He set the book on the cart and picked up the last request card. Wuthering Heights. Really? Gordie never struck him as the type.

Then again, the man had the rest of his life with nothing but prison bars to look forward to, so why not try something different.

Pushing the cart over to the fiction section, Neal pulled the book off the shelf, slipped the card inside the cover, and then moved the assembled books over to the desk. It only took a few minutes to record all of the transactions, making note of who was receiving which book and when. And then he put the finished cart over by the door. The books would be delivered to the men currently in solitary confinement – the ones who couldn't come to the library themselves.

He'd re-shelved all of the returned books, written out notices to those with overdue volumes, straightened the shelves, made cards for the box of new books that had just come in, and sent back the completed research requests from the guards. That pretty much completed his list of duties for the day – and he still had almost two hours left on his shift.

Before, that would have been great news. He could have spent the time on the internet, either on one of the official terminals for prisoner use, or, even better, on Burt's computer in the library office. The librarian wasn't big on locking his office, especially when he'd known that Neal was going to be working.

Of course, that was before.

Just because of one little escape…

Before, he'd rarely seen a guard while he worked. He was never one to cause trouble, and he'd befriended enough of the guards that they had generally left him alone. Now, however, there was almost always a guard somewhere in the library.

And Burt had started locking his door.

The lock wasn't really the problem, of course. But getting caught in the office might well land him in solitary, and he had no desire to be one of the men sending cards in to request a book.

At least they had let him have the library job back. Burt had requested him, but there was the tiny little matter of the guards not wanting it to seem like he was being rewarded for escaping. In the end, however, the warden had agreed that his work there had always been first-rate, and he'd been popular for the informal tutoring he provided, so it was the best place for him.

So, now he could spend some time on the restricted-access computers, or read a book.

One of the new books had caught his eye, a mystery-suspense thriller. He picked it up and went over to the desk. And even though Burt might not let him into the office now, the man wasn't without a heart. He'd moved the coffee maker out to a side table by the desk. Real coffee, no matter how cheap the blend, was infinitely preferable to the instant brew. Neal was just measuring out the grounds when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Caffrey, you've got a visitor."

It was a good thing he still had his back to the guard, because Neal wouldn't have wanted the man to see the surprised look on his face. With Kate gone, he couldn't imagine who else would even bother to come; no one else had come during the first four years of his imprisonment.

He put the coffee down, pulled the pen off from where it was clipped on his shirt and set it on the desk, and then held his arms out. The guard was quick and efficient in his search, and then they moved toward the door.

Another guard joined them out in the hallway, and Neal fell into step between them. But his stride faltered as they passed the corridor leading to the visitation area. "Where are we going?"

"Just keep moving."

Neal's thoughts raced as he considered what that meant. Neither of these guards had been on duty in the machine shop when he'd made his escape before, so they hadn't been personally embarrassed. Of course, the guards would stick together, so this could be some version of payback. But outside of a few grumbled comments when he'd first been brought back, no one had actually called him out for the escape, and he'd been very careful not to make waves since he'd been locked up again.

Anyway, it wasn't like he had much choice right now, so he followed along.

They made another turn, and he was even more puzzled. Unless he had gotten really turned around, they were heading toward the processing area, where prisoners were brought in and where they were released.

And that's when it struck him that they hadn't cuffed him, which was very strange…

They were buzzed through a security door, and he was led to a set of stairs. He looked down to see Peter Burke, the FBI agent who had played such a large role in his life.

Well, whatever Burke was doing here, that at least explained the unusual visitation procedures. Law enforcement officials didn't have to follow the same rules.

Neal started down the stairs, toward where Burke was seated at a small table. As he approached, the agent slid something toward him.

The wine bottle Kate had left him…

Neal stopped, his eyes on the bottle. It was a precious memory, and he wanted nothing more than to take it, hold it. But… "They won't let me have that in here."

Burke's smile was small but knowing. "I know."

It took a moment for realization to hit, and then Neal smiled. "You're getting me out of here?"

The agent nodded, reaching for the briefcase by his feet. "I have a proposal for you to review. If you agree to the terms, you can leave with me today."

The guards were standing back, at ease, and Neal took that to mean he was allowed to approach his visitor. He stepped toward the table, taking a long look at the bottle before finally reaching for the documents being held out to him.

Peter pointed to the table next to him. "Read it through, and let me know if you have any questions. If you accept, I'll have the guards get your personal items from your cell."

"There's not much there," Neal said. "Most of it's still boxed up somewhere. I had to earn back the privileges."

"Well, read the agreement. If you sign it, I'll take care of the rest."

Neal turned his attention to the papers in his hand. It wasn't a long document, but it covered a lot of points. There was information about the tracking anklet he had suggested, a housing allowance, and a daily stipend for food and necessities. And a code of conduct that outlawed all of the fun…

A code of conduct that would require him to be a model citizen.

It wouldn't be easy, and he might have to cut a corner or two – there was, after all, the matter of finding Kate – but it was far preferable to another four years locked up. Preferable, even, to escaping again, and spending his life on the run. He picked up the pen the agent had set out and signed his name on the final page of both copies he'd been given. "Let's do it."

Peter nodded and spoke to one of the guards. "Find his personal items and put this with them," he said, holding out the bottle. "I'll pick up the box on my way out."

Neal watched the bottle go, and then turned back to Peter. "So what now?"

Peter took one copy of the release agreement and put it back in his briefcase. "Now, they're going to process you out. I'll pick up your things and meet you outside." He reached into the case and pulled out an envelope, tossing it on the table in front of Neal. "Your first stipend payment. Take it with you, along with your copy of the release."

Neal watched as Burke closed up his briefcase and started to leave, and then it struck him, and he smiled. "Hey, Peter?" He waited until the agent turned back before continuing. "Did you know it's my birthday?"

Peter shook his head. "No, I hadn't thought about it."

"Well, it is. And this?" He held up the release papers. "Best birthday gift ever."

Peter just smiled. "Play your cards right, and you may never spend another birthday in here. I'll see you outside."

Neal watched the agent leave, and then he picked up the envelope before turning toward the remaining guard. He followed the officer through a security door, and into the processing area, the release papers gripped tightly in his hand. "Best gift ever," he whispered, speaking to no one in particular. "The best gift ever."

NB: Happy Birthday to Matt Bomer!