"Aftermath" (Peter, Neal, Elizabeth; PG-13)
Fandom: White Collar
Title: Aftermath
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After the events of "Out of the Box", Peter goes to what he knows best.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of USA/NBC Universal and Jeff Eastin.
Pairing/Characters: Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Neal Caffrey; Genfic, but can be taken as pre-OT3
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 1x14 "Out of the Box". Post-ep.
A/N: Second piece for my White Collar 50 prompt challenge -- #13 -- Death.
A/N #2: Thanks to serene_quill for the beta, & hllangel and surreal_44 for other things.
Peter holds onto Neal tightly, unwilling to let him move an inch toward the flaming wreckage. Neal’s so out of his mind with shock and grief that he’d get himself killed in a heartbeat, and Peter isn’t sure he could keep going without Neal. Not anymore. It wouldn’t be the same.
Neal struggles against him, straining toward the plane. Peter refuses to relinquish the death grip he has around Neal’s chest. Not now. Not ever.
Neal finally starts to collapse in exhaustion, but Peter does his best to keep them on their feet. They’ve got to get out of here before the cavalry comes. He’s still on suspension, at what’s clearly just become a crime scene without his badge, and people will start asking too many questions that won’t end well for either of them.
The only thought he can hold on to for more than a second is take him home to El, knowing that the best chance to get Neal through the shock and grief and god knows what else before everything crashes down around them is to get him home to El as fast as possible. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do. She always knows how to make things better.
So when he half drags in a drained, tear-streaked Neal and lays him on the couch, El flashes a glare at him before taking Neal into her arms, comforting and soothing. Peter watches helplessly as Neal curls into her, shaking with silent tears that wash pale lines down his dirty face. He feels utterly helpless, useless, and he hates it.
El eventually looks at him from over Neal’s shoulder, expression demanding an explanation. Peter mouths the words, “Kate’s dead, long story,” and her expression shifts lightening quick.
“Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs, kissing Neal gently on the head, rocking gently. Neal makes a small, broken noise, and Peter just can’t take it. Every little noise Neal makes tears Peter’s heart out as much as if it were El crying, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
He retreats in the bedroom, finally letting the rage and helplessness and fear take over now that the immediate threat has passed. He wants to punch something, throw things. Shoot Fowler again, over and over. Without the vest. Hide and pretend this bullshit didn’t happen and that Neal will be his normal irritating self tomorrow, leaving the morning’s Times crossword on his desk already filled out. In pen.
Peter starts shedding his clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. The movement stirs up the material, and he gets a sudden burst of an acrid mix of aviation fuel, burnt plastic and death that makes his stomach churn. He swallows the nausea down and kicks the clothes away. Now, all of sudden, he can smell it all over himself-in his hair, on his skin-- and has to get it off, get as far away from it as possible.
He climbs into the shower, turns it on full blast, and, mindless of the cold, stands there shivering until it warms. When it does, he plunges his head under the spray until it scalds and scrapes at his skin with the soap. He spends much longer in the shower than usual, washing over and over until he’s convinced himself that he’s washed it away.
As he washes his hair for the second time, it hits him. He nearly lost Neal today. He always assumed Neal would run, spirit himself away after Kate in search of his happy ending. But he never anticipated it could end like this, with the violence Neal so vehemently despises. His stomach lurches again, and this time he just barely holds it down, legs starting to tremble.
He feels himself starting to crash, the adrenaline finally wearing off. He’s been through it before, had enough close calls to recognize the fatigue sinking into his bones and darkness clouding his mind. What he’s not used to is the fear and pain still twisting up his gut. It feels like it’s El down there in tears, hurt, and it’s tearing him up inside. But it’s not El. He knows this. She’s down there working her people magic on Neal and was probably having a perfectly nice day until he ruined it by dropping his broken partner in her lap.
He slams his hand against the tile wall. Fuck.
The exhaustion seeps even deeper into his bones now, overtaking the frustration and fear. He knows he’ll fall asleep standing up at this rate, and he’s still got to suck it up and go back downstairs.
He shuts off the water and leans his head against the tiles, sighing heavily. Man up, Burke, he tells himself. Now there’s two of them down there counting on you.
He summons what energy he has left and mentally steels himself as he climbs out of the shower. It’s going to be a long, hard road from here.
