Chapter One

"Hold on, Boss!" Jones' voice flooded Peter with relief. He could hear the young man's feet pounding on the bridge as he raced to where Peter was hanging, arms wrapped around a metal pole. His legs were dangling below; his muscles were shaking with exhaustion. He had managed to pull himself to this position, elbows wrapped around the bridge, but he didn't have the strength to bring himself the rest of the way. He had just had to hold on and wait, as precious moments slipped by.

Jones appeared above him, leaned over the railing, and grabbed Peter by the back of his shirt. After a moment or two of grunts and groans, Peter was topside. His immediate relief vanished, and he sprang back up, "Neal!" he looked over the railing. "He went over, Jones. He's in the water." Thirty feet below, swollen by heavy rains, the river raged with a muddy tint. There was no sign of Neal, but Peter hadn't expected one. He had seen the water swallow up his friend moments before.

More feet came pounding toward them, "Get search and rescue down here!" He heard Jones yell. "Caffrey's in the water."

"Take it easy, boss," pulling Peter back down to the ground to assess his condition. "Are you hit?" Jones was looking at Peter's shirt. They had heard a gunshot. Peter followed his gaze. The front of his shirt was spattered with blood. And he knew is face was, too. "No, it's not mine. It's Neal's"

He had felt the splash of warmth when the shot had rang out. Neal had been standing just in front of him, trying to talk a delusional man out of shooting them. The man who came to buy the painting was paranoid; he was high and not thinking clearly. He was scared, and Neal was trying to calm him down. They had been ordered to step back. Peter had done so, but Neal lagged behind, moving himself into a position where he blocked a clear line between Peter and the gunman. Peter thought Neal was getting somewhere, but the arrival of the FBI at the end of the bridge spooked the man, and in fear he pulled the trigger and took off. The blast sent a bullet through Neal, and blood spraying onto Peter's face and shirt.

Peter was in shock for a split second, blinking, tasting the salty copper of Neal's blood on his lips. The force of the bullet propelled Neal backward, into him, and then towards the railing; a surprised look on his face. Peter grabbed at him just as he went over the edge, and both of them tumbled over. Peter caught hold of a piece of the lower railing with one hand, the other holding tightly to Neal. The jolt of the arrested descent tore at Peter's shoulder. He hung there, grimacing in pain, both his weight and Neal's pulling unmercifully on his arm. He looked down to see Neal dangling beneath him. He had a hold of Neal's wrist, and Neal had a hold of his. Hands locked together in a desperate grip.

"Give me your other hand Neal," He said through gritted teeth. "You are slipping."

"No, Peter," Neal's voice sounded weak. "Let me go. You can't hold both of us."

Peter didn't know how bad Neal had been hit, but he could see the blood stain on Neal's shirt expanding each second. The expression on his face was no longer one of surprise; it was of pain.

"Yes I can." Peter's voice was determined, in spite of the trembling weakness that was growing in his arm. Help was only moments away. He just had to hold on. On to the railing and on to Neal.

"No you can't." Neal's eyes had darkened. "Let me go," He said again.

"I am not letting go!" Peter could hear the desperation in his raised voice.

"I know you're not," Neal's eyes met his. "but I am." He felt Neal's hand open; the grip on his wrist disappearing. Peter squeezed but could feel Neal slipping from his grasp. "Dammit, Neal!"

Peter grasped at the air futilely watching as Neal dropped away from him. The tearing pain in his arm lessened immediately, but a worse pain swept through him as he realized that those words might be the last he ever said to his friend. Peter saw Neal's blue eyes close as he fell; the water so rough there wasn't even a splash as Neal disappeared beneath the murky surface.