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Chapter Text

"Burke."

"Hello, Peter."

Peter's attention was immediately pulled away from the game he had been watching on TV. 

It was close to midnight already, and since El had an early start tomorrow she was already in bed. Peter had been minutes away from joining her, first taking the time to let go of the frustration and annoyance caused by the case he was currently working on. The files were still spread on the coffee table, an empty beer bottle pushed to the side.

"Who is this?"

"Really, Peter?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded amused. "I'm offended you even have to ask that."

Peter was already on his feet, barely avoiding tripping over Satchmo as the dog got up from where he had been lying by his feet on the rug. He bit back a curse, pausing only long enough to turn on the light as he headed straight for one of the drawers in the kitchen in search of the sleek, silver recorder El gave him as a birthday present a few years ago. Put the call on hold while he used the landline to contact someone from the office was too risky, but even if he may not be able to try to trace Caffrey's call without the bureau's resources (which past experiences told him wouldn't work anyway) he could at least keep the conman talking and record the conversation for late studying.

"Caffrey."

"There you go. I knew you couldn't have forgotten about me so soon. It's been what? Four, maybe five months since we almost meet again in New York?"

Peter put his phone on speaker and placed it on the counter along with the turned-on recorder. He rested his palms on the cold surface as he stared down at the phone.

"Actually, it's been over six months since I chased you out of the country."

There was a low chuckle. It didn't sound mocking. It was amused, yes, but it sounded almost fond. "I think 'chase' it's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think? Though I can admit your interest in my whereabouts helped me realize I had stayed in the city for a bit too long."

"I'm sure I could have helped you realize a few other things if you stayed," Peter told him dryly. A soft whine made him look down to see Satchmo sitting by his side, looking up at him with his dark eyes and pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. He bent down to scratch behind the dog's ear absently as he waited for a response.

"Oh, I'm sure you would have tried, but I wouldn't want to abuse your generosity. Surely there are others in need of your particular brand of help."

Peter bit back a snort. He pulled back one of the stools and sat down. "And where are you now, Caffrey?"

"You really don't think I'm going to tell you that, do you, Peter?" Once again, he heard the smile in Caffrey's voice. He could almost picture the bright smile on the young man's face as he lounged around somewhere luxurious, phone held to his ear with long artist fingers. "I will just say that Europe is beautiful this time of the year."

Peter's lips curled slightly upward. He had suspected as much, but it was good to have confirmation Caffrey was in Europe- if the conman was even telling the truth, which didn't seem very likely. The reminder was enough to wipe any hint of a smile from his face.

"What do you want, Caffrey?"

"Tsk, tsk. Is that the way to talk to a friend, Peter?"

"So we're friends now?"

"Of course we are, Peter! Would I take the time to call you and send a card on your birthday if we weren't?" Caffrey's voice lost some of its lightness before recovering almost immediately. "And, to answer your question, let's just say I have some free time right now, and I thought it was the perfect opportunity to call. You know, catch up a bit."

Peter leaned back in his seat.  "Alright. You can start by telling me what you've been up to the past six months."

"Oh, you know how it is when you visit new places. I've been seeing the sights and enjoying some fresh air." There was a sound in the background, like a door closing before Caffrey spoke again. "Now, did you and your team like what I sent for you? I know sushi isn't really your thing, but it's more healthy than your usual choices. I think-"

"Have you stolen anything since you left the country?" Peter demanded, effectively cutting Caffrey off. 

There was nothing but silence for a long time. He looked down at the phone screen to make sure the call was still ongoing.

"That's such an ugly word, don't you think? Steal."

Peter frowned down at the phone. "It doesn't matter what fancy word you want to use, Caffrey. What you do is still called stealing."

"Allegedly." There was a muted, soft rush of air that sounded like a sigh. "And I thought we were having a nice conversation."

"If you want to have a nice conversation with me all you have to do is turn yourself in, buddy."

"That's all, huh?" There was no hint of amusement this time. "I appreciate the offer, Peter, I do, but I think I'll pass."

"You know where to find me if you change your mind. I can work a good deal for you. Or you can just wait until I catch you," He added pointedly.

"Right. It was nice talking to you, Peter," Caffrey said softly before ending the call.

Peter looked down at his phone for a moment before reaching for the recorder and turning it off. 

Chasing Neal Caffrey was usually challenging and exciting, but there were also rare moments like this that made him wonder about the man hiding behind the facade. Who was he and what made him think that a call in the middle of the night to the agent chasing him and an attempt to have a conversation as if they were longtime friends was a good idea? 

It wasn't about teasing him- at least not entirely, but he had no idea what to make of it. Was he lonely? Did he need a friend? It hadn't been long since he and Kate Moreau parted ways, after all. The life of a fugitive certainly didn't allow for luxuries like friendship or any other kind of stability.

Or maybe he was just playing with his head. Caffrey was a conman, after all. He couldn't allow himself to be wrapped up in his lies and cons.

Peter rubbed a hand across his face and tried to push the thoughts away. He would have time to think about Neal Caffrey tomorrow. Just as he was about to get up, Peter was surprised to realize Satchmo hadn't left his side and was instead lying at his feet.

"Come, Satch. It's time to go to sleep, buddy."

The dog followed him as Peter left the kitchen, tail wagging slowly as he watched him move around the living room putting things back in order. Satchmo wasn't a puppy anymore, but Peter still made sure to leave the files and the recorder on the counter and out of his reach, just in case.

By the time Peter slowly climbed the stairs after making sure the doors were locked and with Satchmo at his heels, thoughts about Neal Caffrey and his call were still turning around in his head.

Chapter Text

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Matthew Keller and his relationship with Neal," Peter demanded as soon as he walked through the door to Neal's loft and sat opposite the other man.

"Ha," Mozzie exclaimed, placing his wine glass back on the table. "Really, Suit? You expect me to rat Neal to the Feds?"

"That's not- It's not like that," Peter bit out in frustration. "I'm not here as an agent, Mozzie. I just- I'm worried, alright? The way Keller acts with him isn't normal. The way he looks at Neal and how he talks." He shook his head. "It's almost like he's-"

"Besotted with him," Mozzie finished solemnly. He met Peter's wide-eye gaze with an unimpressed look. "I've known them both for years, Suit. Of course I noticed."

Peter's mouth went dry as soon as he realized he wasn't just seeing things. It was all real. Mozzie had just put a name to what had been in the back of his mind since he met Keller but had refused to acknowledge. Until now.

"And is he? Does he have those feelings, I mean," He added awkwardly.

Mozzie didn't say anything for a long moment, his sharp blue eyes behind the glasses fixed on him. "I have never been able to determinate with certainty if it's only a deep and fairly disturbing admiration for Neal's skills and, well, everything that makes him Neal, or something more."

That was something, at least, Peter thought dryly. He had to resist the urge to just get up and leave. He didn't want to hear anything more, he was sure of that, but he had to. Keller was dangerous and on the loose, and Peter needed to have as much information as he could if he wanted to be ready when he came back- because of course he was coming back.

"Neal told me they met in Monaco playing backgammon. He also admitted they worked together." It was actually Diana who replayed the latter to Peter, but he was hoping that by sharing what he already knew he could convince Mozzie to talk.

The con man didn't say anything. It took Peter a moment to realize the reason for his silence.

"Dammit, Mozzie! I don't care what laws you and Neal broke then- not right now. I just want to be able to protect him from Keller if I need to." The continued silence and arched eyebrow made him sigh. "You have full immunity, you and Neal, from whatever may reveal tonight. You have my word."

Mozzie stared at him for yet another long moment before offering a small nod. "They worked together temporally, yes. Neal was good, but he was still learning when they first meet, so he found himself fairly impressed by Keller's skills. Keller was just as impressed, though, and it wasn't long before they decided to join their talents.

"I was busy elsewhere at the time," Mozzie added vaguely as he looked somewhere to Peter's right. He emptied his wine glass and refilled it before speaking. "But I warned Neal about Keller as soon as I learned about their partnership. However-"

"He didn't listen," Peter finished for him with a grim twist of his lips.

Mozzie didn't seem happy with the interruption, but he didn't deny it. "The thing about Neal is that while he's far too smart to dismiss what he learns- especially when it comes from his most intimate circle of acquaintances, he has never let himself be completely swayed by someone else's thoughts and feelings. He has always liked to take the time to make up his own mind.

"In fact, I'm sure it wouldn't come as a surprise to you to know many of us advised him against trusting or getting involved with the Feds," Mozzie said unapologetically. "Alas, he made his own decision on the matter, just like he did with Keller."

It didn't matter how much Peter hated the comparison, he had to acknowledge the truth in Mozzie's words. If Neal had listened to his friend he wouldn't have worked with Keller, but it was equally likely he wouldn't be working with Peter right now. And that would be far from the only change. Hell, he probably wouldn't have even arrested him.

Peter couldn't even begin to guess what the right thing would have been for Neal.

"They worked fairly well together," Mozzie admitted begrudgingly without offering any details about said 'work'. "Nevertheless, it didn't take long for Neal to realize for himself there was something not quite right about Keller."

"When he saw him kill one of his accomplices in cold blood because he thought he made a mistake," Peter filled in, remembering what Neal told Diana.

Mozzie's surprise was visible only for half a second. "That is what put an end to their partnership, yes, but even before that happened, there were certain details Neal doubt the partnership."

Peter wanted to demand more information. He wanted to know exactly what it was Neal had seen before, and yet hadn't been enough to make him walk away. It took all of his willpower to remain silent. Peter knew Mozzie was already giving him more than he probably wanted to share, so he had to be patient.

"Neal was determinate to cut all ties with Keller after that tragic incident, but Keller didn't feel the same way." Mozzie adjusted his glasses in the short silence that followed. "He kept chasing after Neal for a couple of months, showing up with new jobs he wanted them to pull together, or offering his expertise for jobs Neal was planning. He always turned him down, of course, and Keller stopped eventually.

"That was when he started wanting to compete with Neal instead, and so the taunting and offensive remarks began. Unfortunately, Keller has always known the right buttons to push to get a reaction from him," Mozzie added as he shook his head. "But even when he turned them into rivals, Keller never stopped keeping up with any jobs Neal pulled and he never missed a chance to talk up Neal and his skills to anyone who would listen to him."

Peter closed his eyes, elbows resting on the table as he put his head in his hands. The truth was, everything Mozzie had just told him only served to make his worry grow. It was obvious Keller was obsessed with Neal, and he knew that that kind of behavior never ended well for the object of the obsession.

"Do you think he would hurt Neal? Physically?" He asked quietly.

Mozzie looked down at the empty glass between his hands as he considered the question for a long time. "I think a part of Keller likes Neal- likes him perhaps a little too much if you ask me, and he may even wish he could learn to be more like him. But another hates him and wants nothing more than to tear Neal apart and bring him down to his level.

