Peter rubbed his tired eyes. His office was dim, illuminated only by his desk lamp and the moon's luminescence. His phone rang, and Peter sighed heavily before answering it. "Burke."

"Hey, Peter. It's Neal."

Peter immediately sat up in his chair, all weariness instantly gone. "Caffrey? What the hell?" He looked out of his office's glass walls to find the bull pen completely empty. Damn, it must've been later than he thought. He thought of all the ways he could get a trace on the call without leaving his landline unattended on his desk. There were none.

"That's no way to answer your work phone, Peter. It's very disrespectful," Neal reprimanded, his voice lacking the flourish Peter had come to associate with the Classic Caffrey.

"What are you playing at, Caffrey?" Peter questioned, ignoring the jibe. He was genuinely confused, and Peter was not a fan of not having the upper hand, especially when he was talking to an elusive con man that he had been chasing for years.

The line was silent for a few moments. "I don't use guns. I hate guns," Neal said quietly.

"I- what? We know by now that you're nonviolent. Did you call just to tell me that?" The con man's haggard breathing filled Peter's world, his sole focus on the phone.

"...how could you handle that? Taking away someone's life with the squeeze of a finger? I'd rather be at the barrel than behind the trigger. How..." Neal trailed off.

Peter was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "I have to have a gun for my job. I need it to protect innocent people." Peter knew that Neal's ramblings did not want his specific answer, but he felt that he needed to fill the silence with something. When no response came, Peter pressed. "Neal, what's going on?"

"Kate-" Neal choked on the name. "Kate is d-dead."

It was Peter's turn to sit in silence. He was shocked. The FBI knew about Neal's beautiful, black haired partner in crime. Most of his team assumed that they were a couple, and Peter believed they were right. How could she be dead?

"What happened?"

Peter could hear Neal's breath speed up and hitch. "I walked in and Peter- she was just staring at the ceiling. Her eyes- her beautiful eyes, they just stared blankly. She was shot straight b-between them." Neal's speech was frantic.

"Okay, calm down. The men who killed her, do they want you dead too?"

"I-I ran to the meeting spot, but Mo- Haversham isn't here and for the first time I have no idea what to do. Peter- Oh God Peter- she's dead, she's gone, they took her away just like that, a twitch of the finger. Oh God, please- no.."

"Neal, slow down! What was this? A heist gone wrong?"

"She's dead, oh my God, she's dead. I'll never hear her laugh again Peter- I never got to say goodbye! A bullet through her forehead and she's just gone and.. this can't be happening-" Neal's rambling broke off into harsh sobs.

"Neal!" Peter barked sharply, attempting to get his attention. Peter was gripping the phone so tightly he was shocked it hadn't snapped in half yet. Hearing Neal's raw grief brought an ache to his chest that he had never expected. Pulling at his hair, he sighed heavily before saying, "Okay, you need to tell me where you are."

"Oh God Peter, Kate was murdered and I couldn't protect her and now she's gone. I can't- I can't-"

"You can, Neal. Just tell me where you are." Neal's next words were unintelligible, his choked sobs making him impossible to understand. "Neal, let me help you. Where are you? Neal!"

The sobbing quieted down, leaving the line eerily silent. "Neal?" Peter questioned, not sure if the younger man had hung up.

"I'm so sorry," came the choked, broken response.

"Neal? Neal!" Peter shouted into the receiver.

The line went dead.

Peter threw the phone into the wall where it smashed into a million pieces.

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