. El please you have to help them, they won't believe me!" Neal couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. His head, shoulder, stomach and thigh were all fighting over which one could cause him most pain.

"Okay Neal. Okay, I will-" El started but then a mechanical voice interrupted her, telling Neal to insert more coins. Neal let the phone drop. He had done all he could and finally he succumbed to the darkness that was closing in.

After the almost unbearable wait, the fight was over fairly quickly.

All of the perps except for Rick and one guy Peter couldn't remember hearing the name of, came downstairs, clearly not prepared for the agents to be free and armed. They didn't have their guns drawn and were taken completely by surprise.

The agents pushed the Whites behind them in order to get them out of harms way. After the initial shock the perps put on a fight. Both sides got a few good punches in, but movement in the tiny space ceased at the sound of a gunshot. Rick was standing on the stairs, furious.

"What the hell is going on in here?! Put your weapons down immediately or I WILL kill you all right here!" he bellowed and aimed his gun to Diana's head. All of the agents complied without hesitation.

"What are you waiting for?! Someone tie them up! This is why I hate the feds, you just couldn't wait for me to begin our game, no you had to ruin everything! Well guess what, now we are all going to go to the yard and none of us get to play at all!" if Peter had ever suspected Neal's assessment of Rick being insane, all of the doubt evaporated now. The man was beside himself with rage, being denied the torture of the agents, Peter thought. After they were tied, the agents and the Whites were lead outside and made to kneel down in a row.

"Where is Anders?!" Rick barked and was fazed with mild mumbling about Anders regularly taking naps "well he better not whine about not getting to kill a fed to me, if the lazy bastard is snoozing somewhere when we have work to do." Rick finished.

"All right then. Which one should go first, boys?"