Two weeks after Pratt's murder, things were fairly normal at the bureau. Peter had spent one long night in jail but a well placed security camera had freed him and put James on the most wanted list. It took another week for Peter to be back at work thanks to paperwork and bureaucracy but he was happy to be back and in his rightful spot.

Callaway was gone; she disappeared shortly after the murder and no one would tell Peter why and he didn't really care enough to pursue it. Hughes wasn't back yet but a few cryptic texts from the older man suggested that was in the works and he would have his old job back in the near future.

As Peter eyed the bullpen from his office, one thing wasn't right. Neal. He was at his desk, working or pretending to, but he wasn't right, hadn't been since his father disappeared.

Peter suddenly found himself dealing with the conman he once knew and not the man who had become his friend. The fake smile, the one Peter abhorred, was back; plastered on Neal's face like a shot of Botox. Neal was fine or so he told everyone but no one believed him, not even Diana.

When Diana was telling Peter that something was wrong with Neal, the agent knew enough to be worried.

Peter understood Neal's need to work through this on his own but he was also pushing away anyone who cared about him and that the agent didn't understand. And tonight he would put his plan together...Operation Neal was about to begin.

"Why do I have to go to the gym?" Mozzie whined, much to Peter's annoyance.

"I already told you. He goes there at night and the rest of us are with him during the day. "

"Elizabeth's not."

"My wife is not going to the gym with Neal." Peter eyed Diana who tried in vain to stifle her laugh.

"Suit, are you trying to tell me something?" Mozzie unconsciously rubbed his stomach.

"I don't care if you work out. The object of this mission is to be with Neal and nights are your turn. Got it?"

Peter glanced around the room. Everyone had their assignments.

Since Neal refused to come to the Burke's Elizabeth would go over daily with food she knew Neal couldn't turn down. June would stop by every evening with a glass of wine and dessert and be there in case Neal wanted to talk.

Diana and Jones would continue the good-natured ribbing they were known for. And Peter would do his best to get Neal to talk; he knew Neal couldn't say no to a free lunch or a ride home.

"Are we set?" They all nodded.

"Good. Thank you." Peter smiled. "One way or the other we'll get Neal back."

Like the best laid plans, this one didn't last a week. It was never meant to deceive Neal; Peter wanted it obvious enough that Neal knew he was surrounded by people who cared about him. And Neal knew...but still they all received the same text.

I appreciate what you're doing but I want to be alone.

Of course he followed it up with one of those damn smiley faces that Peter hated. But the agent wasn't about to give up so easily.

He casually strolled to Neal's desk.

"Neal, its Friday night. Come over for dinner."

Neal glanced up. "I'm busy" he quietly said as he tossed the unread files to the side.

"How about tomorrow night?"

"Peter, please stop." Neal stood and grabbed his jacket. "I'll take a cab home today."

"Neal, I'm ready to leave. I'll give you a ride." The ex-con was about to argue when he suddenly nodded his head.

"I'll wait by the elevator" he mumbled as he walked away.

The ride was quiet and surprisingly Neal didn't protest when Peter ordered a pizza on his cell and stopped to pick it up.

Peter considered it a small victory when he followed Neal into his apartment and placed the pizza on the table.

"There's beer in the fridge" Neal casually remarked as he walked into the bathroom to change clothes.

"So you don't mind me staying?" Peter asked when Neal returned.

"Would it matter if I did?" Neal countered with a small smile playing on his face. He poured himself a glass of wine and joined Peter at the table.

"Probably not" Peter admitted as he devoured his first slice and grabbed for another.

"I'm not talking" Neal said as he nibbled on his slice, not nearly as hungry as the agent.

"I'm not making you." Peter eyed the rest of the room, suspiciously devoid of any artwork. "You usually have the easel up. Don't feel like painting?"

Neal looked away with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Have you talked to Sara?"

Neal nodded.

"How is she?"

"Seems ok" Neal quietly answered as he quickly downed the rest of his wine.

"Neal, I'm sorry how things turned out with your father but..."

"I'm not having this conversation." Neal stood abruptly. "You can let yourself out." Neal walked away and a few minutes later Peter heard a door slam.

"I'm not leaving until I'm done eating" Peter called out in the silence as he took his third piece. "Sooner or later I will get through to you." Peter quickly finished and cleaned up before walking out.

"Boss, what's wrong?" Diana asked as she entered Peter's office and saw him staring at his phone.

"Neal, just called in sick" Peter explained with one raised eyebrow.

"Maybe he is" Diana suggested. "But you don't think so, do you?"

Peter shrugged. "He was fine yesterday."

"Maybe you should go check on him."

Peter eyed his female agent. "I think that's a good idea." He grabbed his jacket. "I'll be back later" he added as he rushed out of the office.

Peter knocked twice before turned the knob, grateful that Neal rarely locked the door.

"Neal?" he called out cautiously. Entering the apartment he spotted the ex-con on the sofa.

"Neal, are you ok?" The younger man had his legs drawn up and his head resting on his knees. The TV was on but muted and the room was eerily quiet.

"Neal?"

