Chapter Three

The fifty yard radius taken up by the F.B.I. had quickly become a two hundred yard radius and the civilians were being pushed back even further. There was a frantic feeling in the air, knowing that the building was about to blow. The crowd was almost excited, interested to see something like this.

For the agents in the newly formed radius, though, it was full-blown resignation to failure. If they were about to lose an agent, then the day was not successful. Losing one of their own was failing. Over the radio, they had all heard Neal's exclamation after he broke in. Then the radio had carried nothing more from Peter; only static. They could only hope that they would get out of that building in time. Every eye was on the front door. Every shadow had their hearts skipping a beat. But there was still nothing. Their own clock ticked away. People eyed it, wondering, praying. Two minutes was turning into two hours.

Where were they?

()()()()()()

Something just didn't feel right about it all. Yes, the fact that a building was about to blow up because of the antics of a mad man was definitely not something to feel right about, but there was something more. Besides, the reporters were saying now that there actually weren't any hostages. And now, the F.B.I. wasn't moving anymore. All the law enforcement on the television had gone still. They were all watching the building; waiting. So, all in all, if the crazy man was the one dying, then why was Elizabeth feeling so worried?

There was something else. She knew it.

"Elizabeth? Are you all right?"

Her coworker, Yvonne, lightly touched her shoulder. Elizabeth smiled. "Yeah. Why?"

"You just look like you were thinking pretty hard."

"Well, it's not every day something like this happens," replied Elizabeth.

Yvonne smiled. "No," she replied.

They were in a café, watching the news with everyone else in the coffee shop. The whole thing had been going on for about half an hour but it seemed much longer. Everyone was glued to their television sets. Yvonne had remarked earlier that it was like 9/11.

Yes, that would be a shadow forever present in anyone's mind if they had been alive for that day. For New Yorkers, it was even worse. But this present scene seemed under much better control. The building was evacuated, no more hostages, now they were just waiting for the show. But at the beginning, Elizabeth had been masking her fear. She knew her husband was somewhere there. She prayed he was outside, coordinating actions; not inside looking for the bomb. But there was no way to know. When the reporters announced that they were evacuating everyone because the bomb had been found, Elizabeth was so relieved. But the ominous feeling was ever present.

She could remember 9/11 without even trying too hard. Peter had been there, too, and when she saw the towers fall she felt her heart fall with them. She didn't know where Peter was. She knew he shouldn't been in those towers because he wasn't a rescue worker, but she knew the F.B.I. was down there, helping. And when she saw that cloud of dust and smoke rising, all she could think of was her Peter. Like most of New York, working was unthinkable for the rest of the day. Elizabeth just waited by her phone, wanting someone to call.

Then, early that afternoon, Peter had shown up at the office where she was working at the time. He didn't have his jacket on. His sleeves were rolled up and his shirt wrinkled, half of the tail hanging out. Everything had dirt on it, even his hair and face. And he looked so tired. But both of them were just relieved to see each other and hold each other. Apparently he had been just a few blocks away from the towers, helping police keep order. After the towers fell, he had been helping people get away from the site, before being ordered home. But he had gone straight to Elizabeth.

Suddenly, Elizabeth had the urge to jump up and get to that building. She tensed and Yvonne grabbed her arm.

"What?"

"I just want to know where Peter is."

Yvonne nodded knowingly. She had to say she was glad she wasn't married to an F.B.I. agent. It seemed like a lot of stress. "How about you call him?"

Elizabeth nodded and pulled out her phone. But just as her finger was touching the buttons, the reporter came back on.

"We're just receiving news that with only about two minutes left there are two people left in the building."

Elizabeth looked up at the television, horrified. People in the café fell silent at this new occurrence.

"Oh my God," said Yvonne.

"Shhh," said Elizabeth.

"…appears that they are trapped," continued the reporter. "It is an F.B.I. agent and his consultant."

Elizabeth gasped. "That's Peter and Neal!"

"Peter and who," asked Yvonne.