"Most of the time both sides are so tangled up together they can't be told apart, creating some kind of balance. However, there is simply no way to know for certain which side will outweigh the other in the end."

An ominous silence filled the loft as the possibilities behind that last augury ran through their heads. Keller was smart and ruthless, a combination that never should be underestimated.

Minutes or hours later, the sound of the phone vibrating in his pocket pulled Peter out of his dark thoughts. It was a very welcome respite.

"I should go," he announced as he put his phone away. And thank God for that. Peter didn't think he could deal with any more of this tonight. Maybe not ever.

"Should I expect Neal to arrive soon, then?" Mozzie inquired, dark eyebrows raised behind his thick-rimmed glasses.

Peter didn't bother making excuses or denying anything. After everything that had been said tonight, Mozzie deserved better. "He should be done with the surveillance by now. Jones is going to drive him home."

Mozzie nodded once and reached for the bottle on the table to refill his glass one more time.

Peter hesitated a moment before getting to his feet. He didn't ask Mozzie to keep their conversation from Neal. That would only serve to ensure the little guy would tell his friend all about it the moment he crossed the door tonight. Better to let him decide for himself what he thought was best. Peter just needed to be ready for a possible confrontation tomorrow if Neal didn't like him asking questions about Keller and their past.

He almost sighed at the thought. it didn't matter how often he and Neal found themselves at odds, it never got easier.

Peter's hand was already on the doorknob when he looked back. "I guess I'll see you around, then."

Mozzie merely raised his glass. "Give my regards to Mrs. Suit, Suit."

"I will," He promised, a smile flashing across his face as he exited, closing the door behind himself.

Maybe it was time Peter made the search for Matthew Keller a top priority- more than it already was for him anyway. The man was proving to be even more dangerous than Peter had first thought.

Chapter Text

Neal barely held back a sigh when he noticed him staring. Again. Peter had been stealing glances from the moment they sat down maybe thirty minutes ago, and while Neal had been willing to wait for Peter to finally say what was on his mind or just brush it off and stop looking at him, he now realized neither option was going to happen any time soon.

He reached for his cup of warm tea and took a small sip. It was far from the best tea he had ever tasted, but since he wasn't up to preparing it himself, he hadn't complained. Elizabeth would have been the perfect hostess, preparing him a perfect cup of tea and making sure he had anything he needed and more. Sadly, she was in San Francisco for the week, so he was left to accept Peter's hospitality and his slightly clumsy attempts to make him feel comfortable.

That was probably not very fair to Peter, though. After all, he brought Neal home with him so he didn't have to deal with the stairs at June's, and after yielding the couch to him he made sure there was a fluffy pillow for him to rest his sprained ankle and an ice pack. He even saved him from a very effusive greeting from Satchmo when he entered the house.

Neal looked down at the dog with a fond smile. It was silly, really, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling a little smug and content when Satchmo chose to lay by the couch instead of moving to Peter's side.

He cradled the mug between his hands and turned his attention back to the TV. There was an old and familiar Gary Grant movie playing, so even if he wasn't paying much attention to what was happening on the screen he could still enjoy it-

At least until he felt Peter's eyes on him again.

"Alright. Out with it." It was possible that as the effect of the pain meds Peter forced him to take passed, the pain was slowly making itself known again, which had turned him a little morose. Maybe.

Peter turned back to him, this time with a startled look. "What?"

"You keep stealing glances at me. I noticed," Neal informed him, giving him what he hoped was a pointed look. "It's obvious there's something you want to say, so just say it already so you can stop doing that. It's annoying."

"Of course you noticed." Peter shook his head. He looked equal parts amused and annoyed at being caught. "Alright. I admit there's something I want to talk about."

Neal said nothing. He stared at Peter with slightly raised eyebrows and waited.

Peter looked down at his clasped hands before raising his gaze to meet Neal's. "While we were in the hospital you said I shouldn't worry too much. You told me this wasn't the worst beating you had ever had."

Neal didn't remember it, but it was possible he may have said something like that if Peter had looked particularly guilty or worried about him. The drugs they pumped into him probably helped loosen his tongue as well, making him forget the fact Peter wasn't going to let a comment like that go. Still, he hadn't asked a question, so Neal remained silent.

Peter's eyes never left his face. "You were locked up in a maximum-security prison for four years."

'Yes, and I'm sure you remember who put me there.' The words were on the tip of Neal's tongue. He wouldn't have hesitated to voice the dry remark any other day, but he did this time.

"I remember, yes."

"I never agreed with that, you know. You belonged in prison, yes, but not alongside the type of prisoners they put in a supermax." He shook his head, lips pressed together. "I tried talking with the attorney and the judge, but they didn't listen. They couldn't see past the fact you were a flight risk." Peter's somber expression lighted up a second later. "It turns out they should have listened to me."

"Um. Peter, you do remember I escaped prison, right?"

"Oh, I do. But if they had put you in medium-security as I suggested, it would have saved them the embarrassment of having a prisoner just walk out of what was supposed to be one of their most secure prisons."

Neal's amused laugh was cut short when the movement jarred his bruised ribs. He hissed softly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Neal breathed as he wrapped one of his arms around his chest. "Just remind me not to do that again."

"I'll do that," Peter promised with the flicker of a smile.

Once the pain subsided Neal took a sip from the tea he had forgotten he was still holding and watched Peter as he settled back on the armchair. "You know, I started working on plans of escape as soon as I had a good grasp of the coming and goings in there. In fact, the plan I used was the third I put together. With a couple of small upgrades, of course."

"So why didn't you escape before? If you already had a plan- or plans." There was honest curiosity shining in Peter's brown eyes as he watched him.

"I thought about it, more than a couple of times, but it was only four years." Neal shrugged- or started to. He immediately aborted the movement with a grimace. "I thought if I could just do the time I would be truly free once my time was up."

It would have also given him the option to stay in New York if that was what Kate wanted. There was no point in mentioning that now.

"I was also thinking about you, you know," Neal added with a grin. "I thought you could use a break from chasing me all over the world. I'm sure Elizabeth appreciated having you home again."

"We would have appreciated it even more if you had turned yourself in when I started chasing you."

"But where would have been the fun in that, Peter?"

The moment of levity was over sooner than he would have liked, and they fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence once again. Neal waited for Peter to say something else, but he didn't. He just reached for his beer and took a swig as he looked back at the TV.

Satchmo whined softly, obviously perceiving the change in the room. It prompted Neal to put his mug away so he could use his now free hand to scratch behind the dog's ear.

Neal didn't owe this to Peter. The agent had been just doing his job, he knew, and Neal may have enjoyed their cat and mouse game until the very moment he was on cuffs, but that didn't change the fact it was Peter who put him in prison. If he couldn't bring himself to ask the question he really wanted to ask he probably didn't deserve to hear the answer. Except-

Except, Neal knew Peter, and he knew Peter wasn't going to let this go now that his thoughtless comment had put it in his head. He would look through prison records and who knew what else in search of answers. Neal didn't have a choice if he wanted to maintain even a little control over the situation.

"You still haven't asked the question you really want to ask." Neal met Peter's gaze straight on for a long moment before speaking again. "You want to know if I became someone's punching bag while I was in prison. Or worse."

Peter swallowed hard but didn't avert his gaze. "Did you?"

"No." Neal made a short pause. "Mozzie understood what I was getting into better than I did, and he made sure money reached the right hands to ensure I wouldn't be maimed or killed in there."

Peter's relief was obvious in the long exhale that escaped his lips, in the release of tension on his shoulders. He was, of course, relieved to know nothing terrible had happened to him in prison, even if he was uncomfortable with the methods used to achieve that. Peter was far too smart to be unaware of the way things worked in prison, but that didn't mean he liked being reminded of all the ways the justice system he believed in was corrupted.

"Moz never visited me in prison, and I always understood why, but he made sure I was as safe and comfortable as I could possibly be while I was in there." Mozzie probably wouldn't appreciate him telling Peter that, but it was important he knew even a small part of the things Neal owed Moz.

Kate's short visits every week and Mozzie's support from afar were the only reasons he survived prison, there was no doubt in Neal's mind about it. He wouldn't have been strong enough to do it on his own. Each had been essential in their own way.

The only person who had heard details about his time in prison before now was Mozzie and only the bare minimum. It was all behind him now, so there was no reason to dwell on it. Almost against his own will, Neal found himself talking, his gaze meeting Peter's.

"It was still prison, though, so even Moz's best efforts weren't enough to stop some inmates from throwing a few punches at the beggining."

"How bad?" Peter demanded, looking ready to go make sure the guilty parties were punished. The reaction almost made Neal smile.

"The guards intervened fairly quickly, so It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Just a few cracked ribs and some bruises." And a couple of minor fractures and cuts that needed stitches. Neal didn't mention either the time a group cornered him in the showers in his first week. A couple of inmates Moz somehow convinced to look out for him arrived before anything happened, so there was no reason to mention it.

"The first few months were tough, but once I had the time to learn the ins and outs of life in prison I found ways to make myself useful, so things got better."

Neal didn't look away from Peter, almost daring him to ask for details even though the last thing he wanted was to give them. He wasn't even sure why he said as much as he had already. Perhaps there was a small part of him that wanted Peter to face the fact doing the right thing also had consequences. Or he just needed to say it out loud to someone else.

"That shouldn't have happened. None of it should have happened." Peter looked angry, but there was guilt lurking in the deeps of his brown eyes along with something else Neal couldn't put a name to. "If I had known-"

"Don't. Just don't," Neal cut him off sharply. He tried not to imagine how much worse it could have been if it somehow got out he was being protected by a Fed. "Whatever happened, happened, and none of it was your fault, Peter. I mean it."

Peter met his gaze for an endless moment, his brown eyes sharp and searching and kind. He nodded once, the movement hesitant.

Neal closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the pounding in his head. So much for talking to Peter himself so he wouldn't go looking for details elsewhere. That could have worked if he had stopped talking before he said too much. Probably. Peter's motto was 'trust but verify' where he was concerned, after all.

He could still feel the weight of Peter's gaze on him, so he turned his attention to Satchmo. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as soon as he saw the dog was once again sleeping peacefully on the rug.

"You know," Neal started after a moment, his tone still subdued. "I still haven't told you the worst thing I had to endure in prison."

"Tell me," Peter prompted, his expression grim but determined.

He took his time before answering, his solemn blue eyes never leaving Peter's gaze. "The food."

Peter stared at him for a moment, his expression blank. "Neal-" he finally growled warningly, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm serious, Peter," Neal interrupted in earnest. "The food is terrible. Worse than terrible. It's inedible, every bit of it. Even Satchmo eats better food than prison inmates. Hell, half of the dogs in this country eat better food than that."

