The Thinnest Strand

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Neal, or Peter or any rights to White Collar, nor am I making any profit from this story.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Chapter 6: Balcony

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

So instead of yelling as he free falled, Neal said the last words he might ever say to Peter Burke, to the only person who had ever believed that he could be a better man. "I'm sorry I let you down, Peter."

"No!" Peter screamed as he watched Neal arch across the open expansion, knew in his gut that Neal wasn't going to make it. That he was going to be forced to watch helplessly as his best friend fell to his death.

But against all odds, Neal's aim seemed to be true.

"He's going to reach the other balcony," Peter told himself, half in awe and half in terrified optimism, as he numbly crossed the street, his eyes fixed above, on the one man who had the knack of pulling off the impossible.

It was almost too late when Neal realized that he wasn't going to clear the railing, instead was going to hit it, hard. Knew that, there was a good chance he would lose consciousness, making his victory null and void. Gritting his teeth, he prepared for impact even as he reached out, intended to grab onto the railing for dear life, literally.

But his hands never wrapped around the railing. Falling faster than Peter drove his car in New York traffic, he slammed, chest high, into the sharp corner of the railing. Lungs, motor skills, consciousness, it all nearly shut down. And then he dropped like a stone.

"Neal!" Peter screamed, hope turning into horror as Neal tumbled lifelessly from the 5th story balcony. Running to the alley, he shouted for all he was worth, "Neal!" prayed that he could rouse the younger man, could do something other than seek out something that could cushion his friend's fall, than contemplate trying to catch Neal like he was his five year old son jumping into his arms.

A voice screaming in his ear broke through Neal's haze of pain, a voice that he had been trained, for the past three years, to obey, a voice that he trusted. A voice that was demanding something of him, warning him of something. Needed something from him.

Opening his eyes, seeing the sickening rush of scenery flying by, he could barely determine wall from railing. Instinctively reaching out with his left hand for what didn't look like brick, his descent came to an abrupt stop, nearly dislocated his shoulder in the process. He let out a cry of pain and surprise when the railing, unpredictably, dropped another three inches, protested the added strain by starting to work its way loose of its foundation.

Peter, heart pounding, legs weak, took a stumbling step forward as Neal's second miraculous landing seemed doomed to still end in tragedy. Coming to a stand almost directly under Neal, he watched his friend precariously dangle one handedly from a deteriorating balcony four stories up. Let the panic win out for a moment before the FBI agent in him took over, got him moving, running for the entrance of the building. "Neal, just don't move. I'm coming to you."

His hand fisted around the cold iron of the railing, Neal closed his eyes in relief as Peter's promise washed over him. He didn't want to die. He knew that now. 'Now when it's practically too late,' he bitterly recognized. 'On all accounts.' Because there wasn't much left in his life that he hadn't destroyed. Yes, Peter was there, but Peter even valued the life of murderers, had refused to leave Kent behind even when every second they waited could have meant Peter's death by the poison.

So Peter trying to save him, he knew not to take it personally.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Bounding up the stairs, offering up a prayer with each step, Peter blamed himself for this, for Neal being with Ruiz's group, for being backed into a corner with no escape, for being moments away from dying. Neal had kept secrets, yes. Dangerous secrets. But like El had said, that was who Neal was.

And as much as Peter touted that he wanted Neal to change, in truth, he only wanted Neal to change when it came to their relationship. Wanted Neal to lie smoothly to the criminals…but never to him. To outsmart the rest of the world, not him. Wanted Neal's cons to be an undercover assignment, not his way of life. But Neal wasn't a man living two lives, he was a man just trying to survive everything life threw at him.

'Of course Neal also wanted to come away with a few trinkets for his efforts,' Peter ruefully thought. But there was less censure in that knowledge than there usually was, maybe because at that moment, Peter knew he would help Neal with his next heist if it meant the younger man hadn't left him, didn't die.

