A/N Here it is the fourth and final story. A little heads up this one is a Deathfic.
Thanks so much for all of the reviews, alerts, and favs!
Also thank you Principessa Di Morte for beta(ing) these stories!
Disclaimer: ...
There's no greater love than this, that a man would lay down his life for a friend. John 15:13
What would you do for a friend, a brother, a son?
...
His ears rang. They rang from the shot. The shot that had in one moment, sent one bullet into one person, and shattered two lives.
...
He had been staring at the gun. He knew that the man holding it would not back down. He could see it in his eyes.
He watched as everything suddenly moved in slow motion, the finger twitching, the trigger moving.
This is it, he thought.
Then it was as if someone hit fast forward. Everything happened all at once.
There was a flash of movement to his right, something hit him, and he heard the report of the gun. He was on the floor, but there was no fiery pain and no blood. Then his brain made sense of the last few seconds.
Something hit him and then the shot. Something had knocked him to the floor before the gun went off.
He froze, the ringing in his ears deafening, as the realization crashed into him. Not something, someone.
He scrambled to his feet, whirled around, and saw the thing that had haunted him in his worst nightmares. But this was no nightmare and someone who had come to mean the world to him was standing there with a rapidly growing red stain on his chest. Peter's knees gave out and he collapsed.
Neal lunged forward moving faster than ever before. Miraculously, he caught Peter before he hit the floor then laid him in his lap. One look at the wound told him that even if help was here right now it would be fatal, and help was going to arrive far, far too late.
"Neal…"
The whispered name broke through his thoughts and brought tears to his eyes but he held them back.
"Peter," he choked out past the lump in his throat as he cradled the older man in his arms.
There were others around them looking on with sad and helpless looks on their faces, but Neal and Peter didn't notice them. There in that moment, they were alone and time stood still.
"Tell El I love her," Peter rasped.
"I will," he promised.
"I love… you… too… little brother."
The tears he'd been holding back ran down his face.
"Please, Peter, don't leave me," he begged.
"I will… always… be with you. Even when… you can't see me."
A weak bloody hand slid up to rest on his chest.
"I'll be… here." The hand patted his chest over his breaking heart, then moved to rest on his face.
"You are a… good man, Neal. You have… potential. You can… do great… things. Don't waste… your life. Do something… worthwhile… with your life."
"I will. I will," he promised.
Neal clung to him tightly, wishing he could physically hold him there.
"I love you, Peter," he choked out as his heart shattered even more.
He was losing his brother his father and the only family he had all at once.
Peter gave a small smile and stared him in the eye.
"Neal," he sighed.
Then his eyes slid shut and his blood stained hand slid from Neal's cheek, leaving his face looking like his heart; broken and bleeding.
Neal held Peter to his chest and buried his face in Peter's shoulder as he sobbed openly.
It had hurt when Kate died, but this was so much worse. When Kate died there had been someone there to grab him and keep him from running into the flames. There had been someone there to pick up the pieces after he broke. There had been someone there to hold him together and keep him from completely shattering. Peter had been there. But this time, there was no one to keep him from running into the flames. No one to pick up the pieces or hold him together because the one person who could do that, the one person who could give him a reason to go on, was gone.
And Neal was alone.
3 years later
Neal watched as the tracker was removed for the last time.
"Congratulations, Agent Caffrey." Hughes said as he handed Neal a shiny new badge and the room erupted in cheers.
After Peter's death Neal stopped all of his illegal activities and instead decided to become an agent in honor of Peter. He had passed all of the required tests and training, (fairly and honestly), and it had only been a matter of waiting for his sentence to end before it became official.
Neal looked at the badge with a bitter-sweet smile on his face. He was happy, he was free, and he was now an agent but sadness was intermingled with the joy. The one person he wanted most to be here to see this wasn't and he never would be.
"Peter would be proud," Hughes said reading his thoughts.
"Thank you, sir," he replied with a small smile.
"I think there's someone else who would like to congratulate you," Hughes informed him as he motioned behind Neal.
Neal turned to see Elizabeth behind him. Tears slid down her cheeks and both happiness and sorrow etched her features. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around Neal and he returned the hug. She stepped back and looked into his eyes.
"He would be so proud of you," she said.
Standing there looking at the woman who was a mixture of mother and sister, the guilt that he thought he had gotten rid of reared its ugly head again. The reality that, because of him, her husband was never coming home again still hurt him deeply.
"I'm sorry," he said as tears welled in his eyes and he promptly looked at the floor.
He heard her sigh before she gently grabbed his chin and raised his head so he was looking at her.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop feeling guilty?" She asked quietly.
Neal couldn't answer around the lump in his throat. Over the last three years she had told him more than once to not feel guilty, but it was so hard sometimes.
"If Peter had to die, I'm glad it wasn't senseless. Him dying to save you is the only thing that could make his death worth it. And the only reason I was able to deal with it, the only reason I can still deal with it is because you are still here. He saw the potential in you and he knew you could do great things if you tried, and he wanted to make sure you had that chance because he loved you just like I do, and if he was here he would tell you the same as I am. Don't feel guilty. It wasn't your fault; he wanted to save you and he would do it again in a heartbeat."
Neal nodded as he held back tears and they embraced again.
"Caffrey!" Hughes called.
Neal turned around to look at the older man.
"It's time to move into your new office," he said pointing upstairs.
Neal looked where he pointed and froze as he laid eyes on the one place he had not stepped foot into in three years, not since that day. He had walked past it, had looked into it, and had stood in the doorway but never entered. It was Peter's office.
The office had sat almost untouched for the past three years. Agents had come and gone but none had stayed for very long. None of them could connect with the grieving, broken team that missed their boss and friend. They didn't know how to deal with the overly professional agents who kept everyone at arm's length or the conman that didn't smile, didn't speak unless spoken to, and never under any circumstances entered that office.
Neal continued to stare without moving until he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Elizabeth smiling at him. And it was a genuine smile.
"Go on," she said.
"I… I can't," he whispered.
"He would want you to. If anyone can fill his shoes it's you. Now go," she said with a slight nudge.
He walked to the stairs and climbed them slowly. When he reached the top he stopped and looked through the glass walls in front of him. It was the same. The desk was in the same place and the computer sat on the edge where it had always been. Although it had been three years and the pain had faded some there were still times, like now, when it hurt so much he couldn't remember feeling anything but the pain.
Neal could almost see him sitting behind the desk drinking coffee and working on the computer. In his mind's eye he saw Peter turn, look at him, and smile.
You're a good man and you have the potential to do great things. Do something with your life, Peter's voice whispered in the back of his mind.
As Peter faded away Neal looked at the badge still in his hand.
"I will," he murmured.
Then he clipped the badge to his belt and strode into the office. As he entered the room a peace settled over him. It would always be Peter's office, but now it was Neal's office, too. And as he stood there, he smiled. It was the biggest and brightest smile he had smiled in a long time, because he knew that no matter how far apart they were Peter would always be with him.
What would you do for a friend, a brother, a son?
Peter Burke gave his life.
