In the early spring of '93, he remembered promising his father he'd join him for the weekend rather than staying cooped up in his suite on campus. They were going to watch a game on the television, something they hadn't done in quite a long time together. Jon Burke was a busy man though and worked even while he was supposed to be relaxing. "Peter." His son, Peter, looked away from the television long enough to look at his father questioningly. "Can you get me a beer, son?"

Peter, one year short of being able to join in his father's drinking habits, sighed and did as he was asked. He got up from the plush couch and walked to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to pull out a single beer from the pack. When he returned to the living room where he'd left his father, he handed him the beer and gave the file on the table a quick glance. What he saw there was perhaps the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen before and he couldn't help but stare in awe, at least until he realized why that beautiful face was part of a case file. "That kid's missing?"

Jon looked up at his son, nodding. "It's another runaway," he said dejectedly. He didn't like the idea of a young man running around without anyone to guide him or any means to live with. He'd always feared that Peter would run as an act of rebellion, but they'd long since passed that fear. Peter never once threatened to run away, nor did he act exceedingly rebellious. "His parents haven't given us a legitimate reason for this, but they think he's in the area." At the confused look on Peter's face, he added, "He's not a local. He's actually from a little south of us, but his mother seems to think he has friends up here that he relies on." Shrugging, he looked down at the file again. "I just hope the kid is all right. If he's out there, we'll definitely find him."

Hannah Burke, Peter's mother, entered the room with a fresh batch of cookies then. The two men's faces lit up with bright smiles, an absolute turnaround from the solemn looks they'd worn while talking about the missing teenager. "Are you still looking at that Bennett case, sweetie?" Hannah asked patiently. She understood why he wouldn't let it go, but she realized how much of a toll this case took on her husband. Jon nodded, grunting, mumbling something about needing to leave his case files at the precinct next time. Hannah shook her head, smiling sadly, before seating herself beside her husband.

They watched the game quietly, occasionally talking about Peter's college life, which he didn't go into very much detail about. They didn't need to know that he wasn't entirely focused on his studies. He didn't want them to worry unnecessarily about him, but he also couldn't tell them about who he really is. He was living in his older sister's shadow, the perfect child who grew up to have the perfect family. He had nothing against his brother-in-law or his two nieces. He just felt unworthy. He'd discovered in his senior year of high school that he wasn't very interested in women and he was afraid to tell anyone, much less his own parents.

Cara, his sister, married young and had her daughters very young as well. She'd done very well for herself, marrying a man who could take care of her. She didn't even have to work because he was able to support her so freely. That was a luxury Peter didn't have. He wouldn't be able to live happily ever after like his sister. He could eventually fall in love with another man, but he doubted that he'd ever find another homosexual man who'd be interested in him. Boring Burke, that was his nickname in middle school. Of course, he'd turned that around in his high school years, joining the football and baseball teams to gain himself a reputation. He'd even gotten into his current college on a baseball scholarship, but he couldn't really see himself continuing down that path much longer. It was a nice hobby to have, something he hoped to share with a lover someday, but he didn't think he'd make a career of it.

Looking at that file on the table, the one of the missing teenager, he realized that his life could be worse. He had no reason to run away from home when he was that young. He could have easily run because he was spooked by the realization of his sexuality, but he kept to himself about it. Whatever made the smiling young man in that file run away couldn't have been good.

Glancing at his parents as they sat beside on another, relaxed against each other, he realized that he could never have that kind of closeness with another person. Living his life as a homosexual was unacceptable and he'd have to come to terms with that one way or another. He would need to marry a beautiful woman he didn't love and have a family of his own. He needed to have a perfect family like Cara, needed to impress his parents with it the way Cara impressed them. He felt unhappy about his decision, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't live with another man or openly show affection for another man without being resented, harassed. He'd heard horror stories of what had been done to men who announced they were gay and he didn't want to take part in that. If that meant he had to bury himself deeply into the closet, then so be it.

He might be unhappy, but everyone else would be happy. Perhaps as happy as the boy in the picture looked.

•◊•

January 12, 2009

Peter woke up to a small whine beside him. Opening his eyes slightly, he saw his dog, Satchmo, panting in front of him, breathing on him. "Hungry?" he murmured sleepily. He reached out, petting the top of Satchmo's head, smiling when the dog's tail started wagging. He could hear footsteps approaching the bedroom and sighed, determined to keep up the charade for his family's sake. "Hey, hon," he whispered when she entered the room. They'd been married for a little over five years. Elizabeth was beautiful, but she wasn't what he wanted. He treated her the way he should treat a woman—respectfully.