Slamming through the fourth floor door, Peter turned left, was already mentally calculating which apartment's balcony Neal was on by the number of doors from the west wall. Pounding on the door of his elected apartment, he shouted, "FBI, open up! Now!" But when two seconds passed with no noise and no sliding of the lock on the door, he warned, "This is an emergency! Open up or I'm coming in."

Then the heavenly sound of a bolt lock being turned sounded. He nearly knocked over the elderly man who opened the door as he barged into the room, ran for the far wall, pulled back the curtain and stepped out onto the balcony. And found no Neal.

For a heart stopping moment, he thought he was too late. Until a pained, breathless but mocking voice came surround sound from the mic in his ear and from his left.

"Satchmo has a better sense of direction…."

Peter's head snapped to the balcony of the next room over and then down, until his eyes latched possessively onto Neal Caffrey's pale face. Cursing, Peter spun around, ran from the room and down the hall. He didn't even bother with pleasantries, simply kicked in the door of the apartment that came furnished with one suspended con-man on the balcony and barreled inside, was sliding the glass door aside without having taken notice if the apartment was occupied.

But his first step until the rickety terrace had disastrous results, caused the balcony to pull further away from the wall. Immediately, Peter froze, didn't dare misplace his weight, but his eyes held Neal's through the iron bars of the railing. "Whoa. Don't move," wasn't sure if he was telling Caffrey that or himself.

Neal's intense gaze held Peter's. "I don't think that's an option," and he purposefully dropped his eyes to the open expansion below him. Knew that, some people had survived falls from that height but today, today he wasn't filling particularly lucky.

Peter's strident tone recaptured Neal's attention. "You're not going to fall!" 'I'm not going to let you fall!' he vowed as he slid his foot forward, grimaced as the railing creaked under his and Neal's combined weight.

"Peter don't!" Neal shouted, well, tried to shout anyway, but his diminished lung capacity had it coming out as a wheezed plea.

"I'll move slow," Peter explained, edging his other foot forward, gaining the middle of the four foot balcony. He clenched his jaw as the balcony dropped another half inch.

"Go back, Peter!" Neal ordered in alarm, was starting to accept his fate but wouldn't consign his best friend to it. "Get off the balcony!"

"I will when you do," Peter returned evenly, concentrating on moving again, determined to close in the distance that separated him from his friend, knew that the difference between him losing Neal or saving him was two lousy feet.

But when Peter's weight came to rest a foot away from the railing, the balcony frame bent, caused the FBI agent to fall forward, to slam into the railing…. but thankfully not go over it. Peter's next thought after his relief that he wasn't free falling, was of Neal. "Neal!" he shouted, edging forward even further needing to catch a glimpse of a Devore suit, praying that Neal was still there, that the younger man's hold hadn't been dislodged.

Eyes latching onto the top of his friend's bowed head, to the conman's left hand that hadn't let loose of the railing, Peter breathed out in heartfelt relief, "Neal" even as he thanked God for Neal Caffrey's tenacity. "Ok, I'm going to reach for you…"

"No," Neal softly refuted. Then he found the strength to look up, to meet Peter's eyes. "The balcony won't hold, Peter."

"Then I'll get something to tie around you…" Peter began to plan but he didn't move, couldn't move, knew that turning around meant leaving Neal alone, and he had done that enough, for far too long.

"No," Neal delivered with resolve.

Peter's heart dropped at the look in his friend's eyes, at the decision he knew Neal was making. Was making for them both, without his permission, would never be with his consent. "NO!" Peter harshly objected, even as he dropped to his knees, shoved his hand through the railing, made a desperate grab for Neal before the other man could put his plan into action, could let go in some stupid notion of heroics.

But Neal was quicker than he was, like he seemed to always be. Had already left go, of the last hand hold he had on the railing, …and on his life.

Nevertheless, Peter had caught Neal every time he tried to get away….and now was no exception. He caught the conman…sort of. Managed to snag the sleeve of Caffrey's costly suit only, but he held on tight. The menacing sound of a rent in the suit was akin to a scream, had him shouting, "Grab my hand!" Though his face was pressed against the bars of the railing making him blind to what was playing out below his line of sight, Peter could almost picture the defiant set to Caffrey's jaw.

