Most Wanted Post-Ep Mini-Challenge

[rabidchild.livejournal.com]

Most Wanted delivered some good H/C potential for us, yes?

(Check out the header elrhiarhodan made - isn't she awesome?)

If you're like me, you were dancing on your couch when poor Neal got shot. And if you're like me, you're also either working on a fic tagged to that, or have already published one, or want to see one!

Feel like saving your work for a big ol' orgy o' Hurt/Comfort?

This is a new type of challenge - a bit of a mixed bag with a very limited time frame. Here are the steps:

1. WRITE!
Let's all go off and write tags to Most Wanted! Slashy or Gen - we don't care, we love them all!

2. PROMPT!!
Not a writer? Post a prompt below and maybe you will inspire a Most Wanted fic. Writer looking for ideas? See below for prompts!

3. PUBLISH!!!
What do you think, Collars - can you get your work together in a week? Already done? Terrific (and I'm so jealous)! I'll throw up a Master Post in exactly ONE WEEK: next Friday, July 27, and we'll all share.

ETA: I'll post a Master List on the 27th here on the comm, along with any fills posted to the prompts below. Anyone who has either written a fill or a fic on their own can also respond to that post with a link.

Sound good?

Master List is here!

Comments

Filled: Torn Stitches (Part 2)

[angelita26]

Part 2



"I've got to get access to that wound somehow," Peter pointed out.

Neal sighed, gritted his teeth, and moved to stand up. He wasn't prepared for his vision to swim or his muscles to protest the sudden change of position. "Aaah," he bit back the cry to a strangled moan. He was still aware enough to not give Collins the satisfaction of hearing his suffering.

Peter immediately helped guide him back down into the seat. "Easy," he murmured, also not wanting Collins to hear.

"Pills," Neal hissed through clenched teeth and held out his hand. He kept his eyes closed, hoping the world would right itself quickly.

Peter gave him the drugs and then helped him drink some water to wash them down. Then, he gave Neal a few minutes to get himself back under control. While he waited, he rummaged through the nearby compartments to find a couple of pillows and blankets.

After a minute, Neal's eyes popped open when he felt hands on his pants. Peter had the knife out and was starting to cut through the fabric beside the growing circle of blood. He watched as the FBI agent took the bottle of water and dumped some on the bandage.

Neal gasped at the sudden pain. "What was that for?"

"Softens the dried blood so that the bandage won't stick to the wound. See? Easy peasy." Peter peeled the bandage from Neal's thigh and whistled softly under his breath. The wound was puffy and red around the torn stitches. The doctor had only put in two, though there clearly should have been more.

"Infected," Neal didn't pose it as a question, but Peter nodded anyway.

"Not too bad. There isn't any pus that I can see."

"You always know how to brighten a guy's day, Peter," the ex-con deadpanned.

"Hey, I'll take any positive notes right now. It's still a ways to New York, and you haven't done yourself any favors with this leg."

"I did what I had to do," Neal defended himself, but the usual strength wasn't quite there. The Vicodin was taking affect.

"I know," was all Peter could say as he started tending to the wound. He doused it with alcohol to help slow the infection until they could get a real doctor to prescribe antibiotics. Then, he applied a pressure bandage as best he could in the tight confines of the airplane seats. "Still with me, Neal?"

"Um-hmm," was Neal's reply. His eyes were closed again, and he'd been drifting in a drug haze for the last few minutes.

TBC