It was a true and valid complaint, but it was also a distraction. Peter most likely saw right through it, but Neal was hoping he would go along with it anyway. It had been known to happen once or twice.

"I'm sure you found a way around that."

"Maybe I did," Neal replied, a genuine smile on his lips that Peter copied a second later.

And just like that, the tension that had been between them just minutes before was gone. It wasn't over, Neal knew Peter too well to believe that, but at least for now, he didn't have to worry about it.

Chapter Text

"It's a genius plan, if I do say so myself," Mozzie declared with a pleased smile as he poured more wine into his glass. "Next time we visit La Ville Lumière we're definitely putting that plan in motion."

Neal raised his glass to his lips to avoid having to reply.

They were out on the terrace, a pair of glasses and a half-empty bottle of wine for company as they finished their latest round of 'planning the heist'. It was something of a game (training exercise, Moz was always quick to correct) that began when Mozzie first took him under his wing as a way to help him hone his abilities. It started with Mozzie picking a place and an item to steal, real or hypothetical, and then he (or both of them later on) had to work on a perfect plan to pull the job.

Ever since Neal got out of prison the game had made a regular reappearance, making him remember the early days of their partnership. They continued playing even after Moz was assured prison hadn't robbed him of his 'gift', but mostly for fun, and as a way to keep him from getting rusty while he was under the FBI's command.

Neal had been eager at first, excited to go back to working alongside Mozzie even in a purely intellectual way. He used planning cons and forming all kinds of plans in his head as a way to pass the time and remain sane while he was in prison, but he couldn't even begin to compare that with the here and now, with Mozzie once again by his side.

He still enjoyed the time spent with Mozzie planning and scheming, of course, but he couldn't deny a part of him saw it differently now.

Mozzie was still talking- mostly murmuring to himself about the plan they had just come up with. Neal put his glass down with a soft click and forced himself to get out the words that had been a constant in his head for months now.

He cleared his throat softly before speaking. "What if running cons is no longer an option for me?"

"Are you serious?!" Mozzie exclaimed loudly before continuing in a slightly lower tone. "As soon as you get that thing off your ankle you're free, man. You can go back to do whatever you want. Unless you have finally succumbed to the Suit's brainwashing," he added, blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

"Peter didn't brainwash me, Moz."

"Ha! That's exactly what he and the other Suits would make you say if they had brainwashed you." Mozzie shook his head. "I knew being so close to the Feds for so long would mess with you. Corrupt you. You should have-"

"It's not like that," Neal insisted, cutting him off. It was obvious Mozzie had plenty to say, but he was grateful when his friend stayed silent, though the suspicion remained in his gaze. "I already spent years in prison, Moz. I don't think I could do it again."

His friend perked up a little. "So we'll make sure you don't get caught this time."

"We can't. You know we can't, Moz. The risk of being caught will always be there as long as we- as long as I keep pulling cons."

Mozzie was quiet for a moment. "And you think you can just leave the life behind? Go straight?"

That had always been the plan with Kate. It became more than an idea or a dream as they put it together little by little in the visitation room of a supermax prison. It had no set date; their new lives could have started the moment Neal set foot out of prison or years later when they were finally ready to settle down together. That was always going to be the end game.

But now she was gone, and Neal was left to pick up the pieces of his broken life and decide what he would do once he was finally free.

He forced himself to push the thought away. This wasn't the time to go down that road. Mozzie was still waiting, so he took a long sip of wine and used the time to pull himself together. "I honestly don't know," Neal finally replied. "What I do know is that working with Peter allows me to feel the rush of planning cons and taking part in them without the risk of going back to prison."

"And without the reward as well," Mozzie added pointedly.

"You know it's never been about the money." Neal's lips twitched upward in answer to the expression on the other man's expression. "At least not entirely."

Mozzie inclined his head in concession. If there was someone who understood that what pushed Neal to pull some of the more dangerous and daring stunts he had done over the years wasn't only the money it was Moz. He even shared the same mentality, at least partially.

Still, Neal had to admit -at least to himself- that money would be an issue if he decided to stay on the straight and narrow A paid consultant would surely receive more than seven hundred dollars a month, but it couldn't be much more than that. He would have to be very creative to complement his income without going falling back to his old ways.

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Mozzie asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I'm not," Neal admitted with a smile that was anything but amused.

"And I'm not talking about going straight," Mozzie clarified with a dismissive hand wave. "Though it would be a shame to see your many talents go to waste, mon frère, and I reserve the right to do everything in my power to make you see the light."

Neal barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He honestly wouldn't have expected anything less from Moz- and yet, his next words did surprise him.

"Nonetheless, if that is what you truly want to do I will respect your decision." Mozzie continued before he had a chance to say anything, "I'm talking about your idea to keep working for The Man."

He drew a breath before speaking again. "I know you don't trust the government- or anyone who works for it, for that matter, but I-"

"That's not why- at least not entirely," Mozzie added begrudgingly, echoing Neal's words from moments before. "I know you like the Suit and all his minions, Neal, and I can admit they aren't all that bad for the brainwashed government puppets we know they are- but have you really thought it through?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a con man, Neal -a former con man, if you will- and they're agents of the law," Mozzie explained. "There will always be a difference. Always. You're fooling yourself if you think as soon as the anklet is off they will forget that and trust you like they would trust any other Suit. Being friends with you and working together certainly wouldn't stop them from looking at you with suspicion the moment there's a big heist in a museum or some exotic diamond it's stolen. You have to know that."

Mozzie was right, of course. He knew it, and so did Neal as well. Even Peter and everyone in the White Collar division knew it too. Hell, for all that Peter liked to encourage him to leave his life of crime behind and was willing to give him a real chance, he would never be able to trust him fully.

Neal could follow every damn rule in the book and do everything he was told from this moment forward and it still wouldn't be enough. Even if Peter wanted to trust him -which Neal was sure he did, at least most of the time- there would always be a part of him that just couldn't. Logically, Neal understood that. That didn't stop it from hurting every time he was faced with Peter's unwarranted suspicion and mistrust.

Perhaps he was just expecting too much. After all, Peter's lack of trust was more than justified, so he should probably just be content with what he was allowed to have. He doubted anyone else in Peter's place would have allowed himself to consider a convicted felon as a friend, or let him anywhere near his wife or his home. 

Still, just the idea that he could spend years trying to prove himself to Peter and everyone else in the FBI and never be good enough was too much. He wasn't sure he could take it. It was definitely not the kind of life he would want for himself.

Neal wordlessly held out his glass to be refilled again, and Mozzie complied.

"And even more important, you need to make sure whatever you decide it's chosen because it is what you want and not just what the Suit wants you to want."

Most of what Mozzie had just told him were things he had resisted to consider as more than a passing thought, but hearing them stated so eloquently by his best friend made it impossible to ignore them. Neal almost wished he hadn't told him anything at all.

"I realize this is not what you wanted to hear, mon frére, but a decision must always be made after careful consideration of all the facts. Remember: One must not believe in taking the right decision, you must take a decision and then make it right."

The corner of Neal's lips twitched slightly upward as he heard the slightly modified quote. "I know, Moz. I just-"

"I know," Mozzie echoed with a solemn nod.

Neal wasn't sure if he truly understood, not really, but he still appreciated Moz's special brand of support and was grateful he wouldn't have to spend the night defending himself and his thoughts against Mozzie's relentless and purposeful logic.

He offered his friend a tentative but genuine smile before bringing the glass to his lips for a large swig, content to leave thoughts of the future for another day. There was no rush to make a decision now, after all, though the fact Moz seemed amenable to support him no matter what was a weight off his shoulders.

And, who knew? Maybe with time it will be easier for him to make a decision. Yeah, not even Neal was good enough to con himself with that.

Chapter Text

Peter saw the moment Neal walked through the glass doors of the White Collar division from where he sat behind his desk, the open files before him forgotten. Neal met his gaze only a second later, and after leaving his fedora on the desk, he made his way to his handler's office.

It had been Diana's turn to keep a discreet eye on Neal, so Peter had tried his best to keep himself busy and distracted with paperwork. It had worked, for the most part, even if he had little progress to show for it.

"Hey," Neal greeted as he entered the office without bothering to knock.

"Hey yourself. How was lunch?"

"It went great." Neal dropped into his usual chair, picked a pen from the desk, and began spinning it between his fingers. "It shouldn't be long now before Jackson invites me over to his place."

Peter leaned back on his chair and hid a grimace. Neal looked pleased and animated, just like he usually did. And there was no reason why he shouldn't.

All was going according to plan so far. It was a plan that depended on Neal using his charm and good looks to get close to the openly gay executive of the company they were currently investigating. He was to secure an invite to the man's apartment, where he would then proceed to do a little snooping so they could hopefully confirm he was involved in the company's illegal activities.

It was a little outside the norm, but a lot of their ops involving Neal Caffrey were, and the CI raised no complaints or arguments and had been happy to bring a few ideas to the table two days ago while they discussed the case.

None of that stopped Peter from worrying about him and silently questioning the whole thing. Something had been bothering him about this case from the start, but it was until he talked it over with El last night that he realized what it was. Now, he just needed to figure out the best way to bring it up with Neal.

"Everything okay?" Neal asked, his head tilted slightly to the side.

"Everything's fine," Peter was quick to respond as he was pulled out of his thoughts. He met Neal's bright blue eyes for a moment before speaking again. "You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"Really?" Neal asked after a moment's hesitation, dark eyebrows raised.

"I'm serious," Peter replied, giving him a look. "I know sometimes I joke about sending you back to prison, and I also can be demanding and put a lot of pressure on you about closing cases and keeping our closure rate up to keep the brass happy, but you have to know you can talk to me if there is something you truly aren't comfortable doing. Right?"

"Sure," Neal agreed easily. He furrowed his brows lightly. "What's this about?"

"Nothing. I just want to make sure you understand you have every right to say no to the FBI, and that doesn't mean we're going to ship you back to prison because of it."

Neal visibly perked up. "Oh! Does that mean I can say no to the van? Because I really don't-"

"Stop," Peter snapped in frustration. "That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

"Why don't you just tell me what this is about then," Neal challenged.

Peter stared at him for a moment as he tried to determine the best way to approach this. He wasn't particularly hopeful about that, given the fact he had already tried for hours with no results. Then again, Neal was already used to his gruff and sometimes tactless approaches, so maybe he should just come out and say it.

"It's about Jackson and your interaction with him."

Surprise crossed Neal's face for a beat before it was replaced by amusement. "You do remember this isn't the first time I use this particular approach to help solve a case, right?"

"I know."

"And yet you never saw fit to give me this speech before." Neal's smile slipped from his face. "Wait. Jackson isn't dangerous, is he?"

Peter cursed himself for letting Neal draw that conclusion. "No. Nothing we've found so far points to him being dangerous or even violent."

