Chapter Text
Phone, planner, keys, work phone, laptop, and sample feedback from the University—no, that was still on the kitchen table.
Elizabeth ran past Peter, who was shrugging on his jacket while taking a final sip from his half-full coffee mug. Feedback in hand, she grabbed her own—earrings! She'd left them for last and she almost forgot—Elizabeth deftly slunk the earnings in with one hand, shifting the feedback sheet to the other, before stepping into her heels.
"Are you picking up Neal?" She asked, finally shrugging on her own blazer.
"No, it's part of why I'm running late. I always assume I have so much time on days I don't pick him up, then get slammed with 8 a.m. like it was sneaking up on me."
"Is it an office day?"
"No, I gave him the day off. I'm with Violent Crimes today, remember? They need a CPA who can recognize doctored books, and the FBI doesn't hire when they have someone in-house. Diana will be with me as backup."
Peter locked up and turned to his car, and El, who had parked a little farther up the street, stepped closer to kiss him goodbye. "Well, have a good day finding doctored books. You'll be home as usual?"
"Early, even," Peter said, as he bent down to kiss her. "Have a good day, hon."
She wished him the same and walked to her car, and it was one of those days that were just busy enough and just productive enough to make her remember how much she loved her job. She arrived home a little later than usual, and was halfway through preparing dinner when there was a knock at the door. She was in a good mood, and even when she opened the door and saw the somber-faced FBI AD standing there, alongside Neal who looked positively ashen, not even when the man she didn't know said, "Mrs. Burke? Can we come in?" did she realize that her life had ended; she smiled and stepped aside in invitation, because even though she feared this moment for almost thirteen years she was in a good mood, and didn't fathom that it was the knock.