Calloway was watching in horror, feeling like an outsider, but she was still the ever-professional and efficient FBI agent.
"I've got the evidence box. Secure Bennet." She dictated.
Jones moved mechanically, his breath hitching as he tried to step around Neal. He forced his eyes not to linger on the crumpled heap that was his dear friend.
Calloway was aware of commotion around Neal as she phoned for back-up and a coroner's van, finally joining Jones and escorting James out of the house.
She took a breath and braced herself for the paperwork. Jones had his eyes fixed on James, and James had grown quiet, almost unnervingly so.
Peter's knees had nearly given out as he'd watched Neal thud to the ground...
Peter had already slid onto the floor, taking up residence next to Neal. He had one of Neal's slender hands in his own—they were still warm.
His own shaking hand had fumbled on Neal's neck for a pulse—he'd found none. Neal was bent at a pretty impossible angle. Neal wasn't breathing.. Peter's tongue was heavy, his throat thick, and he was trembling. No, no, this isn't happening. This isn't happening.
He braced himself to begin chest compression when he felt Diana's hand stop him. She looked at him sadly, unshed tears in her eyes. She shook her head no.
Peter looked at her, tried to push her hand away. He needed to save his friend. He needed to fucking do something. He needed to-
Diana had closed her eyes, sobbing quietly, her hand resting on Neal's chest, above his heart.
"He's dead, Peter. He's dead."
Peter found himself staring down into Neal's blue eyes.
Diana made a motion to close them.
"No-" Peter stopped her.
He knew that once Diana closed Neal's eyes, he would never see them again.
"I just.. let me look at him.. let me…" Peter's voice was thick, each word ragged in his throat.
Peter and Diana were aware of Jones dragging James down the stairs in cuffs.
James leaned towards Neal, seeming to want to behold his son, realizing the gravity of the situation, of what he'd done.
"NO," Peter snapped to attention, glowering at James.
"You don't look at him, don't you fucking look at him. You don't get to look at him, you don't get to.." Peter felt dizzy.
He hadn't realized that he'd scooped Neal's head onto his lap, and now he was rocking him a little bit like a child might with a broken toy. Peter's eyes were haunted, hollow, raw.
Diana hadn't moved from her position, her eyes now open though, looking at James with utter detest and rage. Were it not for Jones and Calloway, she'd have killed him then and there.
Jones let his eyes meet Peter's. Is he...
Peter gave a quick nod, his eyes flickering back to Neal's.
Jones and Agent Calloway escorted James out of the house.
Peter blinked back tears. Oh God.
Peter's been more of a father to me than you ever have… Neal had spoken those words, shouted them, realized the truth of them, as his heart had been shattered by the father he had let into his heart, as he'd been betrayed by James.
"And you've been like a son to me…" Peter whispered, resting his head on Neal's.
He felt a weak breath on his face and abruptly pulled back.
Could it be..?