"Good." Neal's shoulders loosen up a fraction. "So, what is it then?"

Peter averted his gaze for a second before forcing himself to answer. There was no going back now. "When you use this approach it usually involves flirting with young and beautiful women, and I know how much you enjoy doing that."

Neal's amused smile returned, but there was an edge to it Peter didn't like. "So, this is because it's a man this time."

He shifted a little in his seat. "Look, I just want to make sure you understand your deal wouldn't be terminated if you say no to something you're not comfortable doing."

"It's a little late for that, isn't it? This sounds like a conversation we should have had before it was decided how we were going to handle the case."

"You're right," Peter agreed, lips pressed together into a grim line.

"So, what brought this on?"

He sighed in defeat after a moment. "I was talking with El last night, and she-"

"Ah. That explains it." Neal nodded, smiling blue eyes meeting Peter's narrowed eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Neal gave him a pointed look. "You know what it means."

And he did. Damn it. Peter stayed silent as he glared at Neal- to the con man's obvious amusement.

"You can stop torturing yourself, Peter. I promise you and the FBI aren't forcing me to do something against my will. At least not this time," Neal added good-natured but with a meaningful look.

Peter supposed he deserved that. He had been guilty of doing just that a few times, and there were occasions when he had been forced to force Neal to comply with the higher-up's demands.

He wasn't even sure why this was such a big deal right now. Maybe it was caused by El's reaction when he told her about it. First, she had been surprised when she heard Neal was set to seduce a man this time. Then, she asked if it had been hard to convince him to go along with that, and to Peter's horror, he realized he couldn't even remember Neal's reaction when Diana brought up the idea.

Neal was a master of hiding behind masks, but Peter knew him well enough to have picked something if he had been paying attention at that moment. Had Neal been unsure or uncomfortable when he heard that? Or worse, maybe just resigned.

Neal sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Peter met his gaze and said nothing in response.

"I like women, you know that, but that doesn't mean I only like women."

It took Peter's brain a second to figure out the meaning behind that, but once he did, he tried his best to keep the surprise off his face. One look at Neal's face told him he failed utterly. He was still watching him, though, obviously expecting a reaction of some sort, so Peter said the first thing that came to mind.

"I didn't know that."

"Contrary to what you obviously believe, Peter, you don't know everything about me."

"I guess not." So much for thinking he was the expert on all things Caffrey. Knowing his shoe size sure as hell meant nothing when he was just now finding out he was- what? Bisexual? Peter considered asking, but he wasn't sure if that was the proper thing to do in this kind of situation-

It wasn't even that he cared about that. Okay, that was probably the wrong word to use because he cared far too much about anything having to do with Neal Caffrey. Perhaps it was more accurate to say this didn't change what he thought of him or the way he saw him. Only Neal's actions and choices had the power to change things between them, not who he was.

"So, you're not straight." Peter almost rolled his eyes at himself as soon as he realized what he said.

There was a mischievous glint in Neal's eyes, but he resisted the urge to tease him for that. "I don't like using labels, but if I had to choose one for myself, I'll say I'm bisexual with a strong preference for women."

"So you're okay with continuing this op."

"I am. Really, it's not like flirting around a bit with Jackson is such a hardship. He's a nice guy and can actually hold a decent conversation. And he's easy on the eyes as well," Neal added with a playful wink. "I'm kinda hoping it will turn out he's not involved in this after all."

"For his sake, let's hope he's not." Peter frowned a second later. "That's not going to be an issue either, right?"

Neal actually rolled his eyes. "Peter, I'm not going to cover up for a guy I literally just met two days ago and only because I needed to get close to him for the case."

"Right. I knew that. I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page.

"We are," Neal assured him with a far too solemn nod of his head. The smile was back on his face a second later. "Is there anything else you think we should talk about, or can I go back to my desk now?"

He shook his head. "Go ahead. I left a couple of files there for you."

Neal hesitated as if there was something else he wanted to say, but in the end, he just offered him one more bright smile before leaving the office.

Peter's gaze followed Neal as he walked through the bullpen. He couldn't help but wonder just how many things he still didn't know about Neal Caffrey, and how many of them he would never be allowed to know. But-

What if he was looking at this all wrong? What if, instead of thinking about what he didn't know, Peter thought about how much trust Neal had shown him, the man who chased him for years and then put him in prison. El reminded him of that just last night.

Peter leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. That definitely sounded like a better idea.

Chapter Text

Neal shivered once again as he waited, looking up at the simple yet tasteful decorations placed outside. Maybe wearing a suit tonight hadn't been the best idea, even if he added a nice thick coat, gloves, and the warm scarf June had gifted him before leaving town to spend the holidays with her family on the West Coast.

June had been reluctant to leave him alone in the big empty house and even entertained the idea of inviting the Ellington family to New York this year. In the end, Neal convinced her otherwise, and she left a week ago. Of course, the Burkes' invitation for Neal to spend Christmas Eve with them had helped as well.

Honestly, Neal wasn't sure what to expect for tonight.

The last time he celebrated the holidays in a mostly traditional way was back when he was still living in St. Louis. Ellen always tried to make up for his vacant mother and absent father and did her best to give him as normal and happy a childhood as she possibly could. Years later, he celebrated the holidays a couple of times with Kate, but even that had been nothing like the movie-like celebration the Burkes probably held every year.

It was ironic, really, that for all the richness they shared, he and Kate were never able to celebrate a proper Christmas time together.

The first year was something simple and small. Kate was barely managing to keep herself afloat after Adler left her with nothing, and all the while was still struggling to accept Neal Caffrey in place of Nick Halden. The second year they were too busy trying to stay ahead of the French police for a real celebration, and by the third year, he had been pulling daring and flashy heists to get her attention. Then, came the years of being kept apart by prison, and after that nothing. It was all over in a storm of fire and smoke.

Neal forced the thought away hastily. He was about to enter Peter's house on Christmas Eve. This was not the time to be thinking about that.

He shifted the bag he was carrying- it wasn't exactly heavy, but it was big enough to be uncomfortable to hold. He was about to knock again when the door finally opened, revealing Peter standing there. He was wearing a forest green sweater and jeans, and there was a pleased smile on his face. Neal was hit with the almost palpable sense of coziness and warmth coming from the Burke household as he caught a glimpse of the soft lights behind Peter.

"Hey, Neal. You're right on time."

"Just like any good guest should be," He replied with a bright smile. "Merry Christmas Eve, Peter."

"Yeah, you too. Come inside already. You're letting in the cold." Once Neal was inside, Peter made a show of sticking his head out and looking left and right before turning back to Neal. "No Mozzie tonight?"

"Moz doesn't celebrate corporate-sponsored festivities." It wasn't exactly a lie, even if Neal was leaving out the fact there was a professional reason for Mozzie to be away from New York right now. After all, Moz's idiosyncrasies never stopped him from enjoying good food and a few drinks on past holidays.

"Of course he doesn't," Peter muttered as he closed the door.

Neal hadn't taken more than a couple of steps inside when Satchmo appeared in front of him, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth and tail wagging. He put his bag down and got rid of his gloves so he could give the dog the greeting he deserved. It wasn't long before he had Satch on his back as he rubbed his soft belly with a smile on his face, murmuring nonsensical endearments.

The sound of a throat being cleared made Neal look up to meet Peter's amused but slightly exasperated expression.

"Are you quite done with my dog?"

"I suppose I can be. For now," Neal added, flashing him a grin before turning his attention back to the dog for one more rub or two. As soon as Satchmo realized there would be no more petting, he trotted back to his dog bed.

"Alright. Take off your coat and stuff so you can get comfortable."

Neal finished hanging his coat and scarf in the coat rack by the door when Elizabeth emerged from the kitchen. She was wearing a black dress just fancy enough not to be confused with everyday wear, sensible red heels, and a well-worn pink apron. Her smile made her blue eyes sparkle as she walked toward him.

"Hey, Neal. I'm glad you could make it."

He was taken by surprise when she kissed his cheek and hugged him, but he was hugging her back with a pleased smile of his own just a second later. "Hi, Elizabeth. Thank you for having me."

"Of course, sweetie. We're glad you're here." She gave a light squeeze to his hand before letting it go.

Neal couldn't tell if Elizabeth was just being polite or if she meant it, but he decided not to dwell on that right now. What would be the point in that? He was already here. Instead, he busied himself reaching for his bag with a quiet 'ah' as if he had just remembered something.

"Peter refused to tell me what you were going to cook, so I hope this pairs well with tonight's feast." From the delicious smells he perceived as soon as he entered the house Neal was pretty sure he was on the clear, even if he could have picked a better wine.

Elizabeth took the bottle and examined the label with a thoughtful hum. "This is very good, and I think it will go just fine with dinner. Thanks, Neal."

"My pleasure," He replied with a small playful bow. Elizabeth smiled warmly in response.

"What else have you got in there?" Peter asked, drawing Neal's attention back to him as he nodded to the bag still on the floor.

"I brought a couple of presents to thank you for inviting me tonight- and don't worry, Peter, everything was paid for." He hoped Peter wouldn't ask where the money came from. It was nothing too expensive because Neal knew he would never accept it otherwise, but with his meager pay as an ex-con FBI consultant, there was no way he could have afforded any of it. Except maybe Satchmo's present.

"Well, that's good," Peter replied awkwardly.

"Honey," Elizabeth chastised before turning to Neal, her frown gone. "You didn't have to, sweetie."

"I know. I wanted to."

For a second or two, it looked like Elizabeth was going to hug him yet again, but in the end, she only offered him a warm smile. "Alright. Why don't you put them with the rest of the presents under the tree, and then you can come to enjoy some eggnog."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good boy," Elizabeth teased back before walking to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine with her.

"Well, you heard my wife," Peter said, arms crossed across his chest as he watched Neal expectantly. He rolled his eyes in response but dutifully picked up the bag and moved to do just that. Something caught his eyes as soon as he stood in front of the brightly lit tree in the corner. Several somethings.

A blue crane, a pink lotus flower, a purple butterfly, a green jumping frog. And there were other very familiar figures adorning the tree.

"Wait. Is that-"

"Ah. I see you've discovered Peter's collection," Elizabeth called, her voice ringing with amusement.

"It's not a collection, and it's definitely not mine," Peter pointed out, giving his wife a look.

"Alright," Neal agreed easily. He was more interested in an explanation than in debating that point. He could always come back to that once he had all the facts.

Peter looked at him, then at Elizabeth as she stood by his side, her arm linked with his as she met his gaze. He sighed in defeat.

"You kept leaving little origami figures all around the office," Peter explained, his tone almost accusing. As if this was all Neal's fault. "Just as I was leaving the office one day, I caught sight of one of the flowers you made and decided to bring it home with me to show it to El. She liked it, of course, so I kept bringing more whenever I found them around.

