Summary – As Neal Caffrey stares out at the dimming day, and the city's glowing lights, he feels nothing. He feels numb to the very core. He wants and needs answers but he scrambles to make it through the endless and painful moments. This one-shot is a tag and aftermath for episode 4x04, 'Parting Shots', and of course its NS.

Author's Note – 'Parting Shots' left me with a sour taste when it came to the closing scene; and that combined with having to wait another week before the next episode, led me to write this. It saddens me to think that Ellen might gone, and Neal may be faced with losing another person he cares about, especially someone who has been a mother figure to him.

I'd like to thank Jess for her awesome beta work and I hope you all enjoy the story.

You Can't Regret What You Don't Remember

Neal stares out at the fading sun as it falls below the cityscape. He leans over the stone balcony, watching while the citizens of New York hurry on along the streets below. Slowly he takes a large measure of scotch before setting the tumbler down. He bites back against the harsh tang, and the bitter knowledge that just because his life lies in ruins doesn't mean that the world stops turning. He resents them in that moment, the people going about their daily lives, and he idly wishes he had never come back to the city. His decision to return probably wouldn't have changed a thing, it wouldn't bring her back, but his jumbled mind isn't thinking rationally at this present time. Instead he can't help but think that she may have been better off if he had just stayed away.

While he and Mozzie were away on the island he had often found he missed the fantastic view stretched out before him. Since he first came to live at June's, the balcony offered the wind in his hair, the early day's sunlight on his skin, the memory of freedom and the glimmer of chance to dream again. It had always offered him some sense of comfort. But now, as he stares out at the dimming day and the city's glowing artificial lights he feels nothing. He feels numb to the very core.

It bothers him. He should feel something. He should feel the immense hurt over what he's just seen and learned. He's seen the unfortunate Marshalls slumped and shot in their car. And Ellen Parker, the woman who he has known as family, being carried away on a stretcher. He should feel anger and rage at making those responsible pay. He believes that anger lies within him, buried deep and waiting, and that scares him. Maybe feeling nothing, and the shadows of fear that he could maybe one day take a life like his father did, is the best he can hope for.

He wishes he knew who to direct his anger at, his blurry mind processes that much as takes a final gulp of his drink. Perhaps feeling nothing is a blessing.

He cradles the empty glass in his hand. The day, this momentous and terrifying day, is but a blur in his mind. He recalls the crowded streets and the ambulance cruisers; he remembers rushing and barging back past the cluster of observers to get to the hospital to be there for Ellen. He'd sat in the waiting room alone until Peter and Elizabeth had arrived. They'd both embraced him before the three had sat in silence. Neal was shocked and afraid while the Burkes were supportive; the minutes while the doctors and nurses tried to save Ellen ticking on by in endless succession.

When the OR door finally swung open, Neal recalls staring up at the man dressed in scrubs. He'd stood to discover the news that his fearful heart already knew just by the doctor's sombre expression. Hearing the doctor's words had all but destroyed him. Sorrow overtook him and Peter had comforted him. Elizabeth had wanted him to stay the night with them. In retrospect Neal probably should have. He knows from experience that shutting down and being alone isn't the best thing. But he can't help it. He needs to be alone; he doesn't like anyone to see him like this.

He bites down hard on his lower lip. He should shed a thousand tears for the woman who he's known since he was a child. He owes that much for the woman who's always been able to make him laugh, and who's been there to hold him when he was sad or scared. Her life was worth his tears. Her life was worth that, and so much more. But he just can't, he can't allow himself to break, and he hates that.

He closes his eyes slightly and he can picture her so clearly. He remembers seeing her lying in the operating room. The doctor had let him because Neal had needed to see her before he went on home. She'd looked so small but she was at peace with the world now.

"Neal?"

The soft, tentative voice stirs his attention and he opens his eyes again. He lifts his hand to brush away the stray tears but turning around to see Sara standing in the doorway. Her presence surprises him. He hadn't even heard her enter the apartment.

"June let me up," Sara explains, stepping forward slowly from the room and on to the terrace. "I tried knocking but…."

He gazes at her; she's beautiful in her blue dress with moonlight glittering in her hair. But there's something a little off about her, she seems uncertain and she's absent-mindedly wringing her hands together. It isn't like the insurance investigator not to carry herself with an air of confidence, but then he guesses she's never seen him at breaking point before.

"It's late," Neal murmurs but he doesn't have the heart to send her away; seeing her gives him a sense of comfort. In truth, after he left for the island, and Sara's admission earlier that she was hurt by his actions, she is the last person he expected to see showing up at his apartment in the middle of the night. And maybe that's why he appreciates her coming, because although she harbours her own pain she still cares even to come here for him.

"I know," Sara says moving to stand beside him when he doesn't tell her to go. "I just…, I heard what happened and…."

