Reflection

Neal hates blood as much as he likes Peter Burke, and that's saying something. It's funny how much he's come to appreciate that ridiculous, ill-fitting suit and Peter's ancient watch that somehow keeps ticking.

They call it the iron hand of the law, or the long arm of the law, or any number of other unpleasant metaphors for the way justice works, and when Neal had first learned the name "Peter Burke," he'd envisioned that kind of agent—the kind with a big fist, a thick neck, and the unending sternness of Neal's elementary school principal.

Except, that wasn't Peter Burke at all. It wasn't that he was any less devoted to truth, justice, and the American way than any other agent, but he was more than that, too. He was a ready smile, a warm hand on the shoulder, and an offer of respect that stunned Neal Caffrey.

Sometimes Neal thought the ability to read people was a curse, because he couldn't turn it off. He could see the disdain, the wariness, and the anger in the eyes of every agent who questioned him, and he could feel the loss of the one thing he'd always had—his dignity. Once they capture you, it's all gone.

Except, Peter Burke wasn't like that. Peter never once treated him as anything less than an equal. Neal couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt that from someone on the right side of the law. To most people, it was one or the other—crook or straight, and if they were on the side of law, you might as well be a cockroach for all they cared about your humanity.

When Peter looks at him, Neal never feels the ego-boosting adoration he gets from the people who look at his face and are taken in by his appearance or his intelligence. He also doesn't feel the condemnation of all the people who think he's worthless because he's stepped outside the lines so many times.

No, when Peter looks at him, Neal sees the reflection of a man in his eyes, nothing more, nothing less. That's better than anything.