A/N: This is it. The final chapter. I had so much fun with this story, I would have loved to continue. But while I was planning this chapter, it felt like I had accomplished what I had set out to do. Of course, there are always more stories to tell, and maybe I will. Until then, thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me. Your kind words and encouragement have meant the world to me. I hope you can enjoy this ending. It's what I would have loved to see on the show. And even though it's not quite time yet, I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas!

No matter what it said on his headstone, death had, in fact, not come for Neal. But there had been days when he had felt dead inside. When everyone you loved thought you were gone, then who the hell were you? That question had haunted Neal for most of his life, and he had been close to losing himself in the streets of Paris forever.

It was a beautiful way to go, he had thought. The evanescence of Neal Caffrey in the City of Light. He had almost made his peace with that.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Because there was nothing more beautiful than the soft solidity of Sara's body, pressed firmly against his, and the million different kinds of red that shimmered in her hair in the early morning sunlight. It made him want to capture her likeness on an empty canvas, though he could never do her justice. It made him want to kiss her until her lips were swollen, which would be an easier and a lot more pleasurable task. And it made him feel alive.

More alive than he had ever been.

"I just realized that we never have to get out of this bed if we don't want to." Sara stretched lazily, like a cat, causing the sheets they had gotten tangled up in to slip.

Neal grinned and traced invisible patterns on her exposed skin. "No regrets then?"

"About quitting Sterling Bosch? No."

"I hear a 'but' coming."

Sara shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it just feels a little strange, not knowing what's next. Doesn't it?"

"Not really. Because I know exactly what happens next," Neal said, ripping away the sheets completely, and he gently nudged Sara's legs apart as he shifted on top of her. He no longer had a bulky anklet to worry about and he had a lot of ideas how to make use of that, many more than they had tried out so far.

Of course, that's when the door opened and Elizabeth walked in.

"Neal, do you...?" Her voice faltered at the same time that Sara yelped in surprise and Neal shot upright, which, given his and Sara's complete nakedness, in hindsight wasn't a very good idea.

"Oh God!" Elizabeth was carrying the baby on her hip and she seemed torn between covering her own eyes or her sons. "Sorry, sorry! I'm just gonna..." She pointed vaguely away from them and fled the room, banging the door shut behind her.

Neal turned around to face Sara, and because there was nothing else they could do, they burst out laughing.

"I told you I should have gotten a new hotel room!" Sara lamented, burying her face in her hands.

"And I told you that as long as you can't go back home, I want you to share mine," Neal replied.

"Is this home?" Sara asked.

Neal pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Can you think of a better one?"

"I guess this does take me back to when my mother walked in on me and my first real boyfriend," Sara admitted, her cheeks still flaming red.

When she looked at Neal as if expecting him to agree, he could only give a little shake of his head. "I wouldn't know."

"Your mother never caught you making out?" Sara asked skeptically. "When you must have had girls lining up outside your bedroom window?"

"Okay, somehow that doesn't sound like a compliment," Neal said, frowning. "And my mother wasn't around much."

Sara's smile faded and she squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Neal."

"It's fine," he said, shaking off the memory. "Apparently, I can make up for it now."

"That's great, but leave me out of it next time. Because this is really embarrassing," Sara moaned.

"Actually, I think we should be grateful this wasn't Peter."

Looking mortified, Sara got up and started dressing.

"I know this isn't the Four Seasons,but it's also a lot less expensive," Neal said, watching her. "You were the one who pointed out that we're both out of a job right now."

Sara rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, but come on, it's not as if we don't have any money. Right?"

Neal cocked his head. "Are you asking me if I have a secret stash of stolen money?"

Pausing, the look on Sara's face sharpened. "Well, do you?"

"Do I have what? Secrets? Or money?"

"Both."

Neal took a moment to think about his answer. Eventually, he held out his hands to Sara. Her eyes were still narrowed, but she let him lace their fingers together. "I suppose I do. And if you want me to, I will tell you all about it. But I don't actually want any of it. The secrets. The money. All I want is a fresh start. With you."

A smile tugged at Sara's lips and Neal could feel her melt into him again. "Well, we could have used some of the money," she joked.

"I hear Sterling Bosch pays its top executives top dollar – or pound. Even without severance pay, there should be plenty of that left," Neal replied cheekily.

"Oh, so I'll be the one providing for us then?"

Neal grinned at her. "This is the 21st century."

"Shut up and get dressed!" Sara was laughing as she shoved him away. "I'm not going down there alone."

He did as he was told, and when they were both ready, they made their way down from the third floor into the Burke's open kitchen. The breakfast table was already set, but the baby was the only one sitting in his chair. Elizabeth was making eggs, and a platter with French toast was sitting on the counter.

"Can you take that?" she asked, nodding towards the French toast. "Eggs will be ready in a minute."

"Um, sure," Sara said, exchanging a quick glance with Neal. "And, uh, sorry about earlier."