"I had no idea El was keeping them until she pulled them out when we were decorating the tree."

This didn't have to mean anything. It didn't.

"They looked too beautiful to be thrown away," Elizabeth explained with a small shrug of her shoulder. "And it turned out we only had to add a little silver thread to turn them into perfect ornaments."

"If I had known you were going to keep them and even put them on your tree I would have used better paper," Neal commented with a twitch of his lips when it became apparent they were waiting for him to say something.

Elizabeth shook her head. "They're perfect."

Neal turned back to the tree. It looked nothing like the imposing yet impersonal trees people liked to copy out of magazines. It was beautiful and elegant, like anything Elizabeth Burke had a hand on creating, and it was obvious that every piece that was put in it -however mismatched it may seem to a critical eye- was there for a reason, and not only for aesthetic purposes. Some ornaments were old but well-cared for, while others clearly had been purchased not too long ago. And somehow, amidst them and the colorful lights were a handful of carefully folded pieces of paper in a vast array of colors. As if they belonged there.

It didn't mean anything, Neal told himself one more time. Just Elizabeth putting to good use what was at her disposal.

He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm glad you found a good use for them."

"That we did."

Neal busied himself finally pulling out the presents and putting them among the rest under the tree. By the time he looked back to the Burkes, there was a smile on his face.

"I believe I was promised some eggnog."

"You were," Elizabeth confirmed, motioning for him to follow her. "I made a few changes to the old Mitchell recipe, so I want to hear what you think."

"I already gave you my opinion," Peter called as he walked behind Neal.

Elizabeth stopped and turned to give him a look. "Honey, you told me it tasted good."

"And it does!"

"I know, but I need a more detailed opinion before I can present it to the rest of the Mitchell clan. Just in case I need to make some adjustments first."

Neal shot Peter a grin that was only a little bit smug. He ignored the glare he received and instead looked back at Elizabeth. "You know I'm always happy to act as your taste tester."

"Good," She said with a smile. "Sit down while I pour you a glass."

Neal did what he was told, and a second later, watched as Peter sat in the stool by his side.

"Do I get some eggnog too, or is it just for the 'taste tester'?"

"Of course you do, Hon." El put three glasses down and then leaned over the counter to kiss her husband.

Neal couldn't suppress a smile as he watched them. He wasn't even surprised to see the Burkes' celebration was just as idyllic as he had imagined, and despite that, he didn't feel like an outsider.

He wondered what it said about him that he was happy to spend Christmas Eve with the man that put him in prison for four years and who would be holding his leash for four more. No wonder Moz kept talking about Stockholm Syndrome and brainwashing. This night should be awkward and wrong, but somehow it wasn't. Instead, it almost felt like he was where he belonged, right alongside Peter, his wife, and his dog-

And that was yet another unwelcome thought that needed to be brushed aside. What was it with him tonight? He needed to stop overthinking everything and just enjoy the moment. That shouldn't be hard at all.

Neal reached for one of the glasses on the counter and raised it in a toast. "Cheers."

The three glasses clinked together a second later in the warm and cozy kitchen.

Chapter Text

Peter looked away from where Jones was leading their suspect away in handcuffs and found his attention being drawn once again to the small boy sat in one of the park benches, far enough away to have been undisturbed by the FBI's mostly discreet work but still visible from where Peter was standing. He had been there for a while now, and there didn't seem to be an adult with him.

"Boss?"

He turned back to find Diana at his side, watching him with curious eyes.

"I'll be right back." Peter took off in the boy's direction before the other agent could say another word.

He approached slowly, pausing for a second once he was close enough to see him clearly. The boy couldn't be much older than six, his head ducked as he looked down at the notebook on his lap and his lightly curly brown hair gleaming softly under the sunlight. He was dressed in a pair of worn-off jeans, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and scuffed blue sneakers. He was too clean and not skinny enough to be homeless. The old but well-cared for green backpack at his feet confirmed that assessment.

Peter looked around one more time, but nobody returned to the boy's side or even seemed to be keeping an eye on him. He moved closer after a moment.

"Hey there," Peter called quietly, stopping a few feet away. The boy's head shot upward, and he was met with the biggest and bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen. The boy looked ready to bolt, notebook hugged to his chest and his free hand reaching down for his backpack.

It was a good reaction, Peter supposed, in case he had been approached by someone with far more sinister intentions. It was also worrying, though. A boy so young shouldn't have reason to react like that- not if he had a happy and healthy life at home.

"It's okay," He said, offering him what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he reached for his badge and held it up. "I'm an FBI agent."

The boy cocked his head, his bright eyes staring at Peter's badge for a second before reaching to take it in tiny hands.

"You're like a cop?" He asked after a moment of looking at the badge in his hands, his gaze now on Peter.

"Something like that, yes." It was better to keep things nice and simple.

"My dad was a cop too," The boy told him, a proud smile flickering across his face for a second before he looked downward. "But he's in heaven now."

"I'm sorry," Peter offered awkwardly, wondering if he should have asked Diana to come with him- or maybe sent her alone. He didn't have much experience dealing with children, but he had it on good authority that he royally sucked at it. Even Elizabeth had been forced to accept he was hopeless after a couple of family reunions.

The boy only shrugged, handing him the badge back without a word.

"I'm Peter Burke- Just Peter is fine. What's your name?"

He looked up at him with a tiny frown, his notebook hugged tighter. When he spoke, Peter had to strain to hear him.

"Neal."

"It's nice to meet you, Neal," He said with a smile. "How old are you?"

Neal chewed at his bottom lip. "Seven."

"You're seven, huh? That's a nice age," Peter added awkwardly. Christ, he really was bad at this. He looked skywards in a silent plea for help. "Are you here by yourself?"

"No," The boy was quick to answer, but he very carefully kept his eyes averted.

Peter may be bad with kids, but he knew how to read people. "Do you mind if I wait here with you until they come back?" 

Neal froze, but he admitted to nothing, only shrugging in response.

Peter held back a smile. "Is your mom here with you?" 

Neal shook his head after a moment's pause. "She's working."

"Right." Peter took another discreet look around, but nobody seemed to have taken notice of the strange man approaching the boy. "Can I sit here with you?"

Blue eyes looked at him under furrowed brows, but in the end, Neal only shruged yet again. Peter hesitated, keeping his eyes on him as he slowly sat down on the bench, making sure to leave as much distance as possible between them. The little shoulders relaxed little by little as they sat together, the silence only broken by the usual sounds around the park.

Peter's attention was drawn to the notebook on the boy's hands as tiny fingers fidgeted with the spiral binding.

"You like drawing?"

Neal pressed the notebook against his chest again, his nod almost imperceptibly with his head ducked.

"That's nice. I'm hopeless at drawing stuff myself. The only thing I can draw is stick figures." Peter saw the corner of the boy's lips curl slightly upward for just a second and smiled in response. "I bet you're pretty good, huh?"

"Not really," Neal admitted with another shrug. "I just like to draw."

"Can I see?"

Neal's head snapped upward, wide eyes moving to stare at him. He looked surprised, almost as if he couldn't believe someone was interested in seeing his drawings. That detail did nothing to reassure Peter. He waited patiently until Neal pulled the notebook away from his body before holding it out to Peter with an apprehensive look.

Peter blinked in surprise as soon as he saw the drawing on the page. He had been prepared to smile and pretend he knew what it was he was supposedly seeing there. Instead, he found a drawing of a small pug lying on the grass with a bright red ball. It was far from being a masterpiece, but it was pretty good for a child's drawing.

"This is really good. You're very talented," He added with a smile.

"Thank you," The boy murmured softly, letting him catch the glimpse of a proud smile.

"You like dogs, huh?"

Neal's head bobbed up and down. "They're the best!"

"They are, aren't they?" Peter said with a small chuckle. The boy's enthusiasm was contagious. "I have one myself. He's a yellow lab called Satchmo."

"Satchmo?" The boy asked, small eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah. My wife Elizabeth named him. She likes jazz music, so she named him after one of her favorite artists."

"I like that. Dogs should always have special names," Neal said with a firm nod as if that was a rule everyone should know. Maybe it was, Peter thought dryly.

"What about you? Got a pet at home?"

Neal shook his head, brown curls bouncing around his head. "No, but sometimes people let me pet their dogs here. And there's a street dog I see around the school that lets me pet him sometimes. He's nice," He added with a bright smile.

The image of a rabid dog attacking the tiny boy at his side flashed through Peter's mind, or even the possibility of him being infected with some awful disease. He forced a smile on his face as he nodded, hoping Neal hadn't noticed even a glimpse of horror on his face.

A couple of laughing kids on their bicycles raced past them, and Peter didn't miss the way Neal's bright eyes followed them until they were out of clear sight.

"So," Peter started, drawing the boy's attention back to him. "Are you planning to become a famous artist when you grow up?"

"No," The boy replied without hesitation. "I'm gonna be a cop just like my dad. He was a hero, you know?" Neal added with a proud little smile. "He saved lots of people."

"I'm sure you will be a great cop, just like your dad," Peter replied with a fond smile, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. "Your mom must be very proud to have a son as talent and brave as you."

Neal seemed to shrink up in himself in the blink of an eye, shrugging once again instead of offering an answer. The reaction only served to make Peter's worry grow, as well as confirm the gut feeling that made him approach in the first place. He wished El was here to comfort Neal, which was a ridiculous thought, really. He tried to bring the conversation back on track.

"You shouldn't be here by yourself," Peter told him gently. "It could be dangerous."

"I like to come to the park, but sometimes Ellen is busy and can't bring me, so I come alone," Neal admitted. He looked at him with wide, honest eyes. "I'm always careful, I promise."

"I'm sure you are," Peter agreed with a smile. "Who's Ellen?"

The smile was back on Neal's face almost instinctively as soon as he heard the name. "She's like my aunt, but not really. She's friends with my mom."

Peter made a mental note of that but decided not to press further. "Even if you're careful, you still shouldn't come to the park alone."

"I just don't like being home alone," Neal admitted with yet another shrug.

Peter was ready to follow that statement and inquire further about the boy's mother when Neal raised one of his fists to rub his eye, the movement pulling at the cuff of his sleeve just enough to offer a peek of the purple bruise contrasting sharply against the pale skin of his wrist.

"That's a nasty bruise," He commented with a nod, struggling to keep his voice even and not demand to know who hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

Neal frowned, following Peter's gaze. He didn't hurry to cover the bruise or acted suddenly nervous, which was a positive point at least. "Not really."

"What happened?"

"Matt was being meant," The boy explained simply.

"Who's Matt?"

"Matthew," Neal answered as if that answered the question. "We play together at school, but sometimes he's mean."

