Fire
The cold of the air bit at his skin, stinging his cheeks, seeping through his thick wool trench coat and black turtleneck as if they weren't there, chilling him to the bone. On the horizon, gray clouds gathered in an ominous wall, portending the fast-approaching blizzard. Neal adjusted the strap of the black bag over his shoulder and quickened his pace as he approached the mouth of the hangar that opened out onto the tarmac, wanting to get in the air before the storm hit.
His plane was waiting, the doors open, and as he stepped out of the building's darkness, there was a movement behind the first window of the plane. Kate's form appeared in the black open doorway, just close enough for her face to be clear and visible, every bit as beautiful as she'd ever been. He could make out her dark hair, the purple of her shirt, the creamy paleness of her face, and the way her lips curved into a smile when she caught sight of him. She raised her hand in a half-wave, shy, almost hesitant, as if the joy of finally being with him was too perfect to fully believe in.
Neal raised his hand in answering greeting, unable to contain his own smile. Finally. He'd been waiting for this moment since Peter had cuffed him in a deserted warehouse five years ago and pulled him away from her. Her eyes had been huge and haunting then, full of all the fear of the unknown. Now, he was almost near enough to her to see the love and desire that he knew would be in them. The adoration that he knew was shining back at her out of his own eyes. They were free at last. A whole life spread out in front of them, pure and waiting with the enchantment of endless possibility with someone whom he loved so much that he could hardly comprehend it.
And suddenly, a voice behind him called his name, the only voice that could make a difference, the only one that could make him hesitate now, now when Kate was so near that he could feel it, a stirring in his chest that made him feel more alive than he ever had.
Peter.
"Neal!" Peter called, footsteps audible as he ran after Neal out of hangar.
Neal glanced back, whatever joyful thing that had been in his chest now sinking. He glanced back at the plane, but Kate had slid back, out of sight, from the doorway.
"Are you here to arrest me?" Neal asked, knowing already that, had that been Peter's intent, he'd have drawn his badge by then.
Instead, Peter was beaming, his hands held out on either side as if to say, What about me? You're forgetting something.
What he actually said was, "I'm still a civilian. And I know about Mentor."
Neal's eyes flitted back and forth, unwilling to settle on Peter. His plane was waiting, his life was waiting, but Peter wouldn't have come unless he'd had something significant to say. Neal had already half guessed that Peter would find out about Mentor sooner or later. Judging by Peter's track record, probably sooner. There had to be something else. A better reason for Peter to have come.
"And I know you can walk away, and it's all legal," Peter was continuing, as if he'd known that, to hold Neal, the next thing out of his mouth had had to be something unexpected.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I'm here as your friend."
Neal bit down softly on his lip. Please don't make this harder than it already it is, he wished desperately, knowing in spite of it that Peter always made things harder. Especially when one of those things was running away. Again. This was like being caught by Peter for the third time.
"You understand I'm getting on that plane," Neal said, the words steadying when spoken aloud, a way to anchor him to what mattered, even in the face of the man who'd given him his freedom and friendship and, most astoundingly of all, his trust. A trust that you're breaking with every step you take toward that plane, something in Neal's mind nagged.
But he had no choice. Kate was on the plane, and he'd already made that choice, made it the day he concealed an emerald engagement ring on the finger of a statue in Central Park, their statue, and vowed to himself that someday he would give it to Kate so that she'd always remember how much he loved her.
"I also know you're making the biggest mistake of your life," Peter said levelly. If he'd sounded angry, or as if he was about to send Neal back to prison, he'd have been easy to resist. But he wasn't. He was just sure. Suddenly, more sure than Neal was.
"This is what's best for everyone," Neal insisted, hoping that saying it would make it more real, make him believe it. He wanted to glance back at the plane, wanted to see Kate's face, because that would have made everything clear, but he knew that she wouldn't reveal herself while Peter was there. So instead he continued, "You go back to your life, I get to have one of my own."
"You already have one!" Peter said, as if it should have been obvious. "Right here! You have people that care about you. You make a difference."
Neal bit his lip and looked away uncomfortably. Peter had it wrong. He wasn't the one who made a difference, Peter was. Peter had made him want to be better in a way that nobody - not Mozzie, not even Kate - had.
