She couldn't remember when Christie had become so important to her. It was odd because everything else about her stood out so sharply in her recollections. Her smell, how she breathed in when she slept, her laugh. It had been a long time since she let herself love someone so completely. As she watched her walk away from the home they shared, she knew her life was about to change in ways she didn't want to think. What more did she want from her? She wanted to stop and contemplate the question, but the suspect was on the move. She never imagined surveiling Neal Caffrey would be a welcomed assignment and a much needed distraction.

What was he doing here at Ground Zero, of all places? Since Bin Laden's capture and death, the area had been swarmed with people celebrating and remembering; alongside the usual suspects of government agents monitoring for security. The word had gone out to the Bureau, high alert. She was pretty sure whatever Caffrey was up to tonight; neither celebration nor security were at the forefront. Why was he here?

She had defended him to Peter, when he was convinced of his involvement in the Nazi plunder heist. Most of the time it had been the other way around, Peter taking his side and pleading Neal's case to her. Grudgingly, she'd come to trust the con man despite her better instincts. She came to share Peter's steadfast faith in his ability to change, to take a different path. Neal to his credit had proved himself on many occasions to be brave and loyal. His unconventional tactics were more than annoying and sometimes dangerous, but they got results.

Yet here he was standing outside a partially renovated building, in this place so stained with tragedy and loss. Her heart already burdened with thoughts of Christie, she didn't want to dwell on the possibility Neal Caffrey was up to no good.

He was about thirty feet away from her. She was good at this game, staying in the shadows, watching. People look but they don't see. Caffrey was trained to look, and so was she. He had been walking for over an hour, until now. He slowed his walk, turned sharply and entered the building to his left. She ran the building address and the results made her blood run cold, owner Vincent Adler.

()()()()()()

"Hi Diana, what's up?"

"Hey Boss, I've been monitoring Neal like you asked, and I think there is something you need to see."

"OK, I'll be right there."

"Honey its Diana, I'm sorry but I am going to have to go into work." He hated missing another night away from home. Elizabeth had made pot roast and it was a long time since they had a Friday night to themselves. He was looking forward to the weekend with his wife.

"It's Neal isn't it?" she said with a trace of worry in her voice.

Peter sighed, knowing a conversation would have to be had with his better half.

"Yes, Dianna and I have been surveilling him since the incident with Adler and the stolen art."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe him, to trust him that he didn't do it?"

"I have trusted him El; you know that more than anyone. But my gut tells me he was involved, that he was keeping something from me."

"Have you talked with him, since you accused him?"

"We have been working cases."

"No, really talked to him, Peter."

"Well, he hasn't been exactly chatty Cathy."

"He's Neal, he's not going to just open up to you, especially now. I am sure he's hurt and maybe a little afraid."

"I know why I don't trust him for this. What I don't know, is why you do. What makes you so sure?" the anger and irritation in his voice was clear, the hurt maybe not so much.

What he always loved about Elizabeth was her loyalty, her stubborn and unyielding faith in her beliefs and for the better part of 15 years together he was always top beneficiary of that trust and loyalty. Truth be told, he didn't like sharing that with Neal Caffrey. It shouldn't bother him but it did. He knew there was no reason to feel jealous, but damn it he did. He knew he would have to square things with Elizabeth, but that would have to wait for later. He wouldn't have anything clouding his judgment tonight when it came to Neal.

()()()()()()()

He stepped out of the stairway into a silent corridor. It led to a rusty door with a painted F on the front, across from the elevator core. It had a simple lever, one pull and it opened under his hand. He walked quickly to the dusty table in the corner. There was the box, as promised. He took a deep breath, lifted it and started back to the stairwell.

"Neal," came the familiar voice.

"Peter, Diana, fancy meeting you two here," he flashed that million dollar smile.

"The question is what are you doing here?"

"I am within my radius."

"Don't play cute, Caffrey. I am not in the mood for cute. I am going to ask you again, why are you in this building, a building that belonged to Vincent Adler tonight." His eyes fixed on the box Neal was cradling in his right hand.

"Look Peter, it's not what you think."

Before this familiar dance between the partners could play itself out, there was the sound of a click. Neal fell quiet and stood stock still. Peter began to speak…

"Shh…" he put a finger up for punctuation.

"No, you don't get to shush me."

"Listen ….do you hear that. We've heard that sound before, Peter," as a series of clicks began in rapid procession.

Before either could respond, there was a rolling sound, like a thunder clap. Then all hell literally broke loose. A bomb had gone off. Dust and debris choked the space.

()()()()()()

Diana's head was pounding; she accepted she was breathing faster and harder than normal. She got to her feet, bracing against the ringing in her head and took a step toward Peter, who was lying slumped against a concrete pillar a few feet away. Thank God, he was awake and alert.

"Boss, are you alright?"

He spoke slowly, his voice raspy from all the dust he inhaled. He managed to sit up.

