It has been far too long since I updated this story! Sorry about that, but I've been working on other ones, and then there was Christmas... Happy New Years by the way! Let's make it a good one!

If anyone had thought that things would magically go back to the way they had been before - the normalcy that Peter never thought that he'd miss until it was as painfully absent as a missing limb - they were optimistic, naïve idiots.

Sure, there were things that stayed the same, but it was the changes that showed the most, and they were so glaringly bright at times.

Neal would banter and make jokes with the other agents, though Peter could see that he was only doing it to keep up his front of nothing at all being wrong and nothing having changed.

But while he acted the same with everyone else, it was not the same with Peter. Sure, he was polite and respectful whenever he talked to Peter, but the camaraderie they once had was gone, evaporated along with the light atmosphere in the office that had vanished the moment Neal had stopped coming around.

Peter'd thought that it'd come back when Neal did, but Peter wasn't sure if Neal did come back, at least not all of him. Not the carefree smiles and the charm, or the cheerfulness that seemed to have once radiated from him, instantly brightening everyone else's day.

It was all replaced by plastered-on smiles that Peter knew Neal didn't feel, fake charm that only fooled those that didn't look too hard, and a tense air around him that didn't put anyone at ease like Neal's presence once did.

Neal now instantly obeyed commands, worked hard and didn't step out of line once. And it was all so wrong. Neal should have been coming up with crazy plans to catch criminals and even crazier ways to get out of paperwork, not just accept mortgage fraud cases without a smart-ass remark or plans of procrastination.

What was also painfully clear was how Neal moved noticeably stiffer than normal and still had a limp, even though he tried to hide both with dogged determination. He still tried to maintain his usual confident stride with that undeniable swagger. Unfortunately, even Neal Caffrey couldn't con past the pain of broken ribs, a vicious dog bite and the rest of his injuries.

Peter shouldn't have surprised when Neal showed up the first day with substantially faded bruises that could only be the work of carefully applied makeup. It was just more smoke and mirrors - a conman's best friend.

Neal worked much harder to ensure that his tattoo was always hidden than he'd ever had with his anklet - the kid would actually brandish the device more often than not while in the office, like he was silently taunting Peter in some unknown way. I'm free from prison and this is the only thing keeping me here. And we all know I could just cut it and be gone without a trace. At least he had before everything fell apart.

Peter still struggled with simultaneously being angry at Neal for keeping yet another secret and trying to watch out for him. Neal was pretending to fit back into his old life like he had never even been gone, but there were times when it was so clear to Peter that he no longer laughed carelessly and openly, he never put himself in the position of being alone with anyone, not even Peter, Jones or Diana. He kept his back to the wall whenever he could, tensing and becoming shifty when he couldn't be, and made sure everyone around him was in his line of sight. There were less hypothetical cons and escapades being shared with the team, and the mood in the office was just plain wrong.

If the way that it came about was different, Peter would have enjoyed the newly docile and obedient Neal. Now it just reminded him of how completely he had failed Neal as a partner and friend.

Despite all of the things that made Peter worry whether anything would turn out right, there was one thing that gave the agent hope for some form of recovery. It had taken a few days, but the results of the tests the doctor ran on Neal's blood came back, thankfully, all negative. He didn't have any diseases they had to worry about and Peter was immensely grateful.

Peter wasn't at all surprised that Neal passed his psych eval with flying colors - it would have worried him if Neal didn't try to con the psychiatrist into thinking that he was completely stable, which Peter knew was far from the truth.

Peter had thought about pushing for a psychiatrist that knew to look for the little signs of Neal's lies, but that could end up getting Neal put back in prison if he wasn't capable of working for the FBI and that was not at all what Peter wanted. Peter already knew that Neal was not in the right headspace right now, but sending him back to prison would probably crush his last will to live. Peter couldn't be responsible for that more than he already was.

WCWCWCWC

Two days after Neal came back, he solved a case the whole team had been working on for a week and a half. Things started to settle into their own strange parody of its previous rhythm after that. Nothing was right or the same as it had been, but there was a routine to it now, which Peter wasn't sure that was a good thing or not.

