They sat down to dinner a short time later; Mozzie had opened another bottle of red, Neal put on some music and Peter couldn't remember enjoying a meal more in recent memory.

"So how long you here for Suit?" Mozzie asked between bites.

Neal was curious to know that himself.

"I'll leave the day after tomorrow. I arrived not knowing how long I'd need to find this guy," pointing his fork at Neal, "if I'd find him at all, but he made it easy on me."

Neal wasn't thrilled with this revelation. "Two days? You just got here!"

Peter drained his glass. "I know Neal but I found you, mission accomplished."

"So take a few days and let me show me you around..."

"I'd like nothing more, but I basically dropped everything when I discovered the locker; the Bureau doesn't know where I am; I'm not here in any official capacity and El's been on her own with the baby, not that she minded me coming obviously...if I didn't, she would have," he joked, trying to get a smile out of Neal.

He wasn't biting. "I haven't seen you in a year Peter," he grumbled.

"I was hoping you could show me around tomorrow, Paris in a day, figured you could pull that off," Peter appealed to his vanity, attempting to change the subject.

"Damn right I can," he huffed.

Peter grinned. "Excellent. With that, kids, I am fading fast. Can't remember the last time I slept." Peter stood and ruffled Neal's hair. "I'll be raring to go first thing. Just need a cup of that coffee to start the day."

"I'll be at your door at 6:30, Neal remarked."

"I like early starts. Night guys."

"Bonne nuit Suit."

Mozzie yawned and stretched in his chair; "I should head off myself; still have the lingering jet lag."

"You can crash here if you want."

"That's nice and all but there's a suite at the Ritz with my name on it." Mozzie made his way to the door. "I'll touch base tomorrow. Have a good day with the Suit."

"Moz," Neal grabbed his arm before he made his way out the door. "I'm not sure what my next step is…I haven't thought it all through, but, if I decided to go back to New York, would you hate me? I know you just got here, and you probably have big plans for us, which I'll be on board with eventually, but right now I…I…"

"Neal, stop talking. What do you think I am, your handler? You're free kid, to go wherever, do whatever, with no restrictions, no permission required from me or anyone else…I have your 5 million for you though, so don't disappear before I hand that off to you."

Neal smiled at his friend. "You better go before I hug you."

"Bye!" And with that, he was gone.

Neal shuffled down the hall to the guest room at precisely 6:29 a.m. the next morning, butler tray in hand adorned with coffee and croissants. The door was slightly ajar. He peeked in to find Peter already up, lying on top of the made bed, talking softly to El he assumed.

Peter waved him in and smiled at the sight of coffee. "…Flight 352. Right. Terminal 1. 4:30 p.m. Neal just brought me breakfast in bed!" he chirped into the phone. "Service with a smile, I like it." There was a beat of silence then laughter. "El says to stop showing her up, you're making her look bad." He said his good-byes to her as Neal set the tray down in front of Peter, who unexpectedly handed the phone to Neal; "she wants to talk to you." Neal stared at it like it was a foreign object. Peter pressed the phone into his hand. "Talk to her for a sec Neal, she wants to hear your voice."

Neal took the phone from him and gingerly raised it to his ear. He didn't know why he was so reticent to speak to her. "Elizabeth?" Silence. "El, you there?" Then the reason for his hesitation became clear. "El, don't cry, please don't cry…" He wandered out to the living room.

"Good luck with that conversation," Peter said under his breath as he poured himself a cup of joe. He scarfed down his breakfast and threw himself together. He found Neal leaning against the railing on the balcony minutes later. "Hey, I'm ready, let's do Paris!"

Neal looked at him, all puffy-eyed. "Kay. Here's your phone."

Peter took pity on him. "That bad?"

Neal shook his head; "I couldn't get her to stop crying…she insisted they were happy tears but still…then she asked me when I was coming home, to please come home…variations on that theme."

"Sorry bud; it's just that she loves you, you know? This has been tough on her too."

Neal took a deep breath. "Yeah. She mentioned that."

"You seem surprised."

Neal shrugged.

"My wife declares her love for a younger, hotter guy, maybe I should be threatened…",Peter teased.

"Ewww, Peter, that's gross. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Peter laughed. "Are you going to show me Paris or not? Tick tock my friend."

And just like that, Neal was in high spirits, excited to show off the city to Peter.

"You got your walkin shoes on because there's gonna be a lot of walking. We'll start with the Tuileries gardens, then the Louvre...", and they were off. Neal worked in his favourite patisserie, two other smaller galleries, Les Deux Magots for lunch, a cruise down the Seine, as touristy and cliche as that was but in the interest of time it was a good option, drinks at his favourite bar on the Left Bank, a pit stop at a few stores where Peter picked up something for El and and Neal something for his namesake for Peter to take back. They ended up at Neal's favourite local bistro for a late dinner; an unpretentious place he knew Peter would appreciate.

He let Neal order for him and leaned back in the banquette, relaxed and happy. "Yesterday is hard to beat but today was pretty spectacular. Thanks Neal, made some memories."

