White Collar - "Wreckage"
Title: Wreckage
Author: TeeJay
Genre: Gen (Het if you count Peter/Elizabeth)
Characters: Neal, Peter, some Hughes and Elizabeth later on
Summary: I've always wondered what happened right after the plane exploded in 'Out of the Box' and how Neal ended up back in jail. This is my version of how it could have happened.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for 1x14 'Out of the Box'
Author's Note: Thanks to the wonderful rabidchild67 for the beta-read.
Disclaimer: White Collar, its characters and its settings belong to Jeff Eastin and USA Network. And, guys? Your characters are not only welcome, they're wonderful. I'm just borrowing, I promise.
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The bright, searing ball of orange flames took them both by surprise. With it, a wave of heat rolled into the hangar, and it took Peter a mere second to react.
He watched Neal go down, fall to the ground. Even before Neal was moving, Peter sprinted towards him. He saw Neal getting to his feet. Thank God he's alive! The two seconds it took to reach him seemed like an eternity. He heard Neal's anguished shouts.
"No! No!!"
Neal was turning towards the plane, but before he could run to where Kate had been only moments before, strong arms enveloped Neal, holding on to his body for dear life.
"No! Stay here! Stay back!" Peter yelled at him.
Neal was struggling in his arms, trying to break free. Sharp elbows hit Peter in the ribs, and Peter tried to keep his grip on Neal, but he was blinded by shock, panic and adrenaline. Neal wrestled out of his grasp and stumbled forward.
Peter chased after him, tackling him from behind, almost crashing both of them to the ground.
"Neal! Neal!!" Peter roared. "You can't help her!"
"No!" Neal yelled again, squirming in his arms. "Kate!"
This time Peter held on, his arms clasped around Neal's torso in a death grip. "She's gone! You can't save her!"
The explosion's fireball had all but vanished, leaving a clear field of vision of the aftermath. Devastation was left in the wake of the explosion. Charred debris was scattered on the tarmac, the plane's passenger compartment reduced to wreckage. There was no way in hell anyone could have survived this.
A strangled last "No," escaped Neal's lips before his legs gave out. Peter sank down next to him. "Neal," he said again.
Neal had sunk to his knees, his back bent, arms in front of him on the cold concrete. Tiny snowflakes danced in the air and landed on his back where Peter's hand was now firmly planted. He could feel Neal shaking. Sirens were audible in the background, coming closer, but they would be too late.
It felt like half an eternity before the fire truck and ambulance arrived. In reality, it couldn't have taken them more than a few minutes. Two paramedics were running up to them, crouching down next to Peter and Neal.
"Sir, are you hurt?" the male paramedic addressed Peter.
"We're okay," he quickly reassured them. Or at least he hoped they were. "I'm okay," he corrected himself, suddenly not so sure about Neal.
He watched the female EMT checking Neal, helping him into a more upright position. Neal was suddenly infused with newfound energy, resisting the EMT's gentle prodding. "Leave me alone! I'm fine!" he hissed.
Peter was by his side in two quick steps. Peter motioned to the EMT to give them a moment, and she relented, turning her attention to the commotion and the firemen attending to the burning aircraft.
Crouching next to him, Peter said, "Neal,", then again more forcefully, "Neal!"
The young man's eyes were wide with shock and confusion. "Is she dead?" he whispered.
Peter looked at what was left of the plane, at the firemen spraying water over the last sources of fire, at the smoke billowing from the remains. He didn't want to utter the words, but there was no denying the harsh truth. "She couldn't have survived this," he said in a low voice.
Neal was shaking his head. "So you don't know," he spat, stumbling to his feet. "She could still be alive. She could have made it out."
Peter grabbed his arm, holding Neal back. "Neal. She's dead."
He could feel him sagging underneath his grip. Peter tried to steer him away from the disturbing sight of the plane wreck. "Come on. Let's get you checked out."
There was no more resistance from Neal when Peter gently steered him towards the ambulance. He sat Neal down inside, and he offered no further resistance when the EMT went through the motions, asking whether anything hurt, taking his blood pressure. Peter's face was full of worry for him, but he felt it was safe now to leave him for a few minutes.
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The fire sergeant had asked Peter all kinds of questions that Peter didn't have any answers for. He'd urged them to leave Neal alone-and they had.
Bad news traveled fast. Hughes had called, asking what the hell was going on. Peter gave him the abbreviated version, and Hughes had told him to get his butt to the office forthwith.