Then Peter was informed that he could transfer Neal to another department, and that changed things.

This opportunity gave Peter the chance to push Neal to a safe distance, for both of them - and, most importantly, Elizabeth. But last time he'd done that, it had blown up in him and Neal's faces. And of course there was Siegel, who had been an unfortunate and unnecessary casualty to Rebecca's sick and twisted love games. It was possible that assigning a new handler to keep Neal under control would have worked out if that woman hadn't killed everyone that she no longer deemed useful or in the way of her plan for Neal.

It was a hard decision, one that Peter didn't plan on taking lightly. He discussed his options with Elizabeth, and she was leaning toward having Neal transferred.

"We both know that you've pulled Neal out of the fires he started so many times, maybe even more than he deserved. Maybe you don't have to be Neal's moral compass anymore, hon. Maybe this is meant to be. He could do good in another department. It could be a good thing - for all of us," She had said, her caring voice gentle as she made her suggestion. She understood the danger Neal posed, especially now, and she just wanted what was best for them. It was an impossible choice in an unfeasible situation, and she was the brave one to suggest it for Peter and save him some guilt.

Even though Elizabeth still cared for Neal, Peter knew that she'd had such a hard time when the agent had gone to prison for a crime Neal's father had committed. James, who wouldn't have been in their lives to begin with if not for Neal. It was hard not to blame Neal for some of the things that had happened to them since the ex-con had entered their life.

Perhaps Elizabeth was right - this time could be different. Perhaps it was time to just cut Neal loose, let someone else make sure he stayed in line. Perhaps Neal wasn't Peter's responsibility anymore.

While Peter was thinking hard on what to do with his wayward pet con, the agent had Neal's tracking data up on his laptop, making sure that he wasn't somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. It turned out that he was, in a way.

It was almost eleven at night, but there was something off about the blinking red dot that indicated Neal's location. It did not show him at Riverside drive anymore. After looking the address up, Peter realized that he was at that motel that the agent had dumped him at when they'd started their deal originally. Looking at previous nights, it showed that Neal had been there every night besides the first night since he'd gotten back, which was five days now.

At first, Peter couldn't figure out why Neal would be there, then he realized the fool-hearted man's motives. The kid didn't want June in harm's way, so he moved out of her house to keep her safe.

Neal might've been a criminal and a conman, but he had a good, if a little misguided, heart. Peter couldn't deny that, but Neal was just exiling himself, and with how much of a social animal Neal was and how little real, friendly contact he'd had in the last three months it was not good for him to continue to lose contact with everyone that cared about him. Peter tried to reassure himself that at least Neal still had Mozzie to help him through this difficult time, then went to bed with his wife, holding her close all night long.

WCWCWCWC

Neal didn't know exactly what to expect when he went back to work, but he knew that he wouldn't let anyone see the damage hidden under his carefully constructed façade. Peter already knew far too much, seen far too much. No one else could see his weakness that he carried with him now, like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach, a dark cloud looming overhead, or a permanent mark on his arm.

Diana and Jones welcomed him back, acting as if he'd just been on vacation or something instead of some sort of twisted cross between a living hell and waking nightmare, but he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Acting like everything was just fine might make the adjustment slightly easier than scaling the wall of a 14th century Scottish castle with nothing but his bare hands and climbing chalk, and that hadn't been easy. Even the Harvard crew was sure not to mention anything relating to where Neal might have been the last three months.

Although they all had to know at least some of what happened from Peter, though Neal really wasn't sure how much he left out, no one asked questions or treated him like a victim - which he was not. He was not a victim, but he was also not a hero of any sort. He wasn't sure what that did make him, but he remembered a time when he'd been invincible, when nothing could touch him and he couldn't be brought down by anything.

Unfortunately, slowly but surely, his carefully constructed armor was dented by tragedy after tragedy. Now he had to work to keep a smile on his face when all he wanted to do was hide away somewhere until this most recent nightmare passed.

