Hey people! I'm just starting to get back into writing fics; I've mostly been a ghost who just lurks around on lazy nights. I've had this idea for a while now and its been bugging me so I decided to go ahead and write it! All mistakes are mine.
Hope you guys like the fic and review! Even short reviews boost the author's production.

"Ok guys, one more case then we're out of here." Peter Burke called out as he closed the door to the conference room. The brittle click within the doorway ensured the team would be held hostage until the ransom money was delivered and spent. Groans of the captives erupted as if a church choir had rehearsed it. Then all came to a shallow still. Neal Caffrey took his spot at the large glass table and folded his hands into each other. He didn't have to be a genie to figure what was on peoples' minds. It was almost Christmas after all. Everyone highly believed the point in even looking into the case as of now was pointless; all except one apparently. Hey, you try telling an FBI team leader to suspend a case simply because it was days before a holiday.

"Case involves an older man, about mid to late 40s, accused of breaking into a..." Peter had started. He didn't get the chance to finish. Neal's phone loudly pronounced it's presence. Neal leaned back and took the phone out, touching the screen as it lit up before even looking at who was on the other end. When he looked back up he noticed Peter had paused but quickly regained his heading, hardly taking time to care about the phone's jingle. Once again the world slowed as Peter began talking about the case from the beginning. Crystal eyes scanned the rim of the table and stopped at the new agent to his left, clumsily taking notes on what others, and Peter, were saying. Neal couldn't help the grin as he turned his head back to Diana in front of him. She eyed Neal in a playful manner, glancing toward the newbie. All joking aside the two returned to their previous positions of watching Peter smack his lips against the prison bars, barricading a chance to even sneak a peak at a window. It was another 23 minutes, when Neal felt warm, sticky liquid dripping onto his expensive suit pants, before he looked up again.

First there was a quiet shuffling among papers next to him as the newbie finished off another piece of notebook paper. Neal had attempted to see what she was writing. However she was out of his focus range and her writing was too small for him to capture with short glances. He didn't want it to look as though he were staring at her.

It followed with her head perking up to sneak a peek to her right for practically the first time since they had set foot in the conference room. Nothing out of the ordinary; who cared? It was what no one else saw that soon caused a commotion in the quiet and slightly lazy offices of the FBI building. Compared to other months this one was commonly slow and uneventful.
Time had a funny trick up its sleeve that allowed it to expand with torturing moments, but skip chapters when it mattered the most. Time could be seen in two perspectives; the heavens' savior and Satin's reminder. You could say Neal was given another fair reminder.

The knife was plunged into his side without hesitation which caused a shocked and distant reaction then pulled out quickly and fiercely. He was bleeding, Neal registered that, but why? His hands fled to his side and a yelp escaped from his lips, but for what reason? The liquid slowly plopped on his pants, creating a pitter-patter feeling upon his leg. He looked at the girl now close to his side as she evilly grinned at him, a Cheshire demonic grazed his pupils. Suddenly the conference room exploded into much more than a large table and a few chairs. Peter's eyes widened as the case file dropped from his callused hands to a floor that should have been worn down by now due to his repetitive pacing throughout his years.

"Neal!" Jones jolted to his feet and pulled Neal's seat away from the table and away from the girl, who was now swarmed and restrained by fellow agents and lead out. Peter was at his side in an instant, kneeling down next to Neal's chair on the side that was spilling blood onto the carpet.
"Peter..." Neal whispered, still wearing a very confused expression.
"It's ok, it's alright. Just, just let me see, Neal. Move your hands away." Peter instructed nervously and shockingly. "I need an ambulance in here!" Peter shouted, not taking his eyes off of his partner. Neal removed his sticky hands away from his side, allowing more crimson to spill before replacing them.

"Shit." Peter claimed, moving hurriedly. He stood and instructed Jones to do the same. "We're going to lay you down Neal. Easy now." Peter and Jones lifted Neal slightly from the seat before setting him down onto the floor. This motion caused an array of grunts from Neal as he embraced newly formed pain. His breath hitched with each beat of his heart which caused another thorn to form within Peter's blossoming span of panic. Neal lay down in the floor, watching the world above him as Peter moved his hand from the injury. Neal gasped sharply and attempted to look down but couldn't see a thing. He watched Peter intensely, adjusting to the fact that he had just been stabbed in the side.

"h...ow bad, Petr?" Neal asked just before Peter applied his hand to the wound. Neal couldn't help his sudden outburst. Neal was still very much alert...and that hurt like a bitch wearing ice-skates carving circles into his side.

"You'll be alright. It's just a whole lot of pain. You're going to be ok." Peter blubbered mostly to himself. Neal knew he could trust Peter however there aren't any FBI agents to tell god what to do. Neal's breath hitched after the screech as he struggled to catch his breath, pushing Peter's wrist with both of his hands. His legs constricted and arched themselves only to be held down by Jones to attempt to minimize Neal's discomfort further.

"Don't crumple yourself up." Neal heard Jones chime in.

"Calm down. It's just me, you're going to be alright. Just relax." Neal looked up at Peter. If he wanted to survive Neal had to be reasonable. Neal's hands clung to Peter's wrists tighter. However this time it wasn't out of panic, but pain. One of Peter's hands traveled to grasp Neal's hands and briefly squeeze them in support. That was when Neal's vision began to tunnel. He glanced at sweat now beading on Peter's forehead and his eyebrows being pushed up with the widening of his eyes. He felt utterly helpless and like somehow this was his fault.

"Nonononononono no, Neal common. Stay awake, please. Neal. Hey." Peter took his free hand and lightly tapped Neal's face as it began slipping; leaving small blotches of blood upon Neal's cheek. He watched Peter through the narrowing tunnel. "Now would be a GREAT time for that ambulance, Dianna!" Peter barked. Neal watched him and softly smiled.

"Trusssssyou, Petr..." Crystal clear pools were covered for the winter. Jack Frost managed to freeze Neal's brain enough for flurries…maybe even an Ice Age.

So what'd ya think? I'm hoping to turn this fic into somewhat of a mysterious one if I can plan some different plot lines and stuffs. Please leave a review and let me know if I should continue this! Thanks for reading guys! =)