Finally Neal glanced sideways neither surprised nor angry that Peter was there.

"Are you sick?" Peter asked as he approached Neal.

"Isn't that what a sick day is for?" Neal countered in a dull, monotone voice.

"Sure, if you're really sick. Can I sit?" Peter didn't wait for an answer as sat down, close but leaving some space between them.

"Neal what's wrong?"

There's so much that Neal just chuckles and lifts his hand, only then does Peter realize he's holding something.

"Can I see that?" Peter grabs the letter from Neal's hand.

Neal shifts further away and curls up more.

"Where did you get this?" Peter immediately eyes the signature. "Neal did you see your father?"

Neal's renewed chuckle is laced with a pitiful whimper. "June found that outside the front door" he ekes out in a shaky voice. "Read it" Neal orders, almost a dare.

Peter can feel his gut tense, seemingly afraid to read what James wanted his son to know. But Neal wanted him to know and with that knowledge he started to read.

Neal,

This isn't how I wanted it to go. You might not believe me but I didn't show up with the intention of killing Pratt or framing Peter.

I'm sorry it all went wrong but I can't go back to jail. And I can't be the father you wanted. Not now.

Thirty years alone changes a person. Don't become me. You're better than I am; and you deserve more

You have people around you that care about you. Don't be afraid to allow them in.

I admit it hurt when you told me Peter was more of a father to you but I understand and I'm ok with it.

You might not be a child but I want the best for you. I want you to have the life you deserve to have and you will.

Neal, you know who you are and it's time that you become the artist that you should be.

Always remember I love you and I am proud of you.

James.

"Wow" Peter muttered as he tossed the letter to the side. Instinctively he reached out and ghosted his hand along Neal's arm, at a loss for words. "Hey, sit up." Peter pulled Neal until he's upright.

"Some father" Neal whispered as he glanced Peter's way.

"Well, he won't be winning father of the year anytime soon. Did you really say that about me?"

"Yeah" Neal admitted with a quiet sigh. "Now what? Are you going to tell them about the letter?"

"What's the point? I'm sure James is far away by now. Go get ready."

"For what?" Neal eyed him suspiciously.

"You're not sick so I'm taking you to work."

"Peter I can't."

"Yes, you can. Go."

With an exaggerated sigh Neal hauled himself up and towards the bathroom. A few minutes later Peter heard the shower turn on. He picked up the letter and read it again, his anger more palpable now that Neal was out of the room.

"James, if I ever see you again you will pay for hurting your son."

Peter hears the doorbell and mutters a curse.

"What the heck...Neal?" Peter is more than surprised to see Neal standing in his doorway. "It's a little late don't you think?"

"The Yankees are playing on the West Coast so I knew you'd be up. Besides, I know Elizabeth is away for the weekend so I thought you might want some company."

"You thought I'd want some company?" Peter's eyes sparkle with amusement.

"OK, maybe I needed the company. Can I come in?"

"Mi casa su casa" Peter says as he allows Neal to walk by him.

"Are you hungry? I can warm up some meatloaf for you."

"I'm good. Maybe a beer?"

Peter nods and returns a few minutes later with two beers and a bag of chips.

"Since when do you follow the Yankees?"

Neal shrugs. "Time to broaden my repertoire" he answers as he settles next to Peter on the sofa.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah." '

"You sure?"

"Peter!"

The agent smiles. Three weeks after receiving the letter and Neal is more himself. Still a little too quiet and sullen but each day more of the old Neal is surfacing and Peter no longer worries about his friend.

"I'm not my father." Neal says suddenly to break the silence. Peter doesn't respond.

"That night I cried after he left. You were gone and he was gone and suddenly I was three years old and I cried like a baby." Neal leaned a little closer. "If they hadn't found that camera and freed you, I'm not sure what I would have done."

"But they did Neal." Peter wrapped an arm around his friend.

"There are some days I hate him and some days...Peter he's my father, I can't change that. There are still days I want to know him..." Neal's voice trailed off in anguish. Peter tightened his grip.

"Neal, it's normal to want to know your father..."

"Even, when he turns out to be a murderer" Neal spit out as he pulled away. "Why couldn't he be more like you?" Sighing he settled back with his eyes glued to the TV.

"Neal, could you handle two of me in your life?"

Neal emitted a deep sigh as he covered his face with his hands.

"Neal, you got the answers you needed. Maybe not what you wanted..." He paused and pulled Neal closer, resting his hand on the ex-con's head.

"Neal, you're a better man than your father. Never forget that."

Neal leaned his head against Peter's shoulder with a couple of shuddering breaths, fighting for control. There would be no tears that night, just the knowledge that he wasn't alone.

An hour later, Neal was asleep curled up against Peter.

The agent kept one arm around Neal as he tried to focus on the game.

"It's your loss James" he whispered as he glanced down at Neal. James would never get to know his son and he had no one to blame but himself.

Neal would be fine. He was surrounded by friends who cared and Peter would continue to be the person that Neal needed him to be.

Father...brother...friend. It didn't matter what he was as long as he was there.

"I'm not going anywhere" Peter said and it was a promise he vowed to keep.