But that wasn't how he worked, wasn't who he was. He was a man of action, a man that always seemed to have a plan to get out of whatever mess he'd landed himself in. No workable plan had formed in his mind so far, but he'd figure out how to get Dmitry off of his back eventually.

Neal would have been much more confident in coming up with a plan if he had Mozzie at his side, but his oldest friend was not safe with him.

While pushing Peter away had been, and still was, a monumental task that took all of his willpower not to give into the agent's multiple offers to help him, Mozzie knew Neal's tells better, the few he had, so lying was harder when it came to his longtime friend.

Neal truly hated the mere thought of lying to Mozzie, but it really had to be done. Mozzie would have been great to bounce ideas off of and help come up with a plan to unbury them from the mess Neal had thrown on them, but Neal knew that he had to go this one alone. It was his mess to clean up.

Neal had only given Mozzie barebones of what had happened to him, so he didn't know everyone had been threatened, who was behind everything, what Neal had stolen - he could only imagine how well that conversation would go - or about the permanent souvenir he'd unwillingly brought with him.

Hopefully, Mozzie wouldn't become desperate enough to go to Peter for help and have the agent spill the beans like he had a tendency to do when that was the last thing that Neal wanted him to do. They had paired up before, but Mozzie did seem pretty upset with 'the suit' when Neal had explained what had happened the first time Peter had come to see him in prison.

Hopefully, Neal would be able to con the man who probably knew him the best out of everyone in his life well enough that he'd just give up on their long-time friendship. It was a grim hope.

Mozzie showed up at Neal's new living courters the first night he moved in - if one could even call the sad excuse for a motel room as a place someone could even reside in. The sink and shower deposited a brown-ish sludge that Neal refused to identify, there was no kitchen to speak of beside an electric burner that had a tendency to cause breakers to blow, and Neal had to wash the sheets twice, and with three times the recommended detergent each time, before he even dared to sleep in them.

To fix these problems - or rather, go around them - Neal went to the gym he was a member of in the mornings to take showers there, ate out for every meal, and also bought new sheets after the first night of constantly scratching at nonexistent itches. He still had enough money stashed away to buy what he needed, so he didn't really have to worry about that for now.

It was by no means a ideal situation, but there was actually a part of him that felt like he deserved the unpleasant experiences that were being thrown at him. He'd brought a reason to fear his presence in their lives to everyone he cared about, so maybe he should have to pay his dues by living in less than hospitable surroundings. It was a small way to begin his penance for his many past sins, and he had many.

Neal had just come back from washing his sheets when there was a nearly frantic knock on the door. Neal was expecting Mozzie, so he was not at all surprised by the visitor. That didn't mean that he was ready for it. He had to tell Mozzie to leave and never come back, and he hated himself already for something he hadn't even done yet.

Taking a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves, Neal made sure that his tattoo was still hidden, then went to open the door.

"Neal, this place is atrocious! Did you know on my way to your room three women and a man asked me to come to their room, and I'm pretty sure only three of them were hookers? And don't even get me started on that guy at the front desk," Mozzie said with a full-body shutter, entering the room without permission, though the words nor the actions were at all surprising. Acting as if all was normal was how Mozzie dealt with change. Perhaps that was where Neal had learned that particular coping skill.

Once Mozzie scanned the room with open distaste, he took a deep breath and actually squared his shoulders before he truly faced Neal for the first time in over three months. He looked Neal up and down with clear concern - concern that Neal knew he did not deserve.

Neal was plenty aware that he looked like he'd been mistaken as a punching bag, even with makeup and clothing hiding the worst of the bruises, and was far skinnier the last time Mozzie had seen him, so the horror that Mozzie could not hide in his often revealing eyes was to be expected.

"It's, uh, good to see you," Mozzie said as he waved a hand at Neal, looking away as he said it. Open emotions were not easy for Mozzie, but Neal knew him well enough to see the emotions without Mozzie having to voice them.