Neal smiled, wide and genuine. He did so enjoy pleasing Peter. "It helped that it was a beautiful day. City was showing off for you."

The waiter brought the Dom Perignon Neal had ordered, against Peter's judgment. "We're celebrating, remember? Let me do this...," Neal entreated.

"I'm out of toasts after last night," Peter said.

"I'm not." Neal cleared his throat and raised his glass. "To the best man I'll ever know and the best friend I'll ever have. I don't know why you ever gave a damn about me but I thank God every day that you did."

They clinked glasses; Peter smiled his proud smile and bit his lip. "Don't make me cry in a crowded restaurant Caffrey."

"Riiight, about my name, it's Neil Smith now. Went with the most generic surname out there. I was going to go with Nick but I couldn't part with Neal, so I just went with the traditional spelling.

"Ah. Well then, I do have another toast to make in that case. To Neil Smith, but you'll always be Neal George Caffrey to me."

It was Neal's turn to bite his lip. "Peter, haven't I cried enough in 24 hours..."

"Eh, we're entitled, after the year we've endured."

They enjoyed rustic French food and wine and each other and walked back to Neal's place hours later, where Neal made cappuccinos. He was a little surprised by this point that Peter hadn't grilled him about his future plans; it was very un-Peter like. They sat on Neal's balcony, Peter taking in the view by night one last time, the Eiffel Tower lit up in all its glory.

"I wanna come home Peter," Neal said at last.

Peter looked at him sharply. "I promised myself on my way over here, if and when I found you, that I wouldn't wax poetic on why you needed to come back to New York, as much as I love a good lecture. I came here first and foremost to see you in the flesh, make sure you were okay and support you in whatever you decided to do. You've earned your freedom Neal and I'm in no position to bark out orders, demanding things of you. But you have to know, as a friend, how much I want you back in New York. Paris is nice but home is where the heart is and you have a world of people desperate to see you. Keep the apartment here if you want, it's a nice place. I know money isn't an issue, but you should come home. "

Neal grinned. "Not gonna do the hard sell thing huh?"

"Well you went there."

"I just need a few weeks to tie up some loose ends here."

Peter held up his cappuccino cup - "to coming home."

"Best toast ever," Neal said as they tapped their cups.

They talked the night away on the balcony, about things both important and trivial. Peter used all his self-restraint to not map out Neal's waking days going forward, which in his world consisted of consulting at the bureau on a freelance basis, heading up a Security company, teaching part-time art classes at one of the city's colleges, and to complete the picture, fall in love with a nice girl, preferably El's best friend who was a looker, and settling down and living happily ever after. Nothing wrong with that life. A little too pedestrian for Neal though he surmised. Anyways, not his call to make. Perhaps a conversation they could have once back on U.S soil.

'Monsieur Burke," Neal nudged his shoulder. "You've got that far-away look in your eyes again."

"Just thinking about the difference a year makes. Standing here with you, in Paris, feels surreal."

"Thank you for coming for me, I totally would've gotten it if you didn't, but I'm so glad you did. Sometimes I had these thoughts that you found the locker and you didn't much care, you were completely ambivalent about it...I tried so hard not to be hurt by that..."

Peter hooked an arm around his shoulder and rubbed his arm. ''You know me better than that…"

"I do. It's just, I have you on a pretty high pedestal which isn't fair of me I know, but everyone needs a hero, and you're mine Peter Burke."

Vulnerable Neal was a rare sight to see. "Neal," Peter squared him around and held him by the shoulders. "Holding me to such lofty standards is bound to lead to disaster at some point if it hasn't already, but let me be clear, there will never be a time or an instance when I don't come for you, whenever you need me, wherever you need me...I'm reminded of a song, what's the song...Carol King I think."

Neal wiped a stray tear and laughed; I don't have you on such a high pedestal that I can say without any hesitation that among your many strengths, singing isn't one of them."

Peter ignored him, trying to remember the words..."you just call, out my name, and you know wherever I am, I'll come running…" 'Dance with me'! Peter pulled him into his arms, back into that rocking motion that was second nature to him. "...to see you again. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall, all you have to do is call, and I'll be there, be there...you've got a friend."

He twirled Neal and they laughed and laughed. The Peter pedestal grew infinitely higher.

Neal arranged car service for Peter for noon the next day; he wanted to accompany him to the airport but Peter insisted it wasn't necessary, joking it would give Neal more time to start packing himself. Before they knew it, the appointed time arrived and they were saying good-bye.

"But it's not really good-bye, more like see you in a week, maybe two," Peter endeavouring to keep the mood light.

Neal was doing his best with the stiff upper lip. "Text me when you land," then he was in Peter's arms.

"Be good," Peter said gruffly, and in case it needed to be said out loud, if there was still a sliver of doubt, even after everything they'd been through, "I love you."

Neal looked at him, eyes shining bright. "Love you," then he laughed. "That didn't even feel weird".

Peter smiled back. "See you in the motherland. El's already starting with the welcome home party plans."

That warmed the cockles of Neal's heart. "Party at June's, counting the minutes."

And with that, Peter was off. "A bientot mon ami."