Tag to S6 episode 1 - Borrowed time.

Summary: Rebecca's dead, Neal goes missing. Peter finds him. The end.

Peter walks back through the glass double doors on the 21st floor, leaving the US Marshals to contain and process the bloody scene outside.

"Neal come in here?" He asks the nearest agents, pointing at the empty desk.

He gets shaking heads all round. Thinking, worried and frustrated, Peter walks back out, checks all his charges usual hiding places. He finally finds him sitting on the dusty floor of the less often used copier room one floor down.

"Neal?" Peter flicks on the light, but nothing happens. "What are doing in here, in the dark?"

"No one uses paper anymore." Neal tells him simply with a shrug, turning his head towards Peter ever so slightly, a slither of light from the hallway touching his cheeks.

"Or replaces bulbs." Peter quips, flicking the switch repeatedly, as if expecting a different result each time. He does eventually give up with a heavy sigh. "So?"

Neal raises his eyebrows. "So?"

"What are you doing down here?"

There's a noise which sounds to Peter's ears like a cross between a sob and a chuckle. Neither he would normally associate with Neal, but right now, given all that's happened in the last hour, not to mention the previous twenty-four, anything goes.

Neal blinks rapidly to clear his vision and changes the subject. "Hey what about you. Shouldn't you be on your way to Washington?"

Peter levels him with a look. "Yeah, you know what? This guy I know, real pain in the ass, he got kidnapped."

They share a smile. Neal's is shy. Peter's full of sorrow. As always a chasm a mile wide between them.

"I really am proud of you, I want you to know that." He tells him sincerely. Hoping these words will erase those he spoke in anger only days ago.

Neal looks timid, staring up at him through damp lashes. "Even after, you know," he tips his head to the side, "everything?"

The uncertainty he hears in his voice, sees in his eyes and his actions are upsetting. Peter fights the urge to run, to leave Neal to rebuild himself in private so they can move forward and forget this mess ever happened. But Peter's never been a runner. He faces his troubles, his demons. Unlike Neal, who's never stood up and fought to keep what he has. Reinvention is his game, pretending his coping mechanism. Its selfish Peter tells himself, to want his friend back the way he remembers. As the impulsive and exuberant child who will always need someone, always need Peter to look out for him, to pull him out of the messes he falls into because he doesn't look before he leaps, because pretending means he doesn't learn from his mistakes.

Jones was right, it is time Neal took responsibility for himself, but for that to happen Peter will need to teach him.

"I'm proud that although you clearly struggle to understand the concept of right and wrong, I know you always try to do the right thing."

In a span of seconds Neal's no longer hiding in the corner of the room, doing his best Nosferatu impression. He's heading straight for him.

"Oh, okay," Peter stumbles backward, arms suddenly full of a trembling wreck of a kid who has come to mean the world to him.

"I'm sorry." Cold hands wrap tight around his neck.

Hugging Neal back with a force as strong as magnet on steel he says the only thing he can to say, "It's going to be okay, Neal. We're going to be okay."

….

Peter always finds him. He should be used to that certainty in his life by now. Neal hadn't planned on running at him like a lost toddler, scared out of his mind, but damn it he's not slept in over forty-eight hours, pulled off one of the most daring heists of his illicitly illustrious career and just really, really needs a hug right now.

Peter hugs back and holds him steady. Always his rock. Neal's legs wobble and he's sure he'd fall if Peter let him go. But Peter has to let him go eventually. He's going to Washington and Neal is being left behind.

The thought slams him. Hard. An explosion of pain inside his chest, rattling his rib cage. He can usually hide his feelings pretty well, Dr Summers had called it when she said he doesn't like anyone to see his vulnerabilities. Partly why she flustered him so much. Taking her money was as much a 'fuck you' to her as it was a way to get Mozzie out of his place. He did feel guilty for losing Mozzie his real name, but that whole mess was another story, one he can't think about right now. Right now, all he can think is Peter is leaving and Neal hurts so much at the thought he doesn't want to ever let him go.

His tears start off silent, building with intensity as the feeling of imminent loss swirls inside of him, the hurt and physical pain increasing tenfold the longer it goes on. One sob is preceded by another and to stop the humiliating noise Neal presses his face into Peter's shoulder, tightening his grip on the lapels of the suit bunched in his hands. One warm palm covers his neck and Neal flinches under the touch. Relaxing incrementally as it makes its way lower and settles into gently rubbing his back.

It's only when the rocking starts that Neal knows he has to get his shit together.

"I'm sorry, sorry. I'm so sorry." He pulls away. Or tries at least.

Peter pulls him back in, squeezing him tight and stroking his hair. "You're okay." He repeats the phrase again.

"No, I'm not." Neal lifts his head, slowly this time, but doesn't pull out of his hold. "I'm a mess."

"Neal Caffrey can have an imperfect moment. I won't tell anyone."

Neal wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "You won't tell anyone because they'll be no one who knows me in Washington to tell." He meant it sarcastically, but it came off needy and desperate.

Gaze averted to the floor it hasn't escaped Neal's notice that Peter is still holding him. He wonders what they must look like, but thoughts of what other people might think are far from his mind. All he can think is Peter's leaving and this will be the last memory he has of their friendship.

Peter levels him with a look. "Actually, as it happens, I'm not going to Washington."

Neal's head snaps up instinctively, hands coming up between them and succeeding in pushing them apart. "Why? Peter, is it because of me? Are you in trouble because of me?"

…

Neal words fall out in a rush. The worry is adorable and reaffirms the fact that despite everything Neal's pulled, deep down he really does care a hell of a lot about the people in his life. But despite the utter cuteness of this whole messy affair, Peter doesn't leave him hanging.

"No, nothing like that." He smiles softly, a small part of him mourning the life that should have been, had Neal been granted his freedom as Peter promised. "I decided not to go." He pauses, watches the worry turn to confusion. "Now don't read too much into this-"

"You stayed for me?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "Why do you always have to ruin the surprise?" It was an attempt to bring some joviality to their conversation, but the tears increasing in Neal's eyes suggest he missed the mark.

Peter reaches out to squeeze Neal's arm but instead ends up with Neal slamming into his chest once again, the one being squeezed. A breathy thank you is whispered into his ear and suddenly any lingering doubts Peter had about his decision fade away. Now he just has to tell him about El.