Waking up

Feb. 21st, 2017 12:00 pm
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[personal profile] nywcgirl
Waking up
Author: NYWCgirl
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: None
Characters: Neal, Mozzie
Warning/genre: Hurt/comfort, kidnapping, friendship,
Spoilers: none
Rating: Gen

Author's Notes: Written to fill following bingo square:

Word Count: ~ 1350

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine…
Summary: Neal wakes up in a very unexpected place.

Fic can aslo be found on AO3. http://archiveofourown.org/works/9855803

Neal wakes with a dizzy feeling. He makes a mental note to stop counterfeiting whiskey with Mozzie, it is just plain dangerous to your health. He groans and opens his eyes. Darkness. Oh great, now he is wide awake in the middle of the night. There will be hell to pay when he explains this to Peter. Or he will be forced to drink that pickle juice Peter swears by.

His addled brain finally comes to the conclusion that he is not in his bed and he needs to pee, so he gets up and hits his head against something.

What the hell? Neal opens his eyes again and his headache immediately skyrockets. He squints while studying his surroundings. He seems to be lying in a wooden crate. What happened? Neal searches his memory, but he comes up blank.

First things first. He needs to get out of here. He is not going to wait and see what is going to happen next. He tries the lid, but it doesn´t budge. He does his best not to panic and tries to maneuver himself so he can kick the lid. After a couple of attempts, it gives under the strain. Neal gets up, swallowing against the nausea that is brought on by the headache, but he also realizes he made a lot of noise, and maybe he alerted his kidnappers. He climbs out of the crate and scans the room he is kept in. Brik walls, it looks like an abandoned house.

As fast as his unsteady gait allows him, he finds himself a way out. Once he reaches the door, he screws up his eyes against the light outside. He does his best to walk as steady as he can through the street to what appears to be an open space. When he arrives, he is confronted with a square in a small town.

He checks his pocket, but he still has his wallet. His phone is gone, bummer. He walks to a small hotel and asks for a room. He puts down his credit card and five minutes later he has a key. The lady behind the desks asks him if he needs a doctor. At his wondering look, she points at his head and he realizes that he is been bleeding.

“No, I bumped my head. I´m fine. Thank you.”
She shrugs her shoulders and Neal walks to his room on the first floor. Once inside he goes into the bathroom and checks his head. There is a lump, but it stopped bleeding.
He goes back to the bed and sits down while picking up the phone that is standing on the nightstand. He makes a collect call.

“Burke.” A sleepy voice answers.
“Neal?” Peter´s voice is a lot clearer suddenly.
“Yes, Peter, you must know I didn´t run.”
“What did you do?”
“I don´t know, I…”
Neal can hear Peter is getting dressed by the rustling of fabric.
“Where are you, I will come and pick you up.”
“I think that might be a problem.”
“Why, just tell me.”
“I think, I am in Poland.”
“Why do you think you are in Poland?”
“Well, for starters, when I escaped, I saw an advertisement for a polish bank, in Polish. And the clerk in the hotel addressed me in Polish.”
“That would be a good indication. Are you in a safe place at the moment?”
“I checked in a local hotel, called Ryzmski.”
“OK, I will have the this number traced. Stay on the line, OK?”
A knock on the door, startles Neal.
“Someone just knocked on the door.”
“Is there a spy hole? Check it first.”
Neal checks it and it is the lady from the desk.
“I thought, you could use this.” She hands over a plastic bag with some bandages and a clean T-shirt.
“Can you tell me the address of the hotel?”
“It is one the flyer on the table.”
Neal rolls his eyes, why didn´t he think of that. He thanks the woman and closes the door again.
“Must be the concussion.” he mutters.
“Are you hurt?” Peter asks.
“I have the address.” Neal reads out the address.
“Stay put, I will get you help.”
Neal feels so tired. He closes his eyes.
“Neal? Don´t fall asleep on me now. You said something about a concussion. Were you hit over the head?”
“I don´t remember.”
“That is OK. Are you bleeding?”
“Not anymore.”
“OK Neal, I don´t like the way you are slurring your words. I am going to call on the other line. Stay on this line, OK? Neal?”
“Yes, I stay put.”
Neal can hear Peter talk in what he assumes is the other line.
“I called the hotel and they are going to call a doctor. I want you to open the door, so they can enter.”

Neal must have fallen asleep again, because ehe startles when his name is called and there is knocking on the door. Neal stumbles up and startles when he opens the door and the lady from the desk and another woman are standing directly in front of the door.

“I´m doctor Martynowicz.” The other woman announces.
Neal grips the doorpost so he won´t topple over and both women guide him back to the bed. The doctor starts checking his vitals and he groans.
“You have concussion. Rest.” The doctor states with a heavy accent.
Neal nods and starts to drift off.

* * *

The next time he wakes the desk lady is sitting next to the window. When she notices he is awake, she walks up to him.
“My name Aga.”
“Neal.” He croaks.
She leaves him and comes back with a cup of tea which he drinks greedily.
“Help on way. You sleep.”
Neal lets himself fall asleep again.

* * *

The next time he wakes it is because two men are talking in Polish. One of the men´s voice is familiar. He opens his eyes and looks straight in Mozzie´s worried face.

“Hey Mozz, how did you get here?”
“The world is my oyster. But to be fair, the suit called me. How are you feeling?”
“Headache, but not too bad.”
Mozzie hand him two pills, “That should help with the headache. Cibor is going to make you some dinner, because I think it has been a while since you ate.”
“Yeah, can´t really remember the last time. How long have I been missing?”
“Well, Peter said you left the office last Friday evening. So that makes it two days.”
“What is the verdict?”
“Nothing too serious, a concussion. They probably drugged you as well, if you can´t even remember the last three days.”
“Where are we?”
“I thought it safer to get you out of the village and into a safe house. Cibor here is a local contact. He will make sure we are safe until we can go back to the States.”
“And when is that?”
“With the concussion, the doctor told me it is best not to fly. So I booked us passage on a container carrier. I used one of your aliases to book the passage. Peter will make sure we can disembark without too much trouble.”
“Peter knows?”

Mozzie studies Neal with a worried look, “You called the suit for help, of course he knows. And I must say, I am a little disappointed that you would call Peter in stead of me. We could have been long gone if you had just called me.”
“Easy for you to say, you loose burner phones faster than an intern’s dignity at a cigar club meeting.”
“OK, I get your point. Rest. You made your point. We will be here at least until tomorrow. Do you need anything against the headache?”
“I´m fine.”
“Sure you are fine, you are squinting against the light. Here.” Mozzie holds out some pills and a bottle of water.
Neal swallows them and lies down again.
“Knew I could trust you guys to find me.” He mumbles already half asleep.
“We will always find you, kiddo.”


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