Elizabeth looked up from the stove. Her smile was a little awkward but mostly genuine. "No, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." She chuckled. "I guess I'm not used to the house being this full. It's been just Peter and me for so long."

"We can totally get out of your hair," Sara offered quickly.

"Oh no, no, that's not what I'm saying." Elizabeth laid a hand on her arm. "Just... maybe lock the door next time."

"You could have knocked," Neal pointed out.

Elizabeth shot him a look that made him realize that maybe Sara was right. Maybe he didn't need to relive all those experiences he had missed out on as a kid. "This is still my house, Neal."

"Is this the 'as long as you live under my roof, you'll follow my rules' speech?" he asked, winking at her. "Because you can feel free to practice it on me until the little man is old enough."

"Oh God, I hope not," Elizabeth laughed.

They settled at the table, and Elizabeth brought the eggs and a bowl with whatever was on the menu for the baby this morning. Neal was watching his namesake taste the first spoonful of it when the backdoor opened and Mozzie waltzed in.

"Oh, good, you haven't started yet. I brought grapefruit," he announced and reached inside a plastic bag to place one on each of their plates. "It's important to watch your vitamin C intake."

"Um, thanks, Moz," Neal said haltingly, his eyes going back and forth between the French toast that smelled heavenly and the giant round fruit.

"You're welcome," Mozzie nodded and sat in one of the two remaining empty seats.

When Peter came back from walking Satchmo, he did a little double take upon seeing them all at his breakfast table.

He let Satchmo off his leash, and after having a drink in the kitchen, the Lab plopped down next to table, panting happily. Peter came to stand behind Elizabeth, rested his hands on her shoulders, and bent down to kiss the baby's cheek.

"Sara, I didn't know you were staying with us," he said when he straightened up again.

"Now that she's no longer working for Sterling Bosch, she had to check out of her hotel," Elizabeth explained to him.

"It's only temporary, though," Sara added.

"Uh-huh, I've heard that one before," Peter muttered with a knowing smirk and gave Elizabeth's shoulders a little squeeze, which she answered with a smile. When Peter sat down and found the grapefruit sitting on his plate, he frowned. "What's this?"

"That... is the way to a long and happy life," Mozzie told him.

"Thanks, but I already have everything I need for that," Peter said and reached across the table for Elizabeth's hand – which was an impressive move to soften her up and make sure she wouldn't make him eat the grapefruit.

It didn't have the same effect on Mozzie. "That's cute, but there's no scientific basis for love as a way to lower your cholesterol levels."

"But it does wonders for certain other levels in your body," Neal chimed in.

"I think we already had enough of that this morning," Elizabeth said, giving him a pointed look.

"Why? What happened this morning?" Peter asked sharply.

"Nothing," Sara, Neal, and Elizabeth said in unison, which only made Peter narrow his eyes at them in suspicion.

Thankfully, Mozzie distracted him. "I can cut it for you if you don't know how," he offered, still talking about the grapefruit.

"I don't need you to cut my breakfast for me, thank you very much," Peter said, shaking his head. "And when exactly did you move in here again?"

"Oh no, I'm just here to take Neal Junior to the zoo," Mozzie replied lightly.

Peter seemed torn between shooting Neal a dark look because of the Neal Junior thing and having a wordless conversation with his wife about why he wasn't informed about his son's activities. He settled on the latter, but Elizabeth was having none of it.

"I told you I have a meeting at the office today. I can't just let Yvonne deal with the fallout of what we did all on her own. And I'm not going to take Neal with me when he can have a great time with Uncle Mozzie instead." That last part she said directly to her son, tapping his nose. He laughed, not knowing what was being said, but happy to have his mother's love and attention.

"Uncle Mozzie?" Peter repeated dubiously.

Giving him time to mull over that moniker, Neal said to Elizabeth. "I didn't know you needed a babysitter. I could have watched him."

"You can come to the zoo with us. It's very educational," Mozzie said.

"No, you need to go and talk to June," Elizabeth cut him off.

Neal raised an eyebrow. "Is this your way of kicking me out after all?"

"Of course not. But people are starting to talk about your miraculous return, and you need to tell her before she hears it from someone else," Elizabeth said softly.

Knowing she was right, Neal sighed. "I was just hoping to avoid another 'I'm sorry, but I'm not dead' conversation."

Sara laid a hand on his thigh, hidden underneath the table. "I can come with you. If I managed to forgive you, then June will, too."

Neal rested a hand on top of hers and smiled at her in thanks.

"Also, June kept all your stuff, so if I were you, I'd be extra nice to her," Mozzie advised him.

That caught Peter's attention. "You're not going to bring all that stuff over here, are you?"

"Actually, I do think a walk-in closet would be a nice addition to this house," Neal said, grinning.

"More clothes would mean less nakedness," Elizabeth added innocently.