"I am not leaving you, Neal," Peter stanchly announced even as his arm burned under the strain of supporting Caffrey's weight. "So we either both leave this terrace the civilized way….or the hard way. I prefer civilized."

Feeling the balcony shift under him again, seeing that the wall was beginning to crumble where the balcony was breaking free, Neal began to implore, "Peter, let me…."

"No," Peter growled, would not let Neal go, had been fooling himself to think he ever could. "We're in this together."

"This isn't 'Backdraft'. You go ..we go," Neal bit out, growing desperate to break the ties, to save Peter, anyway that he could.

"I'm hoping this has a better ending…." Peter said, trying to get a better hold on the fabric in his left hand even as his right hand blindly sought to find a piece of Neal to grab onto.

"Betrayal usually only ends one way," Neal sorrowfully conjectured. And he had betrayed Peter, had betrayed El and Mozzie and Sara and Alex and Kate and June. He betrayed everyone he had ever met. And there were prices to be paid. Prices he alone had to pay.

"Not in my book," Peter insisted, and then his right hand found what it had been searching for, coiled around Neal's hand and held on tight. "Not for us. We rewrote the book, Neal. It's what we do. It's why we are still here, why El is still here…and why I won't let you go. We tend to make our own rules, thought you of all people knew that."

"Peter..' Neal began, touched by Peter's words but still not willing to risk Peter's life in an ill attempt to save his own skin. Not again. Never again.

"Talk later, climb now," Peter urgently coached, even as he started to inch backwards, pull Caffrey up, moaned at the pull on his muscles, shut out the creaking of the failing balcony. Didn't stop until Neal's hand was through the bars, until he forcibly wrapped Neal's hand around the nearest iron bar. Then, when he was certain Neal wouldn't let go, he stood up, leaned over the railing and slid his hand under Neal's shoulder.

"Ok, you gotta help me here. On three," he said before he started his count off and when he pulled on Neal's shoulder and Caffrey levered himself up the railing. Neither man stopped, not even when the balcony's frame crumbled further, was more vertical than horizontal. They didn't stop until Neal was over the railing and had tumbled into Peter's arms, arms that didn't let him fall, that pulled him back from the ledge, onto solid ground.

Peter wasn't sure whose idea it was to sink to their knees inside the safe confines of the apartment but he didn't protest, nor did he loosen his grip on Neal, kept the man tucked up against his chest, safe. "Don't ever do that again," Peter threatened but his voice was a raw travesty of its usual timbre.

Too drained to even raise his head from Peter's chest, Neal tiredly admitted, "I didn't really… want to do it ….in the first place."

Peter cringed at Neal's muffled, breathless response. It was proof enough that he might have saved Neal from falling but not from getting hurt. Putting a bracing hand on Neal's shoulder, Peter extricated himself from Neal far enough to run an examining gaze down his partner's lithe frame. Suspiciously, he moved the suit jacket aside. Instantly, he drew in a sharp breath at the sight of blood ruining Neal's crisp blue pin striped shirt, the jagged hole in the fabric…and the rip in Neal's flesh.

Curiosity overriding exhaustion, Neal followed Peter's horrified gaze, figured out why his chest hurt like it had an ice pick jammed in it. "I think I got points taken off for my landing…." he slurred.

"Shhhh," Peter gently soothed, "Don't talk…" Then he brought his hand up to press on the wound, to stop the welling blood.

"You said I… could talk later…" Neal protested weakly, hardly noticed when Peter shifted positions, came and sat beside him and pulled him into a lean against his shoulder. All that registered with Neal was the fact that he wasn't alone, that Peter was there.

"Later's not now," Peter quietly returned, felt like he was arguing with a sleepy kid who didn't want to be put to bed. He knew he should reach for his phone, call an ambulance, but hated to shift Neal. Then he heard the sirens, knew that Ruiz had at least done that much right.

