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Kate. Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate, KATE…
His mind kept replaying the scene of Kate waving from the plane, Peter holding him back, the plane exploding, Peter barely catching him, the aftermath of smoke and fire and nothingness…
Kate.
She was gone.
His heart felt like it was going to keep spluttering into nothingness, and he remembered suddenly, vividly, a movie that Diana had taken him to see. He couldn’t remember the title, or anything, but one scene had stuck in his mind.
“Why?” The woman didn’t cry, but looked very much like she wanted to. “WHY? Why does it hurt so much? If this is love, I don’t want it-please…”
“It hurts because it’s real.” The man said softly, staring down at her, his face expressionless, but his eyes…
Neal swallowed, feeling like he understood what she meant. If this was love…
“Neal?” June’s voice, from the doorway. “Neal, Peter’s here. He says he wants to talk to you.”
“Tell him go away,” Neal mumbled, but knew June would hear him anyway. June sighed, but he heard her wandering away, feeling misery etch deeper and more firmly in every
step. He’d promised to save Kate.
But he only wound up losing her.
He clenched his fists and felt like punching something-preferably Keller, or even Fowler…
Fowler.
He must’ve known this would happen.
Neal’s emotions were running wildly, and he suddenly sank back down into the chair, not realizing that he’d stood up. He grabbed his hair, and felt like screaming, kicking, punching-doing something.
Kate.
He couldn’t stop seeing her face, that flicker of a smile, that little wave-telling him impatiently to come on and hurry. He stared mindlessly at the wall across from him, the bottles upon bottles of wine sitting there.
He would take every single bottle and smash it…
Or better yet.
He quickly moved towards them, grabbed a bottle at random, pulled it open, and took a long swallow of it. He knew alcohol would help. Oh, alcohol was a perfect solution to all his problems! It would make him forget!
At least for a little while.
Sometime later, he found himself on the balcony in the freezing wind, at least three bottles next two him, two of them empty. He heard the door to his apartment open, but he didn’t care.
He felt floaty.
“Damn,” Peter. Of course it was Peter. It was always Peter coming to check up on him…
“Damn right, I came to check up on you,” Peter slumped down next to him. “Gimme some of that,”
The request startled Neal, making him take a look at him. Instead of responding or doing anything like actually giving him the bottle though, Neal just asks-rather slurred,
“Why you ‘ere?”
“Because my gut told me you’d do something like this, and I wasn’t about to let you be alone in your misery.” Peter said, grabbing the bottle from Neal’s hand, and taking a long swallow from it. Neal stared at him. “What? I can’t drink wine?”
“You…hate it,” Neal was proud he didn’t slur that time.
“I hate it, but sometimes when you’re buddy is sitting on a freezing balcony with piss poor alcohol and feeling sorry for himself, then I’ve gotta join him, despite the fact that I’m freezing my ass off,” Peter said.
“Not…sorry for ‘self,” Neal muttered, angry and sullen at the remark.
“Sure seems like it,” Peter said, studying him.
Neal glared, struggling to stand-failing-and wound up near to falling into Peter’s lap. He didn’t bother getting up, and Peter sighed but didn’t bother moving him.
“Not sorry. Angry. Sad. Hurt,” Neal mumbled into his jeans. “Made a promise. Said I’d keep her safe. Instead…”
“Instead, you watch her get blown up. Neal…I’m sorry,” Peter said, quietly, stroking his hair. It felt nice. Neal breathed, struggling not to let himself cry. “Neal, I am SO sorry, if
I had known what was going to happen-I would’ve…I would’ve done something. Anything. Despite everything, Kate didn’t deserve to die like that. No one does.”
Neal shuddered, and pulled himself to a sitting position. He was starting to feel cold, and tired. He just wanted this day to end.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed. You drank two and a half bottles of wine, you are going to be in for a hell of a hangover tomorrow,” Peter grumbled, moving to help Neal to his feet. The two of them staggered off of the balcony, Peter half-carrying Neal to the bed. He shoved Neal-gently-onto the bed, and then said, “Lift your right leg, I’ll take off your shoes.”
“Are you going to sleep with me?” Neal asked sleepily, still slurred.
“What? No!” Peter protested, then paused. “Do you want me to?”
“Afraid,” Neal muttered, so softly that he didn’t think that Peter heard him. Peter was busy working on his shoe, and then Neal heard the shoe drop to the floor…and then a heavy sigh. Then the sound of buttons being pushed, and then-
“El? Hon, I’m staying with Neal tonight, I hope you don’t mind? Yeah, he’s…he’s in pretty bad shape. I’ll tell you about it when I get back, maybe.” A pause. “Yeah, I love you too hon. Sleep well. Bye.”
Peter took off his other shoe, and Neal was pretty sure that he was zoned out at this point. He couldn’t keep up with where Peter was, and the bed felt rather floaty, just as he did, and he was afraid if he tried to get out of it he’d float through the room.
Peter snorted.
“Humans can’t defy gravity like that, and even if you did float through the room, I’m make sure you wouldn’t get far.” Peter said mildly, dumping his other shoe onto the floor.
And apparently he was speaking out loud, as well.
“That’s because of the alcohol,”
“Damnit,” Neal mumbled, and Peter laughed, though it was a tired sounding laugh. Neal watched, bleary eyed, as Peter took off his jacket, and his shoes, and then sat on the
other side of the bed. “Peter?”
“Hmm?” Peter asked. “Budge over, I’m not going to be able to sleep with you if you take up more than your half of the bed. And I hope you don’t kick. Or snore. Or-heaven forbid-bite.” He scolded.
“Me don’t do any of that,” Neal yawned. What was he going to say? Oh, right. He scooted over to his side of the bed, and felt Peter climb in next to him. “Peter?”
“What now?” Peter asked, sighing.
“Thank you.”
For a few long moments, the two of them stayed quiet, and Neal could hear Peter breathing lightly in the silence of the apartment. Neal couldn’t help but begin to think of
partnerships…how he had Kate, and now he had Peter, and at least he had someone with her gone, and how partnerships come in twos.
Neal was so close to sleep, but still not quite there, and so he later when he woke up he wasn’t sure if heard Peter saying softly,
“You’re welcome.”
He wasn’t sure if he’d heard Peter say it or if he’d dreamed it, but…
He didn’t have to say it.
He knew exactly how Peter felt about everything, all of it. And for that, he was grateful. Because he wouldn’t be here, if not for Peter, and despite losing Kate…
At least he hadn’t died.
==
End