"What?" Peter snapped. "Exactly who saw whom naked? And do I even want to know why?"

"It was an accident," Elizabeth told him. "But I don't think anyone at this table needs to worry about eating only grapefruit for breakfast."

Peter choked on his coffee, and Neal decided that this was the perfect time to get out of this conversation.

"You're right. I really should talk to June." He stood, took Sara's hand, and picked up a French toast with the other. "Thanks for breakfast, Elizabeth. Have fun at the zoo, little brother."

Sticking the toast between his teeth, he ruffled the baby's hair, and then they rushed out of there.

It was surreal to stand on the sidewalk and look up at June's house again. He'd thought that he had left all of this behind forever. He was glad for the second chance. He just wasn't sure what he needed to do to deserve it.

"Maybe I should go in first. Prepare her at least a little bit," Sara suggested.

Neal nodded and let go of her hand. He didn't know what she was going to say to June, but he trusted her. And so he waited for her sign that it was okay to come inside.

Walking up to the front door, Neal flashed back to the first time he had come here. How grateful he had been to June for seeing him as a person, not as an ex-con, and for trusting him, though, in all honesty, she'd had absolutely no reason to do so. And then, the look on Peter's face when he had seen the splendor his CI would be living in, waking up to the Manhattan skyline every day and drinking coffee a government employee couldn't even afford.

Yes, good times. Great times, even.

But the funny thing was, what lay ahead of him now looked even better.

As soon as Neal entered the hallway, it was Bugsy's high-pitched barking that welcomed him. The pug was beside himself with joy and almost stumbled over his little legs in his hurry to run up to Neal. It was very similar to the greeting he had gotten from Satchmo. But since the Lab was getting older now, it had been less of a frenzy and more of a wet and happy slobbering. Still, there was something to be said for a dog's forgiveness that was unconditional and instantaneous.

When Neal straightened up again after he had bent down to cuddle Bugsy and calm him down, he was met with the real challenge. June stood, in complete contrast to her dog, perfectly still and composed, and as always immaculately dressed. Her eyes, however, were vibrant.

"Neal." The way she said his name. It wasn't a question. It wasn't an accusation. It just was.

"June, I'm so sorry..." he began.

"Oh, come here," she cut him off and expectantly held out her arms for him to give her a hug.

"You're not mad?" Neal asked, surprised, when he stepped back again.

"Goodness gracious, no. I'm too old for such nonsense." June chuckled. "Now, we're going to sit down, open a nice bottle, and you can tell me exactly what happened."

It was a little early in the day for drinking, but they didn't dare defy June's wishes. And one glass couldn't hurt. So they sat down and Neal launched into his story once again. Hopefully, for the last time.

"Oh dear, I think my Byron would have loved this," said June and patted Neal's hand. "And I'm sure he couldn't have been prouder that you were wearing his suits. Speaking of which..."

She stood and motioned them to follow her upstairs. It was like the past year had never even happened. Nothing had been touched. Everything that Neal hadn't moved into storage was still there. And yes, that included almost the entire closet of Byron Ellington's and later Neal Caffrey's suits.

"I can't believe you really kept it all," Neal marveled. He suddenly felt very rich. In family, and friends, and really, really good-looking suits.

"I couldn't bring myself to give any of it away again," June admitted. "Not after first losing my husband and then losing you, too. Maybe it was my small part in keeping you alive."

Neal couldn't say anything. He just smiled at her.

Yes, he was very rich, indeed.

"So, do you need any help moving back in?" June asked cheerfully.

"Oh." Neal glanced at Sara.

"And by you I mean both of you, of course," June immediately picked up on that. "We can have the same agreement. You take care of Bugsy when I need you to and keep an old lady some company every now and then, and we're good."

"Actually, we don't know yet what we're going to do, but thank you, June. And no matter what happens, we'll definitely be back for more of that wine and your wonderful company," Neal promised her.

June looked from him to Sara and back. "Okay, I think I will let you two discuss this amongst yourselves," she said and smiled before she left them alone.

"You do know that we, meaning you, cannot leave until you're off the No Fly 'because I'm dead' List, right?" Sara asked.

"I know," Neal nodded.

"Then why don't you want to move back in here? I thought you loved this place."

"I do," he confirmed.

Sara waited for him to add something. When he didn't, she drew her own conclusions. "But... you want to stay with Peter and Elizabeth."

Neal didn't say anything, but he didn't need to either.

"Fine." Sara sighed. "As long as you don't expect me to have sex in that house ever again."

Neal chuckled. "I know it got a little crowded this morning, but you can't argue with the food, or the company." When Sara still didn't look entirely convinced, he stepped out onto the rooftop terrace. The view was every bit as awe-inspiring as he remembered. He really had missed this place.

Sara followed him outside. "You can't argue with this either," she said, marveling at the beauty of New York City.