The EMTs cleared Neal, releasing him into Peter’s custody. He wasn't sure what to do with him, but there was only one place he could take him.
Neal hadn't said a word on the way to the White Collar crime unit. Peter asked Diana to babysit him while Hughes gave him the double finger point. It was as if Neal was on autopilot, accepting any and every command he was given. Peter was worried, but didn't have time to dwell on it. Things were happening way too fast.
The "talk" with Hughes was a gritty affair. Peter didn't have any satisfactory answers for his boss either. Hughes had given him a look halfway between sorry and punitive when he told Peter he was still suspended, pending further investigation. "Get Caffrey in here," he had finished their one-on-one.
With a sense of dread, Peter motioned for Diana to send Neal to Hughes' office. The haunted look on Neal's face made him flinch, a lump quickly growing in his stomach. He had an idea of what was to come, and he hoped that it wouldn't break the consultant, who had somehow become his friend.
Peter witnessed first the lecture Hughes had for Neal, and then the pronouncement of Neal’s fate. "Pending further investigation, you're going to have to go back to jail, Caffrey."
This made Neal finally pay attention. He had taken in Hughes' speech without opposition or defense, but this finally registered. "You're sending me back?"
"Peter is suspended until further notice. I can't make the deal you had work without him. Sorry, Caffrey."
Neal snorted incredulously through his nose. "Sorry? Like hell you are."
This prompted Hughes to take a step closer, his lean figure looming over Neal. But when he spoke, his voice was compassionate rather than sharp. "Son, you have done a good job here. I realize that you've just been through hell. And you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I don't have a choice."
Neal closed his eyes, keeping them shut for a long moment. He nodded quietly, then got up and held out his hands for the inevitable handcuffs that would close around his wrists. Hughes' look at him was sympathetic. "I think there's no need for that."
Peter's hand was on Neal's shoulder, guiding him towards the door. "Wait outside," he told him.
Neal slowly walked down the stairs while Peter stayed back in Hughes' office. Diana hovered closely by his side. He could sense that she felt awkward, at a loss what to say. Still, he appreciated her concern.
"Are they putting you back in jail?"
He just nodded.
Her hand was warm on his arm when she said sincerely, "I'm sorry, Neal."
Peter came down to the bullpen a few moments later. His hand found Neal's shoulder, giving it a gentle push. "Come on, let's go," he said softly.
"I thought you were suspended."
"I am. Diana's going to pick you up later."
Neal understood, and if his emotional state hadn't been in complete turmoil, he would have been grateful for what Peter was doing.
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Elizabeth was waiting for them at the house. She had spared a moment of attention to her husband, but having been reassured that he was okay, her most pressing concern was for Neal. Peter knew to stay back and let her tend to Neal's needs.
He watched them on the couch from near the window by the dining table, her hand on Neal's thigh, rubbing it with her thumb in small circles. Her voice was hushed and soothing, and it didn't take long for Neal to let the tears come. Elizabeth's arm found its way around Neal's shoulder and drew him closer. Peter quietly snuck up the stairs. He'd never been good with tears.
El found Peter three quarters of an hour later, staring out the bedroom window. "Oh, Honey," she softly sighed.
He turned around and enveloped her in an embrace. They stayed like that for a long time before he asked, "How is he?"
"I think it's finally sinking in. Does he really need to go back?"
"I wish there was something-anything I could do, but I'm suspended. My hands are tied."
"It's just not fair."
"Diana's going to come by and pick him up in a little while."
"I know. He told me."
Peter turned away, taking a few uncertain steps towards the door. "El, I... What am I supposed to do now?"
"Just... be there."
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It sounded so easy when she said it. Just be there. Peter wasn't good at "being there". But he figured that maybe he didn't have to be.
Neal was a woeful heap on the couch, taciturn and shut off from the world around him. Peter didn't know what to do, so he played the "being there" part as best as he could.
In the end, he was glad when Diana arrived. El took both of Neal's hands in front of him and squeezed them when he lingered on the doorstep. She gave him a sad but brave smile and whispered consoling words to him which he accepted with thankful eyes.
When she stepped back, Peter took a step closer. An awkward moment passed, and Peter couldn't resist the sudden impulse to draw Neal into a hug. He could feel the young man tense, but then he felt his hands on his back, returning the pressure ever so slightly.
"Take care, Neal," he choked out when they separated from the embrace.
Neal turned around one last time before he walked down the front steps. "Thank you," he said in a low voice. "For everything."
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THE END.
