A week had passed since Elizabeth and Neal got that talk. At some point Peter came home and found them on the couch, Neal leaning heavily against his wife's shoulder; fast asleep. El was hugging him close, looking really upset.

Neal didn't go to Mozzie the next day just to tell him he wants to disappear with him. Instead he came by just to see him. Mozzie was doing fine. El stayed with them for a while but at one point she must've been noticing a slight uncomfortableness between them and her. So she had left to grab a cup of coffee and that was when Neal told Mozzie about his troubles.

"Accept your place. Enjoy it. At least you've got a second chance to be with a mom and dad. Get used to your new you. Things will catch up eventually."

Mozzie's advice was the best. It always was. Such a good friend, he was.

Now his leg was plastered and Neal finally got rid of his blather infection. And now that Mozzie would be discharged from the hospital in about this evening Neal was starting to show his bestseller smile more often.

But there was one thing that needed to be done first. And that one thing sure made Peter in particular very very unsure.

It was time to visit Ellen's final rest place at the cemetery.

…

"You sure you are up to this?" Peter asked for the hundredth time. Neal, who was sitting in de backseat of the Taurus, nodded at the mirror image at front to meet his handler eyes. El was just about to get in the car as well but had apparently some trouble with locking the front door.

"I'm ready. Bout time, to be honest. Paying my respects to her is something I needed to do ages ago." But just by saying that, Peter saw the young man's hands fidgeting with his crutches that lay next to him. Peter turned around to face him completely and reached out at his slightly trembling hands. For a second, Neal's pupils started to blow in surprise to meet the power that lay in Peter's brown eyes. They were always so strong. So deep. So knowing. It almost felt uncomfortable of how deep those brown eyes could reach from inside his head. Neal had to swallow. But he noticed that his tremors weren't there anymore.

"Neal. I know you need this. But understand that you need to speak up to me or Elizabeth if something is wrong. Share your feelings. I don't want you to hold something back from us. Can you do that?" Again, Neal nodded as he removed his hand from under his. Just to lay it on top of Peter's.

"I'll try, Peter," he said then; his blue eyes glowing with honesty. Peter chuckled at that.

"Good. See. I already like you better than before, Neal. Now I can actually see what's going on in that thick head of yours." A ruffle through his hear was the last touch he made before he shifted on his driver seat.

Elizabeth chose that moment to get into her seat, completely unaware of the earlier bromance between them.

"Hon, you need to do something about the stupid rusty lock when we get home. My key almost broke in half trying to fit it in the hole." Peter nodded a bit absent and El fastened her seatbelt.

The drive wasn't long. Neal was extremely quiet during the ride but once the car stopped, Neal heaved a deep sigh.

"Alright… Let's do this," he said almost o himself as he gathered his crutches and flowers. El got outside the car first to help their dear friend out.

"Give me the flowers. You need both hands," she tried. Neal just didn't let go and without help he managed himself on his feet. At that time, Peter joined them, looking a bit grim himself. There was an odd atmosphere around the three of them. Neal obviously had changed his mind about wanting them to be around, like this close.

"Alright, Neal. Go ahead. Her eh… gravestone is just under the willow tree over there. We'll be here." Peter said while looking at his wife. Elizabeth understood this and nodded with a smile. They blindly found each other's hand.

"Take your time, sweetie."

Neal cleared his throat and nodded gratefully. As soon as he turned his back to the Burkes both shared one of their secret glances. A part of the old Neal was finally showing. Neal maybe didn't even know this. But this was what the old Neal would want.

With short limping steps Neal got to the willow tree. There was a stone path that was recently swept. There was honestly no dirt on it, which was weird for a cold rainy day like this. At least his white sneaker wouldn't get filthy that much. He hated cleaning shoes. Wait… he did? Well… he did before; before he went all cuckoo's Nest.

A wind fluttered by, causing the collar of his coat flap up against his cheek. It was indeed chilly. But that was not how he felt on the inside. He felt something burning inside his stomach; fear. Afraid to face the name on the dark grey marble stone. Not just any name. The name of Ellen Parker. The woman who knew them both. Always called him Neal for some reason, since the day he said he was someone else. She knew him like his mother and father never had the chance for.

No, this burning feeling wasn't just fear. It was also grief. Those things really doesn't mix well together, did they.

Neal heaved a sigh, His crutch hit the soft wet ground. Here was where this clean path ended. The tree was just a few steps away. Into the grass. His plastic shoe for his plaster tested the grass out for a moment then he went on. Eyes closed for a second. Just one second. Peter and Elle hopefully didn't see that.

Though, he had been here before. He had been at the funeral. But he didn't remember all that much. It was all new to him. Everything was a blur back then.

His heart rate went up a step by seeing the name. Ellen Parker. Carved nicely into the marble stone. The stone was clean and shiny. Except for a few dried leaves and a bit of mud in the corners of the other marble tile that lay horizontal onto the ground. A few roses and white flowers still laid there. Bind with pretty red ribbons. A few of the names were still readable. Hughes. Jones, Dianna. All FBI people. It was sad. Was Ellen that lonely? Why was she so lonely? Neal closed his eyes as he had the urge to rub his eyes. Then he remembered the flowers he got. For her. Only… he had no ribbon for her. He had just yellow and white flowers. Nothing near that grate as the others had.

Neal bit his lip. He couldn't just give her these. They were not good enough for her. He needed roses too. Big white and red roses. With a ribbon that says: For Ellen… the women who dead for no damn reason… Then it hit him. Eyes grew wide, Knees locked in a stiff like position. Cramped.

She dead because of me. She was shot because I went to look for my father. I put her in danger. It was my fault.