"But all of this… it really is only temporary. For now. And moving back in here... it would feel like a do-over. Not a fresh start," Neal tried to explain.

And Sara seemed to understand. With a soft smile on her face, she walked over to him. "Then what is it you do want to do?"

Neal wrapped his arms around her waist, taking his time to answer. "I think… we should go look for your sister," he said eventually.

"What?" Sara snapped, her voice sharp. She stepped back out of his arms, and all the ease of this moment had fallen away, replaced by shock. And possibly anger.

"I know you've been looking, and there was nothing," Neal said quickly before she could lay into him. "And if you've made your peace with that, I'm sorry for bringing it up. But I don't think you have."

Sara's eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed together in a thin line, but she made no move to stop him.

"People don't just disappear, Sara. I'm living proof that they don't," Neal continued cautiously, encouraged. "There's an answer out there, and if I have to decide right now what it is that I want, then I want to be the one to give it to you." He dared to reach for her hand. "As far as adventures go, I can't think of anything better."

He paused, searching her face. It was completely closed off to him, and she had her arms folded like armor, but underneath all that her chest was heaving. Neal figured she was either going to kiss him or punch him in the mouth.

So when she laid her hands on his face, he wasn't completely sure which option she had chosen until he felt her lips on his. Relieved, he pulled her closer and let the kiss run its course.

"For a second there, I wasn't sure what you were going to do," he said afterwards.

"For a second there, I wasn't sure either," Sara replied with a dark chuckle. But she sobered quickly and looked him straight in the eye. "You know this is crazy, right? It feels like we just got rid of some of your baggage and now you want to go and open mine?"

"Isn't that how relationships work?" Neal asked. "To share the load as much as the good stuff?"

"We were always better at the good stuff, though."

"This could be good, too."

"Or not." Sara shook her head. "It's been so many years."

Neal brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. "But isn't any kind of answer better than nothing at all?"

Slowly, a smile returned to Sara's lips. "I'm beginning to think there might be more than just one answer."

"There usually is."

"With you, anyway."

Neal grinned. "Part of my irresistible charm."

"Then you better put that to good use and figure this out," Sara said, and Neal opened his mouth to respond, but she wouldn't let him speak.

Leaning against the balustrade, with the wind in their hair, they stood in each other's arms. They weren't as far up as the Empire State Building, but it still felt like the world was at their feet. They weren't in a hurry, though.

Their future wasn't going anywhere. Which was the biggest marvel of all.

Knowing he had one. Knowing they did.

If being back at June's had felt unreal, stepping off the elevator on the 21st floor at Federal Plaza was like a throwback to a previous life. Some agents were already calling it a day and were just on their way home. But at White Collar, most desks were still manned, and so Neal got a wide range of reactions from disbelieving looks and shaking heads to pats on the back and spontaneous applause.

Peter had asked Neal to come in, and he had a pretty good idea as to why and that he wouldn't like it. Still, he was glad for the chance to come back here and see everyone. He also didn't fail to notice that his former desk was empty.

Resisting the urge to go over there and check if it really hadn't been touched, Neal headed upstairs into Peter's office.

"Enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame?" Peter asked with a wry grin when he entered.

"I saved you an autograph," Neal replied as he plopped down into a chair.

"I'll be sure to hang that on my wall," Peter said drily. "Thanks for coming in, Neal."

"Of course. You call, I come running. That's how it worked, right?"

"You and I remember things very differently sometimes."

They shared a look and a laugh, but then Peter came right to it. "James and the lawyers are up in interrogation. He is asking to talk to you." The way Peter said it caused Neal to suspect that 'asking' wasn't exactly the right word for it.

"I figured he might."

Peter leaned forward in his chair. "You don't have to do this."

"But if I don't, he might start talking about the wrong things," Neal reminded them both.

"You can't let him hold that over your head forever."

Neal let his eyes wander around the office that hadn't changed one bit. With one exception. There was a new picture on Peter's desk, and Neal didn't need the reflection in the window to know that it was a photo of little Neal looking wide-eyed into the camera.

"Small price to pay," he said.

Peter nodded, and together they went upstairs past Jones and Diana and the marshals. But Peter wouldn't go inside the interrogation room with him where James was waiting, and James asked his lawyer to leave. So once again, they were alone. Or as alone as one could be in an FBI interrogation room with glass walls.

Neal noticed, however, that the light of the camera in the corner and the microphone went out. Strangely, that made him feel better, because Peter was the only one who could have given that order. Since James had sent away his lawyer, he had no right to privacy. But Peter was giving it to them anyway.

It reminded Neal what was waiting for him outside of this room.

"What do you want?" he asked impatiently after sitting down.

"Is it so wrong for a father to want to see his son?" James asked in return.

Neal wasn't interested in engaging. "Is that it? Do you want to blackmail me into coming to visit you?"

Again, James didn't really answer. "Maybe I would just like for you to acknowledge that I am the one you owe this life to."

