A/N I originally had this story planned out but when I started writing it I kept coming up with a deathfic ending(I need to stop listening to sad music). Finally I wrote another version with a deathfic ending to get it out of my head so I could finish this one and it worked. So this one is my original idea with a happy ending and the next one will be basically this story with a character death ending.

Now you would think after all of this I would be finished and move on to my next story right? Wrong. The plot bunny just won't stop throwing things at me. I'm thinking about doing one or both of these fics again but with Peter's and Neal's roles reversed. Anyway enough rambling.

Disclaimer: Duh

Thanks so much to Principessa Di Morte for the awesome beta!

He who has nothing to die for has nothing to live for. ~Moroccan proverb.

How far would you go for a friend, a father, a brother?

Neal Caffrey stared at the man in front of him. The man that was holding a gun. A gun that was currently pointing at his partner.

"Oh come on Peter. It's not that bad." Neal said.

They were in Peter's office. Neal was sitting across from the agent with his feet propped up on the desk.

Peter looked up from the file he was reading and stared at Neal's feet.

Neal quickly lowered his feet to the floor.

"It's not completely illegal. I'd call it a gray area."

"No," Peter answered without looking up.

"Peter."

"Neal."

"Peter."

Deciding that his pain in the butt wasn't going to let him work Peter got up and left his office to get some coffee. To his chagrin, Neal followed, still trying to convince him of his plan. Peter tuned Neal out as they descended the stairs. They reached the bottom and made it to the middle of the bullpen before Peter stopped and turned around.

"No Neal, and that's final!"

Neal watched Peter turn to continue walking when he saw a guy walk through the glass doors and into the bullpen, pull out a gun, and point it right at Peter.

Neal continued to stare at the criminal pointing the gun at Peter. He was saying something about Peter arresting him and wanting revenge. He heard people talking, probably trying to talk the man down, but Neal wasn't listening. He could see it in the man's eyes-he wasn't backing down.

Neal's eyes focused on the gun again, all of his instincts telling him to run; duck; get out of the way. After all no fed is worth dying for, right?

Neal looked to his left and for a moment sapphire blue met chocolate brown.

Wrong. Peter is.

Peter was his partner, his friend, and on occasion his father and older brother. Peter was worth his life. And, Neal realized, he was probably the only person he would die for without question, without hesitation, and without a shred of regret.

He looked back at the gunman, his mind made up. He was a good reader of body language and he knew that the guy was about to fire. He watched the finger on the trigger and saw it squeeze ever so slightly.

Neal made his move. He lunged sideways to the left, hitting Peter with his shoulder and sending the older man to the ground just as the gun's report echoed off the walls.

Neal felt an impact in his chest and stumbled back a step, but he felt no pain. He watched as agents swarmed, disarmed, and apprehended the gunman in a matter of seconds.

Neal was surprised that he felt no pain.

He missed? he thought. Then he remembered the impact in his chest. Unless...

He looked down and saw red seeping across his white shirt from a hole in the upper right part of his chest.

Funny it doesn't hurt.

It was as if he were looking at someone else's chest instead of his own. There was no pain, but he was starting to feel a little cold and weak. He reached up and touched the blood on his shirt, confirming that what he saw was actually there.

"Neal."

He knew that voice. It was Peter.

He swayed as he felt himself growing weaker. He lifted his head and looked at Peter, their eyes meeting.

"Peter."

In the silence of the room his whisper sounded like a shout.

He gasped as whatever it was that was holding back the pain stopped and burning agony ripped through his chest.

Then his legs finally gave out, and he fell to his knees and started to pitch forward. He was too weak to break his fall. Just before his face smacked the floor strong hands caught him and gently turned him over onto his back.

He looked up and saw that it was Peter who had caught him. He wasn't surprised. Peter always caught him.

He felt Peter gently lay him in his lap.

"Peter."

The older man didn't look at him he just pressed on his chest sending a new burst of pain through him.

Through his pain he saw worry and concern on Peter's face. But more importantly, he saw guilt.

Why wouldn't there be guilt? Peter is a boy scout... of course he would blame himself for this,Neal thought.

He had to make Peter understand that it wasn't his fault. He had freely made this choice. He was so weak but his need was stronger, so he forced a bloody hand to obey and slowly reached up and grabbed Peter's wrist in his weak grip.

"Peter," he said weakly.