Neal nodded, but stopped himself from saying the same. It was more than true, but it wouldn't help his con one bit. His con - he was conning his best and oldest friend. He was pretty sure he'd just reached a new low.

Swallowing hard, Neal forced himself commit to possibly the hardest con he had to pull off. "What are you doing here, Moz?" Neal asked as he crossed his arms and took an annoyed stance, letting anger seep into his voice.

Mozzie looked at Neal confusedly. "What do you mean? June told me that you moved out, which I don't disagree with, but we really have to find you a more appropriate abode. This places' feng shui is all sorts of wrong," he said, moving his fingers about vaguely.

"No, I mean why did you come? You've gotten everything you wanted from me, haven't you?" Neal snapped as he stalked past Mozzie to the far side of the room. It would have been easier not to look at Mozzie directly as he did this, but Neal still forced himself to turn back around anyway.

Neal would have busied himself with pouring a drink, but there was no alcohol in the room for either of them to drink to make this impossible goodbye any easier. It was something that Neal definitely needed to stock up on.

"Neal, you're not making any sense," Mozzie said, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Did the Russians give you something? Like a pill or something? It would have been large, round and red. Think hard," he said as he took a step forward, dead serious and very concerned.

Neal might have laughed at Mozzie's paranoia any other day. No, he wasn't brainwashed because he was completely aware of what he was doing, and how it was breaking his heart more and more by the second.

"No, Moz. Nothing like that happened to me. I just don't understand why you're here. Did you really think I was going to let you continue to push me around?" Neal asked, then continued before a shocked Mozzie could answer. "Coming back to New York has open my eyes. I realized just how used I am by everyone around me. I'm done being your front man and running cons to get you your 'last big score', so there's no point in you sticking around anymore. Just leave me alone. Find someone else to mooch from," he said angrily, his voice rising.

Mozzie didn't move from the spot he was planted. He seemed completely stunned. Neal rarely raised his voice, and never to Mozzie.

Hopefully Mozzie wouldn't take any of this personally and blame Neal's sudden attitude change on the trauma he'd gone through. Any previously sane person wouldn't come out the other side unchanged by what Neal had gone through - not that he was blaming anyone else but himself.

But he still knew that he was not the same man he once was. That man was the center of everyone's attention, wore un-penetrable armor in the form of classic suits, and had a constant mischievous glint in his eyes instead of the haunted one Neal now avoided mirrors because of. Hopefully Mozzie would finally see Neal as the lost cause that he, himself, was beginning to think he really was.

"I said leave!" Neal yelled as he pointed at the door behind Mozzie, pretending to be angry when all he wanted to do was actually embrace his oldest friend that usually cringed at physical contact. Neal knew that he didn't deserve the comfort, though. He took a threatening step forward and Mozzie literally scuttled backwards. Neal felt sick.

"Get out - and don't come back," Neal said lowly, hating this ugly thing that he was pretending to be, or possibly became. He really wasn't sure anymore.

After a long staring-eye-contest that Neal won, when Mozzie reluctantly left, shutting the door quietly behind him, Neal collapsed onto the bed and allowed himself to cry, loudly and unabashedly, for the first time since Peter had turned his back on him.

WCWCWCWC

"You didn't tell me you moved," Peter said as casually as he could manage the next day at the office. It was the only way he could think of to bring up Neal's self-imposed exile.

It wasn't just June Neal was pushing away - Neal kept everyone in the office at a safe distance as well, making sure to keep his relationships with everyone professional, which was the exact opposite of what Neal had done before.

Peter inew that he was trying to show this man - whoever he was - that he didn't have real connections to the people that he threatened. Neal was pulling himself away from everyone, exiling himself to keep them safe. It was extremely unhealthy thing to do, especially for someone like Neal, who once socialized as often as he breathed.

Neal sat in the chair on the opposite side of Peter's desk, acting as casual as he could while in a considerable amount of pain that his fake smile couldn't even begin to hide. "It's still within my radius, so what does it matter to you?" he asked nearly absentmindedly, not looking up from the file in his hands. While Neal was still polite most of the time, there was still an undeniable anger towards Peter simmering just beneath the surface of Neal's carefree façade.