As much as Neal wanted to not question the gift of his friend's presence, his nature was not one of complacency. Rolling his head, he met Peter's eyes, had to know one thing before he could accept all this as a win. "Why did you come, Peter?"

Peter wasn't prepared to have Neal's sharp yet pain dulled eyes settle on him but the question? It wasn't unexpected. He had posed it to himself. And had come to the conclusion he knew he always would when it came to Neal. "Because you're worth it," he confessed, a tired but honest smile tipping up his lips, loved the surprised, affected expression his declaration garnered from his best friend's usually well-schooled, cryptic features. "Now, no talking…."

But there was too much to say, too much left unsaid for too long. "Peter…" Neal started, didn't know how to say everything he wanted to say. How did you thank someone for not only saving your life, but for saving your soul, too?

"You're welcome," Peter responded to the look in Neal's eyes, to the vulnerability in his friend's utterance of his name. He didn't need to hear the words to know the sentiment. Reading the acceptance and gratitude in Neal's eyes, he tightened his hold on Neal and wondering when high wire acts and miracles had become the normal, and how he had lived without them, without Neal for the past month. "And just so we are clear, I will put you under house arrest if you ever pull another stunt like this."

"Hey, I almost made it…" Neal protested, but his head was sinking farther against Peter's shoulder as the pain grew and his adrenaline faded.

"Almost isn't good enough," Peter shot back, knew that it would never be good enough if it cost him his partner. "I'm not going to break in another partner…."

"I know, because the paperwork's a killer…." Neal provided, his voice turning weaker.

Appreciating his wounded friend's efforts at levity, Peter laughed and rested his chin on Neal's bowed head for a second. "I might have exaggerated about the paperwork, didn't want you to actually think I liked working with you."

"It'll be our little …" Neal broke off, had almost said secret, knew now better than ever before how Peter felt about secrets.

"I punched Ruiz," Peter bluntly confessed. "I think it's out of the bag how attached I am to you, Neal."

Shocked, Neal couldn't help but lift his head and look at his friend, struggled a bit to get the words out. "Peter, I'm not sure what… I love more….. That you saved me from certain death …today …or that you inflicted physical harm…. on Ruiz."

"Well, relish it because you'll probably be on a one mile radius while I'm out on suspension," Peter joked, even as he knew he wouldn't undo his assault on Ruiz, only wished he had done it sooner. "Now, what did I say about the talking…." he gently scowled, nearly smirked at Neal's trade mark glower. But when his partner fell compliantly silent and rested his head back on his shoulder, Peter's worry spiked. Neal rarely gave in so easily.

'Just keep hanging on Neal. I still got you and, like I said, we're in this together from here on out,' he silently vowed, didn't loosen his grip on the kid that was more like a brother to him than anyone else on the planet. Not until the paramedics came. And even then, his hand found its way around Neal's ankle, stayed there as the paramedics hoisted their precious cargo down the apartment building's four flight of stairs. Needed Neal to know he was there, that he wasn't alone.

And it was ironic that his grip was right where Neal's tracking anklet usually was, that the connection that had once only meant bondage and distrust, it now meant brotherhood. That, though his bond with Neal had frayed to the thinnest of stands, it had still held together under the worst pressure, had proven itself strong enough to keep them both from falling. And that was worth more than some priceless Nazi treasure, any day of the week.

Climbing into the ambulance, taking a seat on the spare bed, Peter rested his hand on Neal's head. When he watched the panic in Neal's eyes morph to relief as the younger man registered his presence, Peter knew that he was right where he was supposed to be. That sometimes the best things in life, they just dropped out of the sky.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

The End….?

WCWCWCWCWCWWC

Thanks for your generous, fun, inspiring reviews, tagging this as a favorite and for just spending time with this story!

I'm considering adding an epilogue to give some comfort time to the harm I inflicted on poor Neal. I would love it you would let me know if that's something you would want to read.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.