Part Three: Neal's POV

Out of all the times that Neal had been behind bars this was the first that really wasn't his fault. In the past he always insisted that he'd done nothing wrong, and used the word "allegedly" like it was going out of style. It didn't change the fact that he had almost always been in the wrong and deserved his sentences. But not this time.

He had acted, as usual, with complete faith that he could do what he needed to, to get the job done and Peter would be there to keep things like this from happening.

The loud slam of the cell door latching echoed through the cold, hard jail. Neal shuddered. He hoped any observers would believe it was from the cold and not this sudden, unnamed fear that had his heart racing and beads of sweat forming on his brow.

The cell suddenly seemed smaller than it had before. His two snoring cell mates took up the only bench along the back wall, not even noticing that they were no longer alone.

Everything would be okay. Peter would get him out of this, eventually.

His vision tunneled and for a few terrifying seconds, Neal thought he might be going blind. But then he remembered to breathe and everything came back into focus all too suddenly. He groaned at the assault and shut his eyes, trying to block everything out and just listen.

Over the snores of the men on the bench he could hear the muted talking of the NYPD officers down the hall, the drip of a faucet leaking somewhere, and the rattle of an old heater that probably wouldn't last much longer.

He had to focus on those insignificant sounds, in order to distract himself from the fact that Peter couldn't be there to watch him—and Peter always watched him. It was the one constant in Neal's life; Peter's brown eyes following his every move. Sometimes they held judgment, sometimes amusement, and sometimes pride. His watchful eyes were what made the FBI agent so easy for Neal to trust. For years he ran from that piercing gaze only to find that staying in Peter's sight was much more satisfying than attempting to stay out of it.

For the past three years the only times Peter didn't watch him were when Neal choose to hide from him. Occasionally, he felt the need to hide from Peter for small amounts of time usually in order to accomplish something that might not be technically legal. The last thing Neal wanted was for Peter to get in trouble over knowing about his questionable methods. Despite the necessity to keep things from him, it always felt wrong.

It hit him again that, through no fault of his own for once, Neal was forcibly removed from Peter's watchful gaze. He wasn't prepared for the fear that came with the realization that Peter did not have the power to stop this from happening.

He felt sick and had to take deep breaths again. Neal attempted to push back the fear and focus on the sounds again, refusing to open his eyes and not see Peter there watching him. The sounds turned grating, and his head began to swim.

Just when Neal thought he would be unable to prevent himself from throwing up or passing out, he heard it:The warm, rich timbre of Peter's voice. It was currently raised in anger as the FBI agent was told that it would be several hours before Neal would be released and no, he could not see the prisoner before the paperwork was all complete.

Neal savored the sound, trying to hold on to it and fearing that soon it would leave. Peter would go home and have dinner with Elizabeth. They would talk and laugh and not be bothered that Neal was in jail. They would assume he was use to spending the night behind bars.

It took a few minutes for Neal to realize that Peter was still talking. He couldn't quite make out the words, but there was no mistaking whose voice it was.

Neal crouched and listened. After a few minutes, he was able to focus enough to pick up some of the conversation.

Peter was talking to Elizabeth on his phone. He was recounting some of their cases together. The genuine affection that colored his tone as he spoke of Neal's actions in the take-downs of some very big criminals had the CI flushing with pleasure despite his less than pleasant surroundings.

Neal basked in the warmth of Peter's voice as he spoke on and on for almost four hours. After a while, the FBI agent had to keep pausing to clear his throat. Non-stop talking for so long could not have been enjoyable, but Peter pushed through it.

There was no question in Neal's mind as to why Peter was standing on the other side of the prison cell's wall talking. He wanted Neal to know that he was there. Peter was not in control of this situation, not able to watch him, but he wouldn't leave him to face this alone.

Neal actually chuckled as he suddenly pictured Peter as Jimmy Stewart at the end of 'Mr. Smith Goes to Washington'. Peter would have made the perfect Mr. Smith.

The comfort of knowing Peter was there chased away the fear, and time passed much more quickly. Neal allowed himself to sink to the floor and rest against the wall content in the knowledge that Peter was just on the other side. Before he knew it, the jailer had returned and was unlocking the cell.

Neal was free to go. The adrenalin returned, and suddenly he could not wait to see Peter. He practically ran down the hall and then down the stairwell, not relaxing until Peter's tired, but welcoming, brown gaze met his own.

Neal fought back the instinct to embrace him :The ordeal was over, and they had a job to do. The pair quickly fell back into their comfortable and teasing camaraderie, with Peter fake-complaining about how easy Neal was to catch now.

"It used to mean something," Peter joked, that he was the only one who had ever caught him.

And though Neal knew Peter was teasing, he immediately pointed out that these times did not count. To him, only Peter counted.

Peter brought Neal home for dinner that night. He said it was at Elizabeth's instance, but Neal knew that the FBI agent wanted to watch him just a bit longer that day.

Elizabeth welcomed Peter home with a sensuous kiss, while Neal greeted Satchmo. When he straightened from petting the dog that he had grown very fond of, El was there waiting with her own greeting for him. A kiss on the cheek followed by a strong hug that lasted a few seconds longer than what most would consider appropriate for 'just an acquaintance'.

He was surprised to feel the tears pricking at his eyes while in her warm embrace. He had almost forgotten that it had been her on the phone helping Peter keep talking in an effort to comfort Neal.

Neal stepped back and looked at both of them.

"I can't... Thank you," he choked out, a solitary tear slipping down his cheek.

El pecked him on the cheek again, and Peter placed a warm hand on Neal's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Dinner was good. Elizabeth was an amazing cook, and she and Neal chatted amicably through the whole affair. Peter mostly remained silent, needing to rest his voice. His eyes rarely left Neal though, and the younger man couldn't have asked for a better evening.

For as much as he genuinely liked the Burkes and always thought very highly of them both, this was the first time he'd ever really considered just how much they had done for him. Because of that, he didn't just think highly of them anymore, he loved them. They were his family.

Kate was gone, forever. Moz was still around, but even he couldn't deny that trusting Peter had been one of the best decisions Neal had ever made. And coming from Moz, that meant a lot.

Alex... well, she had proven that there were more important things in life than Neal. And that was okay, because Peter and Elizabeth had proven that he was worth something.

It was a no-brainier to include both Peter and Mozzie in watching Ellen's tape that Saturday. He trusted them more than anyone else in the world. Except for maybe Elizabeth, who he knew was listening at the top of the stairs.

With all the craziness and uncertainty in his life, Neal wasn't sure what the next few months would hold. But he knew that Peter, Elizabeth, and even Mozzie would be there, no matter what. And because of that, he could face whatever fate had in store for him.

End