A/N: Ok, so I have gotten on the OUAT train a little late, but better late than never, I guess. This is my first fanfic for the series. I am not sure how it will turn out, but I thought I should try. Please be kind, though! This will be a CS fic, as there is no other ship I'd gladly sail along with.

I do not own any of the characters, unfortunately.

All it took were two shots. The first to cause shock and utter disbelief, and the second to make her worst fears become a reality. Everything seemed to move in slow motion right after, as if the world halted on its axis to allow time to catch up to the split-second culmination of life and death before her eyes. The bright words on the marquees paused, rain droplets floated in midair, the streetlights remained at a hardened red, the sound of the gunshots still echoed in the ears of people huddled on the street as it bounced from building to building, and inch by inch, his body fell to the wet street below with the look of terror, and a hint of realization that it was the end.

How easy it was for him to be there one second, afraid but alive, crouching behind a yellow taxicab already riddled with bullet holes, without knowing that his death was already scheduled. It had been previously planned, no RSVP required.

Soaked by the sudden downpour from the heavens above, he crawled to where the windshield met the front end of the car, making sure to keep his body from being exposed. He cocked his gun, ready to strike back. He took one last look at his partner, whose green eyes were now surrounded with alarm, matching the slight shaking of her head to warn him. He turned, placing his arms extended over the car and took a shot at the target, who was hiding behind his own respective taxi across the street. The bullet sliced through the air with ease and a loud blast that resounded all around them; however it struck a building, breaking the window into a thousand pieces of glass.

The criminal had a better shot. His bullets came within inches of their bodies, causing the distance between the three of them seeming as if it became smaller. Emma closed her eyes tightly, wishing that if only the racing of her heart could create some kind of vibrating protection shield, like on fantasy television shows, in order to shelter them. If it were possible, then maybe they would make it out of there still breathing. Together.

"Em, I'm going to rush him," he said in an as-a-matter-of-fact way. He was determined. She didn't know what for, but all she could think of was how stupid he sounded.

"What do you mean?" she said. "You're going to get yourself killed."

Emma knew that he understood the rules of combat. After all, they joined the NYPD training academy at the same time. They were required to participate in countless drills testing their endurance, wit, strength, and teamwork. They went through scenarios just like this, where they were faced with an urgent problem, and they had to make a quick, off-the-cuff decision to resolve the situation with little to no casualties.

Their training focused not only on physical exercises, but also on building trust. Their commander stressed the importance of permitting your life to be placed in the hands of someone else. It was an easy throw away comment during their brutal daily drills; however Emma truly struggled with accepting and having faith in someone else. In all honesty, the thought of being a part of a stake out or chase through the streets excited her. Snuffing out the bad guy was a game to her, but she wasn't sure if she could let a Player Two join her…to be responsible for her…for her to trust.

Trust is a scary five-letter word, maybe even more so than another four-letter word that also haunted her whenever anyone would say it to her. She wasn't sure if she could take that leap and just let go of her walls that protected her for so long. Yet, everything changed after she was paired with another officer on the force.

His charm…or maybe it was just his smile, began to chip away her walls, brick by brick. Their ride-alongs through the streets of Midtown Manhattan and late nights at the desk flourished into a budding friendship, and then ultimately a relationship that may have included that four-letter word she was so frightened of. It didn't take long for them to go from strictly sharing patrol duties to sharing a pot of coffee after snuggling in bed with their clothes spread out all over the floor.

With love eventually came trust. She truly believed that she could follow him anywhere; he would never lead her blindly. Yet, they had never been in a situation like this, where the stakes were too high. She wanted him to leave with her. There is no shame in abandoning a fight where the odds are in another person's favor. He needed to trust her. They could let the bad guy get away, and they could just go home to their apartment. Together.

Tonight, though, he had already made a decision. If this were a training scenario, their commander would most likely reprimand him, forcing him to run laps around the facility until he came up with the smarter decision. He wanted to act out of impulsiveness and poor judgement, everything that went against their code as officers.

