White Collar - "Too Close"
Title: Too Close
Author: TeeJay
whitecollar100 Prompt: #46 Rumor
Genre: Gen
Characters/Pairings: Neal, OMC, Peter
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Neal has been in sticky situations before, but he's never come this close.
Author's Note: This was inspired by last week's CSI: NY episode. If you've seen it, you'll realize why. Prepare for some angst.
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.
+-+-+-+-+
You stare down the barrel of the gun, and it's close. Too close.
Your breath hitches, and your thoughts panic. You life flashing in front of your eyes when you stare death in the face-it's just a rumor. 'Don't pull the trigger, please don't pull the trigger'. It's all you can think. Maybe he won't if you repeat it in your head often enough.
Not a word is said, but you can almost hear your opponent's thoughts. 'You're a dead man.'
You swallow, close your eyes, wait for the bullet to hit you. Nothing has prepared you for this moment, and you're scared shitless.
Seconds tick by, and you hardly dare breathe. 'This is it,' is what you keep thinking, and you know it's gonna be the last thing you'll ever think.
And then... then there's voices. Distant, coming closer.
"FBI! Drop your weapon!"
You don't really follow or comprehend what happens next. Your eyes are wide open, and someone grabs your arm, helps you up. You stumble a few steps away, lean on something. You breathe in and out, repeatedly. Heavy breaths. They keep you on your feet because your knees are about as solid as a rubber hose.
Fuck, you've never come this close.
It's strong hands on your biceps that startle you, but they hold on despite your flinch. "Neal. Are you all right?"
You want to rearrange the mask before you turn around, but you find you can't.
"Neal," Peter says again.
"Yeah," you finally rasp. "Yeah, I'm fine."
The hands release their hold, and you feel something (his jacket) being draped over your shoulders. "Come on," Peter says. "Let's get out of here."
You want to comply, and his gentle tugging at your shoulder is the only thing that makes you think you can.
Author: TeeJay
whitecollar100 Prompt: #46 Rumor
Genre: Gen
Characters/Pairings: Neal, OMC, Peter
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Neal has been in sticky situations before, but he's never come this close.
Author's Note: This was inspired by last week's CSI: NY episode. If you've seen it, you'll realize why. Prepare for some angst.
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.
+-+-+-+-+
You stare down the barrel of the gun, and it's close. Too close.
Your breath hitches, and your thoughts panic. You life flashing in front of your eyes when you stare death in the face-it's just a rumor. 'Don't pull the trigger, please don't pull the trigger'. It's all you can think. Maybe he won't if you repeat it in your head often enough.
Not a word is said, but you can almost hear your opponent's thoughts. 'You're a dead man.'
You swallow, close your eyes, wait for the bullet to hit you. Nothing has prepared you for this moment, and you're scared shitless.
Seconds tick by, and you hardly dare breathe. 'This is it,' is what you keep thinking, and you know it's gonna be the last thing you'll ever think.
And then... then there's voices. Distant, coming closer.
"FBI! Drop your weapon!"
You don't really follow or comprehend what happens next. Your eyes are wide open, and someone grabs your arm, helps you up. You stumble a few steps away, lean on something. You breathe in and out, repeatedly. Heavy breaths. They keep you on your feet because your knees are about as solid as a rubber hose.
Fuck, you've never come this close.
It's strong hands on your biceps that startle you, but they hold on despite your flinch. "Neal. Are you all right?"
You want to rearrange the mask before you turn around, but you find you can't.
"Neal," Peter says again.
"Yeah," you finally rasp. "Yeah, I'm fine."
The hands release their hold, and you feel something (his jacket) being draped over your shoulders. "Come on," Peter says. "Let's get out of here."
You want to comply, and his gentle tugging at your shoulder is the only thing that makes you think you can.