"Yeah, how about you?"

"I am good, it's all good, just a couple of scrapes," but she was wrong.

"Neal, where's Neal? " Peter asked, worry and pain lining his face.

Both looked toward the elevator banks where they last saw him. To their combined horror, there was nothing but a gaping hole in the twisted floor where Neal had stood moments earlier. Peter scrambled to his feet and ran forward, stopping just inches away from the massive opening in the floor. Diana was right behind.

"Neal, Neal, can you hear me?"

"Here, I'm here," a muffled voice came out of the dark.

Neal's voice was a welcomed relief; but that feeling was short lived as Peter looked down to see Neal hanging onto a steel girder by one hand, below him a 50 foot drop.

"OK, I am going to reach down and pull you up," Peter grabbed Neal's arm above the wrist. "Got you. OK, now give me your other hand. Neal..." Peter's heart beat accelerated, as he looked into his partner's eyes and saw the determination to not let go of the box.

"Neal, I can't hold you. Damn it, whatever's in that box is it worth your life? For God's sake give me your other hand. "

Sweat was pouring from Peter like a spigot; his arm and shoulder straining from Neal's weight, his grip loosening. Diana couldn't believe what was happening. She leaned in closer to the two men.

"Neal, listen to Peter now."

Then she felt it, her body sway. Maybe it was all the adrenaline pumping through her. A second later the sickening realization hit her like a ton of bricks; it wasn't her body moving … it was the floor. The floor swayed and bounced under her feet, then jerked and rolled before splintering. There was a deafening roar and a furious howling noise a hundred times louder, as hot air rushed in funneling upward battering everything and everyone in its path. Then suddenly the room went quiet. There was no light anywhere, the particles of concrete obliterating all view. And as suddenly as the quiet came , so did the sounds of invisible crashing as the building began to collapse on itself, level by level, pancaking down and spiraling upward towards them. Dust, fear and blood filled the air. Wheezing and gasping, she was tossed backwards. For a moment she lay still in the darkness. She must have passed out, because afterwards she crawled back to where she last saw Peter and Neal.

()()()()()()()

The world had turned upside down; with no warning the floor had propelled him crashing toward the ceiling. Death had come for him; waiting, watching. His last thoughts were of Elizabeth and how he'd left angry. Everything went black. He came to amidst the rubble; split and shattered beams, chunks of concrete and panes of glass chevroning. His heart pounded, eardrums stretched taut by the over pressurized air. Every fiber in his arm and shoulder seemed on fire as it dangled loosely by his side. The pain of muscle memory brought him up solid against the cause, holding onto Neal Caffrey. With his good arm, he fumbled for a flashlight in his jacket pocket. He kept the flashlight trained on what was left of the floor. He lurched forward stumbling over piles of crumbled debris. His head hurt, as blood trickled into his eye from the two inch gash along his hairline. His ears began buzzing as he felt himself falling. She caught him just in time to prevent what would have been a nasty collision with an upended steel beam.

"Boss, you OK?" she lowered him to the ground.

"I've been better, how about you?"

"Ask me when we get out of here."

"What about Neal?"

"I don't know. I heard a sound back there. I was moving towards it when I saw your flashlight."

"Help me up," he held out his good arm to her and she helped him to his feet.

"Peter, you're hurt. You're not going to be able to get to him in this condition."

"That's not an option."

"Your arm, it's…"

"Dislocated, I know. You can help me with that." He leaned his injured shoulder against the upended steel girder.

"OK. When I say three, push." For a second her mind went blank, and then she pushed. His scream echoed in the wreckage, as his shoulder popped back into place. They moved quickly now through the smashed building, until they reached the place Diana heard the noise. Their efforts were brought to an abrupt halt by an impenetrable mountain of concrete and mesh rising up where the elevator banks had been. She felt her heart sink; there was no way they could get past it. They both stood silently. Peter's face was pale and sweaty, his breathing laboured. She knew he needed medical attention, soon.

"Boss…."

"Wait, did you hear that. Listen." There was a faint sound, a muffled voice.

"Yeah, over there," Peter trained the flashlight in the direction.

There was a space, the size of a small window; one and a half feet wide two feet deep maybe. A kid could get through; a full grown adult was going to be a problem. Maybe she could sqeeze through, but no way was Peter going to make it, bum arm or no.

"Boss, no way are you going to get in there. I got this, and anyway if I get stuck somebody's got to go for the cavalry. Something told me that second doughnut was going to be a problem," she smiled.

"Di, be careful," Peter searched her eyes, and uncharacteristically hugged her hard and longer than he needed to.

"Don't worry, I was trained by the best."

She managed to get one shoulder through, then the next. She bent one leg and pulled it through and then got the other through. She used her legs as leverage, pushing the chunks of concrete and mesh to either side as she made a channel large enough to push her body forward. Painstakingly she repeated this process over and over again until she found a bit of crawlspace formed by the broken girders. She lowered her body down, when she saw him. Neal was lying on his back.