"You do," Peter insisted, voice gentle, seeing Neal's disbelief.
Neal tried to say something, to tell Peter that he couldn't stay, that it was no use trying to convince him, because he owed Kate this. Owed her a new beginning. Not one tied to him in New York while he earned what was hardly a salary, tethered to the FBI for another four years. He couldn't waste any more of Kate's life. He wouldn't. She deserved better than that. But Neal's breath caught in his throat, words beyond him, so instead he reached into the breast pocket of his coat and his gloved hand fumbled for the single thing that he could give back to Peter. The only way he could find to say, "I'm sorry."
He drew out the relic that he hadn't been able to bear to part with before, when he'd been choosing what to bring, even though it was an incriminatingly identifiable piece of documentation. "Thank you for this," he said, his throat constricting around the words as he gave it up and surrendered the last part of what had been both the best and worst months of his life. He pressed the FBI consultant ID into Peter's hand, and it was far more painful than it should have been to relinquish. But it seemed to be the only gesture that would make Peter see that he meant it when he said he was leaving.
"I gotta go," Neal said quickly, trying to make his escape while he could, while Peter was still processing what had just been handed to him, before he would look up and see the way Neal's face was twisting with regret.
Neal's eyes stung, and he told himself that it was just the cold and the wind, and turned away before he could lose any more control over himself. He had just gotten enough steps away to let out the breath he'd been holding when Peter called out, "You said goodbye to everyone but me." Neal froze in his footsteps, unable to move. "Why?" Peter asked, not sounding hurt or offended or anything but the steady, constant presence that he always was.
Neal took a moment to rearrange the features of his face into a mask of having it together before he turned back around and shrugged helplessly. "I don't know." It was the most difficult lie he'd ever had to tell.
"Yeah, you do." Of course Peter wouldn't take that for an answered. "Tell me."
"I don't know, Peter." This time, it was a desperate plea for Peter not to push, to let him keep pretending that every moment he stood there, knowing that in a second he'd have to turn around and leave, wasn't killing him.
But when did Peter ever not push? "Why?" Peter repeated, almost smiling, as if this should be simple.
And even though Neal knew, intellectually, that he could ignore the question and join Kate on the plane, where he should already be, he owed Peter at least the truth, this one last time. "You know why," he said, not trusting his voice to say the words himself. Not trusting himself to be able to leave once he'd said them.
"Tell me!"
Neal glanced back toward the plane for a moment, torn, and when he turned back to Peter, a tear was running down his face, leaving a cold trail across his cheek. "Because you're the only one who could change my mind," Neal finally said, his chest clenching painfully as if the response had been ripped from within him.
Peter's eyes came alive, a hopeful light in them appearing, and Neal realized that Peter hadn't actually expected him to give in and answer. And the fact that he had was only making the next moment more difficult for everyone. "Did I?" Peter asked, his eagerness barely contained in his voice.
Neal flinched almost imperceptibly and tried to apologize for what could never be changed, but suddenly there was an uncomfortable ache in his throat, choking off the words. He tried twice to swallow past it, but it was useless, and he gave up and began walking to the plane.
The lump in his throat rose with every step he took, and a few lone snowflakes fluttered down past his face, melting instantly on contact with the pavement. He tilted his head up to the gray sky and tried to blink back the tears in his eyes. It was wrong - everything about it. Being free shouldn't hurt so much.
Before he could really think about what he was doing, Neal stopped and spun part way around to look at Peter, no longer caring about the tracks of tears across his cheeks. "Peter." His voice was urgent, but he couldn't manage to say anything beyond that, anything that wouldn't betray either Kate or Peter or both of them.
Peter looked up, that hope back in his eyes, even more intense now, but before Neal could find the words he needed or even decide what it was he was trying to say, there was a burst of sound from behind him, a flash of heat and light, and his world shattered. Neal saw Peter's face light up orange for a moment, reflecting back the flames that had flared up out of nowhere behind them, and then an unyielding blast of force knocked Neal's body out from underneath him, throwing him limply out toward Peter as if he was weightless.
For an instant, Neal seemed to stay there in the air, suspended, his arms flung helplessly to either side of him, his head thrown back, hair glowing and backlit by the fire as Kate's plane exploded and burned. The moment passed, and he collapsed onto the tarmac, crumpling against it, hard.
