A Minute

A/N: Hey there everyone! :D Here's the next chapter! :)

Happy Reading! :D :D

Chapter 10

Neal finally walked out of the hospital after another week.

The doctor had given him an strict therapy schedule to follow and had finally deemed him well enough to escape the confines of the morbid place. After his conversation with Peter, the doctors had seen a better progress in his treatment, the therapy sessions finally becoming easier for Neal to settle into. By the third day he'd finally started walking around the hospital and had managed to catch onto everything he'd missed in his nearly one-month of hospital arrest, courtesy June, Sara and Mozzie.

By the fourth day, he'd planned his second escape attempt but couldn't get through because Peter chose to spend that exact window of time to come visit him. Neal appreciated his presence but he couldn't help but smile at the older agent's instincts. Whenever Neal and a con were concerned, Peter was present. It was like he had some kind of super-psychic capabilities. But he was way past his saturation level with the mundane routine of lying down.

Neal tried a third, hasty retreat in the wee hours of the night but that fell upon his face when Mozzie lost balance over him at one point. The fall reminded him to his frustration that even though walking and thinking, his body was still a little too delicate for his liking.

The next day went with him handcuffed to his bed without lockpicks and Mozzie banned from visiting him.

On the sixth day, Neal knew it was now or never. No amount of case files or meal baskets or artwork was getting through the intense boredom and claustrophobia he was beginning to experience and when the doctor walked in during his evening check-up, Neal made it clear he was either going to get discharged tomorrow or else was going to walk out the doors even with the entire hospital staff restraining him.

That seemed to do the trick.

The doctor knew that Neal was now strong enough to walk on his own even though having to catch his breath every now and then. She decided to hand over his discharge papers the next morning and in Peter's presence on the sole condition of another fortnight's worth of bedrest. His dressings he could have someone change once in three days and he needed to have his medications on time until his next check-up a week later. Neal had smiled in gratitude.

It was no lost knowledge about just how seriously he was going to take it until Elizabeth Burke walked in with her husband the next day, ensuring that Neal obeyed everything without any fuss.

Friday morning was sweet independence as Neal finally sat in the Burkes' car, looking out the windows like a dog lapping out on a sunny, breezy New York morning. Even though it was short-lived, Neal knew it was better than any therapy the hospital could give him. And soon, the car turned around to Riverside Drive, the mansion as appealing as always.

Peter and Elizabeth had both insisted on Neal staying over with them for atleast a couple of days until climbing and descending the stairs at June's became more of a menial task than a lung-exerter. But he seemed determined to head over to his apartment and have Sara over for the days he was supposed to be resting. El thought it a decent proposal given the recent reconciliation of the two love birds but Peter knew better.

Neal was definitely going to try staving off the awkwardness from their conversation last week.

Neal Caffrey was never a great sharer to begin with, even lesser so about his private life. So Peter knew it was only natural for the young man to want to pick his defences up as best as he could. Vulnerability was something he conned himself into believing he didn't have and the past month had only been but. Neal Caffrey unplugged was a rarity he assumed only Mozzie got to see until then and Peter wasn't exactly a listener or sharer himself, so he knew a few days was what both of them needed to revert to their original ways.

For now, giving each other space was just fine.

Neal spent the weekend under June and Sara's care, the two women fussing over him while Mozzie sipped away at his expensive wine collection, completely scandalized yet bemused by the female energy in the apartment. And when Elizabeth joined ranks during Sunday lunch, Neal looked desperate to make another escape attempt from the motherhens, held back only by Jones and Diana who'd decided to join Peter and meet him. Both of them were the only two people treating him like a normal human being even though they seemed to enjoy his ultimate discomfort upon being cooed over.

He was definitely not used to that much attention and Mozzie didn't believe it to be natural either. But then they accounted it to be something they'd never experienced owing to their childhoods, Neal sipping away leisurely at a much required glass of Lafite after everybody left for the day, including Sara who had to head home for a change of wardrobe. The wine calmed his nerves and for once, life felt back to normal. Guard slipping back on, emotions in hiding and his trademark Caffrey-grin ready to go. Just the right amount of normal. Or as normal as it could get with the anklet as his leash.

It was the first night Neal finally slept on his own without any medication easing him into the good old night.

It was also the first night Peter managed to sleep with his mind devoid of Neal-centric nightmares or thoughts.

When Peter reached the Bureau next day at 9, he expected it to be just another boring day with more mortgage fraud cases he had to pour upon. But the dullness of his job he could bear after the over-adventurous month he'd had. His life had gotten too adrenaline-paced ever since Neal had become his CI even though it made his job infinite times more thrilling with the highest agent-CI closing rate now in his name.

