A/N: This explains what happened right after the plane explodes, because the show doesn't explain other than what happened two months after. When I mention the wine bottle, I didn't know what year to put because in the Pilot episode the bottle says 1891 but Neal says 82. So I chose what the bottle said.

I have rewritten this chapter in so many different ways over an extension of snow days I recently had, and almost chose a different angle, but I decided this one was the one to post. I'm not exactly proud of it, especially not the beginning since its just retelling part of an actual episode, so I don't think I did it justice, but I hope you enjoy it.

Neal walked out onto the asphalt outside Hanger 4. The jet was about 100 feet away; he could hear the engine running as it prepared for flight. Kate walked into the open doorway, waving to him. Neal lifted a hand to wave back, and began to walk toward the plane. He stopped short when a voice called from behind him.

"Neal!"

Neal lowered his hand and turned slowly to face none other than Agent Peter Burke.

"Are you here to arrest me?" Neal asked, dreading the answer.

"I'm still a civilian." Peter said, smiling; his hands spread out on each side, somewhat of a cross between a shrug and surrender. "And I know about mentor." He said, lowering his hands. "And I know you can walk away, and it's all legal." He said, gesturing towards the plane.

"Then what are you doing here?" Neal asked, confused. Snow began to fall softly around him.

"I'm here as your friend." Peter said, shrugging his shoulders.

"You understand I'm getting on that plane…" Neal asked, pointing at the plane behind him. It was more of a statement than a question.

"I also know you're making the biggest mistake of your life." Peter countered.

"This is what's best for everyone, Peter. You go back to you're life, I get to have one of my own." Neal replied, desperately.

"You already have one!" Peter said disbelievingly. "Right here! You have people that care about you. You make a difference." When Neal looked away, Peter added, "You do."

Neal looked at him for a second as if he was going to say something, then, instead, fumbled around inside the inner-breast pocket of his jacket. He pulled something small and rectangular out, walking forward several steps.

"Thank you for this." Neal said, handing Peter the object. Peter could see faint signs that Neal was getting choked up, but he could also see the conman in him cleverly masking it.

Peter unfolded the item. It was the I.D. card they'd made for Neal when he first became a consultant. Peter shook his head slightly and looked up at the younger man.

"I gotta go." Neal said, turning before Peter could see his walls breaking down slowly. He walked several steps out towards the plane before he heard Peter call to him again.

"You said goodbye to everyone but me. Why?" Peter called out. He had been hurt that Neal never said his farewells to him like he had to everyone else. And he was using it as an opportunity to stall.

Neal hesitated before turning back. He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

"Yeah you do, tell me." Peter persisted.

"I don't know, Peter."

"Why?" he said again, more sternly than the last.

"You know why!" Neal said, becoming uncomfortable.

"Tell me." Peter forced.

"Cause you're the only one who could change my mind." Neal admitted sullenly.

"Did I?" Peter asked, hopefully. The hope was dashed when Neal looked back at the plane and began to walk away again. Peter sighed and watched as he walked.

Suddenly he saw the younger man stop, and hesitantly turn back. A tear was visible running down his cheek.

"Peter…"

Before Peter could figure out what was happening, the plane behind Neal exploded in a burst of flames. The pressure pushed Neal off his feet. Peter was running towards him in an instant, as Neal began to get back up. He reached the man just in time as he began to bolt back towards the plane. Neal's eyes were panicked, his hair messed up from the wind.

"No! No! NO!" Neal shouted as Peter tried to keep his grip on him. For a moment Neal stopped struggling and whispered, "Oh my God…" before once more screaming, "NOOO!"

At that moment Neal collapsed onto the ground, a hysteria of sobs and yells. He was ranting endlessly, "Peter she's dead! Peter we have to help her! Peter! How… KATE!" as he sobbed. Peter went to comfort the man, when suddenly Neal clung to Peter, his arms wrapped around the older man. Peter hugged him back, ignoring the fact that in the right mind Neal would never think of offering that kind of touch. Neal sobbed into Peter's shoulder for several minutes as the noise died down.

Neal removed his head from Peter's shoulder and stood, his entire body shaking. He took several clumsy steps towards the wreck, noticing that ashes were slowly mixing with the falling snow. The plane's ashes. Kate's ashes. Neal suddenly began wiping the ashes off of himself furiously, screaming, "It's Kate! Oh my God! It's Kate!"

Neal's entire body was wracking with sobs and shakes, as he stopped brushing the ashes off and instead stared at the burning spot that was once a large jet. He walked forward several steps more, and leaned down to pick something up. It was a bottle of wine. Unopened. It had somehow survived the large explosion, and was now covered in ash. Neal could barely make out the label. Bordeaux. 1891. Kate had bought a full bottle of their wine. A symbol that the promise of a good life had finally been fulfilled. Neal knelt down on his knees and cradled the bottle in his hands. Slowly he lay down on his back and clutched the bottle to his chest.

And there he lay, a broken man, covered in ashes, staring up at the sky as he clutched a bottle of wine to his chest. Peter slowly made his way over to him, still trying to take in what just happened.

"Neal, you need to get up."