Author: TeeJay
Genre: Gen (Het if you count Peter/Elizabeth)
Characters: Neal, Peter, some Hughes and Elizabeth later on
Summary: I've always wondered what happened right after the plane exploded in 'Out of the Box' and how Neal ended up back in jail. This is my version of how it could have happened.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for 1x14 'Out of the Box'
Author's Note: Thanks to the wonderful rabidchild67 for the beta-read.
Disclaimer: White Collar, its characters and its settings belong to Jeff Eastin and USA Network. And, guys? Your characters are not only welcome, they're wonderful. I'm just borrowing, I promise.
+-+-+-+
The bright, searing ball of orange flames took them both by surprise. With it, a wave of heat rolled into the hangar, and it took Peter a mere second to react.
He watched Neal go down, fall to the ground. Even before Neal was moving, Peter sprinted towards him. He saw Neal getting to his feet. Thank God he's alive! The two seconds it took to reach him seemed like an eternity. He heard Neal's anguished shouts.
"No! No!!"
Neal was turning towards the plane, but before he could run to where Kate had been only moments before, strong arms enveloped Neal, holding on to his body for dear life.
"No! Stay here! Stay back!" Peter yelled at him.
Neal was struggling in his arms, trying to break free. Sharp elbows hit Peter in the ribs, and Peter tried to keep his grip on Neal, but he was blinded by shock, panic and adrenaline. Neal wrestled out of his grasp and stumbled forward.
Peter chased after him, tackling him from behind, almost crashing both of them to the ground.
"Neal! Neal!!" Peter roared. "You can't help her!"
"No!" Neal yelled again, squirming in his arms. "Kate!"
This time Peter held on, his arms clasped around Neal's torso in a death grip. "She's gone! You can't save her!"
The explosion's fireball had all but vanished, leaving a clear field of vision of the aftermath. Devastation was left in the wake of the explosion. Charred debris was scattered on the tarmac, the plane's passenger compartment reduced to wreckage. There was no way in hell anyone could have survived this.
A strangled last "No," escaped Neal's lips before his legs gave out. Peter sank down next to him. "Neal," he said again.
Neal had sunk to his knees, his back bent, arms in front of him on the cold concrete. Tiny snowflakes danced in the air and landed on his back where Peter's hand was now firmly planted. He could feel Neal shaking. Sirens were audible in the background, coming closer, but they would be too late.
It felt like half an eternity before the fire truck and ambulance arrived. In reality, it couldn't have taken them more than a few minutes. Two paramedics were running up to them, crouching down next to Peter and Neal.
"Sir, are you hurt?" the male paramedic addressed Peter.
"We're okay," he quickly reassured them. Or at least he hoped they were. "I'm okay," he corrected himself, suddenly not so sure about Neal.
He watched the female EMT checking Neal, helping him into a more upright position. Neal was suddenly infused with newfound energy, resisting the EMT's gentle prodding. "Leave me alone! I'm fine!" he hissed.
Peter was by his side in two quick steps. Peter motioned to the EMT to give them a moment, and she relented, turning her attention to the commotion and the firemen attending to the burning aircraft.
Crouching next to him, Peter said, "Neal,", then again more forcefully, "Neal!"
The young man's eyes were wide with shock and confusion. "Is she dead?" he whispered.
Peter looked at what was left of the plane, at the firemen spraying water over the last sources of fire, at the smoke billowing from the remains. He didn't want to utter the words, but there was no denying the harsh truth. "She couldn't have survived this," he said in a low voice.
Neal was shaking his head. "So you don't know," he spat, stumbling to his feet. "She could still be alive. She could have made it out."
Peter grabbed his arm, holding Neal back. "Neal. She's dead."
He could feel him sagging underneath his grip. Peter tried to steer him away from the disturbing sight of the plane wreck. "Come on. Let's get you checked out."
There was no more resistance from Neal when Peter gently steered him towards the ambulance. He sat Neal down inside, and he offered no further resistance when the EMT went through the motions, asking whether anything hurt, taking his blood pressure. Peter's face was full of worry for him, but he felt it was safe now to leave him for a few minutes.
+-+-+-+
The fire sergeant had asked Peter all kinds of questions that Peter didn't have any answers for. He'd urged them to leave Neal alone-and they had.
Bad news traveled fast. Hughes had called, asking what the hell was going on. Peter gave him the abbreviated version, and Hughes had told him to get his butt to the office forthwith.