He'd risked everything for Kate and now there was nothing left below him, no safety net, nobody to catch him.
Neal was on his feet before he could register what was happening, scrambling up and towards Kate - except that she wasn't there anymore, nothing was there anymore, not even the plane. There was only a furious ball of flame rising up out of what had been the fuselage, which was now split open, a cavernous void of fire and burnt metal that Kate had disappeared into.
Somehow, though, Peter had started running before Neal had even gotten onto his feet, and just as he began running to Kate, Peter caught up to him and flung his arms around him. They were rough and warm and restraining, holding him tight, even as Neal strained against them.
Neal fought him, hating him for keeping away from Kate. From saving her. From at least trying to. Peter was surprisingly strong, and even though his grip had been hasty, Neal couldn't break it.
Neal became aware of Peter growling something in his ear, and after a second the noise became words. "Stand down, Neal!" he was ordering firmly. Peter grunted as Neal gave a particularly vicious twist of his body that almost set him free from Peter's grasp, but Peter stayed firmly attached to him, repeating, "Stand down."
Gradually, Neal became conscious of someone screaming, and he wondered at how inhuman they sounded. It was half words, half just desperate noise. "No! No, no, no! KATE!"
He realized that the screaming was his own voice, and it snapped him out of his frenzy long enough for his wild eyes to focus on the burning plane. "Oh my god."
And the next instant, he was shrieking again, his eyes unfocused, tears and falling snow and smoke obscuring his vision. All he could see was an afterimage, when he closed his eyes, of Kate standing there, framed by the doorway. His eyes flew open, and the doorway no longer existed.
"NO!" He threw an elbow into Peter's chest and tore himself free. He'd managed to stagger about ten feet toward the plane before Peter slammed into him from behind. Peter's weight and speed brought them both tumbling down, hard, onto the slick, wet tarmac. Neal struggled to rise again, but Peter planted an arm across the small of Neal's back and trapped him there. After a moment, Neal stopped struggling and collapsed limply against the black pavement, choking on sobs and ashes.
"You're letting her die!" he yelled at Peter. "Let me get to her!"
"You can't help her, Neal," Peter told him forcefully. "Stand down."
"But she's burning!"
"You can't do anything anymore." Peter loosened his grip just slightly as he felt Neal give up underneath him, but he kept his elbow on Neal's back, just in case.
"We were going to run away."
"I know."
Neal suddenly tensed, and then he was fighting against Peter again. "Let me go! We were supposed to be together! I should be there with her!"
"You're supposed to be right here," Peter hissed at him, bearing down on Neal to keep him pinned against the ground.
"She's leaving me behind!" Neal exerted a last effort against Peter and then sank back to the tarmac, his chest heaving, his shoulders wracked with a fit of coughing as he gasped for air and choked on smoke and ashes. His body went slack and he bowed his head over his arms, giving up, sobbing like his heart was shattering, without control or even shame that he was coming apart in pieces in front of Peter.
Peter moved to lay next to Neal, knowing that this time he wouldn't try to run to the plane. It was over.
Neal shuddered, his body convulsing involuntarily. He reached into the bag at his side and drew out the bottle of Bordeaux. Their bottle of Bordeaux. Except now it was just his, because nothing was left of Kate except the ashes raining down on them.
"I promised her a better life with this," he said, speaking more to himself than to Peter. "I broke my promise." And now he looked over to Peter. "I broke it." As he spoke, he raised his arm as if to smash the bottle against the ground.
Peter caught him by the elbow and held him still. "Don't do something you'll regret, Neal."
"I don't have anything left to regret." His voice, his face, everything about him was desolate. But he allowed Peter to bring his arm down and coax the bottle from his numbed fingers, setting it aside, out of his reach. And Neal knew that with the gesture, just as he and Kate had kept the bottle as a promise of their life together, Peter was promising him that his future wasn't burning along with Kate in the remains of what had been going to be their escape to freedom.
A/N: I hope you liked this, even though this episode happened ages ago and this was mostly taken directly from the show. I'm considering extending this story into a two-part, with a chapter about immediately afterwards when they take Neal back to prison. I'd love to know what you thought of this story and about the possibility of continuing it, so please review!