"Emma, this is the only way," he said, and scanned the area, seeing people taking cover under everything and anything they could find—benches, behind gates, cars, inside of stores. "Stay here and cover me."

She shook her head, and pulled on his jacket. "No. We have to figure this out. Call for backup, even. But running straight towards him is idiotic. I don't think I can cover you in such an open area."

His lips touched her forehead. "I trust you, Emma."

Four tiny words to complete a sentence she wasn't ready to hear made her speechless. What was she supposed to say to his confession? More importantly, what was she supposed to do? His eyes pierced into hers, and she knew that he was going to follow his mind no matter what. It had already been decided. She could call him every word she had in her vocabulary for "stupid" she wanted, but the truth is, he was going to do what he thought was the right decision, consequences and all.

He shifted his weight onto his knees, peering over the car. "He is still hiding over there," he said, not taking his eyes off the sight ahead of him. "When I say go, you just shoot, ok? Don't worry about me. You have to get him."

She swallowed hard, a gulping noise sneaking out into the air. "Ok," she agreed, unwillingly.

He took one last look at her. "You can do this." Slowly, he began to crawl to the very front of the car. The sound of him readying the gun to be shot sent shivers all over Emma's body. This was it. The moment she needed to react, and do it well. She had to push out all of the anxiety and bad thoughts, steady her pounding heart, and take control.

Without hesitation, and a hint of recklessness, he stood up from the front of the car and made his way toward the other side of the street. Emma kneeled, keeping an eye on the car where the criminal was hiding. Her gun was held out, ready to shoot, in spite of her valid concerns.

This is when the slow motion feeling kicked in, as the criminal popped up from the taxi cab, almost too quickly. He exchanged shots, but his were better at hitting their target. One hit her partner's shoulder, and the other, well, landed in the lower half of the neck, both just missing the protection of his bullet proof vest.

Seeing this happen, all at once, made Emma's reaction delayed. It happened too quickly, too fast for her to pull the trigger. She couldn't believe it. Her thoughts and what she was witnessing didn't connect, causing her to be frozen in place.

When his body hit the ground, something in her snapped. Her veins coursed with adrenaline. She lifted her arms, holding the gun tightly in her palms, and pulled the trigger. A single shot. She didn't care to see if she had gotten the guy, her attention was somewhere else.

"Oh my god. Oh my god." It was all she could say; the only words that could form out of her quivering mouth. She ran over to her partner.

Blood was splattered on the pavement, flowing with the rain water.

"Neal," she whispered, her voice shaky just like her hands as they reached to stop the flow of crimson from his neck. "What did you do?"

He attempted to speak, but his words were gurgled, and only caused extra blood to be spilled from where her hands were. However, he managed, "Protecting you."

Tears streamed down her face. She looked up, her face smeared with urgency. Somebody, anybody needed to help her. She couldn't do this on her own. She didn't want to do this on her own. "Help! Someone call 911," she shouted. "Please! Help!"

He started to cough. His left arm raised up to her face, and with the slighted of ease, he tugged on her ear.

That is when she lost it. Not only was it the last warm touch she'd ever receive from him, but it meant so much more than that. During their time at work, they hid the fact that they were together, for the fear of no longer being allowed to be partners out in the field. She never understood why they had a rule that a couple couldn't work together when on duty, but now it all came clear as he secretly told her he loved her with a tug of her ear…just like he had every day when they were at work.

When you are working with the person you love, at some point, one will act selfishly to protect the other, foregoing all codes of conduct. And the other will always feel the guilt of not being the one to have acted first. Because right now, as she watches him bleed to death all over her, she wished she was the one to have risked everything to seek out the criminal. Neal would have reacted faster. He wouldn't have turned to stone. She had failed him, becoming a deer in the headlights at the intersection of Broadway and 42nd Street.