This is my first fanfiction; any feedback is greatly appreciated. If you're out there reading this, please let me know! I'll gladly continue with the story.

Neal Caffrey was many things. Conman—of course, thief—occasionally, mastermind- why thank you, yes… but disloyal? Never. And so, on that murky Thursday evening, as he and Agent Peter Burke were exiting the FBI headquarters and the strung out man with the knife asked which of them was Peter Burke, Neal stepped in front of his mentor and said "I am Peter Burke". As Neal stole a glimpse at Peter, a quizzical look in the agent's warm brown eyes, a sharpness interrupted his thoughts. Neal's blood ran cold, and before he could register what was happening, he saw those warm brown eyes burn with horror and passion.


Neal opened his mouth to ask his friend what was wrong, but the sound was muffled in his throat. Neal's eyes fluttered to his chest, his eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head as his vision darkened. Neal weakly fought the urge to give in, to pass out. A brilliant crimson, richer than any red he'd seen, was blossoming across his shirt. Neal involuntarily gasped, the action alone causing excruciating pain. In sooth, it could only have been three, maybe four, seconds.

"Peter," Neal forced the air out of his lungs, involuntarily gurgling on hot and sticky blood as he felt his knees buckle. Neal raised a shaky hand to his chest, and immediately, his hand was hot and sticky. Neal tried to inhale, to steady himself, reaching out for something, anything, to keep himself anchored. Once more his vision darkened. His chest was on fire, waves of pain licking his nerves and dancing through his veins. Neal felt himself falling and braced himself for the hard cement, and everything went black.


Peter and Neal had just finished writing up the report on James Lucas, a white collar criminal who had been the mastermind behind a series of insurance frauds in the Manhattan area… though to be honest, Neal really hadn't been much help. He'd been flipping that damned fedora from his hand to his head and then back again.. it was all Peter could do not to smack the kid. But nevertheless, Neal waited for him. As they finally finished, Neal grumbled something about missing dinner and how he was going to have to eat leftover's from June's fridge. "Oh, poor Neal has to eat leftover prime rib? Count your blessings, Caffrey. You could be eating prison sludge right now."
Neal sighed in frustration. Peter knew that the prison card was a surefire way to get on his CI's nerves—which was exactly why he had played it.

As they turned the corner out of the building, his train of thought was interrupted. A man, probably late twenties and scruffy in appearance, looked upon the duo. "Which one of you is Peter Burke?" Peter followed Neal's gaze down to the glimmering knife in the man's hand and, as he assessed the situation and took a breath to respond, he heard the four most shocking words. "I am Peter Burke."

Without warning, the offender stepped into Neal's path, thrusting the knife into his CI's chest and twisting the handle. He then pushed Neal off of the blade, discarded it to the ground, and ran off. Not that it mattered what direction he ran, because Peter's eyes were glued to Neal. He watched the younger man take a sharp breath and utter his name, his voice laced with pain and confusion, a mixture that broke Peter's heart. Neal sounded tipsy, the 'r' in Peter's name slurring against his blood-tinged lips.
Blood tinged…

Caffrey… dammit Neal…

Neal blanched as he ghosted his trembling fingers across the quickly spreading wound on his chest. Peter felt locked into place as he stared in horror, Neal's eyes still fixed on his, though those brilliant blue eyes seemed foggy, unfocused. As Neal weakly shuttered and collapsed into a heap, Peter lurked forward. He thrust his left hand upon the back of Neal's neck, firmly, and used his right to catch the man's fall. Peter eased the young man to the ground.

"Neal? Neal, can you hear me? Neal, stay with me."

The panic in his voice was only rivaled by the concern for the young man. Caffrey's eyes fluttered towards Peter and rolled behind his head. Peter's breath hitched in his throat, an ache in his chest as he looked at the young man. "No, Caffrey, you're not leaving me.. not like this. Not this way.." Oh god..

Please let me know what you think so far!