Neal nods; he supposes Peter told Sara what had happened.

"Are you okay?" Sara's green eyes shadow with concern for him. He looks so lost.

"Truthfully," Neal's tone sounds weary even to his own ears. "I've been better."

"Why don't you come inside," Sara says touching at his shoulder, now that the sun has set the autumn night chill is setting in. He doesn't protest, instead he leaves the terrace and goes back indoors. He moves to sit on the couch, watching while Sara drops her jacket and purse on the dining table.

Sara takes a deep breath; she wants to help but for a moment she isn't sure how. She's not been the best person to offer a shoulder to cry on given the walls she put up around herself. But this is Neal, he's suffering and she wants to be there for him if she can. She moves to the kitchen area and pours them both a drink.

"I figured you could use another," Sara offers him the glass of scotch which he takes for her hand willingly.

"Thank you," Neal replies and she sits down on the couch beside him. He takes another sip of the liqueur, hoping it'll make him forget but it doesn't.

Silence engulfs them. Sara sits quietly; she can hear nothing but the sounds of breathing and the lively streets below. Neal's staring off into a blank space, lost in his own thoughts and undoubtedly trying to find answers that aren't there. She kicks off her heels and curls her feet under her body. She won't leave unless he asks her to do so.

"She was family," Neal utters into the gloomy room, his voice breaking with a breaking sob.

"Shh," she leans forward and embraces him.

He responds by holding on to her tightly and she rubs his back trying to soothe him. He doesn't fully break; something within him still won't let him. But as he holds on to his ex, and knowing that she cares, he gradually stops trembling.

"I should've…." Neal tries, but the words never leave his lips. There's nothing he could have done today, nothing at all, but he wishes there was. He would have done anything he could to prevent this from happening.

"It's not your fault," Sara whispers gently. She knows from her own experience what it's like to be left behind and to wish there was something you could have done. But she's come to realize some things, bad things, just happen. "There was nothing you could have done."

He wishes he could believe that. He wants to take comfort in her wise words. And once he's gathered enough strength to stop his hurt from consuming him he pulls away.

"Can I help you?" Sara inquires as he sits back against the cushions again and reaches for his drink. She's never seen him like this, not even when they talked about Kate. Never seen him look so broken, she's so used to seeing that smile reflected in his beautiful eyes and seeing that confidence radiating within him. This version of him scares her. As much as she isn't a stranger to grief his being like this frightens her. And she needs to help him.

He takes another sip of the scotch. "I need to find him," he mutters.

"Who?" Sara asks her brow creasing.

"Sam," Neal answers, though his confused mind doesn't fully fathom what he's supposed to do now or how to go about it.

"Who's Sam?"

"I wish I knew… Ellen said…." Neal's forehead crumples in concentration. Sam was an undercover cop and a connection to finding out more about his father. The last thing Ellen ever said to him plays on his mind. Sam was the only one Neal could trust. He doesn't know who Sam is, but he needs to find out. He has to try and attempt to make sense of this senseless tragedy. "I was going to meet him," he utters then. "I need to find him, Sara."

"Okay! We'll find him," she answers then. It's the only reassurance she feels she can give him. "Whatever it takes I'm in."

"No! You don't have to do that." He's hurt her before, and he doesn't want to put her in danger. Too many lives have already been taken and he doesn't want to lose her too. He doesn't want to lose anyone else, he should do this alone.

"Neal, I want to." She allows her gaze to meet with his blue eyes and she reaches for his hand. "You deserve to know the truth."

"Yeah," Neal murmurs in reply and stares down at Sara's small hand. Knowing the truth about his father, and finding the people who did this to Ellen, are probably the only things that will help him through this. Or at least give him something to occupy himself while he tries to forget the pain. "We both do right."

Sara nods in understanding and she tries to forget that old aching sadness buried within her own soul.

"You look exhausted," Sara says after watching Neal sit in silence, and her voice once again betrays concern for him. "You should try to get some rest."

"No," Neal shakes his head, "I don't think I could."

Sara only nods, if someone she loved was shot dead she doesn't think she could sleep either.

"Do you want me to go?" she asks after shooting a glance at the clock and seeing how late it is. She realizes just how tired she is herself now after seeing the time. They could both use the rest after a long and catastrophic day.

Neal follows her line of sight. "No," he replies quickly. He doesn't want to be alone, not tonight. "No, stay, please? You can take the bed?"

Sara accepts, and that lightens the aching in his heart. She borrows his silk pajamas and soon she's sleeping while he goes to sit back out on the terrace. They may not be together anymore but he likes having her around. They're still friends, despite his own misjudgments, and he feels she's one of the few people in the world that understands and appreciates what he's going through now. That, at least, helps him to hold himself together.

~fin~

Thank you for your time.

Somebody that I Used to Knows' next chapter will be up later this week, with Born to Die coming soon after.