Neal snorted. "I think biology deserves more credit for that one than you do."

"That's not what I meant. I mean you being back here. It's only because the Panthers are no longer around, isn't it?" James pointed out, and it was wrong, so very wrong, but he was right.

Neal clenched his jaw. "Why did you do it? Why did you kill Woodford? Whatever else you've done, you've never been a killer. Not like that."

"I didn't plan on killing him. I just needed answers."

He could have meant answers about what had happened with Neal, but he knew that wasn't it. Not really. "You wanted him to tell you where he had stashed all the money from their previous heists," Neal realized.

At least, James didn't try to deny it. "Being a fugitive is hard without the necessary funds. You of all people should know that. And I thought he owed me, owed us, for getting you killed."

"But he didn't tell you."

"No. He figured out who I was and that the FBI was looking for me, and then I didn't have a choice."

Neal swallowed all of the feelings that were trying to rise to the surface in response to that. "So it's money then. Is that what you want? Because you can have it."

"Are you offering to pay me for my silence, Neal?" James asked. "I don't think Peter would approve."

"No, he wouldn't. But it's like you said. I do know what it's like to be on the other side."

"Careful, Neal. You don't want to end up on my side of the table," James warned.

"Is that a threat?"

"I wouldn't throw my own son into jail."

Neal laughed humorlessly. "Oh, you're okay with shooting me, but that's where you draw the line?"

"I would have never pulled the trigger, Neal," James insisted.

"Excuse me if I choose not to believe you."

James looked like he wanted to move towards him but knew he couldn't if he didn't want the marshals to come running in. "What do I have to do to make you believe me?"

"Nothing. I want nothing from you," Neal said flatly. "I thought I had to know you to know myself. But I finally realized that your choices don't have to be my choices."

"And what is your choice, Neal?"

He looked into James' face where he had once searched for answers, and suddenly it was the easiest thing to get up and walk away. "To be better," he said and left the room.

The lawyers and the marshals looked at him as if they expected him to say something. But he didn't. What would happen next wasn't up to him. So Peter asked him to wait in his office. Neal wasn't sure why he wanted him to stick around, but he agreed.

And then he tried not to go crazy as he waited.

It felt like forever until Peter joined him in his office again. "James is pleading guilty. He'll take a deal and be back in prison by tonight."

Which meant no trial. No chance that any of this would come back to haunt them. It was over.

Neal sank into his chair. "Good."

"I'm sorry it had to end this way," Peter said as he rounded his desk.

"It's not your fault, Peter. And from where I'm sitting, it turned out a lot better than I ever thought it would," Neal replied. As he had waited for Peter to return, he had worried that he might have antagonized James too much. But maybe, for the first time in his life, he had chosen to be better, too.

"So, are you giving me a ride home?" Neal asked, winking at Peter.

But Peter still looked oddly serious. "Actually, there is something else," he said. He took a folder out of his desk and stood to hand it to him.

With a curious frown, Neal opened it and found lots of paperwork inside. Paperwork with his name on it. "Peter. What is this?"

"The resurrection of Neal Caffrey," Peter said, and now he smiled. "Welcome back to the living."

Neal stared at his brand-new passport. A real one, this time. "How did you…?"

"I called in a couple of favors. I owe a lot of people a lot of thank you dinners. Not sure how I'm going to tell El about that."

"Peter, you didn't have to do this," Neal said quietly.

"I know. But I wanted to," Peter replied with a shrug, though his words were anything but casual. "So, this is it. You're officially a free man."

Neal couldn't help himself. He looked up at Peter to make sure this wasn't a trick. Freedom – the kind that was given, not stolen – had eluded him for too long. Maybe even for all of his life. There was a grin on Peter's face, a grin that had a little bit of disbelief mixed in but not falsehood. It was real, and it was kind, and it was everything.

Dropping the folder on the desk, Neal stood to face Peter, and the only answer he could think of was to pull him into his arms for a hug. "Thank you, Peter. For everything."

"Wasn't me. This was you, Neal."

He decided not to argue, but he silently gave thanks that of all the cities in the world where he could have committed bond forgery, he had chosen the one that was in the jurisdiction of one Peter Burke.

"Aw, isn't this adorable?" he heard a familiar teasing voice from the open doorway.

"Yes, I think I may need a tissue."

Peter and Neal stepped back and turned to face Jones and Diana. "I think we're the ones who will need those tissues because you're leaving us," Peter said to the latter.

"You're going back to D.C.?" Neal hadn't been aware that she had made her decision, but, of course, Peter would be the first to know.

"You know I love it here, but this opportunity is just too good to pass up," Diana replied. "And it will be great for Theo."

"Couldn't say no to his grandparents offering free day care, huh?" Peter teased.

"Oh, you have no idea how hard it is to find a good babysitter."

"Actually, I do. Ours tend to move in with us."