"Neal is Peter's consultant," said Elizabeth, her heart racing, her voice rising another pitch. "Yvonne, they're inside that building!"

People in the café were now looking at her, feeling pity on her.

"Okay, calm down," said Yvonne. "Breathe. Now listen. There are a ton of F.B.I. agents out there. And I know there can't be just one consultant out there. How are you so sure that it's your husband and his consultant? I mean, Peter is White Collar, right?"

"I—I just know," exclaimed Elizabeth, now clearly panicked. "It just doesn't feel right. I know my husband too. He would have been in that building looking for the bomb. And Neal…consultants are probably not even allowed in a situation like this so of course it's Neal that's in there!"

"It could be a consultant on terror attacks," said Yvonne, desperately trying to find excuses for why Peter would not be in that building.

"The F.B.I. doesn't need consultants on terror attacks," said Elizabeth. "They are the experts. It's their job!"

Yvonne looked back to the television. "Elizabeth just calm down. It'll be fine. It'll be okay."

The media was apparently against Yvonne today because the camera then found a group of agents that Elizabeth immediately recognized.

"See!" Elizabeth practically jumped out of her chair. "That's Jones and Diana! That's his team! If Peter were out of that building he would be with them! Yvonne, he's trapped in that building!"

"They don't look like they're making much of an effort to do anything," murmured Yvonne about the agents.

"They can't," said Elizabeth. "There's no time." The clock on the television was ticking down. "They can't risk it. You know that saying: one for the sake of many. Well, it's true. They'd never be able to get there in time. And if they're trapped…there's no telling…" Elizabeth drifted off and closed her eyes. Yvonne put an arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, Peter," whispered Elizabeth. "Please…"

Yvonne rubbed her coworker's back tenderly while looking back up at the screen. That stupid clock was still ticking.

1:00...:59...:58...:57...

()()()()()()

Ruiz's radio dangled from his limp hand at his side. They were behind the cars now, waiting for the blast. But all eyes were on the front entrance. Ruiz felt his heart pounding; thought it might pound right out of his chest. He felt like he was hanging upside down, the blood flow in his head was so much. Looking around him, he saw Diana gripping the car tightly as she waited without nerve. Jones was beside her, more limp like Ruiz, but standing there in complete shock. Ruiz knew what he was thinking. He was thinking the same thing: they might really lose this one.

Ruiz and Peter had never really gotten along. In their early days of the F.B.I., when they were both fresh out of the Academy, they had worked together. But their attitudes and styles were just too different for any good compatibility. And then, after a terrible op where Ruiz had nearly gotten Peter killed when he didn't send back-up at the request, any trust Peter had in him had dwindled away. The level of respect Ruiz received from Peter after that was accounted for only in the fact that he was a fellow F.B.I. agent. After that op, Ruiz was placed in office work for a few years before he was sent to Organized Crime as a junior agent. By that time, Peter was making a name for himself in the White Collar division.

Despite all the animosity, Ruiz did respect Peter. He didn't exactly agree with him on everything, but the results of his work spoke for themselves. Peter Burke was a good agent and a good man. Ruiz briefly reflected on this while watching the clock tick away.

"I should've gone after them," he whispered.

Jones and Diana looked at him, and he blushed, wishing he hadn't spoken out loud. But they looked at him with something new in their eyes.

"I should've gone after Burke at least," cracked Ruiz quickly. Don't get me started on Caffrey. From the corner of his eye, he saw Diana briefly smirk, before all their faces turned serious again.

Then, with twenty seconds to go, the front door burst open.

Neal and Peter were sprinting across the flat ledge in front of the building. There wasn't any cover for them until the F.B.I.'s line of cars two hundred yards away. Getting there in less than twenty wasn't going to happen. Peter and Neal seemed to sense this because directly after they jumped down the few stairs, they dove behind a brick bench that sat in front of the curb beside the street. Then, everyone ducked behind their cars.

