This is my first White Collar fic. I feel really nervous! But I wrote it, so I thought I might as well post it *meep*

Title: Told You So
Words: 541
Rating: G
Summary: Neal recovers from his ordeal. Lucky for him, he's not alone. Gen.
A/N: Episode Tag for 1 x 13 Front Man.

Neal frowned at his reflection in the mirror. He had his shirt open to examine the injuries inflicted on him.

They had been so careful to hurt him where it was hidden under his clothes. Taser burns on his neck and arm. Bruising to his midsection. And guns guns guns. Not using or carrying guns was supposed to prevent him from being threatened with them.

The others hadn't asked what had happened and he wasn't about to tell them.

The door to the apartment opened, shaking him out of his thoughts. He quickly closed and buttoned his shirt and sighed in relief when he saw who it was. "Hey, Mozzie."

Mozzie had a bottle of wine in one hand and narrowed his eyes. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No."

Neal walked over and sat down at the table somewhat stiffly. "About today..." He ended with another sigh and rubbed his face with his hands.

Mozzie grabbed a couple of glasses, opened the bottle and joined him. He lifted his chin as he sat. "I'm not saying anything."

"You were right."

"Of course I was."

"But I don't have a lot of choice in the assignments. Either I do as they say or they'll lock me up again."

"Better a chained slave than a caged animal."

Neal gave him a small smile and showed Mozzie his lack of ankle tracker. "I'm neither at the moment."

"And the building's not yet surrounded?" He lifted his glass. "Let us drink to your new found freedom."

They sat in silence as minutes stretched between them and the bottle gradually emptied.

Feeling pleasantly numb, at length Neal said, "I think they feel bad about what happened."

Mozzie sat up straight and looked towards the door behind Neal. "Not that badly."

Neal turned and saw Peter standing there with a new ankle tracker in his hand. He sighed and offered his ankle, but Peter merely came over and sat down with them, placing the tracker on the table.

"How're you holding up?"

Neal smiled like nothing was wrong. "Fine."

Peter sat forward, eyeing the now empty bottle of wine. "I feel terrible about what happened."

"It wasn't your fault. I should've seen it coming."

Mozzie cleared his throat pointedly. Neal looked at him then back at Peter. "They roughed me up a bit, but nothing I can't handle and it was worth it." Neal smiled genuinely, "Besides, you've got my back, so I knew one way or another it would work out."

Peter patted the tracker. "Ready to be back on the system?"

"You're not asking."

"No, I'm not." Peter put the tracker on Neal and stood up, resting a hand on Neal's uninjured shoulder and squeezing gently. "I'm really am sorry about what happened. I'll have to make sure I don't let you out of my sight again."

"Thanks, Peter. That means a lot."

Peter frowned briefly at Mozzie who responded with a cordial. "Suit." Peter then left them alone.

Neal said, "I hope you weren't coming here to pick over a dead man's belongings."

Mozzie tensed up. "I shall neither confirm or deny that."

"More wine?"

"Yes."

Neal stood up and walked unsteadily over to the fridge, feeling a lot better than he had done earlier.