Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to White Collar. I'm just taking the characters out for a little spin and some fun.
A Place Called Home
By: Vanessa Sgroi
Neal slid into his bed with a heartfelt and grateful sigh. He breathed deep, inhaling the intoxicatingly sweet scent of clean sheets, the 500 thread count smooth and lavish against his skin. Laying still, flat on his back, Neal let his muscles melt into the mattress, the ever-present subconscious tension built up during the last two months in prison slowly fading.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the comforting sensations bombarding his system. Felt the headache lurking behind his eyes retreat. The nightmares would come; they always did. The heat, the concussion of the blast would envelope him. Kate would die. Peter would die. He would die. All a jumble of fact and fiction. Only now it wouldn't matter if he awoke in a cold sweat, an agonized shout poised on his lips. Because he was home.
Home had a nice ring to it. So did the word friends. And if the price he had to pay for it at the moment was the monitoring device around his ankle so be it. For the next three years and change, he'd have more in life than he'd ever had before. With every passing day, he was learning to appreciate it.
FIN