Peter finally looked at him. Neal wanted to say what he was thinking but he was too weak so he locked eyes with Peter and tried to communicate everything in that one look. The reassurance that it wasn't his fault, the gratitude of everything he had done for him, and how much he cared for the FBI agent.

You're like the father and brother I never had,he thought.

He saw surprise then understanding. Then he saw his exact feelings reflected in those brown eyes. Eyes that he had always found comfort in and that were now shining with unshed tears.

"Just hang on," Peter whispered. "Just hang on."

And he did. He gripped the older man's wrist and stared at his partner and friend, his eyes never leaving Peter's face until he heard a commotion and paramedics knelt down around them.

He was tired and he wanted to sleep but suddenly he felt himself being moved out of Peter's lap and then Peter was being pulled away.

He snapped to full awareness and gripped Peter's wrist with a strength he didn't know he still possessed.

"No!" he managed to force out.

Peter was the only thing anchoring him and he was afraid that if he let go of Peter he would slip away and be unable to find his way back again. So he held on tightly with all the strength he had left.

Peter looked to the paramedic who nodded but told him to stay out of the way.

Peter knelt down beside him and gripped Neal's hand tightly in his own.

Neal was only vaguely aware of the paramedics. He hadn't even realized they had put him on a stretcher until they were rolling him out of the building and into the ambulance.

His brain was becoming more and more fogged over until all he was aware of was that hand holding his.

)()()(

How had this happened?

Peter asked himself that question for the hundredth time as he paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room.

He had been there almost two hours. He had called El right after he got to the hospital and she came as quickly as she could, but when she had asked what had happened he had simply shaken his head, unable to tell her. So she sat in a chair to wait until her husband was ready to tell her.

How?

The word floated in his mind as the memories flashed before his eyes.

He had just shot down Neal's idea for the umpteenth time when he turned to see a figure walk into the bullpen and point a gun at him. He recognized the man as one he had put in prison. The gunman proceeded to state the obvious fact that he wanted revenge.

He started to try to talk him down when for some reason he felt the need to look to his right and for a moment chocolate brown met sapphire blue.

There had been something in Neal's eyes. Some kind of look. At the time he hadn't been able to think about it but now he realized what that look had been. He had seen it before. It was a determined look that Neal got whenever he had made up his mind about something, usually something he knew Peter wouldn't like.

I should have known what he was going to do.

After all he knew how loyal and trustworthy Neal was. He may not trust Neal with anything that could be stolen, forged, or sold for a substantial amount of money. His life, though... he trusted Neal completely with his life. But he hadn't realized what he was planning. Instead he had looked back at the gunman and proceeded to try to talk him out of shooting.

He could see the resolute look in the man's eyes and watched as he squeezed the trigger.

I'm going to die, he thought.

Then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He felt something hit him and suddenly he was on the floor as the sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout the room.

Peter leapt to his feet and watched as the gunman was taken down. And then his mind caught up with him.

How did I get on the floor?

He froze. Then he slowly turned around knowing what he would see.

There was Neal standing right where he had stood moments before, looking down at his shirt as it swiftly turned from white to red.

"Neal."

Everyone around him froze as they heard the fear and panic that he was so desperately trying to control seep into his voice.

Neal's eyes came up and met Peter's.

"Peter."

The whisper was like a cannon blast to Peter's ears.

The young man gasped and fell to his knees. Peter lunged forward, caught Neal before he hit the ground and gently laid his friend in his lap.

"Peter."

Peter didn't look at Neal's face. He couldn't meet his eyes as a tidal wave of guilt slammed into him.

I'm supposed to protect him not the other way around.

He pressed down on the wound in Neal's chest, his heart clenching when Neal winced in pain, as he tried to stop the bleeding. He didn't bother telling anyone to call for help. He knew someone would take care of it. He focused all of his attention on Neal's chest.

Neal reached up and grabbed his wrist.

"Peter."

Peter couldn't help but look at Neal, but what he saw in those big blue eyes shocked him. He saw reassurance and gratitude but above all he saw... love.

As he stared Neal in the eye a world of communication passed between them.

He knew what Neal was telling him and he wanted to tell Neal so much, but he didn't know how to put it into words. So he just conveyed everything in that look.

You are the son and little brother I never had.

As he continued to stare at the man who had become so much a part of his life tears sprang to Peter's eyes but he refused to let them fall.

Not here. Not yet.