He barely stopped himself from sighing in relief. Neal was very likely being neglected by his mother and somewhat taken care of by that Ellen person, but at least it didn't sound like he was abused. Still, he needed to get a social worker involved. He didn't know anyone who could help, but Peter was sure if she asked her Diana could dig around and find someone good to take care of Neal.

Peter looked at the boy at his side again. For some reason, he had the feeling Neal would be gone as soon he tried to call someone. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by an obnoxious little sound coming from somewhere close. He looked around with a frown-

.

.

.

Peter's eyes shot open, and he instinctively patted around his body until he found the ringing cell phone tucked somewhere on the couch with him. He answered the call before he had time to make sense of anything or even check the ID.

"Burke."

"Hey, Peter. How are you feeling?"

"What- Neal?" Peter asked with a frown. Hadn't Neal just been right here with him? And why did he sound so different? He looked around as he urged his fuzzy brain to work properly.

There was silence for a beat or two. "Yeah, it's me. Are you okay, Peter?"

Peter could only blink as he finally realized the Neal he knew -the real Neal, currently on the phone with him- wasn't a seven-year-old boy alone on a park bench with a notebook full of drawings, but rather an ex-convict he chased for years and then got released into his custody with a tracking anklet.

It was just a dream. All of it.

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a rough hand across his face. Everything had felt so real-

"Peter?" Neal called softly, a world of concern clear on that single word.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright. I was asleep," Peter added after a moment's pause. He sat up on the couch and met Satchmo's dark eyes as the dog lay on the rug, tail slowly wagging.

"Oh. Sorry, I woke you," Neal offered quietly. "I just wanted to know how you're doing."

"It's fine. How are things with the Wolcotts?" He asked as details of the case came back to him. Elizabeth's 'friend' coming back home after years missing, Neal playing butler for the family while they learned if Patrick Wolcott was really Patrick Wolcott.

"Nothing worth mentioning yet. I'm outside walking the dog right now- that's why I took the chance to call you," Neal justified before Peter questioned him about that. "You sounded pretty bad last time I called you."

"I'm fine," Peter replied. He sounded a little rough even to his own ear, but he really didn't want to be speaking with Neal when the memory of that blue-eyed boy was still so fresh in his mind. "You should be focusing on the case and your buttling, not on me."

"Right," Neal said after a moment of silence. "I guess we'll talk later. Feel better, Peter," He added softly, ending the call without waiting for a response.

Peter let the phone drop somewhere on the couch and buried his face with his hands with a groan. Great. Now he needed to find a way to apologize to Neal for all that. Maybe he could ask El to make those little chickens he liked so much. Of course, that meant he would have to tell her what happen and most likely get scolded for the way he treated him, but so be it. He probably deserved it.

All of that was going to have to wait, though- at least until he got over this terrible cold. Hopefully, when that happened Peter would be able to look at Neal without seeing the boy from his dream, so full of innocence and clearly waiting for someone to notice him. Someone to care.

Peter let himself fall back on the couch and tried unsuccessfully to banish the image from his mind.

Chapter Text

"Alright. Here we are," Jones announced unnecessarily as he looked through the window at the brownstone that housed the family of the man they were currently investigating. It looked just like any other along the street.

It wasn't usually his job to go out and interview people. That was Peter and Caffrey's job. Even Diana's. Most of the time when he spoke to witnesses or perps it happened in one of the interrogatory rooms in the FBI building, but he didn't have much choice this time. The clock was ticking and with Peter stuck at the office playing politics and Diana busy talking to the people at Michael Littleton's workplace, he was the only one with enough experience under his belt to do this. And he even had some company for this assignment.

Jones wasn't entirely sure if Peter had told him to take Caffrey with him because he thought he could use the conman's skills just like Peter did or because he wanted him out of his hair but still under supervision for a few hours. Both possibilities made perfect sense, and it may even be a combination of the two that prompted Peter's decision.

None of that changed the fact Jones was more than a little nervous about this.

He risked a glance in Caffrey's direction and found him looking out the window, fingers tapping against his thigh and clearly waiting for him to make the first move. Jones clenched his jaw and forced his fingers to ease their grip on the steering wheel.

"Let's go, Caffrey."

They exited the car almost at once, and Jones wondered if Peter and Caffrey usually worked out a strategy before an interview. He could imagine Peter trying to do 
just that and Caffrey taking things in whatever direction he thought was best as soon as they were in. Not the most reassuring of thoughts when he was about to work with Caffrey on this one.

"Nice house," Neal commented with an appreciative look as they walked together.

"Yeah," Jones answered distractedly, his mind going over the details of the case and the questions he needed to ask.

They were standing before the front door when they heard the screams and cries coming from the house. They exchanged a look before Jones rang the doorbell, his right hand moving to his gun.

Almost a minute passed before the door was opened by an attractive woman that couldn't be much older than thirty, her blond hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head and a toddler resting on her hip. The screams and cries from the woman's other child turned even louder now that the door no longer contained them.

Jones held back a grimace as he flashed his badge. "Mrs. Littleton? I'm Agent Jones with the FBI. This is our consultant, Neal Caffrey. We're here to ask you a few questions about your husband."

"Ex-husband- or he will be soon enough." The woman looked more annoyed than surprised to see them. "And this isn't a good time, agents."

Jones risked a quick look at Caffrey only to find the conman smiling down at the toddler, one hand raised as he wiggled his fingers in greeting. Before either could say another word, a red-faced and teary blond girl of maybe five or six appeared at the woman's side, bringing with her loud sobs and even louder cries.

He had no idea what they were supposed to do now. Should they offer to come back later or insist on getting in and hope for the best? Jones looked at the girl and then back at the woman. They certainly didn't teach this kind of thing in Quantico.

Mrs. Littleton sighed loudly before turning to look down at her daughter. "Emma, I told you to wait in the living room."

The woman's voice was barely audible as they all looked down at the hysteric girl- even the toddler was staring at her with huge green eyes and fingers stuck in his mouth.

"Oh, that's a very nice bracelet you have there," Caffrey commented out of nowhere, smiling at the girl as if all was right with the world.

The girl, Emma, blinked her teary eyes at him, closing her mouth before another cry could escape. She looked down at the colorful beads of the bracelet wrapped around her wrist, her small chest still heaving.

"May I?" Caffrey asked, looking at the girl and his mother for permission. He crouched down a moment later, Emma's wrist held gently in his hands as he examined the bracelet as if it were a jewelry piece worth millions. "Nice. This is very nice. It even has a little ladybug there."

"I like ladybugs," The girl commented hoarsely, using the tiny first of her free hand to rub her eyes.

"Ladybugs are great. Did you know they can smell with their little feet and antennae?"

The girl's bloodshot eyes turned wide. "Really?"

"Really," Caffrey confirmed with a very serious nod.

Jones watched with growing disbelief the conversation taking place between the maybe-thirty-something ex-con and the little daughter of the man they were investigating for embezzlement. Honestly, he was just grateful the cries and yells had stopped even if he still wasn't sure how a comment about a bracelet made it happen.

"I have a coloring book Daddy brought for me, and it has lots of ladybugs. Do you wanna see it?"

"I would love to. Actually, I think I can teach you how to draw some very pretty ladybugs if you want. But only if your mom says it's okay, of course," Caffrey added, shooting a dazzling smile in the woman's direction.

Jones turned back to Mrs. Littleton and wasn't surprised to see her staring at Neal with heart in her eyes. No, that wasn't quite right. She looked like someone who had just found water in the middle of a desert. He felt like any moment now she was going to reach for her purse to hire Caffrey on the spot and never let him out of the house.

"Please, Mommy? Please?"

"I-" Mrs. Littleton looked at her daughter before turning to look between Neal and Jones. She looked more than a little dazed by the whole thing. It was reassuring to know he wasn't the only one befuddled by what had just happened here. "I guess."

"Yes! Come!" Emma reached for Caffrey's hand and tried to drag him inside.

The conman flashed the mother and toddler a quick smile as he walked past them, letting himself be guided inside by the excited little girl.

The woman looked after them for a moment before turning back to Jones and letting him in without another word. Jones accepted the invitation with a tentative smile and the hope that things would go smoother from there.

Thirty-six minutes later they were out of the house after a very enlightening conversation with Mrs. Littleton. 

They watched as Emma Littleton waved goodbye to her new best friend from where she stood in the doorway by her mother's side with a grin on her face, tears and screams long forgotten. Jones, on the other hand, was still trying to figure out what the hell happened in there. Was it fair to say Caffrey had just conned a five-year-old girl, or had he just done what any adult with experience dealing with children was forced to do? He honestly doubted Caffrey was all that interested in ladybugs. 

He made sure to keep an eye on the conman the whole time they were there (and the girl's mother had done the same, though with wonder and relief more than anything else). Caffrey had not only behaved himself, but he had also done a great job keeping Emma busy and happy while Jones talked with Mrs. Littleton, far enough away to have some privacy but within perfect view of the living room where Caffrey and the little girl were staying.

Neal smiled and waved one more time before getting into the car, his shoulders dropping slightly for a second or two before he looked at Jones with his usual smile tugging at his lips.

"Well? How did it go?"

His eyebrows went up a little in surprise. "You weren't listening in?"

"I heard a few things," Neal admitted as he put his seat belt on. "But Miss Littleton was very demanding of my attention."

"Oh, I'm sure she was," Jones teased as he pulled away from the curb. "Well, Mrs. Littleton apparently knows nothing about her hus- ex-husband's business, but she mentioned a few things worth looking into."

"Like the sudden trip to California six months ago."

Jones was grateful for the red light as he turned to stare at the conman and his little smug smile. So Caffrey hadn't missed the most important piece of information Juliet Littleton had shared. Of course he hadn't, he thought as he shook his head.

"Yeah, like that one."

They drove through New York's terrible afternoon traffic in silence for a moment.

"You did a pretty good job with the daughter," Jones commented, breaking the silence. He may not be the boss, but he always liked to acknowledge good work from the people around him. "That one of your many skills or was it pure luck?"

"Kids are easy," Neal confided with a smile. "They're never shy about telling you what they want, and even when they don't, they can be very easily pleased or distracted. And they're fun too, unlike most adults."

Jones chuckled softly. He could imagine Peter telling Caffrey he got along well with kids because he was one of them. He decided to keep that thought to himself.

"You ever thought about it?" Jones asked when a spot of traffic made them stop once again, curiosity getting the better of him. Caffrey turned to him with an arched eyebrow. "Kids."

Neal's body went stock-still, his expression freezing in place for not more than a couple of seconds before any reaction was wiped away, his posture once again turning loose and relaxed, and his smile turning even wider.

"Really, Clinton? You think adding kids to the mix would have been wise given my former career?"

Usually, the lack of an answer to a direct question could be just as telling as one, but Caffrey was a master of deflection and evasion, so it was hard to find the real meaning behind the words. Jones didn't press further. Kate Moreau and her story with Caffrey were a delicate subject, and besides, pushing didn't work with Caffrey anyway.