"Boss, I see him," she called up to Peter.

"Is he…"

"I can't tell yet." She realized there was nothing to grab onto, she would have to drop the rest of the way. She landed feet first next to Caffrey. His chest rose and fell slowly; she took in a deep breath.

"Peter, he's alive."

()()()()()()()

A girl with long dark hair was coming toward him across the tarmac. In her outstretched hand she held a box. The breeze blew her hair as the sun gilded the burning sky in vivid reds and oranges. Her face was white and smooth, no signs of bitterness or reproach. He was dreaming again. He knew it. There were moments of grace in his dreams, although too far and few between. He knew he wouldn't remember them when he was awake. There was a dull aching in his belly, a tiny trickle of blood flowing from his nose and mouth. The force of the explosion knocked him clear across the elevator core against what was left of the back wall. Mercifully consciousness came and went as he lay in the dark. …slowly his eyes fluttered open, as he heard her call his name and felt the warmth of her hand on his face.

"Kate?"

"Neal, it's Diana, can you hear me?"

For a moment he didn't know where he was. Then he remembered why he had come to this place.

"What happened?" his throat was so dry.

"We think a bomb went off, the blast weakened the building and it collapsed.

"Where's Peter? Is he alright" his breathing sped up and he struggled to fill his lungs.

"Neal, Peters OK. He's right above us. You need to remain calm. Here, can you sit up? It might help you breathe easier."

She took his shoulders and began to pull him upright. His face went white.

"Stop," he gasped in pain. Don't … Oh,God, please...my leg." A wave of pain flooded his body, threatening to wrench it apart. He clenched his teeth hoping he could stop the scream building deep within him. Then another spasm of pain so intense, he stopped knowing whether he was screaming or not. With white boned knuckles he gripped Diana's hand and clung on for dear life. He couldn't feel anything but pain and the knowledge of more pain. It had emptied his lungs so completely, he struggled for breath.

His pain sent a momentary shiver through her body. She knew the only thing he wanted was for it to stop. Panic was welling up in her chest. She knew it wouldn't do either of them any good. She wrenched her hand free of Neal's. He was able to hold on with astonishing strength. Gently she laid him back on to the floor. His body was shaking uncontrollably, tears rolling down his face.

"Neal, look at me, breathe…. We are going to get out of this. I am going to get you out of this."

Those amazing blue eyes of his normally looked as if they were lit from behind, now they were clouded with pain and shock. He turned his face towards her and lost consciousness.

()()()()()()

Neal's screams echoed thru the cavernous space. A frantic Peter called down to Diana.

"What's wrong, what's happening? Diana, talk to me!"

With Neal thankfully unconcious, Diana was able to survey the damage. A darkened pool of blood was under his right leg. On closer inspection she could see the object of his agonizing pain. A one inch piece of rebar was protruding above his right thigh. Apparently he was impaled on to it when he fell, it sent an involuntary chill through her.

"Peter, I am here. Neal's in bad shape."

"How bad?"

"I don't know, he's passed out. His leg is impaled on a piece of metal. By the amount of blood I can see, it doesn't look like it hit a main artery. We are not going to be able to move him. Boss, I think it's time for the cavalry."

"I tried my phone, there's no signal. I am going to go for help, we can use Neal's anklet to find you."

"OK Boss, hurry," as she watched Neal's still body.

His eyes should have adjusted to the dark by now, but his vision continued to go in and out of focus. The pressure in his skull was building. It was sheer force of will that kept him upright as he made his way in the dark. The sounds of Neals' s screams reverberated in his head and made him nauseous. He could hear muted city sounds and figured he was getting close to the exterior. He sensed human movement ahead thru the shadows and dim light. The bright lights of a flaslight momentarily blinded him.

"Raise your hands," the agent said.

He was a medium build, early forties, ex military... maybe DOD,DIA. The demand hung in the air for a moment. His gun was aimed at Peter's chest.

"Last chance," he growled. His finger tighened on the trigger, as the agents behind him moved forward. They took position, two on his left and two on his right and stood still.

"I am a federal agent."

"Prove it."

Peter put his hand in his inside jacket pocket and came back with his badge. He was sweating profusely, but his face was calm and composed.

"OK, what are you doing here, agent Peter Burke?"

"I have people in here, and we are wasting time," he stepped forward.

"Stay where you are. You're going to tell me what you are doing here, now."

"I told you who I am. Do you think I am making this up?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything about you Agent Burke, ID or no ID. What I do know is, I lost a lot of friends when these towers came down. So, you don't leave until I know what you know." The building groaned and creaked, as minor tremors rippled through the space. Peter knew time was not on his side, he needed a plan. He stepped forward.

"I am going for help. Either move or take the shot."