Peter let out a sigh as he gave up on pretending to read the file in front of him while he spoke with Neal. "I'm your handler - it matters," he said, turning serious. This was pretty much their first real conversation they'd had with each other since their big fight, the one with Peter storming out before more was said in vain. Before now, Peter had just pretended like Neal had, playing the roles of cop and robber working together that had once come so easily. He now realized that it was unwise to play along with Neal's con. Neal was no longer going to take the lead.

Neal finally looked up at Peter, also giving up on working for the moment. "You don't have to be," Neal said in a voice that was probably supposed to sound innocent, but just grated on Peter's nerves.

Peter, wisely, though not easily, chose to ignore Neal's not-so-subtle suggestion. "I know you're trying to protect June, but you don't have to stay at that dump. We could fix all of this if you just tell me who this man is," Peter said, once again trying to get Neal to give in. It was probably a futile endeavor by now, but Peter still wouldn't give up.

"Are we really going to go over this again?" Neal asked, sounding more annoyed than angry, though Peter knew him better than that to think that that was what Neal was really feeling.

"Until you realize I'm right, yes," Peter said, feeling for a second that he was a father scolding his disobedient son. That thought would have been amusing under other circumstances, but now it just made Peter miss their previous camaraderie all the more.

"Of course, because you're always right," Neal bit out, showing true anger for the first time.

"Your track record when it comes to these kind of things is not been the best, so yes, I'm right," Peter said a bit angrily.

"I'm doing the right thing," Neal reiterated like a broken record, making it sound like they were suffering for a valid reason.

"You may think so, but you're just making all of our lives worse," Peter snapped out, possibly too harshly. He took a breath, knowing that he had to maintain a calmness so their argument didn't get out of hand, especially since they were at the office with dozens of witnesses on the other side of the glass walls that made up Peter's office. They didn't need to know about the details of their precarious situation.

Neal actually seemed surprised by Peter's statement. "And how do you figure that?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Me and Elizabeth can't live in fear of man we don't even know, and you are just pushing everyone away. It's not healthy for any of us," Peter said with anger and sadness sharpening his words, though he held back from out-right yelling.

"Yes, but it will keep you alive," Neal said as he leaned back, acting as if that settled everything. Then he looked down as a troubled anguish swept across his sharp features, seemingly torn about his decision. Peter was hopeful for a moment that Neal would finally listen to reason, until Neal spoke up again. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for what I'm putting you guys through, but this is the best outcome until I can figure something better out."

Peter had had enough of the careful sidestepping. "Bull."

Neal's head jerked up, eyes widened slightly in surprise by Peter's sudden brashness. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. We could take this guy down if we sent everyone into WITSEC. I know it's not a great situation, but it's better than this," Peter said, spreading his arms outward to encompass their whole messed up situation.

"You want to uproot everyone's lives and ship them away to God-knows-where for who knows how long and hope that the Marshal's can even protect them from a man that has so many connections, even in America, that it'd make your head spin?" Neal asked incredulously. He was looking at Peter like he was the unstable one.

Realization suddenly dawned on Peter and he wondered why he hadn't seen the connection before. "Is that what this is about? Ellen being found while under their protection?"

Neal's eyes flashed with anger as Peter said Ellen's name, but he stayed calm as he spoke. "It's not entirely why, but she was never safe with them. Not her, not my mom and not me. They couldn't protect her then, and they definitely can't protect any of us now," Neal said with grim confidence.

"We'd be safe with them, Neal. It's their job to protect witnesses and their families," Peter said, knowing that he was right. Ellen's death was unfortunate and shouldn't have happened, but that didn't mean it would be the same for them. They'd do it right and keep everyone safe.

