When the Lights Go Out
A series of one shots, moments in the future. Neal and Elizabeth deal with Peter's death.
The day Peter dies is a dark and rainy day. It's as if the weather knows what's going to happen. The way the rain clatters on the pavement insists that the world is going to drift away soon. Neal doesn't hate the cold or the rain. It's expressive, as if the city is weeping for a lost lover. In a way it's beautiful.
The young man doesn't expect his day to end in horror. As many other days he walks into Peter's office, wearing his fedora with a necessary amount of pride only Neal can get away with.
"New case?" he asks when he sees the folder in his partner's hands. Neal doesn't wait for a reply and sits down in one of Peter's office chairs.
"Old case," Peter corrects, "Andrew McCollins is getting out of jail today."
The troubled expression on his friend's face is unsettling to say the least. "I think I remember that case. He stole and sold a couple of paintings." Neal takes the following silence as a cue to continue. "His brother tried to stop the arrest and got shot when he tried to shoot some agents."
Realization hits Neal pretty hard. "You were one of the agents making that arrest."
"My shot killed his brother," the FBI agent fills the remaining holes in Neal's story.
Neal leans forward and locks eyes with Peter. "You think he's going to try something." Even the younger man isn't sure if his words are a statement or a question.
"I don't think so. I just-"
The worry Neal feels is something he doesn't want to share with Elizabeth. He wants her to feel safe and comfortable for as long as possible. Besides, he isn't exactly the right person to tell her.
"What are you going to do?" he asks.
"There's not much I can do."
It's a simple reply and Neal believes his partner. The real problem is that he doesn't want to believe it.
"You're not even worried."
The younger man is good at playing this game, making all of this sound casual. It's something he doesn't like about himself. What other people call a useful gift, isn't necessarily something Neal adores. People tend to misjudge him, but he knows it's his behavior that confuses people most of the time.
"I'm not a fool, I'm going to be careful, grow eyes on my back. He's not going to try anything."
Neal shakes his head. "You don't know that."
The look on Peter's face scares Neal even more. A chill runs down his spine and for a moment it feels as if something, or someone's lost, but Peter is there right in front of him.
"You're right, I don't know that."
Neal can almost hear the agent's thoughts.
Happy now? I'm worried too.
"You may need protection." Neal finally manages to say the words.
"I'll talk to Hughes later today. Let's get some decent coffee first."
The ex-con quickly grabs his coat and follows his partner outside. They always go to the same coffee shop to get their daily caffeine kick. They wouldn't admit it but it's a routine they love. It gets even better when they sit in Peter's car and swallow the warm liquid. Words aren't that important all of a sudden, it's just a small moment of relaxation they enjoy and deserve before going back to work.
"Time to go," Peter warns Neal before handing the younger man his empty plastic coffee cup.
Neal smiles. "You do realize that I'm your consultant, right?" He stresses the word as if it's something Peter's never heard before. Neal gets out of the car and makes his way to the trash can a little further. He doesn't hear Peter start the ignition, but he certainly hears the explosion that follows. The blast throws him forward and then there's nothing.
tbc?
A/N: Basically, this fic is supposed to deal with the aftermath. Do I continue or stop here? Lemme know.