Her face lit up at the sound of his voice, making his heart sink. "Hey, hon." She came closer to the bed, crouching to press her lips against his forehead. "I made breakfast downstairs." Looking at the dog, she added, "I have kibble for you, too." She rubbed Satchmo's fur, grinning at her husband.

He eventually forced himself to get out of bed, standing in front of Elizabeth who had risen to her full height, looking up at him eagerly. He bent forward, pressing his lips against hers. He'd never once in the past decade considered it a passionate kiss, nor had he considered any other similar act in the past a kiss in general. He couldn't kiss her because he didn't love her. Well, he loved her to an extent, but not as he was supposed to.

They sat together at their dining room table, eating quietly. He read the newspaper, looking for something interesting to read, while Elizabeth scanned through her emails in search of a detail she'd missed from a client. "How's the search going, El?" he asked, adding humor to his voice for her sake. She was growing more and more frustrated by the second and he couldn't help but notice.

"About as well as your ability to cook lasagna." He chuckled, knowing that she wasn't terribly angry if she was able to insult his cooking. Lasagna wasn't something he specialized in. He preferred the grill to the stove any day.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself closing up the paper, standing to rinse his dishes and place them neatly in the sink. El stood when he turned around, smiling up at him shyly. "I'll see you tonight, hon," he whispered, arching forward to press his lips against hers again. She kept him there longer than he would have liked, but he allowed it.

"See you tonight, hon," she replied, grinning up at him.

Gathering up his jacket, cell phone, and keys, he left his house and got into his brand new Taurus. He drove to the agency, frowning all the while, until he was sitting in his chair in his office, overlooking the bullpen. Working for the FBI had its perks, but he truly wished his life were different. He might not change his job, but he wished he could change his home life. As sad as it sounded, he would willingly trade in Elizabeth for a man with a heart as gorgeous and tender as hers.

He looked at the stack of files on the edge of his desk, sighing. He'd have to go through them at some point, so he may as well start on them before Hughes came in.

He was halfway through his third file when he heard the shattering of glasses down in the corner of the bullpen where the coffee machine was located. Peter rose from his seat, unable to see what happened from his vantage point. He stepped out of his office and glanced down to see a young man tending to the shattered pieces of several coffee mugs, surrounded in a sea of coffee. Peter couldn't see his face, but he could practically feel the distress and frustration emanating from the younger man. Just as he was about to stalk down the stairs and make his way over to the coffee area, Clinton Jones approached him. "Probies," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's the kid's first day and he's already broken more mugs than Kyle did in the first month he worked here."

That made Peter feel even more sympathetic than before. He understood the stresses of fetching coffee for the department. It was a lot for just one person. Yes, he'd made it through that stage, but he remembered it as though it were yesterday. Stepping around Jones, Peter descended the stairs and walked directly over to the coffee area, grabbing a towel that the probie hadn't seen apparently, since he was trying to soak all of the coffee into paper towels. "Here," Peter said, crouching beside the other man, handing him the towel.

What he saw astonished him. The younger man's eyes were a very beautiful, mesmerizing shade of blue. He looked so young, but definitely not as young as their normal probies were. "Thanks," the probie muttered, taking the towel and proceeding to effectively dry up the mess he'd made. Peter helped him clean up the rest of the mess and even offered to help him with the coffee deliveries. Once all of the coffee was dispersed among the department, the probie's shoulders slumped.

He was turning to walk away and do whatever else he could, but Peter tentatively gripped his shoulder. "What's your name?" he asked gently, trying his damnedest not to scare the young man off on his first day.

"Neal," he whispered, his eyes lowered to the floor. "I'm sorry for the mess. I really thought I could carry all of that—"

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Never overestimate yourself, Neal." The young man looked even more dejected than he had a moment ago. "Hey, cheer up. I know exactly how you're feeling right now." At that, Neal looked up at him shyly. "It wasn't so long ago that each of us was in your position, the blundering probie fetching coffee and making an utter fool of himself." He squeezed Neal's shoulder gently. "I remember making so many mistakes in my first few days, so don't be discouraged." Staring into the eyes of the young man before him made him feel so much younger than his thirty years. It felt like he was…renewed.

"Thanks, Agent…" He trailed off, having realized that he hadn't gotten Peter's name. His eyes were wide and slightly fearful, as if he should know the man's name.

"Burke," he filled in. "Peter Burke."

Neal smiled, nodding. "Thanks, Agent Burke."

They parted ways there and Peter vowed that he would find Neal on their lunch break and try to rope him into having lunch with him. He understood how it felt to be a probie, how overwhelming it could be in such an intense surrounding. He hadn't gotten a whole lot of comfort from the department when he was in Neal's position, so… Maybe he could make the transition a whole lot easier for Neal.

