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Jones could count on the fingers of one hand the times Neal Caffrey had considered violence. Only when pushed to the edge. Only following through in self defense.
And yet Jones and Diana were holding him back, each of them on an arm, dragging him away with all their strength.
“Neal!” cried Diana, “you gotta stop!”
“Caffrey, stop, I don’t want to hurt you!” said Jones, emphatically.
Finally they had no choice but to tackle him to the ground and pin him there.
“Let go!” yelled Neal, “let go, he’s got Peter!”
Jones and Diana met each other’s eyes.
“I know, Neal,” said Diana, as gently as she could while still fighting him to the ground, “but you being in jail won’t help.
“I gotta-I–he has to talk–”
Jones recognized a breakdown when he saw one. He finally got out his cuffs, pulling Neal’s arms behind the younger man’s back. Neal was still fighting, but he was crying too hard to be effective. Diana searched Neal and removed four sets of lock picks, as well as other random tools.
Jones dragged Neal to his feet, as kindly as he could.
“Come on. You’re gonna sit in the car."
Neal wouldn’t walk. Jones finally slung Neal over his shoulder like an especially wiggly back of potatoes. He carried Neal out of the office building, into the parking lot.
Diana opened the back of the car. Jones tried to put Neal in there, but there was no way to do so safely from that position. He put Neal on a grassy area of ground nearby, so they could lift him from there.
Neal curled up, sobbing brokenly. Somehow he already had the cuff off his left wrist, but he didn’t try to go anywhere. Jones knelt next to him.
“I just want to get Peter back,” gasped Neal, hyperventilating.
“It’s my fault, Neal,” said Jones, softly, as he removed the cuff from Neal's right wrist, “we would never put a kidnapping victim’s family in a room with the kidnapper. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”
Diana and Jones sat with Neal on the grass as he cried himself out. Neal finally looked up at them, wiping his face with his hand, “thank you for stopping me.”
Jones patted Neal’s arm, “yeah, man.”
Diana dug in her bag and offered Neal a bag of pistachios, “have you eaten today?”
Neal didn’t answer at first, slowly sitting up and dusting himself off, then taking the nuts, “I don’t think so. I don't…I think I had breakfast yesterday…"
“Yeah, that can’t be helping,” said Jones, getting up. He reached his hands down to Neal, "come on. I'm taking you to get dinner."
Neal took Jones's hands, and got shakily to his feet, "can we just pick something up on the way back to the office?"
Jones shook his head, "no. You're gonna sit and have a real meal, and a drink, and you're gonna spend a minute getting your head right. Okay?"
Neal relented, nodding. Jones slung his arm around Neal's shoulders, "there's a new Brazilian place nearby."
Neal nodded, wiping his face on his palm a little bit, as Jones led him down the street.