Jones seemed eager to change the topic to something other than babies. "Well, looks like we'll be one man…"

"… woman…" Diana corrected.

"… down," Jones finished. "Or maybe not?" he asked, looking at Neal.

Neal grinned. "It's been boring around here without me, hasn't it?"

"That's one word for it," Peter said. "Stress-free would be another one."

"Less annoying," Diana added.

"And less insane," Jones nodded.

Neal grimaced. "Okay, I love you, too, guys."

"Come on," Diana laughed. "Let's get out of here. Drinks are on me."

"That's what I like to hear," Jones agreed enthusiastically, but Peter hesitated and glanced at this watch.

"Don't worry. I got permission from Elizabeth," Diana told him.

Peter made a face. "I wasn't going to ask for permission. I was just going to call and tell her."

"Whatever you say, boss. But she already knows. So get moving." Diana ushered all of them out of the office.

On their way down the stairs, Neal sidled up to Peter. "You were so going to ask Elizabeth for permission."

Peter met his gaze and smiled knowingly. "Mock me all you want, but you will find yourself in the same position sooner than you might think."

Neal never got the chance to respond until later when they were sitting in a bar and Jones challenged Diana to a game of pool, leaving Neal and Peter alone at their table. That's when Neal told him about their plans to look for Sara's sister.

"That's a bold move," Peter said, sipping his beer.

"It's not really a 'move,'" Neal replied, frowning.

"Maybe not. But you only just got back together, and her sister is obviously of great importance to Sara. If you don't find her, this could be make or break for you."

Neal understood what Peter was saying and the thought had crossed his mind, but playing it safe was not what he had asked Sara to say yes to. It wasn't what they had fallen in love with. "We've always been like that, though." He shrugged. "We can't all be Peter and Elizabeth."

Peter grinned. "No, but if you do need a best man… or a wedding planner, for that matter. El has a couple of ideas."

"I'm sure she does," Neal said, grimacing. "Your hints are becoming less subtle every time, you do know that."

"You were the one who proposed to her in front of everyone at the warehouse," Peter pointed out.

Neal sighed. "That wasn't a proposal."

"What was it then?" Peter asked dubiously. "Because I only got down on one knee once in my life. Well, twice. But only for one woman."

"I know. I was there the second time. But in our case, it was just… the end of a conversation we've been having."

Peter snorted. "You must be quite the conversationalist."

Neal shot him a look. "How long have you known me?"

"Long enough to know that you're holding back."

"Well, you have to admit that you and Elizabeth set an impossibly high standard. And last time I checked, it was considered a good idea to take some time to think about life-altering decisions. Maybe that's what I'm doing."

"Could have fooled me," Peter teased him.

"Never too late to start," Neal replied.

"Okay, that's fair," Peter agreed. "If you need to think about whether you love her enough to spend the rest of your life with her, by all means. But if you're wondering whether you're good enough, then you're wasting your time."

"Wow. You really want that best man job, don't you?" Neal said, but he couldn't help the smile on his face.

"That and… I want you to be happy, Neal," Peter said, and he wasn't joking this time. "I can't tell you what that real life you were searching for should look like. But I can tell you that when you're lucky enough to meet your favorite person, you should take it." It was good advice, and the look on Peter's face when he thought of Elizabeth made it all the more believable.

His smile widening, Neal leaned forward. "Wait, so... I'm not your favorite person?"

Peter gave a little laugh. "You mean, instead of the woman I have been in love with for seventeen years, three months, and eleven days?"

"Wow, you just had that number ready, huh?"

"Contrary to what you might believe, you and Mozzie are not the only geniuses around here."

"Okay, I get it. Can't compete with Elizabeth," Neal conceded. "But am I top three at least?"

"I can give you top five, maybe." Peter smirked.

Neal raised his glass. "Now that sounds real enough to me."

They clinked glasses. After taking another sip of his beer, Peter asked, "But you're coming back, right?"

"I said goodbye to New York twice now. It never stuck. So I don't think this one will either," Neal replied. "We'll just have to see where Sara's sister takes us."

"For what it's worth, I do hope you find her," Peter said.

"So do I. Who knows? Maybe it's our true calling. Maybe… we'll open a PI firm once we're back."

Peter guffawed, causing Neal to raise an eyebrow. "Not in the way you're thinking," he said.

"No?" Peter asked. "I'm thinking the two of you would keep breaking and entering to obtain information illegally, except you would call it government-sanctioned because you'd be paying taxes for once."

"Okay. Maybe it is what you're thinking." Neal grinned. "But there are other people out there who deserve closure, just like Sara. I could think of worse things than giving it to them." He paused. "And if the New York White Collar unit happened to be in over their heads, we'd be willing to help them, too. For a small fee, of course."

"Naturally," Peter snorted. "The FBI doesn't hire PIs. But we do hire special agents."

"I think we both know I would be kicked out of Quantico within a week," Neal said.