•◊•

"Cozying up to Agent Burke, I see." Neal was startled by the voice behind him. He turned cautiously to see a dark, young woman with hair a shade darker than her skin. "You need to watch yourself, probie," she threatened, her tone making Neal's insides go cold. "Peter's one of my best friends. You're an unassigned probie right now and I don't want to see you mess things up for him." If he didn't know any better, he might have assumed this was Peter's wife. He'd seen a picture of Elizabeth Burke before and she was quite beautiful—not to say that the woman in front of him wasn't. However, neither of them shared an interest in one another. He preferred a partner more on the masculine scale and she preferred to be the masculinity of the relationship. He had nothing against lesbians and he assumed that her gaydar must have gone off the charts when she saw him talking to Peter.

He'd never been very good at hiding his feelings before and it certainly didn't help that he found Agent Peter Burke to be the most attractive man he could ever recall seeing in his life. "I'll keep my distance," he said solemnly, turning back to his original work—filing the department's files in alphabetical order.

He could feel her eyes on his back, burning holes through him. He just didn't think turning around was the best way to go about things. Knowing that he's a probie meant she knew he could be removed from the department as easily as he was let into it. And he had the feeling that this particular agent had the power to do just that. "I saw the way he looked at you," she whispered, stepping closer to him. He glanced over his shoulder to catch her doing the same over her own shoulder before focusing on him. "Between you and me, Caffrey, Peter's heart isn't in the relationship he has with his wife—if you know what I mean."

Neal knew exactly what she wasn't saying. "He didn't seem very…interested in me."

She laughed. She actually laughed at him. "Probie, you have so much to learn. And not just in here, I see." He turned to glare at her, but she just shook her head, her lips quirking into a sly smirk. "Peter's a good man, but he doesn't know what's good for him." He sympathized, knowing how difficult Peter's life at home must be if he's forced himself into a living arrangement he doesn't enjoy. "I'm not saying go whole-hog on him, Caffrey, but…" She hesitated. He could understand that she was overly cautious of who was close to Peter and he also understood that Peter was in the closet—very deeply embedded into it by the sounds of it. "Talk to him a little here and there. He seems to like you."

He risked a glance up the staircase, knowing Peter was right there in that office, hunched over a file on his desk with a coffee mug within reach. "Do you think I actually have a shot with him? I mean, he looks like he's a little…"

"He acts like he's a macho man, but he's a real sweetheart underneath all of that stone." She smiled affectionately up at her boss. "Peter doesn't realize that he doesn't have to hide who he is here, but he's been like that since he started working here. His wife doesn't know everything there is to the wonderful Peter Burke," she said quietly, "but I think you might have a shot at getting under his skin."

Neal's face warmed up at the self-implied innuendo, but he knew that what he was thinking wasn't what she had in mind. "I'll…be a friend to him."

"Good." That one word carried so much weight, so much authority. It actually sent chills up his spine. "He doesn't have very many friends by his own choice, Neal. You don't seem to have much of a social life yourself, so try to make things work." She was looking at him in a way that made him feel as though he were naked with her inspecting him very closely and it made him uncomfortable. "It's not every day that I give someone my blessing to become an integral part of Peter's life, but there's something about you that he seems to like, so don't hurt him." He smiled. As if he could ever hurt such a wonderful man. Granted, he didn't know much about Agent Peter Burke yet, but the agent in front of him seemed to know a lot. "If I find out that you hurt him in any way, your life will become a living hell. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," he murmured.

She left him alone after that and he went about his business, doing as he was asked throughout the day. Shortly after one in the afternoon, he was sitting at a small desk in the bullpen. He glanced up as Agent Burke came down, brown paper bag in hand, and whisked past his desk. Neal frowned, wishing he could get out of this hell. Paperwork made him tired and that's all he'd been doing.

Suddenly, a brown paper bag was dropped onto his desk. He looked up to see Agent Burke staring down at him, a soft smile on his face. "Hey, Neal," he said sweetly, his eyes betraying the façade he'd been living in. "Why don't you join me for lunch?"

His throat felt dry and the words wouldn't come out right away, so he decided a nod was sufficient. He closed the files on his desk, setting them apart from the files he'd finished going through already. He swung his jacket on and followed Peter to the elevator, listening as Peter carried on and on about a coffee shop just a few blocks away that he loved sitting in because of its view. Neal couldn't contribute to the conversation much, but he was enjoying listening to Peter. He couldn't help himself from staring at Peter as he spoke enthusiastically about what would be their very first of many lunch dates to come.