A/n Random Angst. Might write another chapter, really no resolution but I'm gonna need thos precious reviews for motivation.

He's tired so tired. He tries to shut his eyes, to fall asleep but someone holds him there. Grounded. On the earth. His blue eyes flicker up, catching brown ones brimming with tears. What do you want? He thinks, his face falling forward. His cheeks are held, pinched, stretched. Anything to keep him lucid. It works and he opens his mouth. Ready to talk. Blood spills out instead of words and it has the other man reeling back. Neal coughs, the blood painting stripes on his pristine white tie. The world tilts, becoming a dizzying swirl of colors. Someone calls out, a yelp, a plead. No, not a yelp or a plead, a promise. His eyes shut and his body goes limp, falling backward into the rainy alleyway.

He has a protector. Peter. He's not going anywhere. Peter waits, the sirens come. The EMTs racing out, pulling Neal away. Peter sits on the curb, looking at his raw hands, deep maroon streams flowing through the cracks on his hands. Sparkling drops of water fall down his ashen face. Thoughts race like horses through his mind, stomping their sharp hooves down the trail. It had gone wrong all in a second.

A gun was pulled, Peter reacted. Too fast, too soon, not the right placement. The suspect alluded him, twisting and tugging Neal over by his tie. The bullet slicing through the air, hitting the wrong target. Neal falling to the ground, Peter yelling out. He had hit the wrong thing, the suspect had rushed off. Free. Peter didn't care, he had run over to Neal, pulling him on his lap. Trying to keep him awake. He needed Neal awake, alive.

"You will be okay." He pleaded-promised- to Neal, his eyes finally fluttering shut. The sharp blueness pushed away by white skin and midnight eyelashes.

He gets up, pushing off the ground and turns walking slowly to his car. He gets in and drives away a zombie. One thing on his mind, pushing him forward. The red lights hurt his eyes as he pushed through the doors to the ER. He waved off the doctors assaulting him with questions.

"I'm fine," He mumbled, "It's not my blood, it's my partners."

He choked on partners a new wave of tears breaking free. The nurses led him to a chair, he waited. The clock laughed at him, time didn't move. His breath strangled him, he loosened his tie. Coffee called to him and he let the scalding liquid pass into his system. His hands shook and he held them still. A doctor came, blood stained scrubs. Peter stood, long legs moving him upwards when all he wanted was to sink down, down, down.

"Agent," The doctor nodded, his blonde hair flopping into his eyes in an oddly Caffery fashion, "He's in critical condition. We don't know if he'll make it but for now he's stable, not conscious but stable. "

Peter sucked in a breath; he might not make it, the doctor's words bounced around in his head. His chest ached, his legs fumbled underneath him. He fell towards the ground, a ringing in his ears growing louder and louder. The doctor ran forward, catching Peter on the way down. Praying that he didn't have another patient, he flipped the Agent around. Peter's face was white, blank, his brown eyes possessed. He was dead. Gone. Lost. The doctor's heart screamed out and he pushed the guilt down. Focusing, hard and steady, he tried to make contact. Get the man closer to the living.

He led Peter down the hallway, nipping his heels, keeping him upright. Peter felt a prick, a wave of calmness, sleepiness and knew he had been drugged. He didn't care. It had been a long day and all he needed was to drift away…

A/n Hoped you liked it, told you there wasn't a resolution, just kind of an ending. I'm really wanting to write another chapter. Will I have an audience? Let me know.