The explosion blew out from the fourth floor, and then the fireball went straight up the building. From their position crouched behind the brick ledge, Peter and Neal had their heads tucked low. They felt the pressure of the bomb and the heat wave fly past them. The bricks even seemed to heat up real quick and shift under the pressure wave. Then, the debris came. Peter and Neal pushed up against the brick structure as much as they, hoping that no debris would strike them. It was like they were trying to get inside the bricks. Steel and stone crashed down around them. Then, it a more subdued manner, the dust and papers floated down from the sky.

It was like they were in a different world. It was sooty so that they could barely see five feet. They coughed and scratched at their eyes with dusty hands to get the dust away. As their adrenaline rush subsided, they began to realize that they had been struck by some debris. A board lay over Peter's shoulders, and hefty stones lay around Neal. Pushing away the debris, they groped for each other for support and shakily stood up.

Though they couldn't hear it, the block was now very loud with every kind of alarm going off. Car alarms, security building alarms, fire engines, police cars, ambulances. For Peter and Neal, their ears were just ringing. They looked at each other, and couldn't help but smile. They were both covered in the yellow-brown dust that was now settling over the block. It was as if they had been dipped in it. Their faces looked like masks with their eyes peering out. Though they were a little sore and shaken, they were alive. Neal touched his nose, seeing blood coming out of Peter's. But Peter touched his ears out of some pain he was feeling. It was then that they realized the damage that the shock wave had done. Blood oozed out of their ears and some from their noses.

"You okay," asked Peter. His voice sounded distant.

Neal was as deaf as ever, but he didn't have to hear Peter to know what he was asking. He nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm good," answered Peter.

They both nodded and grinned like foreigners trying to speak to one another.

They started walking towards their F.B.I., which was now coming to them since they'd been spotted. An ambulance was coming over too. So, Peter and Neal decided to stop right there. They sat down on the curb and waited for their people to come to them.

()()()()()()

Elizabeth was sure she had a new set of wrinkles on her face as she flew out of the cab and into the F.B.I. building. After watching her husband's near death experience on live television, Elizabeth felt like a decade of her life had passed in twenty seconds. Yvonne would probably have bruises on her forearm for weeks from where Elizabeth had gripped her so tightly. She had only let go after the camera had found Peter and Neal sitting down on the curb. Then, she had called Hughes, exchanged a few words, and hailed a cab to the F.B.I.

Peter and Neal had been taken to the ER, where they were thoroughly examined. After taking care of a few cuts and bruises and making sure their senses were not permanently damaged, they were sent off. Diana and Jones took them back to the F.B.I. where Hughes gave them the rest of the day off. So, they decided to wait for Elizabeth to arrive before going home. Neal had already talked to Mozzie and June, assuring them that he was fine. Peter had yet to talk to Elizabeth, and was silently waiting, as if he was reserving his next words for his wife only. Currently, they were lounging around in Peter's office, half-asleep. They seemed to be reveling in their survival.

"I'm going to go get some coffee," said Neal.

They were hearing better now, though Neal joked they would be deaf old men probably. Peter just nodded as Neal left the room. Their appearance was way better than it had been earlier, but they still had a very disheveled and dazed look about them.

As Neal poured his coffee, Elizabeth came into the bullpen. Peter saw her and quickly came down to hug her. They hugged so tightly, it was as if they would never let go from each other. Neal couldn't help but smile with the rest of the office. Peter seemed quite at peace just standing there with his wife in his arms.

"Um…Caffrey."

Neal turned around. Ruiz was standing by the counter.

"Oh, hey," said Neal.

"Caffrey," began Ruiz awkwardly. "I just wanted to say…what you did today…that was something. Not many people would have the guts to do it."

Neal smiled, taking the gratitude genuinely. "Well, I am the great Neal Caffrey."

Ruiz initially glared, but couldn't help but smirk a little before thoughtfully sauntering off.

THE END

Well, that's it! Hope you enjoyed and thanks for all the reviews! And I wanted to share my inspiration for this short story. I listen to soundtracks and the piece "Agent of Chaos" from the movie The Dark Knight was what gave the idea for this story. I get a lot of my inspiration from music I listen to.