"Just hang on." He whispered. "Just hang on."

He kept his eyes locked on Neal, oblivious to everything else.

After what seemed like eternity the paramedics arrived. They rushed over to Neal and took him from Peter then pushed the agent away, but as he moved back he felt the grip on his wrist tighten.

"No!"

He looked at the paramedic who nodded but told him to stay out of the way. He knelt down beside Neal and gripped his hand tightly.

The paramedics worked fast and before long had him on a gurney and wheeled out of the building.

Peter never let go of Neal's hand. When the paramedic tried to keep him from riding in the ambulance, he had simply flashed his badge and stepped into the ambulance anyway.

"Peter, sit down. You're making me dizzy," Elizabeth said.

Peter finally stopped and sat down next to Elizabeth. He looked at his hands, still seeing the blood that had long been washed away. Neal's blood.

"This is all my fault, El" he whispered.

"No it's not honey," she said as she put her hand on his back.

"Yes, it is," Peter said as he stood up to pace again. "He was aiming at me. The guy that shot Neal was aiming at me."

"What?" El asked stunned.

"I put him in prison and he wanted revenge. He was about to shoot me when Neal pushed me out of the way. And now my friend is- No... my brotheris dying because of me."

Peter continued pacing again and ran his hands through his hair.

Elizabeth stared for a moment as she absorbed what he said.

"No!" she said standing up. "No, this is not your fault."

She cupped his face in her hands.

"The only one at fault here is the monster that pulled the trigger, and Neal will tell you the same thing when we see him."

The guilt was still there but he felt a little better at her words.

"Thanks," he said. "Have I ever told you you're amazing?" he said as he hugged her.

"Yes, but it's still nice to hear."

)()()(

One hour later.

"Peter."

Peter turned to see a young man in his twenties wearing scrubs and walking towards him. He quickly stood up and walked over to the doctor.

"Nate," Peter said as he shook the doctor's hand.

Doctor Nathan Taylor was a friend of Peter's and Neal's. He had treated them both on occasion for injuries sustained on the job.

Peter was relieved to see Nate. He knew Neal was in good hands.

"How is he?" he asked.

"He's going to be all right," Nate said with a smile. "The bullet missed his lung and major arteries. He did lose a fair amount of blood and had to be given a transfusion, but the bullet didn't do any serious damage and he should get to go home in about a week."

Peter almost collapsed with relief.

"Thank you," he said as he laid a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Can I see him?"

"He's been sedated for the night but you can sit with him," Nate said as he led the way to Neal's room.

"I'll be back to check on him later," he said as they stopped by Neal's door.

"Thanks again, Nate," Peter said.

Nate smiled in return and walked back down the hall.

Peter took a deep breath and walked into the room with Elizabeth at his side.

Neal was lying in a bed, pale and unmoving, with IVs and other tubes hooked into his arm.

Peter tentatively moved forward until he was next to the bed then reached out and grasped Neal's hand. He felt the tears threaten again as he looked at the pale lifeless form of his friend but he refused to let them fall.

Elizabeth walked to the other side of the bed and gently ran her fingers through Neal's hair, glancing at Peter as she did so. Though he hid it well she could still the distress on her husband's face.

"He's going to be ok, Hon," she said.

"I know," Peter whispered, "It was just too close. It could have very easily been different."

"But it wasn't. So stop thinking that way," she said firmly.

Peter nodded then sat in the chair by the bed without letting go of Neal's hand.

They sat together by Neal's bed for a while before Peter turned to El and said,

"Why don't you go home and get some rest? You look tired and Nate said he wouldn't wake up until morning anyway."

She didn't want to leave Neal but she had to admit she was tired. He was out of danger and would be asleep till morning.

"What about you?" she asked already knowing the answer.

Peter looked back at Neal.

"I can't leave him, El."

She smiled slightly and gave him a kiss.

"I know," she said. "Call me if anything changes."

"I will," he promised.

With a final look at Neal Elizabeth got up and left.

As Peter sat staring at the young man in front of him, the day's events running through his mind, silent tears began to spill over and run down his face.

Alone in the privacy of the hospital room, Peter Burke finally cried.

)()()(

When Neal woke up he could feel a hand gripping his. He turned his head to see Peter asleep, his head resting on the bed beside Neal's shoulder. Neal smiled as he watched his friend sleep.

