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"Drop it!" Peter yelled furiously, pointing his gun at the suspect.
"You drop it!" the man, Corey Brooks, shouted back pressing the barrel of his own gun more tightly against Neal's temple and tightening his arm around Neal's neck, making Neal hiss and wheeze.
"Not gonna happen, pal," Peter retorted sharply.
Brooks took a step back, dragging Neal with him. "I will kill him! I swear I will," Brooks yelled, his eyes darting from side to side frantically.
Peter gritted his teeth and looked into Neal's terrified eyes. Neal was pale, his lips smeared with blood where Brooks had hit him, and he was gasping for breath, stumbling as the only slightly taller but much bulkier Brooks dragged him backwards towards the door at the back of the bar.
How the fuck did this happen? Peter cursed silently. Everything was going smoothly, they were just about to close the deal that would allow them to get their hands on the stolen museum property, when Brooks jumped to his feet, pulled out a gun and hit Neal across the face with it. Peter didn't know what alerted the man, but suddenly chaos broke out, people started screaming and running for the door. And somehow, in the middle of it, Brooks got his hands on Neal, who was still dazed after the punch, and made him his human shield. Now it was just Brooks, Neal and Peter in the otherwise empty bar and from the way Brooks held himself, Peter was starting to get a really bad feeling.
"I'm getting out of here!" Brooks screamed, his high-pitched voice breaking at the end.
Inching forward slowly, Peter responded, still pointing his gun steadily at Brooks, "I can't let you go, not with my partner."
Neal stumbled again and gripped Brooks' arm tight, tugging at it, trying to move it away from his throat to get some air into his lungs. He didn't look away from Peter, not even for a moment. As terrified as he was, he was waiting for some clue, he was trusting Peter to get him out of this mess.
There was a bang and the door flew open, first the front one, then the one in the back and a flock of FBI agents tore inside.
Brooks jerked, looking back over his shoulder. He pulled Neal sharply to the left, unbalancing him, Neal tripped and Brooks tightened his grip on the trigger instinctively.
Peter fired.
The boom of the shot was almost deafening in the enclosed space of the bar. The bullet threw Brooks back and he took Neal with him, pulling him down in a faint spray of blood. They hit the floor hard and for a moment, nothing moved. Peter's heart clenched and he couldn't breathe, so sure he was that he hit Neal, too. Then Neal jerked and balked, throwing Brooks' slack arm aside and scrambling away quickly.
Peter's knees almost buckled in relief. He returned his gun into its holster and yelled at Diana to call an ambulance. Not sparing Brooks a glance and trusting Diana, who had led the agents inside, to do what was necessary, Peter rushed towards Neal.
Neal moved backwards across the floor, away from the body, until he hit the wall with his back. He pulled his knees to his chest and just stared at the bloody, mangled corpse. His face was pale, splashed with gore that stuck to his hair and drenched his clothes. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the body.
Peter knelt in front of Neal, blocking the body from his view. "Neal, are you okay?" he asked and when Neal didn't respond, didn't even look at him, Peter grabbed his face in his hands mindless of the sticky mess that clung to his skin and forced Neal to look at him. "Neal. Hey, Neal! You okay?" he asked again, shaking Neal slightly.
Neal's eyes were huge and shell-shocked, his breathing fast and shallow. "You k-killed him," he breathed out.
Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Peter nodded. "Yes, I did. He was about to shoot you," he said, voice as calm as possible.
Neal just blinked a couple of times and when Peter released him, pulling back, Neal looked down at Peter's hands, smeared with red. "So much blood..." Neal whispered, then turned aside and threw up.
Peter held him by the shoulders, feeling small shivers run through his body. When Neal finally finished, he was even paler, drenched in sweat and with blood drying all over him, he looked terrible.
Diana came closer and stopped next to Peter, handing him a bottle of water. Peter nodded gratefully, unscrewed it and helped Neal take a sip. While Neal was drinking, Peter looked at Diana. "What the hell happened?" Peter asked quietly, but sharply.
She shook her head. "Cops. A couple of uniforms stopped outside, in front of the bar. He must've seen them through the window. They stopped right under the streetlight, caught some pickpocket or something. They were just frisking the guy. Brooks must've thought they were there because of him. With his record..." Diana shook her head again, looking down at Neal compassionately.
Peter narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "So this was just bad luck? Everything went to hell because he got spooked?"
Diana nodded. "Looks like it." She threw a glance at the body around which now the EMTs were clustered, though they could only confirm that he was dead. Peter aimed to kill. "That was hell of a shot, boss," she said, nodding at the dead thug.
Peter still didn't look at the body. He couldn't. Not yet. He didn't regret shooting Brooks - he could still see the man squeezing the trigger! - but... Just thinking about it, about the fact that he just killed someone made him want to throw up too.
He laid an arm around Neal's shoulders, squeezing tightly. "Diana, send the EMTs over here, okay? I want them to look Neal over," he said.
Glancing at the blood-drenched man, Diana nodded and left.
Peter looked down at Neal's bowed head and slumped shoulders and sighed. "I'm so, so sorry," he said softly. "This wasn't what you signed for, I know. This should not have happened! I don't know how..."
"Thank you," Neal interrupted him softly, shudders still running through his body. He didn't look up at Peter, staying curled up on himself, the half-empty bottle clutched to his chest.
Frowning, Peter asked, "What for?"
"You saved my life. I know you wouldn't have... wouldn't have shot him if you didn't think that..." Neal swallowed hard a couple of times to quell the rising nausea. "Didn't know what to do when he grabbed me." His voice was barely audible.
Peter hugged Neal tight for a moment, letting Neal lean against him.
"Let's not do that again, okay?" Neal mumbled.
Peter nodded, feeling himself start shaking too, the realization of what could've been finally hitting him, making his heart pound in his ears. So close... "Okay," he agreed, swallowing hard, his eyes burning fiercely. "Okay, never again," he promised, hoping that he would be able to keep his word...
The End