Fin
7/10
Feedback always welcome.
Link to all of my stories
Title: Aftermath
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After the events of "Out of the Box", Peter goes to what he knows best.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of USA/NBC Universal and Jeff Eastin.
Pairing/Characters: Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Neal Caffrey; Genfic, but can be taken as pre-OT3
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 1x14 "Out of the Box". Post-ep.
A/N: Second piece for my White Collar 50 prompt challenge -- #13 -- Death.
A/N #2: Thanks to serene_quill for the beta, & hllangel and surreal_44 for other things.
Peter holds onto Neal tightly, unwilling to let him move an inch toward the flaming wreckage. Neal’s so out of his mind with shock and grief that he’d get himself killed in a heartbeat, and Peter isn’t sure he could keep going without Neal. Not anymore. It wouldn’t be the same.
Neal struggles against him, straining toward the plane. Peter refuses to relinquish the death grip he has around Neal’s chest. Not now. Not ever.
Neal finally starts to collapse in exhaustion, but Peter does his best to keep them on their feet. They’ve got to get out of here before the cavalry comes. He’s still on suspension, at what’s clearly just become a crime scene without his badge, and people will start asking too many questions that won’t end well for either of them.
The only thought he can hold on to for more than a second is take him home to El, knowing that the best chance to get Neal through the shock and grief and god knows what else before everything crashes down around them is to get him home to El as fast as possible. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do. She always knows how to make things better.
So when he half drags in a drained, tear-streaked Neal and lays him on the couch, El flashes a glare at him before taking Neal into her arms, comforting and soothing. Peter watches helplessly as Neal curls into her, shaking with silent tears that wash pale lines down his dirty face. He feels utterly helpless, useless, and he hates it.
El eventually looks at him from over Neal’s shoulder, expression demanding an explanation. Peter mouths the words, “Kate’s dead, long story,” and her expression shifts lightening quick.
“Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs, kissing Neal gently on the head, rocking gently. Neal makes a small, broken noise, and Peter just can’t take it. Every little noise Neal makes tears Peter’s heart out as much as if it were El crying, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
He retreats in the bedroom, finally letting the rage and helplessness and fear take over now that the immediate threat has passed. He wants to punch something, throw things. Shoot Fowler again, over and over. Without the vest. Hide and pretend this bullshit didn’t happen and that Neal will be his normal irritating self tomorrow, leaving the morning’s Times crossword on his desk already filled out. In pen.
Peter starts shedding his clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. The movement stirs up the material, and he gets a sudden burst of an acrid mix of aviation fuel, burnt plastic and death that makes his stomach churn. He swallows the nausea down and kicks the clothes away. Now, all of sudden, he can smell it all over himself-in his hair, on his skin-- and has to get it off, get as far away from it as possible.
He climbs into the shower, turns it on full blast, and, mindless of the cold, stands there shivering until it warms. When it does, he plunges his head under the spray until it scalds and scrapes at his skin with the soap. He spends much longer in the shower than usual, washing over and over until he’s convinced himself that he’s washed it away.
As he washes his hair for the second time, it hits him. He nearly lost Neal today. He always assumed Neal would run, spirit himself away after Kate in search of his happy ending. But he never anticipated it could end like this, with the violence Neal so vehemently despises. His stomach lurches again, and this time he just barely holds it down, legs starting to tremble.
He feels himself starting to crash, the adrenaline finally wearing off. He’s been through it before, had enough close calls to recognize the fatigue sinking into his bones and darkness clouding his mind. What he’s not used to is the fear and pain still twisting up his gut. It feels like it’s El down there in tears, hurt, and it’s tearing him up inside. But it’s not El. He knows this. She’s down there working her people magic on Neal and was probably having a perfectly nice day until he ruined it by dropping his broken partner in her lap.
He slams his hand against the tile wall. Fuck.
The exhaustion seeps even deeper into his bones now, overtaking the frustration and fear. He knows he’ll fall asleep standing up at this rate, and he’s still got to suck it up and go back downstairs.
He shuts off the water and leans his head against the tiles, sighing heavily. Man up, Burke, he tells himself. Now there’s two of them down there counting on you.
He summons what energy he has left and mentally steels himself as he climbs out of the shower. It’s going to be a long, hard road from here.
Fin
7/10
Feedback always welcome.
Link to all of my stories