As much as Peter wanted to let his friend lay there as long as he needed, he had to report this. For all he knew the person who blew up the plane could still be here. When Neal ignored him, still staring at the sky, Peter extended a hand towards him. Neal still ignored him at first, but then reached his hand out to take Peter's. Peter pulled the man up, slowly, so that he was in a standing position. He noticed how bad Neal's trembling really was, and also noted that his hands were cold and clammy. Neal had tear lines running down his face. Peter recalled him once telling Neal that if he cried, he would simply give him a slug on the shoulder and tell him to cowboy up. But Neal was beyond just crying. He had been sobbing. And now he had a distant look, as if he were in another world. Peter waved a hand in front of Neal's face. Neal slowly turned his head to face Peter.

"She's gone." He whispered.

"Let's go, Neal." Peter said. He went to take the wine bottle from the con's hands, but Neal looked at him with panic in his eyes and pulled the bottle out of Peter's reach. Peter decided to let him hold onto it, and led Neal away from the scene with his hand on the man's shoulder. When they were about to turn towards the parking lot, where Peter's Taurus was waiting, Neal turned around once more and let out a small whimper. The fire was dying down, and the last of the ash had settled. Peter looked at the man with immense sympathy, and gently guided him back on track to the car.

Once they were safely in the car, Peter looked at Neal, who had not yet buckled his seatbelt. He was simply staring at the bottle in his hands, turning it over and over, slowly reading the label each time.

"Neal, you need to buckle your seatbelt." Peter said as gently as possible.

Neal gave him no response. It was as if he hadn't even heard Peter.

Peter sighed and reached across Neal, pulling the seatbelt over him, maneuvering around his arms, and clicked it into place. Neal didn't even acknowledge him.

Peter sat back for a moment and realized how fast his heart was beating. Then the thought went through his mind. I just watched a plane explode. I just watched Neal's love die. He couldn't believe that's what he just went through. It seemed like only seconds had passed since it happened, but it had really been almost twenty minutes. It was almost unreal. Kate, the one they had worked so hard to protect, was dead. Just like that. Peter drove on autopilot to his house. He guided Neal inside, who was still staring at the bottle. Once safely inside, he called El to come downstairs. When she did, she noticed the crazed look on her husband's face and was immediately concerned.

"Honey, what happened?"

"El, watch Neal. I have to go call in what just happened and I don't want him to hear me."

"What did just happen?" El asked, panicking.

"I'll explain in a minute. I'm going to go make the call. Don't try talking to Neal, he won't respond." Peter said before leaving the room.

El had no idea what was happening. But it was obvious that it wasn't good. Neal was still standing where Peter had left him, staring down at a wine bottle.

"Neal, would you like to sit?" Elizabeth offered. Neal didn't even blink.

Elizabeth walked over to him and gently guided him to the couch, where he slowly sat. The entire time his eyes were locked on the bottle. El sat on his left. When he finally looked up, he seemed dazed. She held back a gasp when she realized his eyes were filled with tears. His hair was sticking out everywhere, and there were lines of ashes sweeping across his face. His body was visibly trembling, especially his hands, which were trying their best to keep their grip on the wine bottle.

"She's gone." He whispered to her, his voice broken. He sounded like a small child.

"Who's gone, Neal?" she asked. Before Neal could answer, Peter was back in the room.

"El…"

"Peter what is going on?" Elizabeth asked from next to Neal; who had gone back to staring at his bottle.

"El, we were just at the airstrip by the Hudson River. Do you remember how Neal was supposed to leave?"

"Well, sort of, I mean he said goodbye to me and you mentioned that Mentor thing." She answered, still confused.

"Well, I went there to see if I could get Neal to stay, and…"

"And what?" Elizabeth asked, getting up and walking over to her husband.

Peter kept his voice low, although with how out-of-it Neal was he assumed he wouldn't hear them anyway.

"The plane that Kate was on exploded." He finally said. El had disbelief and shock painted across her face.

"Wait so Kate's…"

"Dead." Peter finished.

It was then that Neal looked up; obviously he had been listening.

"Peter?" Neal asked quietly, his voice somewhat raspy from crying.

"Yeah, Neal?" Peter answered, sure that his face was covered in nothing but sympathy and pity for the younger man.

"Can I go home now?"

Peter was shocked at how young Neal sounded. He sounded like an eight year old child who wasn't having any fun at a birthday party; miserable.

Elizabeth gave Peter a look that said, 'there is no way you're letting him leave'. Peter understood and said, "Absolutely not. You can take the guest room tonight."

Normally Neal would protest, and when his mouth began to open Peter was sure he would, but Neal only closed his mouth again and nodded. The poor man had no fight left in him. He didn't think this was a good time to tell him that the FBI had a warrant for his arrest and would be collecting him tomorrow.

A/N: Not very good, I know, but it was just a random idea I had to get on paper. If you'd like to read one of my better Neal hurt stories, try I Didn't Let You Down. It's still in progress and has plenty of hurt Neal and Peter comfort. As for this story, if you want me to continue, there will only be one or two chapters after this one; hopefully better ones. I have another story idea which you can find in a poll on my profile page, and I may combine it with this one. I'm not sure yet, though. Please review!

-AgentDiNozzo13