"I have."

"Really?" The surprise and interest in Neal's expression were genuine.

"Yeah." Jones couldn't hold back his own smile. "Not right now, of course, but someday, yeah. I want the wife, the two-point-five kids, and the white picket fence."

"Don't forget the dog."

"Oh, yeah. I want the dog too. A big one. Maybe two of 'em."

"A man who knows what he wants. I like that." Jones' only answer to the pleased smile he could hear in Caffrey's tone was a snort. "Well, I think that when the time comes you will be a great Dad."

His eyes flicked in the conman's direction. "You think so?"
 
"Of course! You're a good man, Clinton. You're upright but not too upright, and what kid wouldn't want a respected FBI agent for a dad?"

Jones watched Caffrey with narrowed eyes until the horn from the car behind them forced him to move forward. He couldn't help but wonder if the nice words were just a distraction or part of a long con. It didn't really matter if the meaning was genuine or not, the idea Caffrey may be using something personal, something he decided to share with him pissed him off...

But what if he was wrong about that?

In the end, Jones decided to take a page off Peter's book and give Caffrey the benefit of the doubt. What harm would it do to believe him this once?

"Thanks, Caffrey. And, you know," Jones added good-naturedly, "if you ever decided to give the kids thing a chance, I'm sure you wouldn't be too bad at it yourself."

"Not too bad, huh? Such high endorsement." Despite the words, there was an amused glint in Neal's bright eyes.

Jones tried to imagine Caffrey a few years down the road, all settled down and with a couple of cute blue-eyed kids at his side. Surprisingly, it wasn't as hard to picture as he would have thought.

Chapter Text

Neal barely had time to react before Peter was bargaining into the loft after only a couple of quick, sharp knocks to announce his arrival. He wasn't supposed to be here yet, so Neal hadn't bothered to lock the door- a mistake he would be sure not to make again in the future.

If June were home she would have kept Peter busy downstairs with small talk and generous offers of coffee while she sent one of the maids to warn him of his handler's early arrival. As it was, Neal barely had time to put down the concealer and move away from the mirror before Peter spotted him.

"Neal! You better be ready to go soon because we have-" Peter came to a sudden stop as soon as he saw him. "What the hell happened to you?"

Neal resisted the urge to look down at himself or even try uselessly to cover his body with his hands. Ice took care of the worst of the swelling and the concealer Mozzie got for him did wonders to make his face look almost perfect, but he hadn't planned for Peter to see the rainbow of bruises and grazes that should have been hidden under his clothes. It was bad enough that the marks on his hands would remain visible.

He knew it was a lost cause by now, but Neal still finished putting on his white undershirt before turning around, exchanging a grimace for a smile. "Peter! You're early."

"What happened?" Peter demanded once again as he frowned down at his now-covered chest.

"Just a little bruising, it's fine," Neal dismissed as he reached for the pristine pinstriped shirt still on its hanger and put it on. Hopefully, Peter had been too distracted by the hideous large bruise on his back to have missed the rest. Mozzie had certainly been horrified but mesmerized when he saw it. "We have a new case?"

"Just a little-" Peter clenched his jaw as he stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You have five seconds to tell me why you're black and blue all over."

Or what? Neal almost challenged. He remained silent. The last thing he needed right now was to antagonize Peter or make him think he was up to something.

"That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think? It's really not-"

"Try again," Peter cut in, his grim expression making it clear he wasn't going to let this go.

Neal stopped himself from crossing his arms (which would have been quite a painful move) and flicked his eyes to the side. He said nothing for a moment, Peter's unwavering gaze almost a physical weight he had to endure as he finished buttoning his shirt.

When he finally looked back at Peter there was a wry twitch at the corner of his lips. "Someone beat me around a bit, obviously."

"Why?"

"Why do people do anything? Because they can, because they want to. It's a-"

"Neal," Peter growled in warning.

He resisted the urge to sigh. Well, then. "I was on my way here after going to the gym last night when this huge man came out of nowhere, and things turned very bad very quickly. He got tired eventually and that was it," Neal explained simply. None of that was even a lie. "It wasn't that bad, really."

"Right," Peter scoffed. He stared at him with narrowed eyes. "I don't suppose you actually went to a hospital or see a doctor to make sure of that."

"Nothing is broken," He offered with a smile that was only a touch tentative. It would be hard to convince Peter everything was alright, but not impossible. "A couple of ribs are tender, but it's mostly just bruises and scrapes. Mozzie came over and checked me out too."

"So the little guy is a doctor now."

Neal shrugged- or tried to. He turned his face to the side to hide a grimace. "Moz knows his stuff, and he has experience dealing with this kind of thing."

It looked like Peter had plenty he wanted to say in response to that, but in the end, he let it go. "Since I didn't get a call last night, I'm going to assume there's no report with the NYPD either."

This time it was Neal's turn to scoff. "Come on, Peter. Do you honestly think the cops would have cared about some ex-con getting beat down a little?"

Peter didn't bother to refute that, which was an answer all on its own. Neal's only response was a grim smile. He had known he was right, of course, but it still stung a little to get confirmation he no longer had the same basic rights as everyone else. Well, nothing to do about it now.

"What did you get yourself mixed in this time?" Peter tiredly asked, rubbing his forehead.

Neal frowned. "Why do you always assume I-"

"Damn it, Neal! I want the truth. Either you tell me right now what the hell happened or I'm going to check out your tracker and go from there." Peter glared at him. "And you know I'm not going to stop until I find out what happened."

He pushed to the back of his mind Peter's distrust and his annoyance and took a moment to wonder how far the Agent may get with that. It took only a few seconds for Neal to realize it didn't matter. He couldn't take that risk. Not now. Neal hadn't known what he would tell him just minutes before, but now it was clear there was only one thing he could say.

The truth.

"My deal with the FBI is not exactly a secret," Neal said with obvious reluctance in his voice. He half expected Peter to interrupt any moment now and demand him to get to the point but, thankfully, he didn't. "Some of my old acquaintances have heard about it, and they have some concerns about how far my cooperation with the Feds may go and how much that may affect them."

"They threatened you?" Was Peter's inmediate response.

"Not exactly," Neal answered quietly. "It was more like a friendly warning about not making any decisions I may later regret. And also a reminder that my involvement with the FBI isn't exactly a secure or permanent thing."

"So they beat you up to make sure you're not going to roll on them," He surmised bluntly.

"Something like that."

Peter didn't bother to hide the anger that poured off him in waves as he stood silent and still for a long time, hands resting on his hips and a deep scowl on his face. 

At least the anger wasn't directed at him, Neal thought as he waited patiently, not even daring to move to finish getting ready.

"Alright. Let's go. You can sit with a sketch artist so we can identify this guy." Neal opened his mouth to protest but Peter spoke again. "What am I saying? You can do the sketch yourself and then we can run it through the system." He met his gaze. "We're going to get this guy."

"Peter-"

"I know you're not used to asking for help when you're in trouble," Peter said, cutting off his protests. "But you can do it now. It doesn't matter how it happened, you're with the FBI now, and we take care of our own."

Neal could only stare at his handler after he heard the words. Peter didn't even like it when Neal called them partners, so for him to come out and say Neal was with the FBI was a big deal. He didn't even try to stop the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He probably shouldn't tease him about that now. Maybe later.

"I appreciate what you're saying, Peter, I really do, but that's not going to work." Peter was just about to protest, but this time it was Neal's turn to stop him. "He was just some random henchman, and he didn't even tell me who sent him, so even if you catch him it wouldn't change anything."

"We'll get a name out of him. Or I'm sure you have some ideas about who may be behind this," Peter added, eyebrows raised.

Neal stared at him. "So you think doing exactly what they warned me not to do is the best course of action here."

"You can't let them cower you, Neal."

"That's not what this is about." He wondered how someone as smart as Peter could be missing the point. "What's wrong with just doing what they want, which is exactly what I was planning to do anyway? You have to know it's stupid to look for trouble when we don't have to."

Peter didn't shut that down right away, which prompted Neal to try to sell the idea further.

"We agreed from the beginning that I would help you solve cases and that you wouldn't press me to talk about anything I may or may not have been involved in before." It was Neal who proposed the deal, but he made sure Peter knew he wouldn't be willing to give up anyone from his past before anything was decided.

They both knew it wasn't in Peter's nature to just let things rest, especially FBI or Neal related things, but he was also a pragmatic guy, and he couldn't just ignore everything he had just told him. 

"It's okay," Neal said with an encouraging smile.

"This," Peter pointed at him with a glare, "is not okay."

"Okay, it's not," Neal agreed easily because, well, it wasn't. His body was like one big, tender bruise, and he felt almost as bad as he had that one time he was beaten up in prison at the start of his sentence. To say he was displeased about all of this was an understatement. "But this was just a warning, and since I have no plans to talk about the things I allegedly did in the past or the people allegedly involved, everything should be fine."

"I don't like this."

Neal felt a little tug at his chest. He was pretty sure this was about more than letting the bad guys get away with it. "I know you don't, but I'm asking you to let this go. Please."

"Alright," Peter finally agreed, looking anything but happy. "I wouldn’t pursue this, for now, but only if you go to a hospital or a clinic."

Neal blinked. "I'm fine, Peter."

He ignored him. "That's the deal, buddy. Take it or leave it."

Despite the fact he was getting what he wanted, Neal still hesitated. He hated hospitals and doctors almost as much as he hated prison and about ninety-seven percent of its inmates, but if that was what it took to get Peter to let this go he would have to cowboy up. Besides, Peter was telling him to go to a clinic, but that didn't mean he had to let a doctor check him up.

"Alright. I'll swing by on my way home."

Peter smirked- he actually smirked. "Nice try, pal, but I'm taking you right now."

"Now?" Neal's eyebrows went up. "I thought you said we have a new case."

"We do," Peter accepted with a nod. "But I'm sure Jones and Cruz wouldn't mind holding up the fort while we take a little detour."

It sounded like he didn't have much of a choice, Neal thought with a slight frown. But honestly, it may all be worth it if he got some painkillers. The guy that usually supplied Mozzie with any medical stuff they may need had been MIA, and Neal had declined when Moz offered him one of his many natural concoctions, not wanting to risk any surprising side effects when he had to be at the office all day pretending everything was alright.

"Alright. I'll go wherever you want if you promise to drop this. I mean it, Peter," Neal added, tone and expression turning serious. "No going behind my back because you think you know best or having Jones or Cruz or any of the Harvard crew look into this for you."

He watched him with narrowed eyes. "You're taking this pretty seriously."

"That's because I know you, Peter," Neal said with a pointed look. "Besides, I really don't think this needs to be more complicated than it already is."