Peter didn't seem inclined to disagree. "Consultants then."

"Thanks, Peter, but I need to do this. For now." Neal looked over at the pool table where Jones was getting his ass kicked by Diana. "Maybe don't throw out my badge just yet, though."

Peter laughed. "Sounds like a deal."

Jones and Diana had finished their game and returned to their table. "I need to get back to Theo before I lose another babysitter," Diana said. "But Jones here is looking for someone else to show him what a terrible pool player he is."

"Another time, Jones. It's getting late. I should go home, too," Peter said, standing up. "Actually, we should go home," he corrected, looking at Neal.

"Come on, Caffrey," Jones said before Neal could respond. "If you win, you no longer owe me."

Neal had half-risen from his chair but now he sank bank down. "You go ahead," he told Peter. "I'll be in later."

"Okay, but don't stay out too late," Peter replied.

"Why? Will you try to ground me again?" Neal smirked.

"Better not push it, Neal."

"And you better not cheat either," Jones added.

"I hate to break it to you, Jones, but he could probably beat you with one hand tied behind his back," Peter said, patted his agent on the shoulder, and laughed as he left with Diana.

When Jones turned to look at Neal, he emptied his glass and flashed him a smile.

"Shall we?"

When Peter got home, he had expected everyone to be in bed already. But the lights were still on in the living room, the radio was softly playing in the background, and he found El sitting on the floor, bouncing the baby in her lap. Satchmo was lying on the couch, his head resting on his paws, his eyes on El and Neal but only half-open as if he, too, was wondering why it wasn't bed time yet.

"Hey, hon," Peter said as he slipped out of his jacket and threw it over the back of the couch. "What's going on?" Ever since they had come home from Paris, they had returned to a fairly rigorous schedule when it came to putting down the baby. And so Peter immediately worried that something might be wrong.

But Elizabeth greeted him with a smile, though there was a hint of exhaustion in it that Peter knew only too well. "I don't know. He just wouldn't go to bed without a goodnight kiss from Daddy."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Not in so many words."

Peter grinned, and he was about to walk over to them, happy to oblige, but El raised a hand. "No, hon, stay over there."

Confused, Peter stopped, but he quickly understood. El had set the baby down and now that he had spotted Peter, he was beginning to crawl or creep or scoot towards him. It was hard to describe his movements exactly. But his eyes were as round and bright as twin moons and peals of laughter were coming off his lips – he was clearly delighted to have figured out how this worked.

It made Peter's heart burst with joy and pride as he knelt to wait for his son to reach him. "See, I told you all that tummy time would pay off," he said to El.

She had both hands pressed to her mouth as she watched, but when she lowered them now, they revealed a smile. "I never said it wouldn't. I just didn't want you to push him too hard. He's already growing up so fast."

"He's only seven months old. I'm pretty sure we have at least seventeen years and a couple of months left," Peter replied. "Judging by how many people are moving back into this house at the moment, probably more than that."

Elizabeth laughed, but her eyes still glistened with the telltale signs of unshed tears. So Peter added, "And we will enjoy each and every wonderful minute of it."

Her smile softened. "Well, this very wonderful minute you should stop our son from disappearing under the coffee table."

Peter had gotten completely lost in looking at her, but El's words snapped him out of it, and he saw that Neal had indeed deviated from his course. It caught Peter by surprise. He wasn't used to having to watch out for that. So far, rolling back and forth, sitting up, or standing on his feet when being held up by someone had been the limits of his son's movements.

Quickly, Peter snatched him up. "This is going to be a whole new ballgame from now on, isn't it?" he marveled.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"Are we ready for that?" Peter wondered, walking over to her.

"Are you?"

"I don't know," he admitted, looking from his wife to his son in his arms. "But I'm glad I'll be there to find out." Peter had never actually believed that James would hurt his son or send him to prison again. Or rather, he had never let himself believe that. But now that the threat was truly gone, he realized what it meant. His son's first word. His first step. He would get to see it all.

"Everything worked out with James then?" El read his thoughts with remarkable ease.

"By now, he's already back in jail."

"No trial?"

"No, he took a deal," Peter told her and El exhaled. "I also gave Neal his new passport."

That one El hadn't expected. "What did he say?"

"He looked about as surprised as you do. I would have told you about it earlier, but I didn't know I'd get it today. And when I did, I just wanted him to have it. Felt like it was time," he tried to explain that moment in his office between him and Neal.

The smile on El's face told him that she knew better what he was feeling than he could have ever found the words to express. "Of course, you did, hon."

"So, I guess, whether we're ready or not, things are going to change," Peter realized.

"Well, how about we start by getting our little explorer to bed?" El said, smiling up at him.

Peter agreed and they carried their son upstairs. They put him in his crib, kissed him on both cheeks, and told him how much they loved him. And then they stood there and watched as little Neal lay on his back, happily laughing up at them, perfectly uninterested in going to sleep.

