Okay, so to avoid any confusion, this starts after the first chapter I posted. Neal managed to get away with relatively few difficulties. I know I wrote a chapter detailing how he escaped, but I can't open the file on this computer and I can't for the life of me find it on my other computer…

One year, five months later

Nick Halden moved through the packed airport, allowing himself to be pushed and prodded along in the wave of bodies headed towards the exits. He had a glowing tan from months spent in various places with tons of sunshine, though you couldn't really see it through his coat and scarf. Anyone who had known Neal Caffrey from all those years ago would recognize the fedora pulled low over the man's eyes. He knew he was taking a risk with the hat, but to be honest he couldn't bear to part with it, and he was fairly confident that no one from back then would recognize him as he was now, looking for all the world like an innocent tourist.

When he was finally deposited in front of the airport Nick took a deep breath of the crisp air. His breath hung in the air for a moment, icy crystals showing him how cold it was. The skies were a familiar but soft gray, and for the first time in over a year Neal Caffrey felt at home as the noise of the city surrounded him. He could go anywhere, be anything, but really he longed for New York and the FBI offices, with the crappy coffee and double-finger points from Hughes. And sometimes, just sometimes, he missed the familiar weight of the tracker on his ankle. But most of all he missed Peter and Moz.

They were the reasons that he had come home.

He smiled to himself as he started walking down the street, getting farther away from the airport so he wouldn't have to fight as much for a cab. A couple blocks away he hailed a taxi like someone who had been doing it for their whole life. It was only when he was enveloped in the warmth of the cab that he realized he had no clue where he could go. He doubted June had kept his room for him after all these years, and Peter would just slap some cuffs on him and ask questions later. Moz was laying low after an exceedingly risky con, and Alex was off in Europe somewhere. Probably Italy, knowing her.

He was back here, in the only place that had ever felt like home, and with no place to go. Yet, he found himself rattling off an address, as if he had come here with a purpose in mind. The address sounded familiar, though he wasn't sure why.

Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped at a cemetery. Neal's breath caught in his throat as he realized exactly where he was. For a second he just sat there, staring out the icy window until the driver gave a rather obvious cough.

Neal jumped a little and then passed the money over after fumbling in his pocket, a generous tip in the mix. On shaky legs he climbed out of the cab.

The one person who would never, ever leave New York, the one who would be glad to see him and still in the same spot as she had been when he left, was dead.

…

Peter trudged through the frozen cemetery, flowers in hand. He knew where what was left of Kate was buried, and doing this made him feel like Caffrey was still in this city. Besides, wherever Neal was, he would have wanted somebody to make sure that flowers were left regularly.

He's not dead, you know, Peter reminded himself. You make it sound like Caffrey's dead, but really he's just off… somewhere. Probably in the tropics, or Europe. He's just anywhere but here.

When Peter reached the headstone he crouched down. He pulled a Kleenex out of his pocket and brushed away the dirt and grime, his fingers brushing against the un-assuming inscription on the plain stone: Kate Moreau. There was a date of birth and date of death, but Peter doubted the first meant anything, and he knew that the second was a lie.

Peter gently laid the flowers down on the frozen earth. He straightened up hurriedly when he sensed someone come up behind him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and head down, started to make his way back through the cemetery.

Wherever Caffrey is now, I hope he's having a nice life.

Peter wasn't expecting a hand to grab his arm, but he really wasn't expecting an all too familiar voice exclaim, "Peter?"

….

Neal wove his way through the various headstones, all fancier and bolder than the one that belonged to the love of his life. The path was a familiar one, maybe more so than it should have been as the cemetery had been out of his radius and he had been away for so long.

As he neared Kate's grave he noticed a man crouched beside her headstone. The man was wearing a tan trench coat, much like the one Peter used to wear. In one hand there were flowers, and with the other he appeared to be wiping down the headstone.

Almost instinctively, Neal shrunk back into the shadows of a very helpful nearby tree. The man might be a gardener, or he might be a distant friend of Kate's who was in town and came to say one last goodbye. Either way, Neal didn't exactly want to be seen here. A casual word mentioned to a friend could possibly get back to Peter, and Neal wasn't sure he wanted that. So instead of going over and introducing himself or something, one of New York's finest con men stayed hidden in the shadows of a leafless tree.

After a few minutes, Neal decided that honestly, he had nothing to lose. If the man up by Kate's grave recognized him, so be it. It shouldn't matter to him anymore; he could be out of the city in less than an hour if need be. He soundlessly slipped out from behind the tree and, with the self-taught confidence of a con man, approached the stranger at his girlfriend's grave.

The man, having just finished laying down a beautiful bouquet, rapidly straightened up. He brushed by Neal with his head down and hands stuffed in his pockets, but Neal would recognize the FBI agent who had arrested him all those years earlier anywhere.

Impulsively, before his brain could catch up to the possible consequences, Neal reached out and grabbed his friend and partner's arm. Before he could stop it, a single name left his mouth: "Peter?"

