Okay. The fact is that I wrote this while working on a much more challenging story. So don't be too hard on me. This was just for fun; and I missed you all. Probably no more than three chapters and none of them will be that long. :)

Chapter One

"What's wrong, June?" A call from June Ellington usually was concerning only one subject matter: her current tenant and Peter's CI, Neal Caffrey.

"As Neal probably told you, I am in Florida until April, and I talked to Janet earlier today." Neal had mentioned that June had sought out warmer weather, leaving him, except for Janet the live-in housekeeper, alone in her rather large house. "She said that Neal is sick and has been for several days."

By the tone of her voice, Peter might have delivered the bug to Neal himself. "He's a grown man, June," Peter reminded her, "I am sure he can take care of himself."

"Well, I wasn't sure, so I called him," she paused, "He sounds terrible, Peter. I think he should see a doctor."

An FBI seminar had taken Peter out of the office most of the week, and he did seem to recall that Neal had been a little puny the previous week. But it was spring in New York; everyone was sniffling, sneezing, coughing and wheezing. Jones' report had been that Neal had worked diligently at this desk all week, with no complaints or shenanigans during Peter's absence. Peter had thought it a sign that Neal was becoming more adjusted to responsibility; now he was beginning to believe his CI had just been sick.

"June, if he needs me, he knows all he has to do is call."

"Oh, really?" the voice was skeptical, "And you really think that Neal is going to call you because he's sick?"

He let out a sigh. No, he didn't expect Neal to call him if he was sick. Neal had always been as healthy as a horse; he had never even asked for a sick day in all the time they had been working together. He was sure he hadn't actually avoided all illnesses during that time, but he had avoided sharing that information with Peter. Any sign of weakness was something Neal would choose not to share, especially with him. It would be a matter of pride.

"No, probably not," Peter admitted. "Look, if he's not better by Monday, I will make sure he goes to the doctor. Okay?"

"That's two-days from now," her tone was reproachful. "He's really sick, Peter. I would tell Mozzie, but he is currently unavailable. Will you please just check on him?"

He had reservations for seven at Elizabeth's favorite midtown restaurant, Basso56. An Italian restaurant near the Theatre District, the seafood risotto was El's favorite. It had great food and atmosphere, and after five days in DC, he was looking forward to spending some quality time with his wife. He wasn't about to let Neal Caffrey, sick or not, interfere with his plans. "I'll give him a call in the morning, June."

Perhaps not as immediate as she had hoped, he still heard the relief in her voice, "Thank you, Peter."

"Neal's sick?" Elizabeth had come into the room behind him and heard at least some of the conversation with June.

"Apparently so," Peter said, straightening his tie, "June is worried about him and wants me to check on him."

"Did you talk to him this week?" She asked, but before he could answer she continued, "Has Neal ever even been sick before?"

"I am sure he has been, El, he is human, after all," Peter laughed, "I'm sure he gets the sniffled just like the rest of us. And no, I didn't talk to him this week." He turned and stopped at the sight of his wife. Dressed in a sleek black dress, pearls at her neck and on her ears, she was stunning. It never ceased to amaze him how someone like him had won such a lady. "You are dazzling, Mrs. Burke."

Even after years of marriage, his words caused a slight blush on her cheeks. "Why, thank you, Mr. Burke," she looked at him, "So, are you going to call Neal?"

"In the morning, first thing," he assured her, reaching out and taking her jacket from her arm and holding it out for her to put it on. "Tonight is about us, and us does not include Neal Caffrey."

wcwcwcwcwcwc

"Why don't you just give him a call," Elizabeth said. They hadn't even gotten into the car yet; Peter was opening the door for her to enter. "That way, we can enjoy the evening without worrying about him the entire time." After she had taken her place, Peter closed the door, walked around and got in behind the wheel. He hoped he could just ignore her suggestion, but her eyes were on him, waiting for an answer.

"I plan to enjoy the evening without worrying about him," he insisted, glancing at her face. "I will call him in the morning, El."

"Peter." The imploring look she sent his way, of course, removed his resolve. It wasn't he who was going to be spending the evening worrying about Neal; it was Elizabeth. And Elizabeth worried about Neal would put serious kinks in his plans for quality time.

"Okay," he gave in. "I'll call him."

Neal didn't answer when Peter dialed his number. He tried twice, back to back, but got no response. He glanced at Elizabeth, whose face was now pinched with worry. As much as the evening was supposed to be about the two of them, Neal had somehow become a third wheel without even trying.

"He's probably resting, Elizabeth," he told his wife, "and don't feel like talking on the phone. Resting is the best thing he could be doing. I will try him in the morning, and if he still don't answer, I will go straight over there."

Elizabeth seemed to accept the assessment of the situation but the lack of sustainable conversation, in spite of Peter's best efforts, over the next few miles was an indication that her concern had not been abated. Peter could feel himself growing more and more irritated at Neal's interference in his evenings plans.

"You know," Elizabeth said, looking at him hesitantly a few minutes later, "We still have half an hour before our table will be ready. We could just, you know, stop by June's and make sure everything is okay."

"He's an adult, El, he can take care of himself," his irritation betrayed, Peter tried to mitigate it by softening his tone. "I will go see him tomorrow," He assured her, "You can come, too, and take him chicken soup or something."

"Fine." The word clipped, her tone told him clearly that it was not fine. He glanced sideways at his wife, who with a firm jaw, stared straight ahead. His plans for a romantic evening with his wife had now been completely derailed. The only hope of getting it back on track was to give in to her demands. They did have a half an hour; they could do a quick check on Neal and still make it to the restaurant by seven. He made a course correction, both literally and figuratively, and headed towards Riverside Drive.

"You're right, hun," he said in his most conciliatory manner, "We'll both feel better if we check on him first." It was true, if not for the same reasons.

She rewarded his compliance by reaching over and squeezing his arm. "Thank you, Peter." Her smile, and the warmth in her tone told him the evening still held promise; course corrected, back on track. Or at least it would be after a slight detour to Neal's apartment.