The EMTs cleared Neal, releasing him into Peter’s custody. He wasn't sure what to do with him, but there was only one place he could take him.
Neal hadn't said a word on the way to the White Collar crime unit. Peter asked Diana to babysit him while Hughes gave him the double finger point. It was as if Neal was on autopilot, accepting any and every command he was given. Peter was worried, but didn't have time to dwell on it. Things were happening way too fast.
The "talk" with Hughes was a gritty affair. Peter didn't have any satisfactory answers for his boss either. Hughes had given him a look halfway between sorry and punitive when he told Peter he was still suspended, pending further investigation. "Get Caffrey in here," he had finished their one-on-one.
With a sense of dread, Peter motioned for Diana to send Neal to Hughes' office. The haunted look on Neal's face made him flinch, a lump quickly growing in his stomach. He had an idea of what was to come, and he hoped that it wouldn't break the consultant, who had somehow become his friend.
Peter witnessed first the lecture Hughes had for Neal, and then the pronouncement of Neal’s fate. "Pending further investigation, you're going to have to go back to jail, Caffrey."
This made Neal finally pay attention. He had taken in Hughes' speech without opposition or defense, but this finally registered. "You're sending me back?"
"Peter is suspended until further notice. I can't make the deal you had work without him. Sorry, Caffrey."
Neal snorted incredulously through his nose. "Sorry? Like hell you are."
This prompted Hughes to take a step closer, his lean figure looming over Neal. But when he spoke, his voice was compassionate rather than sharp. "Son, you have done a good job here. I realize that you've just been through hell. And you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I don't have a choice."
Neal closed his eyes, keeping them shut for a long moment. He nodded quietly, then got up and held out his hands for the inevitable handcuffs that would close around his wrists. Hughes' look at him was sympathetic. "I think there's no need for that."
Peter's hand was on Neal's shoulder, guiding him towards the door. "Wait outside," he told him.
Neal slowly walked down the stairs while Peter stayed back in Hughes' office. Diana hovered closely by his side. He could sense that she felt awkward, at a loss what to say. Still, he appreciated her concern.
"Are they putting you back in jail?"
He just nodded.
Her hand was warm on his arm when she said sincerely, "I'm sorry, Neal."
Peter came down to the bullpen a few moments later. His hand found Neal's shoulder, giving it a gentle push. "Come on, let's go," he said softly.
"I thought you were suspended."
"I am. Diana's going to pick you up later."
Neal understood, and if his emotional state hadn't been in complete turmoil, he would have been grateful for what Peter was doing.
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Elizabeth was waiting for them at the house. She had spared a moment of attention to her husband, but having been reassured that he was okay, her most pressing concern was for Neal. Peter knew to stay back and let her tend to Neal's needs.
He watched them on the couch from near the window by the dining table, her hand on Neal's thigh, rubbing it with her thumb in small circles. Her voice was hushed and soothing, and it didn't take long for Neal to let the tears come. Elizabeth's arm found its way around Neal's shoulder and drew him closer. Peter quietly snuck up the stairs. He'd never been good with tears.
El found Peter three quarters of an hour later, staring out the bedroom window. "Oh, Honey," she softly sighed.
He turned around and enveloped her in an embrace. They stayed like that for a long time before he asked, "How is he?"
"I think it's finally sinking in. Does he really need to go back?"
"I wish there was something-anything I could do, but I'm suspended. My hands are tied."
"It's just not fair."
"Diana's going to come by and pick him up in a little while."
"I know. He told me."
Peter turned away, taking a few uncertain steps towards the door. "El, I... What am I supposed to do now?"
"Just... be there."
+-+-+-+
It sounded so easy when she said it. Just be there. Peter wasn't good at "being there". But he figured that maybe he didn't have to be.
Neal was a woeful heap on the couch, taciturn and shut off from the world around him. Peter didn't know what to do, so he played the "being there" part as best as he could.
In the end, he was glad when Diana arrived. El took both of Neal's hands in front of him and squeezed them when he lingered on the doorstep. She gave him a sad but brave smile and whispered consoling words to him which he accepted with thankful eyes.
When she stepped back, Peter took a step closer. An awkward moment passed, and Peter couldn't resist the sudden impulse to draw Neal into a hug. He could feel the young man tense, but then he felt his hands on his back, returning the pressure ever so slightly.
"Take care, Neal," he choked out when they separated from the embrace.
Neal turned around one last time before he walked down the front steps. "Thank you," he said in a low voice. "For everything."
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THE END.