Work Text:
Prompt: The phrase 'Ignore it and it'll go away' doesn't apply to bullet wounds!"
...
As soon as he made it to June's house, Neal practically collapsed inside his apartment. It took all of his strength not to pass out in Peter's car. His handler and friend hadn't been paying close attention to him during the mission. Not like during their early days together.
This wasn't the first time he had been shot while working for the FBI. He very much doubted it would be the last. Neal somehow was a bullet magnet had been since his vigilante days.
After a few minutes he was able to stand again and moved over to the couch. There he dropped into the leather and pulled off his jacket. On his left side just above his hip was a large red stain. It had been covered by his jacket and Neal made sure Peter wasn't close enough to notice it.
With cautious fingers he pressed at the wound checking it. Then he checked the other side and thankfully found an exit wound. Thank God. He wouldn't have to dig a bullet out without any sedatives. It wouldn't have been the first time but he hated doing it. It was a painful experience every single time. With an exit wound all he needed to do was clean it and he would be fine.
The door to his apartment was flung violently open. Neal tilted his head back to look at the intruder not at all concerned who it was. Only a few people outside of the FBI knew where he was. A brown haired man with hazel eyes walked in. He was shorter than Neal but his anger made his presence intimidating. Instinctively he flinched and that caused him to press none to gently on the wound. It caused him to hiss in pain and the hazel eyes narrowed.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Growled anger making his Boston accent more noticeable.
Neal scratched at his cheek with the hand not covered in blood and said, "Well, hi to you too Matt. I was thinking if I ignored it for long enough it would go away."
There was a twitch of Matthew's eye in response and he almost laughed. Matthew Keller was one of his oldest friends since he ran away from Gotham. He had been with him through thick and thin just like Mozzie. The only difference was Matthew was a CIA handler instead of a criminal.
Matthew snapped, "The phrase 'Ignore it and it'll go away' doesn't apply to bullet wounds!"
Neal shrugged as he replied, "It's worked before."
"Fucking vigilantes and their suicide missions," snarled the man, "Take your shirt off, Caffery. I need to see how bad the damage is."
"You don't have to," he tried but Matthew interrupted him.
"Not another fucking word. Shirt off!"
Neal sighed and did as he was told. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to the side. Matthew moved into the kitchen and retrieved his first aid kit. Then he made his way to Neal and dropped onto the couch next to him.
With practiced hands Matthew cleaned the wounds. Neal hissed in pain but didn't move away from the cold alcohol wipe. The scent of the disinfectant brought up painful memories of the times he had died. In his chest his heart stopped at the thought.
How many times could he die? How many times until there was nothing left to bring back? It made him wish he had taken up the offer he had been given all those years ago. The Demon's Head was not the nonnegotiable person that Batman saw him as. As his previous self Neal had earned the man's respect.
Dick Grayson, Bryce Larkin, Neal Caffery. Three lives. More enemies than friends. Who was he now? Could he claim any of those names honestly and say that was who he was? No he couldn't.
A sharp pain on the top of his head brought him out of his thoughts. Neal blinked at Matthew annoyed with him.
"Don't worry about the past, Caffery," growled Matthew, "It's not worth it. You have a life here. So stop being suicidal and getting yourself shot. Otherwise I'm going to order those jackets of yours to be lined with kevlar."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me."
The two men glared at each other. A pained whine escaped him when Matthew pressed the wound lightly. It forced him to look away from his friend. A faint smile was pulling at his lips.