But he needed to cut back on the action or else he was going to get an attack soon.

Which he nearly had two minutes later when he entered the room to find Jones briefing the agents about a case, Neal sitting at the apex of the table on the other end in what Peter was certain was once Byron Ellington's favourite Devore, looking as crisp and vibrant as he usually did albeit slightly paler than usual. The mask was back on, he noted instantly with the grin Neal shot him.

"Peter, finally!" exclaimed the conman happily, Peter noticing the fedora beside the file on the table. He rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? It's Monday morning," replied Neal with feigned innocence as he leaned back into his chair but both of them knew better. Peter gave him a don't-mess-with-me look.

"And you are supposed to be on bedrest."

"Yeah like that was going to happen," chuckled Neal before he sobered down at the sight of nine pairs of eyes glaring at him. He hastily cleared his throat. "Peter, why don't you sit down and let Jones catch you up on the case?"

Peter wanted to argue but decided against it by the looks of amusement he was earning from the rest of the agents present in the room. He sat down and let Jones continue his briefing, his eyes wandering over to Neal every now and then to make sure that he was doing alright. From the looks of it, he was, his eyes as attentive as always while he interrupted the discussion every now and then with a smart question.

It took Peter a minute to bask in the happiness of the fact that Neal Caffrey was finally back.

Once the briefing was done and everybody left the room, Peter finally turned around to face the man in question, who already had an expectant grin and slipped on the hat in what Peter was sure was supposed to be some kind of trickery into believing he was back to his old, cartoonish ways.

"How did you even get out of the house? he asked, his tone a clear indication of him not being in a mood to entertain any excuse or explanation that started with a charming, trademark-Caffrey grin. But to his surprise, the expression that flitted upon the conman's face was sheer embarrassment.

"Peter, you don't understand. I had to," Peter was surprised; he didn't know what had triggered this kind of reaction until Neal enlightened him. "I have the highest regards for June, Sara and El and I love them, but they were driving me crazy! Another day and I'd have cracked," he added, shaking his head in what Peter wanted to believe were mock tremors of horror but he noticed the rivulets of sweat forming upon Neal's head.

Peter could only relate too well to what he classified as mother-hen behaviour. So rather than give the young man a hard time in spite of the golden opportunity, he flashed him a sympathetic look.

"Ah, I get you kid. One time I had an accident during the Jack Raymond case and El didn't let me out of her sight for two whole weeks. I've been extremely careful not get injured since," he added with a bit of cheek, Neal looking up to see whether Peter's confession was genuine or no. Seeing that it was, a wave of relief swept upon his face even though his relief looked mingled with a little fatigue.

"So you get me." Peter nodded. He may have not been happy about seeing Neal up and running so soon but he was happy to see the Bureau alight with his presence once again. Sometimes even he wondered how Neal Caffrey had come to become such an indispensable part of the White Collar Division in spite of being the inevitable flight risk he was.

"I see your desk's filled with a lot of cards and bouquets," remarked Peter after some time, noticing the overflooded desk the first thing when he entered the Bureau that morning. He assumed that Neal must have informed either Jones or Diana about his presenteeism the previous afternoon without Peter's knowledge.

"Everyone's been great around here," nodded Neal in assent, looking gratuitous at the gesture. Before anything could be said further, one of the agents stepped into the room and handed Peter a file. Nodding his head in thanks, Peter quickly scanned through its contents, his heart sinking by the end.

"Everything okay?" broke through Neal's voice, his eyes trying to gauge the situation. Peter sighed. If there was any a bad time to break the news, it was now. It was not something Peter could make peace with either but it was what it is was for now, he conceded bitterly.

"You know how Keller confessed to everything, right?" Neal nodded. "When Keller decided to confess, it was on the only condition that he would be doing it in front of the Russian authorities. And because he confessed in front of them, they regard him as some kind of Russian hero who brought back Russia's lost treasures-"

"-because the Nazi's had originally pilfered the treasure from Russian lands," completed Neal, eyes comprehending. "Son of a bitch," he added in a silent whisper as he let his head fall back on the chair, his eyes now closed. Peter shook his head, voice strained.

"Between our charges for attempt to murder and their Government's hero in a suit, we lost the battle. They got him bailed yesterday and extradited to Russia, probably to give him a medal of honour. It bothers me immensely and I know it's got to bother you too. But I promise you we'll nab the bastard."