"Alright," Peter said after a moment, his gaze never leaving Neal's face. "I'm going to follow your lead on this, but you have to tell me if something like this ever happens again. I need your word on that. And you will also warn me if whoever did this-" He cut himself off with an eye roll. "If whoever you suspect of doing this ever comes into our radar. I need to know, Neal."

Well, that was unfortunate. Not really unexpected, but unfortunate all the same. Neal didn't like lying to Peter, so agreeing now would mean the problem would simply be delayed. Not an ideal outcome, but probably the best he could hope for now that Peter knew what happened. And who knew? Maybe he and Mozzie could come up with a plan, if not to make the problem go away, maybe make it less dire for him.

"Alright. I will tell you if they ever become relevant for a case."

"Good." Peter looked down at his watch. "Now let's go. We have a busy day ahead of ourselves."

Neal stopped himself from telling Peter they could always skip the trip to the hospital. It would be just a waste of breath.

As they left the loft together, Neal couldn't stop himself from remembering something Mozzie had mentioned last night. That they had been lucky this time. Lucky that his old acquaintances had been more worried about what he may tell to the FBI rather than what he could tell them about the FBI. 

He dreaded the moment someone realized that and used it against them.

Chapter Text

Peter entered the house through the back door with Satchmo trotting happily behind him. He put the leash aside and headed straight to the kitchen where Elizabeth was already busy making breakfast. She was wrapped in her favorite terrycloth robe, her dark hair done up in a messy bun, and her face still make-up free.

It was a sight that never failed to make Peter question how he got so damn lucky.

"Hey honey," El called over her shoulder, keeping part of her attention on the stove. "Breakfast isn't ready yet, but there's coffee."

Peter ignored the enticing smile of fresh coffee and walked toward his wife. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek.

"Hi, hon."

"Hey yourself," El murmured, one of her warm hands coming up to cup his cheek as she turned her head slightly to let their lips meet. He could feel the curve of her smile against his lips.

A soft whine made them break the kiss and look down at Satchmo, standing by their side with his tail wagging slowly as he looked up at them with huge dark eyes.

"Really?" Peter asked him. The dog kept staring at them, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"You want a bit of love too, don't you, Satch?" 

The dog barked twice in answer, the attention making his wagging tail pick up speed until it was but a blur.

Peter let his wife go with one more kiss and then moved to take care of the pancakes on the pan. He pushed down an irrational feeling of jealousy as he watched his wife turn away from him and knelt down to give their dog the greeting he was demanding.

Elizabeth gently shooed Satch out of the kitchen after a minute or two of petting and then proceeded to do the same with Peter once she washed her hands- though she did send him off with a quick kiss and a smile. 

He grabbed a mug from the cupboard on his way out and filled it to the brim with hot coffee before moving to sit on one of the stools on the kitchen counter.

Peter took a moment to enjoy the moment as he sipped his coffee. Between both their busy jobs, they didn't get to enjoy many quiet mornings like this. He eventually pulled his attention away, focusing on the pile of mail Elizabeth left on the counter. Sorting the mail wasn't something Peter particularly enjoyed, but it was something to do while breakfast was ready. They were mostly bills, but he found a few letters and stuff from El's business mixed in with the junk mail. 

Peter froze as soon as he saw the envelope. He probably made a noise or something because Elizabeth's attention was on him only a second later.

"What is it, hon?"

"I got mail from Sing Sing," he announced absentmindedly, his gaze focused on the envelope in his hands.

Elizabeth's frown slid off her face only half a second later. "Caffrey," she said with a nod.

It wasn't a question, but Peter answered anyway as he met her gaze. "Yeah."

She turned her attention back to the stove just long enough to turn it off before walking around the kitchen counter, squeezing his shoulder gently as she sat on the stool at his side.

"Well?" El prompted, blue eyes gleaming softly as she looked at him. "Are you going to open it?"

Peter met his wife's eager expression for a moment before tearing the envelope open. There was no use pretending he wasn't just as eager to see what Caffrey sent him this time. 

He would never admit that a part of him had been missing the conman ever since the chase ended, but then again, El didn't need him to say the words to know that.

Peter blinked down at the small, generic card he pulled out of the envelope. There was a picture of a rather plain cupcake on the front and the phrase 'Happy Birthday' printed above in yellow lettering.

It was a perfectly nice birthday card, of course, but didn't quite live up to Caffrey's high, luxurious standards. Peter still remembered every detail of the gorgeous, handmade card he received last year. Every card from Caffrey was like a little work of art all on its own right, fitting perfectly with everything he knew about Caffrey's life style and tastes- unlike the card currently in his hands.

Ever since that green sucker Caffrey handed him at the start of the chase, everything else the con man had sent or left for him had been tasteful or expensive or both. Then again, the guy had been in prison for less than a month now, so this may be the best he could do at the moment. Or maybe he didn't care all that much for the agent that put him there now that the game was over.

Peter wasn't sure how he felt about the latter. Caffrey acted graciously when he arrested him, shaking his hand and even thanking him for helping him find Kate Moreau. Hell, even during the trial the conman had acted nice and friendly. Still, all that could have easily changed now that he was getting a taste of what life behind bars was really like.

"That's sweet," Elizabeth commented as she looked down at the card, her head resting on his shoulder.

The words were enough to pull Peter out of his thoughts, and he was left frowning at the top of her head.

"You did send him to prison not too long ago, hon." El reminded him gently in an echo of his own thoughts. "And yet, he's sending you good wishes for your birthday. That's sweet."

"He's a criminal," Peter countered, his tone just a touch defensive. He wouldn't feel bad or guilty for putting a criminal in prison. He wouldn't.

"I know that, hon." She pulled away, letting him see the reassuring smile on her face. "He broke the law and you had to catch him. That was the right thing to do. What I meant is that most criminals would resent the person who put them in prison, but Neal sent you a birthday card instead."

Peter looked back at the card in his hands, his frown returning.

Neal Caffrey had been different from the start. Always. It wasn't just that he was smart or non-violent, or that he sometimes acted like he and Peter were friends playing a game instead of a criminal and the FBI Agent set out to catch him. It wasn't the calls at midnight to chat rather than taunt, or the champagne and food sent to the van on more than one occasion. It wasn't even the fact Peter was almost sure Caffrey was behind leads that had inexplicably turned up on a couple of cases in the past.

Peter didn't think he could put into words what set Caffrey apart from the dozens of criminals he had chased during his career, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Their relationship had been strange enough as it was.

He met his wife's expectant gaze for a second before finally opening the card to look for a message inside. There was one, of course, and written in fancy penmanship that looked somewhat familiar but was nothing like Caffrey's. Or what he thought was Caffrey's anyway.

Happy Birthday Peter!

I'm sorry this year your birthday can't be as thrilling or special as the last one. Or the one before that. Maybe next year? ; )

P.S. Say hi to Elizabeth and Satchmo for me.

xoxo Neal.

"Oh," Elizabeth breathed, a smile coming to her lips as she remembered what happened last year. "He's talking about the cake and wine he left for you last year. They were both delicious."

It was more than that. With Caffrey, it always was.

Last year, Peter spent the week before his birthday investigating and chasing leads after he heard the whisper of a rumor that said Caffrey was back in the country. Peter and his team were able to confirm he was in New York and not only that, but all information pointed to the fact he was casing the Met. From there on, it was a race to find the elusive conman before he struck.

The chase ended on the day of Peter's birthday when they broke into the hotel room Caffrey was supposedly staying in. They were greeted with a large, fancy cake with a single candle lit, three bottles of expensive dessert wine, and a stunning handmade card wishing him a happy birthday. The room had been otherwise empty, and there had been no sight of Caffrey even after they searched the area.

Nothing was stolen from the Met or anywhere else- at least not by Caffrey. All of it had been a cleverly elaborate farce. Caffrey had sent him on a wild goose chase as a birthday present.

Peter had been furious as soon as he realized he had been played, but it hadn't taken Elizabeth long to get him to admit he had enjoyed every second of the chase, especially after months of mortgage fraud and boring cases, and even longer with no new leads on the elusive conman.

Maybe Reese was right when he expressed his concerns about how involved he was with Caffrey.

If nothing else, the fact Caffrey bothered to send him a card now meant he wasn't doing too bad in prison. Against his better judgment, Peter felt worried about the no-violent white collar conman being put in a high-security prison. Peter requested to be notified if something happened to Caffrey, but he wasn't very optimistic he would be unless it was something really serious. He hoped that wouldn't happen.

"Honey?" Elizabeth prompted gently, once again pulling him out of his thoughts.

"So this is sweet, huh?"

"It is," El confirmed with a bright smile as she took the card from his hands. "We should thank him somehow."

"No. No, we shouldn't. That will only encourage Caffrey to keep doing things like this."

Elizabeth stayed silent for a moment as she stared down at the card. When she looked up again Peter could do nothing but brace himself for what was about to come. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"You told me you never found anything about his family."

"We never found anything on Neal Caffrey before he was eighteen." Peter was almost sure it was nothing more than another alias, but El already knew that, and he doubted she wanted to hear it again.

"So, even if he has any family, what do you think are the chances he will contact them now that he's in prison?"

Peter didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Elizabeth bit her lip as she looked down at the card. "Do you really think it would be such a bad idea for him to know there is someone out here willing to listen if he needs it? You like him too, honey," she reminded him.

And he did like the conman, even against his better judgment. Damn it.

Peter thought about Caffrey's brilliant brain and his uncanny ability to excel at any role he played and whatever scheme he cooked. He wondered not for the first time if, with some encouragement and a lot of pushing, he could learn to put those talents to good and legal use. He never believed Caffrey to be a bad kid, but there was no denying he was far from being good.

Maybe all he needed was something or someone to show him the way. 

Peter pushed the thought away as fast as it came. The last thing he needed was to try to get involved in Neal Caffrey's rehabilitation. That was not in his job description.

"He has his girlfriend," he said instead.

"Kate, right?" Elizabeth waited for Peter's nod, looking pensive. "Do you think she will stay with him?"

"I hope so."

Her expression turned surprised.

Peter shrugged a little self-consciously. "Caffrey did let himself get arrested just to find her. It would be cruel if she abandoned him after that."

In the silence that followed, Peter tried to pretend he didn't feel at least a little bit guilty for using Kate and the love Caffrey felt for her to catch him. He usually had no problem brushing it off, but having physical proof of Caffrey's less criminal side made it harder.

Elizabeth didn't press the issue further. She handed the card back without a word and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips before walking back to the kitchen, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Peter stared at the card for a moment before putting it back in its envelope. Now that the chase was finally over he needed to take a step back rather than get even more entangled with Neal Caffrey.

He did his job and did it well, and whatever happened now was out of his hands.

Chapter Text

Hi! Just stopping by to share the link to the new collection, just like I promised. I hope you enjoy it!

a cappuccino in the clouds