Elizabeth Burke paced the living room, fighting her natural worry, dark eyes flashing. A quiet knock sounded at the locked front door and she answered it quickly. A slightly shivering Neal Caffrey was standing on her porch. Immediately her worry turned to relief, which turned to anger as he walked through the door. He was staying with her and Peter for a few days, while June was traveling to visit a sick daughter and having the house cleaned thoroughly in her absence.

"Where have you been? It's after one!" She watched Neal's expression go from slightly shocked to innocent.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Elizabeth said with a dangerous sort of patience, "why weren't you back a long time ago?"

"I didn't know there was a curfew," Neal said, his eyebrows going up as he raised his hands. He looked slightly puzzled. "Sometimes Peter doesn't go home until late."

"But that's when he is working. Were you out finishing up some last-minute paperwork?" She asked.

"Well-"

"No, you weren't. I know you weren't, because Peter is here. Asleep."

"Why are you so upset?" Neal asked, confused. "You could have called me. Or even used my tracker."

"I tried calling," Elizabeth said, lifting her cell as evidence. "It went straight to voicemail. And the tracker isn't available for 'civilians' to access." She watched Neal pull out his cell phone, his expression turning sheepish as he realized the battery was dead.

"Look, I'm sorry, Elizabeth I didn't mean to break your curfew. I appreciate you and Peter letting me stay here, or I wouldn't really have anyplace else to go. Really, I'm sorry." Elizabeth's anger melted away when his sincere blue eyes met hers. She let out an exhausted sigh, dropping her gaze to the carpet.

"It's okay, Neal," she said. "I... I'm just tired, and I'm not used to worrying about anyone but Peter." The FBI consultant was completely silent, enough that she looked back up and saw his normal mask of emotion completely gone, replaced by a slightly surprised confusion. It showed in his eyes and on his face, in his posture. Elizabeth felt strange to see him not censoring himself.

"Worrying?" Neal asked quietly, uncertainly. Elizabeth understood what he meant. "You were worried about me?" Elizabeth nodded gently, reaching forward to catch Neal's arm.

"Yes. Haven't you heard? One of the greatest white collar criminal minds in history is out of prison. We wouldn't want you getting hurt." She squeezed his arm reassuringly as she led him up the stairs. Quietly, they passed the room where Peter was sleeping and entered the guest room.

"Night, Neal," Elizabeth said, smiling softly.

"Good night, Elizabeth," Neal said, sitting down on the bed. "And... Thank you." Elizabeth nodded and closed the door quietly behind herself.

As she laid down next to her gently snoring husband, she thought about how surprised Neal had been when she'd casually said she was worried about him. How long must it have been, for it to become that odd for someone to be worried about whether he made it home safely or not? She resolved to make an effort to have Neal feel at home that week. From that day on, they were more comfortable with each other. Friendlier, more at ease.

And Neal Caffrey never broke her curfew again.