The conman remained silent for a minute, his expression and silence unfathomable. Neal Caffrey was an explosion of deceptive expressions and there were seldom occasions where Peter couldn't read through him or his deceptions. This was one of them.

After another minute though, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"I know you will, Peter. You always do," replied Neal, giving him a small smile. Peter cocked an eyebrow of surprise. Neither was there impulsiveness in his attitude nor was there any kind of on-the-feet thinking. He sighed heavily, accepting the way things were going to proceed for once.

Peter tried not to smile but couldn't help it.

He couldn't help but feel proud at the bouts of moral decency Neal showed at the most unexpected of moments. When Peter had first read through the document, he wasn't sure how Neal would react even though every reaction would have been valid after everything he'd gone through. And yet there was a sense of maturity that Neal was not best reputed for, courtesy of the impulsive conman seated deep within. There was no doubt that Neal was always going to be a conman first and that was a part of him that was second nature to him but he liked the change Neal was willing to bring on the table while serving with the FBI. It gave him hope that Neal could still turn his life around for the better if he genuinely tried.

Peter looked up to see Neal lost in thought, his eyes slightly glazed as though trying to recollect something he could not. He put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Still don't remember any of it, do you?" asked Peter, the hand snapping Neal out of his stupor. He looked slightly surprised at the question but answered nonetheless.

"I don't, no."

Peter was secretly thankful he didn't, although he knew the extent Neal had been ready to go through for getting back Elizabeth. And if Neal couldn't remember the details, the least he could do was thank him for being willing to sacrifice the priceless treasure in exchange.

"During those twelve hours, you found Mozzie and willingly gave up the treasure for El. That couldn't have been easy in any way. And you were willing to do it for me. It meant a lot," confessed Peter, knowing good well the sudden confession had taken Neal by surprise.

He smiled sheepishly even though Peter felt something off about his demeanour.

"The treasure had its appeal but I think I found something better in the meanwhile. Not the biggest fan of the radius but hey, atleast I've got the suits," Neal added, giving Peter a swift wink as he straightened up in his chair. Peter laughed in spite of himself at just how fast Neal had let genuine gratitude slip through his defences without letting his façade fall.

"I've missed having you around, kid."

"I've missed this too," replied Neal gracefully before making an attempt to stand up, fidgeting with his collar suddenly. "It's really getting hot in here, isn't it?" remarked Peter, and it suddenly clicked. The agent narrowed his eyes at Neal when he noticed the beads of sweat get more pronounced on his forehead.

"The air conditioning is fine. You're not," he asserted, holding Neal's arm to steady him when he wavered dangerously around the chair. The younger man looked deflated at being made.

"I, well-"

"That's it, you're going home. I'll have Jones deliver you the files you need to work on and until I don't deem you fit, you're under strict house arrest. And by that, I mean readjusting your radius to just your apartment," specified Peter before Neal could put up another argument with the words at the tip of his tongue, looking at the agent as though he'd been sentenced to death.

But when Peter let go of his arm and he still wavered, Neal shut his mouth irritably. Peter knew it was not just a passing lightheaded moment.

"Great, so much from escaping one prison to the next," he grumbled, clearing pissed at his own luck before sitting down again, loosening his tie while Peter got him a glass of water. The agent then walked outside the conference room and gave Jones the double finger call while pointing at a separate stack of case files on his table.

When he turned back to the conference room, he found Neal glaring at him.

"I can't believe you'd do this to me."

Peter grinned. He'd gone soft with the boy when it was needed. It was time to get him to cowboy up. And so came back Special Agent Peter Burke with the next set of words in the choicest voice of threats he reserved for the man before him.

"Everything said and done, I still own you for the next two years and a half and-"

"-you can put me back in jail anytime you want, yeah," completely Neal with blatant snark, looking even more so like a disgruntled 5-year old. But it was short-lived. "Promise me you'll visit daily?" he asked the next moment in beseech, his pride taking a hit in its shins against the fear of the mother-hen isolation he was about to be subjected to again.

"I'll be like one of those annoying patients on your back 24x7," assured Peter a little too cheerfully and Neal groaned. Jones stepped in as a saving grace at that moment, Peter's attention instantly taken as he turned to explain to him what needed to be done next with regards to the still-recovering man. The man who was not subtle enough in suppressing the retort that left his lips.

"Like you don't do that enough with my anklet already."

A look from Peter was all Neal needed to know that he was going to regret that.

Constructive criticism will be more than welcome and sorry for any typos. :D :D