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The fire blazed, smoke curling from the windows of the building. Firefighters ran about, trying to drown out the fire with Class B fire fighting foams, while others suited up, preparing to go searching for survivors.
Neal darted forward and was held back by someone. He struggled in their grip, letting out a frustrated scream. He couldn’t just stand around and do nothing.
Peter was still inside.
They had had no warning. One minute they had been interviewing the ceo's assistant and the next a large explosion had shook the ground. Some chemical reactions went wrong due to someone’s irresponsible mishandling of highly explosive chemical compounds. A fire started in one portion of the building and quickly spread, engulfing it.
Peter and Neal had kept calm and helped the security guards direct everyone to the exits. They were almost out the doors when Peter heard something, a distant cry for help; and before Neal could stop him, he was rushing in the direction of the plea. Neal tried to follow, but by that time the firefighters had arrived; and they dragged him away against his will.
Now, he was waiting on the sidelines. It was agonizing, not being able to do anything, not knowing if Peter was ok or…
He hadn’t been able to save Kate. He had watched as the plane blew up, scattering her ashes in the air, forever lost to him. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, to tell her he loved her and always would.
What if…
Neal tried to wriggle out of the hold he was in. Someone was shouting, telling him to stand down. But the more he struggled the more panicked he became.
He had to save Peter. He couldn’t let this be the last time he saw him, the last case they worked on together, the last…anything. It all felt so final, and Neal refused to believe in concrete endings.
He slumped forward suddenly, going lax. The person holding him stumbled under the unexpected weight and they moved to regain their grip. Neal used that moment of surprise to slip out of their clutches.
He made a run for it but it was short lived. Another pair of hands grabbed him and then another, and then he was being wrangled to the ground, his face pressed into the grass. All further attempts to escape were thwarted.
Someone new was speaking to him softly, a voice that he thought he recognized; however, his mind was elsewhere and was no longer registering reality.
A tight band was around his chest, constricting his breathing. He kept seeing flashes of Kate, of the tarmac, of Peter holding him close. The images morphed into nightmarish possibilities–Peter burnt heavily, fighting for his life, or worse, there being nothing left of his body to be identified as him, the fire having taken yet another person from Neal’s life.
The smoke in the air suffocated him, filling up his lungs, or so it felt like it. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think clearly. The fire was inside him now, burning him from the inside out.
Peter… his heart cried out. Don’t take him too.
The mysterious hands pinning him down must have picked up on his distress, for in the next moment, they were backing off and letting him sit up on his own. He tried to inhale but it was a herculean effort. He felt light-headed, like he was about to pass out at any minute.
Peter was dead; Neal was sure of it. It was too late, just like it had been too late to save Kate. He had failed again .
The sole survivor and infinitely alone.
Distantly, there was a commotion around him, shouts and clapping.
Someone shook him rather forcefully. “Hey, snap out of it, Caffrey!”
Neal glanced to his right and saw that Diana was kneeling beside him, and had been there this whole time. She was the source of the familiar voice he had heard earlier.
“Look.” She gestured with her head.
Neal looked in the direction she indicated and felt his heart stop for the second time that day.
Peter was stumbling forward, arms around a young woman. He had taken off his jacket to shield her with, leaving himself exposed to the elements. His shirt was torn and burned in some places and he had soot smeared across his hands and face. There was some kind of burn on his forearm but otherwise he appeared to be mostly unharmed.
Neal sagged against Diana, relief washing over him. However, the effects of his tormented mind were still plaguing him. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to calm his breathing down, his breaths coming fast and sharp. A full body tremor started up adding to his misery.
Peter was ok. Everything was ok. So, why was it so hard to breathe?
Diana frowned at his state. She thought seeing Peter would be enough to calm him down; but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“I’ll be back, Neal. Stay here.” She didn’t wait for a response and ran over to meet Peter.
He was passing off the woman he had saved to a paramedic and was about to be checked out himself. Diana reached him first.
“Nice heroism there, boss.”
Peter smiled sheepishly. “That wasn’t my intention.” He suddenly had an aggressive coughing jag that startled Diana.
“You good?” she asked with some trepidation.
Peter gave himself a pat down. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he could feel his aches and pains.
“I think so. Mostly just sore. Throat’s a little scratchy.” He hissed when he flexed his arm and noticed for the first time his burn.
“You should get that looked at,” Diana said. “But first, Neal needs you.”
Peter whipped his head around, searching for his C.I. He spotted him sitting with his knees up, head hiding behind his arms. Without so much as a bye to Diana, he jogged over to Neal.
He knelt in front of him.“Hey, buddy, talk to me. What’s going on?”
Neal lifted his head. “C-can’t…breathe…” He closed his eyes, his face contorting in grief. “...Thought…you were dead…
“Kate…”
Peter nodded his head in understanding. Of course, this would be triggering for Neal. Kate’s death was still fresh in his mind, a wound on his heart that had yet to scab over. It bled silently and constantly; and now it seemed to have been viscerally deepened.
