Neal Caffrey has always been a man of appearances. Lies and allusion came easily to him, even at a young age. He was always the kid who delighted in hearing his mother's frantic calls for him in various stores.
After Kate died however, things had been different. His entire world came crashing in, save for Peter, and even that didn't last long.
"Screw this," he told himself, "I'm getting out of this hole."
The straight life was simply not meant for Neal it seemed, in more ways than one.
So here he was sitting in an airport terminal waiting anxiously to board. Mozzie didn't know. Peter sure as Hell didn't know. Nobody needed to know he was running again.
"Now boarding Flight 703. Flight 703 to Paris, France now boarding." the automated intercom clicked.
Neal practically jumped from his seat in his haste and grabbed his one piece of luggage. He'd always believed in traveling light. Few others followed him he noticed, likely because most normal people were still peacefully dreaming at this hour.
"Neal!"
He froze. No, no, no! Why in God's name was Peter here? How had he found him? For some unknown reason, Neal found himself answering the call. What difference did it make now?
"Neal, what the Hell are you doing?" Peter griped, jogging up to him.
Of course Neal smiled. Appearances were all he had left.
"What does it look like, Peter?"
The FBI agent ran a hand down his face before replying, "Dammit, Neal, do you have any idea what I went through to get you out of prison? If you run again, that will be it. No more deals."
"What do you care?" Neal questioned, letting his aloof façade slip for a moment.
"Last night, You told me to disappear. Now you want me to stay? I'm not some lapdog, Peter."
For an instant, Peter felt like smacking Neal. How could one lousy con-man be so frustrating?
"That was a mistake, Neal. Kate just died, you don't want this, " he said motioning between the two of them.
"You're right, Peter, I want more."
One quick, hot kiss later, Neal was rushing down the boarding path and Peter was left with his thoughts alone.
"Go ahead and run, Neal!" he shouted once he regained his composure, "This time, nobody's chasing you!"
'He'll be back,' Peter thought as he left the terminal, 'He always is one way or another.'
Monday morning, when Peter walked into the office, the first thing he laid eyes upon was Neal's desk. It was empty. What had he honestly been hoping for?
"Are you going to stand there all day or actually get some work done?" A voice quipped from behind him.
When Peter turned, he was met with soft lips and the ever fashionably late Caffrey. This time, Peter returned the gesture.