The man turned around, and Neal felt his face light up. Peter was exactly how the art thief had remembered him, down to the same suit that the agent had been wearing when he arrested Neal.

"Caffrey?" Peter asked, obviously surprised.

Neal found himself grinning, and even though it might have been his thousand-watt smile, it was sincere and he honestly couldn't help it this time. "Hey buddy, how's it been?"

Peter shrugged, and then, after searching for something to say, replied with, "You're out of your radius."

Neal nodded. "Just a bit. I did it to save you though; you realize that you had a huge target on your back because of me, right? Sorivelli was going to have your head on a silver platter or whatever the twenty-first century equivalent is to get me mad before he picked me off. Peter, I couldn't just let you be killed like that, I had to do something, and leaving all this behind seemed like the only option. It was the only option where everyone could stay alive, really. I'm sorry, Peter. I miss this city, and I miss boring mortgage fraud cases, but most of all I miss working with you because you're my best friend and the only person in my life I trust. Please say you forgive me, Peter."

The words came out fast, and Peter could hardly keep up with it all. Neal sounded almost like a little five year old who had broken a vase and was asking for forgiveness, the end an obvious plea that Peter was fairly certain hadn't been planned. He smiled to himself; he had thrown the great Neal Caffrey off balance just by coming to a cemetery.

He watched the younger man's face as he responded. For once the mask wasn't up, and Peter got what he was pretty sure was as close to honest as you got with Neal Caffrey. The con man's eyes were slightly concerned, but his face was open and clearly hopeful.

"Neal, of course I forgive you. It might take some doing, but I wouldn't mind if you came back to work for me. Now come on, the Taurus is parked a couple blocks away."

Neal shifted backwards slightly, the mask coming back up. "What? Why would I need to get in your car? Peter…" the end trailed off, a slightly panicked look coming into his eyes as he scanned Peter for handcuffs.

Peter rested a reassuring hand on Neal's shoulder. "Hey, its fine. Well, it will be if you come with me, anyway." The agent made a face, trying not to let it show when he felt the younger man's shoulder tense beneath his hand. "We both know that El would kill us both if I told her that I saw you and didn't bring you home, especially considering how close it is to Christmas. Besides, you look like you haven't had a good dinner in a while. And she's making that one chicken thing you like."

"Peter, I can't. Sorivelli is still out there, somewhere. It's dangerous enough coming here and talking to you."

A slow grin spread across Peter's face. "You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

"He's dead. They found his body floating in the Hudson a month ago. Neal, you don't have to worry anymore."

Neal's face was a study of conflicting emotions. He seemed ecstatic but sad, uncertain but in familiar territory. He looked afraid but calm, certain but confused. Finally, he managed to say, "Peter, are you sure you want to take me back?"

"Yes, Caffrey. I'm going to take you home and El's going to get some food into you. Then we'll talk about what happened and how we're going to keep you out from behind bars."

Neal relaxed visibly. "Okay," he agreed. "One second."

He knelt down on the snow encrusted ground next to the grave and rearranged the flowers. Then, with loving fingers, he brushed the accumulated grime away from a tiny but intricate rose beautifully engraved on one corner of the headstone. Peter had never noticed it before.

Neal smiled slightly at Peter's confused look and mumbled, "I couldn't just let the best work I've ever done fade away, could I? Especially not here, and now, and considering where it is."

Peter frowned, and then his mouth opened as he realized what Neal had said. Neal smirked and turned away when he realized what the next thing Peter was going to say was. And sure enough…

"CAFFREY!"

If there had been any birds in the city they would have taken to the skies. As it was, Neal just kept walking. When he reached the gates he stopped and waited for Peter. When his friend was almost caught up to him, Neal resumed his walk. Peter slowly caught up to him until they were walking side by side. Right before they reached the Taurus, Peter clapped him on the back and said, "It's good to have you back, buddy. As long as you don't have any more surprises like that for me, anyway."

Neal smirked again. "It's good to be back. And about those other surprises? How about I tell you more about those various surprises in a couple years when the statue of limitations is up on them?"

Peter looked up, shaking his head.

Neal grinned at him and then climbed into the Taurus, ready to go home. It was time to return to forever.

A/N: Well, I finished this, finally. It took me long enough. :P I'm probably going to disappear for a bit, until the plot bunnies attack again. I have a vague idea for a prequel to Escaping the Rut, and I'm tempted to try my hand at drabbles. That, and there's always the sequel to Kate that I started and is currently rotting, even though the first chapter is one of the best things I've ever written... Perhaps I'll find some way to tweak it so it can be posted as a oneshot. But whatever I do, you probably won't be seeing much of me until April (and Screnzy) is over.

Oh, and sorry for any random stuff in this. It was written shortly after I posted the first chapter (!) so... I read over it but some parts still leave me wondering what I was thinking.