Peter took Neal’s hand and placed it over his heart. “You feel that?”
Under his palm, Neal felt the strong and steady thumping of his Peter’s heartbeat.
“I’m still here, Neal,” Peter said. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”
Neal let himself focus on that, slowing his own heart rate to match Peter, until breathing became easier, until his tightly wound muscles relaxed, until it no longer felt like everything he knew was crumbling around him.
“...You’re still here,” Neal said, a stray tear falling.
“I’m still here,” Peter repeated, pulling him forward so that Neal’s forehead rested against his shoulder. He cradled him, blocking out the world that threatened to swallow Neal up in its frightening and hateful grasp.
They stayed like that until Peter’s legs began to cramp and the throbbing in his forearm became more insistent. He reluctantly pulled back and winced at the betrayed look Neal gave him in return.
“Look, I have to get this burn checked out.” He had another bout of coughing then. “And also this cough.”
“You want to come with me?” he asked as an afterthought, as if Neal would have given him any other choice.
Neal just nodded, going mute for the time being, all his energy having been spent.
The paramedic assessed the damage. Neal hovered nearby during the examination, not quite touching Peter, but close enough that his presence did not go unnoticed by the medic.
“A first degree burn and some mild smoke inhalation. You were lucky, Agent Burke,” said the medic as she patched up his arm. “But maybe leave the heroics to the professionals next time?”
Peter blushed, feeling like a scolded child. It’s not like he had planned on being some kind of Superman. He had just seen a person in need. “Will do.”
He reached for Neal’s hand and squeezed it as if to say, “See? Everything’s ok.” Neal squeezed back.
“How’s the woman I saved?” Peter asked.
“She’s doing fine. Mostly in shock, but she’ll be ok.”
Satisfied, the medic cleared him and told him to watch out for any signs that his condition was getting worse, and to follow up with his doctor as soon as possible. Peter thanked her and then took the opportunity to call El. By now, someone from his team, probably Diana, had filled her in on the situation; and she was most definitely working herself up into a tizzy.
He spent twenty minutes calming his wife down before taking a cab ride with Neal to Brooklyn.
El beat them home and ushered them in as soon as she heard them arrive.
“I’m so glad you’re ok.” She hugged Peter fiercely, feeling tears trapped in her chest.
“I’m sorry I made you worry.” Peter kissed her softly.
“You better be.” She fixed him with a stern look. “But we’ll talk later.”
Just then, she caught sight of Neal in his frazzled state. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t look so good. Here, sit down.”
She guided him to the couch. Neal sank into it, exhausted. His brain felt full of static, an endless buzzing in his ears that just about drove him mad. He just wanted to lie down for a very long time.
The Burkes eyed their guest with great sympathy, not knowing how or where to begin to comfort him.
“Why don’t you take Satchmo for a walk?” El suggested to Peter. “I got this.”
Peter agreed, seeming almost relieved. El was better with people, especially emotional ones. Peter was more of a “take action” kind of guy. So, he appreciated that he had something useful to do.
Peter left; and El made Neal a cup of tea and handed it to him. “Here you go.”
Neal looked at her quizzically, his mind not quite catching up to the present.
“It helps to have something warm to hold,” she explained. She sat beside him. “You want to talk about it?”
Neal peered into his tea, shrugging.
“I bet it was hard today. Watching that building go up in smoke.”
His hands tightened imperceptibly around the mug. “...Maybe.”
“Neal, honey, no one expects you to be ok. You went through something traumatic, today, and…before.” She eased into the subject gently, aware that Neal was on the precipice of an emotional cliff. One wrongly worded sentence could send him spiraling downwards.
“I know I was scared. I mean to hear second hand that my husband was stuck in a burning building; and there was nothing I could do about it, but hope and pray that he made it out alright.”
“But you’ve already experienced that, haven't you?” she said, watching him for his reaction.
He sighed heavily, setting the mug down onto the table. “...But Kate–She didn’t make it…” It hurt to even utter those words, to even acknowledge her passing.
“I thought I would…that Peter…” He shuddered, putting his head into his hands.
You and me both, El thought, her eyes filling.
“But Peter’s ok, Neal. He’s…” ‘Alive’ seemed cruel considering that Kate wasn’t; but maybe Neal needed to hear it out loud, needed to believe that it was true. And maybe she needed to hear it too.
“He’s alive. And so is everyone else involved. Nobody died today.”
“...Nobody died today…,” he half-whispered to himself, tasting the words on his tongue. It would take him a while to shake off this feeling of dread that made itself at home in his stomach. It had been too close of a call, too soon after Kate, that he was drowning in the aftermath.
But it was a start.
El gently tugged on him and he leaned back against her. She ran a hand up and down his arm, soothingly.
“Why don’t you tell me about her? About Kate.”
Despite himself, a tiny smile pulled at his lips. He conjured up an image of her in his mind’s eye, all blue eyes and soft smiles, her delicate frame that had fit so perfectly in his arms.
“She was my everything…”