"I blame Mozzie," Peter said, looking from his wide-awake son to El.

She chuckled. "He's really great with him, though."

"Then maybe he should put him to bed," Peter suggested.

"I could call him."

"We'd never live that down."

"Probably not."

El rested her head on Peter's shoulder and they laughed. "I feel like I could just stand here and watch him forever," Peter said, wrapping an arm around her.

"If only he would let us." El sighed wistfully. "Forever is a long time to stop him from leaving this house."

"He can leave. As long as he comes back," Peter said. "Seems to work with the other Neal."

"I know it did, and I'm so glad we got him back. But, hon, we can never – ever – lose either one of them again." El tore her eyes away from their son to look at him. "Or each other."

Peter nodded as he cupped her cheek. "I told you before. That's impossible."

El smiled and they allowed that certainty to settle between them while Neal kept babbling merrily.

"What do you think he's telling us?" Peter wondered.

"He's probably telling you about all the animals he saw at the zoo today."

"Why just me?"

"Because he already told me earlier," El said. "You should wait for the story about the giraffes."

And so they waited until Neal eventually seemed to tire of entertaining them. Peter gave the mobile Mozzie and Neal had made for him another spin as El hummed one last lullaby, and finally their son's eyes fluttered shut.

Barely daring to breathe too loud, Peter and Elizabeth tiptoed out of the room.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" El asked as they quietly made their way back down to the living room.

"I did. I'm really going to miss her, though," Peter said. Going to the office without hearing Diana say 'Morning, boss' would take some getting used to.

"I know, hon." El ran a hand up and down his arm and he felt a little better. "Where's Neal?"

"He stayed at the bar with Jones when Diana and I left," he replied. "Where's Sara?"

"She went to bed early. She wanted to help me with the baby, but I think all the anxiety and excitement about her sister knocked her out cold."

Peter wasn't surprised that El already knew about that. But for now, something else caught his attention. "So, we're the only ones who are still up?"

When El nodded her head, Peter grinned. The radio was still playing and he held out his hand to her. "Then may I have this dance?"

Surprised by his whimsy, El laughed, but she didn't hesitate. "This one, and all the rest of them, too," she said as she laid her hand in his.

Smiling, Peter gathered her to him, and at first, he did lead them in an actual dance across the living room floor. Satchmo sat up on the couch and cocked his head, completely confused by what was going on in this house lately. But he wagged his tail in approval as he watched El twirl in and out of Peter's arms. When Peter alerted her to the fact that they had an audience, El's eyes sparkled with laughter, and Peter simply had to pull her back into him, choosing to just hold her close as they slowed and swayed to the music.

As the singer on the radio took the words right out of his mouth when he told the woman in his life that she looked wonderful tonight, Peter brought his lips to El's brow. "I love you, honey."

"I love you, too, hon," El breathed. And when she lifted her stunningly blue eyes to meet his, as always, Peter found his answer.

He was ready.

And forever would never be enough.

As he stood on the sidewalk and watched Peter and Elizabeth dance, Neal smiled to himself. He could give them another minute or two before going into the house.

"You know, people could report you to the police for stalking," Mozzie said as he came to stand next to him.

"I actually live here now, so the real question is what you're doing here," Neal replied.

"Oh, the other Neal forgot his teddy bear today." Mozzie held up the stuffed bear he had named Mozart, which was a surprisingly sound explanation.

"I can give it to him," Neal offered.

But Mozzie quickly hid the stuffed animal behind his back. "No, thank you."

"You don't trust me with a teddy bear?" Neal asked, his eyebrows raised.

"It's a very special bear," Mozzie said in a very serious tone that made Neal smile.

"A special bear for a special kid?"

"Exactly."

"Should I be worried that you're replacing me?" Neal asked.

"Should I be worried that you're leaving town without me?" Mozzie countered.

Neal sighed. He should have known that this kind of news traveled faster than he did. "You can come with us. We could really use your help." It wasn't just something he said to make up for leaving. What he and Sara would try to do was a long shot. Having Mozzie with them would greatly improve their chances of success.

But Mozzie shook his head. "I think I'll stick around here for now."

"Don't tell me you'll be a full-time babysitter," Neal teased him.

Unfazed, Mozzie shrugged his shoulders. "As you know, I'm a man of multiple professions. And for the record, this is by far the most challenging one."

Neal laughed. "Yeah. I believe you, Moz."

"But you know where to find me if you need me," Mozzie added, and Neal knew he wasn't just saying that either.

"Do you remember when I told you that if you want a happy ending, it depends on where you stop the story?"

"I do," Mozzie nodded. "Are you saying this is where it ends?"

Neal turned from him back to the Burkes' house, and looking into the eyes of the people he loved, he knew he had finally found who he was or, at the very least, who he wanted to be.

"No. I think this is where it begins."