"Just like Ellen was 'safe'?" Neal countered, then clenched his jaw as if to contain his growing anger. Ellen was still a touchy subject, especially since Neal had once blamed her death on Peter. Peter was pretty sure that he no longer did, but Neal still held some anger towards Ellen's death, though Peter wasn't exactly sure who he aimed it towards the most now - Peter, the Marshals that had failed to protect her, James, the person that actually killed her, or, as sad as it was, himself. Peter doubted Neal knew either.

Neal really hadn't grieved for Ellen, or Kate, at least not as far as Peter saw. There was probably a lot of anger and anguish bottled up within Neal, and Peter feared what would happen when he couldn't hold it in any longer. Little bits seemed to slip out occasionally, each time with disastrous results.

Peter opened his mouth to reassure Neal when Agent Blake - one of the younger members of their team - walked in, completely oblivious to the tense air around him. He caught on quickly - he actually cringed when Peter shot him a glare for interrupting them. "S-sorry, sir, but the judge just gave us the warrant to put Belinsky under surveillance. J-Jones said you'd want to know right away," he stuttered, eyes firmly locked on his shoes.

Neal took the distraction as a chance to get away, but Peter was watching him. "Thank you, Blake. Neal," Peter said before Neal could slip out of the door. The ex-con turned and made a questioning noise, pretending that he hadn't just tried to make a run for it. "You and me will take the first shift." That way Peter could keep an eye on Neal and make sure that he wasn't planning on doing something risky, at least for a few hours.

"Sure. Sounds like fun," Neal said with a fake smile, putting his hands in his pockets.

Blake quickly scurried out of Peter's office, and Peter thought that Neal would leave as well, but he lingered by the door. He seemed to want to say something, so Peter waited patiently.

"Why did you come back for me?" Neal eventually asked, his light blue eyes suddenly very intense as he locked them with Peter's. He seemed honestly curious, and not angry.

Peter did not expect that question at all and it stopped him dead in his tracks. The agent would always be sorry for the decision to leave Neal in prison once he realized the truth, but he had thought that Neal knew that. "Uh, I'm not sure I understand the question," Peter said, playing stupid, which was something he did not need any acting lessons on.

"You could have washed your hands of me, permanently. And it's not like I don't deserve what would have happened to me, what did happen to me. We both know that I did a hell of a lot more things than what I was arrested for," Neal continued, his voice not sarcastic or bitter, which confused Peter to no end.

Peter leaned forward and met Neal's eyes directly so he could make sure the ex-con understood. "Those were White Collar crimes, Neal. You didn't deserve anything that has happened to you in the last couple of months. Not many people do."

"Then why did you leave me? Did you think I deserved it then?" Neal asked, apparently completely lost.

"No, Neal. I didn't know the guards were hurting you - or that you were sentenced to death. If I'd known that, I would have done something," Peter said sincerely, hoping that Neal would understand.

"Is that you or your guilt talking?" Neal asked evenly, eyebrows raised as he waited for a response.

Peter opened his mouth to set Neal straight when Jones entered his office. Does anybody knock anymore?

"The van is ready for you guys," Jones said, then seemed to realize that they walked into something, probably because of the deadly glare that Peter shot him. "Uh, should I come back?"

Peter stood up as he made himself not aim his anger towards Jones anymore. "No, Jones. Thank you. Neal, ready to go?" he asked as he put his coat on. It had been cold outside when he had come to the office and Peter doubted it had gotten much warmer as the day went on.

"Yeah," Neal said emotionlessly, slipping out the door to retrieve his coat from his desk chair as well.

Jones stood to the side for a moment, probably thinking about speaking up or not. "Are you sure you want to spend eight hours in the same small space as Caffrey? You two don't seem too buddy-buddy anymore," Jones said, probably not meaning to overstep, but he just didn't know all of the details, and Peter wouldn't tell him unless they did end up going into witness protection. He'd deserve to know then - they all would.

"We'll be fine," Peter said as he watched Neal go straight to his desk with no detours to other desks, though he didn't really believe it himself. Things were no longer 'fine' - they hadn't been for months, and Peter feared that they never would be.

And that's the end of chapter ten! Thank you all for sticking with me still!