A/N: The scene in which Peter dies is contained in this chapter. You have been warned.

Neal sat between Diana and Jones at the FBI conference table wishing he were anywhere else. He was gripping the table with his hands as though it was the only thing anchoring him there. He tried to focus on what Hughes was saying, but he didn't have the heart to listen. The only thing he could think was that Peter wasn't going to come into the office today or any day. He had been left partner-less. Suddenly, Neal felt a light tap on his back. He looked up to see Diana looking at him closely.

"Neal, are you with us?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer. "I know this is hard. But we need to know what happened when you found Peter," Diana said, her voice cracking on Peter's name, as she placed her hand reassuringly on top of his.

The last thing Neal wanted to do was retell the events of the previous night. However, he also wanted to know the whole story behind what had happened. Although the fire could easily have been explained away as an accident, he didn't believe that it was.

He took a deep breath in and began the painful narration.

As Neal walked towards the Burke's house, he could hear Satchmo barking frantically. As Satchmo was usually really well-behaved, Neal found this odd. When he approached the entryway, he was surprised to see the door standing wide open.

"Peter? Are you here?" He shouted. He didn't receive any response.

Satchmo run up to him and continued barking and then sprinted back into the living room. Neal followed to find Peter lying motionless beneath the overturned couch, which appeared to be emitting very small traces of smoke, remnants from a fire that had since been put out.

"Peter, PETER!," Neal screamed. He ran the short distance from the kitchen into the living room, pulled the couch away, and begin shaking Peter frantically. A rational voice in the back of his mind told him that that was not going to help. Thus he felt for a pulse; it was there, but it was faint.

"Ne...al?" Peter asked, opening his eyes slightly, his voice hoarse. While he was trying to focus his gaze on Neal, his eyes were glassy and unfocused, "Where's... El?"

"She's...she's not here, Peter. She...Peter, stay with me!" Neal ordered as Peter's eyes closed once again. He tried to collect himself enough to search his suit jacket for his cell phone. He pulled it out and hurriedly dialed 911.

After he spoke with the paramedics and learned there wasn't anything he could do other than wait for them, he sat on the floor next to Peter and gripped his hand. Much to Neal's relief, Peter initially gripped it back. However, the relief was short-lived as Peter's fingers slowly loosened from Neal's. Neal continued to squeeze Peter's hand, whether to comfort himself or Peter, he wasn't sure.

A/N: I can't bring myself to write the next part so I'm just going to stop here. But It involves a sheet going over Peter... maybe if you check this again later I'll have gotten past the sudden urge to do anything but work on this story when I think about it