Neal's fault. He dropped the damn flowers. He had no right. No God damn right to be here. He should've been the one who got shot. Not Ellen! He did so many stupid things. And all Ellen did was fixing his family problems. She took care of his father as a partner on many jobs. Ellen took care of his mother after she was left alone. She took so good care of him when he was young. Her goodness caused the fall. And all Neal did was making more trouble.

Neal shook his head. The flowers had fallen next to his plastic shoe. And all Neal could think of was how bad he wanted to stump on them. Neal just stood there. All worked up with a grim face. He never saw Peter coming from behind.

The agent said nothing. He just picked up the flowers and handed them back to Neal. Neal startled but never wanted him to see that. Neal cleared his throat and took them, never looked Peter in the eye.

"Ellen didn't have a lot of friends." It was all he could say. Behind him he heard Peter heave a sigh. Then a hand fell on his shoulder.

"She was in witness protection, outer contacts were limited."

Another cool and yet so reassured answer, only Peter could him feel better. Peter had that 'thing' over him. To be there at the right moment. Say the right things. And still be so in the 'out of your hair' kind of way.

"She wasn't just a friend of the family, Peter." Neal suddenly admitted. Tears started welling up.

"I know, kid."

He hand on his shoulder felt good.

"I like to think that she was my guardian angel." The words came out shaky. But Neal managed to keep the tears out of his voice. The tears were only active by dripping down out of the corners from his eyes.

"Let go of the flowers, Neal. Give it to her. She liked those. You told me that, remember?" The hand stroked the side of his neck. Neal gasped.

It was true! How could he forget about that? She really did like these yellow flowers. These were her favorites.

A smile ghosted on his lips.

"They don't have a nice ribbon like the others though."

Peter chuckled warmly.

"That was because you said you didn't want those. You wanted her to hear your words in person. Right?" Neal swallowed. It was true. Again…

"Yeah… sure… uhm… Peter, can I ask you something personal?" Neal suddenly turned towards him. His eyes were big and red rimmed but his face was strong. Almost normal-like.

"Sure."

"When I'm done here, can you drive me to her home? Please." Peter frowned at that.

"Eh… sure. But why? All her personal belongings are taken away a month ago. I'm not sure if you will find what you're looking for, Neal." Neal's eyes grew.

His paintings, she had gathered over the years of taking care for him. Were they gone too? She always said she wanted to be buried with the portrait he made from her!

"I need…" Neal bit his lip. It sounded all so silly now. Maybe she was joking back then. Maybe she didn't want it now that he had caused her dead. And… to be really honest. The coffin was already in the ground.

Her body was sealed shut under the cold ground.

Peter must've see or felt that something was going to happen. He already grabbed ahold of Neal's shivering frame.

"Neal? Buddy?"

"Her body… Oh my god… She left her body. She is gone. She is never coming back. She is never coming back." He shook his head as he grabbed Peter's strong arms. The crutches fell onto the wet ground. Knees buckled. And the tears fell down like heavy rain.

"She is never coming back. She is never coming back!"

…

"What did you expect that would happen, Dr. Klimt? God you had seen him, breaking down like that. It was just awful." Peter drank a glass of water that was handed to him by the doctor. She sat behind her desk with a grim face, obviously moved by Peter's words.

"Agent Burke. I understand you completely, but think about the fact that mister Caffrey never got the change to grief.

"He… I-It was like he was there for the first time. He didn't even remember how her grave looked like. He didn't even remember the flowers with a big red ribbon he already gave at the funeral. It was… odd. So odd." Peter put a hand over his mouth to stop himself from embarrassing his partner affront of his doctor like this. Luckily, the patient was with Elizabeth on a different floor, visiting Mozz.

"Give it time, Mr. Burke. Neal would be fine. In fact…" Annabel had to stop for a moment. Her forehead was knitted in to a frown. Peter couldn't read her thoughts and it made him very nervous.

"In fact what?" he asked. Then Annabel smiled reassuringly. Her hand folded in each other as elbows rested on her desk.

"Maybe it's time to take Neal back at the office again."

Peter snorted.

"What?" he wasn't sure it was some kind of a sick joke. Neal wasn't going to the office like that. Or… was he? Neal might as well say yes immediately if he asked him. The kid was bored as hell. Besides, for some reason Neal had been growing attached to him. Everywhere Peter went, Neal was there too; just talking and asking many questions about his cases and stuff. Except for the bathroom's and bedtime's of course. Elle thought it was cute. But Peter knew this was leading to something much more dangerous. Well… not like that. But a bored Neal (no matter which Neal they were referring to) was never good. Mozzie had already been warning them about it. And since his heath was back to normal, except for the cast, it was maybe indeed time to take him back to work. Just for an hour or so.

"You really think he is up for that? He is still so fragile at times." The doctor just looked at him for a moment.

"You know him the best. And for what I see, you already agreeing with this, aren't you? Well, that's great. I think it will help. Let him be in his neutral environment. Give him some file he needs to read. Maybe that will speed things up. For what I'm hearing, Neal Caffrey is this close for being his old self again. All he needs now is a push."

The doctor smiled. And Pete sure as hell believed her.

Although it was too good to be true.

"Alright. Thank you for your time, Dr. Klimt." He gave her a strong handshake and walked out of her office.

Let's do this!

…

TBC

…

A/N: I am not gonna apologize for my long absence. I actually did you guy's a big favor. I had the mean familiar Writtersblock and sure as hell messed everything up if I posted the other other chapter. Really, I had this chapter ready for months. But it was awful. Believe me. Now I just hope you guy's still like this story. Was this chapter okay enough or should I be worried I lost the mojo for good?

Let me know!

X

Josie (but not the same Josie who killed Dean and Sam Winchesters grandfather while being possessed by Abadon)