He reached over and gently laid his hand on Peter's head, softly running his fingers through the older man's hair. After a moment Peter shifted and raised his head to look at him with bleary eyes.

Neal almost laughed as he watched Peter's face go from half asleep confusion to wide awake recognition as his memories caught up with him.

"Hey," Peter said as he sat up and ran a hand over his face.

"Hey. You been here all night?" he asked.

"Yeah. I- I couldn't leave," Peter said as he stared at the floor.

"Thanks," Neal said softly.

Peter stared at the floor a moment more before he gathered his resolve and looked Neal in the eye, his grip on the young man's hand tightening.

Neal saw the grim and guilty look cross Peter's features and he cut him off before he could say anything.

"I would do it again," he said deadly serious.

"You shouldn't have to," he replied. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"How? By getting shot and dying? That wouldn't protect me. That would kill me!" he said harshly as his emotions took over. Then his anger vanished and tears started to run down his face.

Peter was taken aback at the anger in Neal's voice but even more so by the tears.

"Peter when Kate died, it was horrible but I made it through that because I had you," he whispered as he looked at the older man. "You kept me from running into the flames and then you picked up the pieces afterward. I survived because I had you... but if you died I would have no one to hold me together. Kate's death was painful but to be honest, losing you...it would be worse. I can't survive your death. Please don't make me try."

"And you think I could survive your death?" Peter asked, openly crying as well.

"At least you have El," Neal said. "You're all I have."

Peter sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped the younger man in a tight embrace.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

"Me neither," Neal said.

Peter pulled back and rested his hands on Neal's shoulders.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay," Neal repeated as he saw the guilt disappear from Peter's eyes.

"Oh, and I forgive you," Peter said trying to lighten the mood.

"For what?" Neal asked.

"For making me feel guilty," Peter said an innocent look on his face.

Neal grabbed his pillow and hit peter with it, knocking the FBI agent off the bed and onto the floor, the pillow landing in his lap. Neal took one look at Peter sprawled on the floor with a surprised look on his face and started laughing.

Elizabeth, who had been listening outside the door for the last few minutes, chose that time to walk in. She took in the sight of Peter on the floor a pillow in his lap and Neal lying on the bed laughing so hard tears were running down his face and she began to laugh also.

Peter looked back and forth between his lovely wife and his very much alive and well best friend, and he started laughing too.

)()()(

Two Weeks Later

Neal walked down the stairs and out the door of June's mansion before he made his way to the Taurus parked by the curb. He slid into the passenger side and handed Peter a thermos of June's coffee.

"Thanks," Peter said as he inhaled the wonderful aroma.

"No problem. I thought I'd bring you some in honor of my first day back," he said with a smile. "So have you missed me?"

"Like a sore thumb," Peter said with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, you've said that before," Neal said.

"Well maybe you just have that effect on people," Peter teased.

"Or you're just a naturally grumpy person," Neal said with a smile.

Peter just smiled and shook his head. He had really missed Neal. Work had been unbearably boring the past two weeks and he was glad the young man was coming back today. Neal always seemed to make things better, even mortgage fraud.

They arrived at the FBI building, parked, and walked in. They chatted and bantered during the long elevator ride. When the doors opened Peter let Neal go first, knowing what was awaiting him.

As he stepped off the elevator Neal saw the bullpen was full of people and he wondered if there was some big case going on, but before he could ask Peter about it they entered the bullpen and every person there started clapping.

Neal stood dumbfounded for a moment as cheering and shouts of "Welcome back, Neal" and "It's good to have you back" were heard, then a wide smile spread across his face. He turned to look at Peter with a questioning glance.

Peter put his arm around Neal's shoulders.

"They wanted to give you a welcome back party," he whispered in Neal's ear.

"Why?" Neal asked, confused.

"You risked your life for someone else and they wanted to honor you in some way," Peter explained. "You're also getting a commendation for saving the life of an FBI agent."

"But that's not why I did it," Neal said.

"They know that. That's why they're doing it," he said. "'With courage you will dare to take risks, have the strength to be compassionate, and the wisdom to be humble. Courage is the foundation of integrity.'"

"Keshavan Nair. Mozzie would be impressed," Neal said.

"Where do you think I got it from?" he asked eliciting a laugh from Neal. "Now let's go cut the cake."

Neal smiled and walked beside Peter toward the crowd of cheering people in front of them.

How far would you go for a friend, a brother, a father?

Neal Caffrey went far enough.