Kate. Neal could remember every little detail about her. The way her sapphire eyes sparkled when she laughed, how he would get caught up in the giggles and start laughing too. The sweet scent of her brunette hair and the way she would twirl it around her finger when she was deep in thought.
He knew that she was amazing, and sometimes he still couldn't believe that she hadn't gone to Chicago. It was a huge step in the wrong direction, she had said. Neal could still remember how the emotions had bubbled up inside of him, like a can of soda that had been shaken, when she had knocked on his door. She had chosen him, even though he had nothing but a few forged bonds.
Details, details. They were all so vivid, so clear. But they were seen in a slightly rose tinted light, where he glossed over the little imperfections. There was one memory of her that came to mind all too often, one that wasn't doused in rose colored luminosity. That memory was sharper than a scalpel and it cut right through the fortifications carefully constructed between his emotions and expressions.
The plane. The sudden wave of blistering heat that struck his back with enough force to send him stumbling forward. He spun and tried to run to Kate, because she just couldn't be dead- she couldn't be! It couldn't happen this way! But Peter had stopped him, held him back, kept him from going to rescue his beloved. And most of Neal resented Peter for that. The FBI agent had stopped him from going to rescue Kate. However, a little tiny, so small part of him that could only be described as a smidge reminded him that Peter had saved his life. If he had gone into the flames, he would have died, right alongside Kate.
But maybe that's what he wanted.
Maybe that's why he contemplated suicide frequently.
Maybe that's why he was standing on the terrace with a gun raised to his head right now.
Let me know what you think. Its my first fanfic, so be nice. Review please. I might continue it. I don't know yet. Thanks ;)