Hey there! :) Thank you so, so much for your likes, comments and messages. I can't believe there are still people who want to read my story! :D The following chapter somehow was so much fun, I really enjoyed writing it. I know, it's a very slow story. But I really like these conversations and upcoming emotions between Neal and Peter. Thanks again for reading! :) Enjoy.


Three weeks earlier

Neal was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking out of the window, deep in thoughts. When the door opened, he startled, but didn't turn to face the young agent, just continued to stare out into the grey and rainy weather.

"Hey Caffrey, it's time to go!", Jones said firmly.

Neal nodded and stood up stiffly, he still felt sore and uncomfortable, even though he still was on pain medication. Jones watched him closely.

"Do you feel strong enough to leave the hospital?", he asked, now worried.

Neal just nodded, threw him a reassuring smile. Truth was, even though it felt right to do it, he was utterly frightened of what was coming, so he doubted he would ever feel ready. He grabbed the small plastic bag with his few belongings and turned to leave the room. Jones awaited him, the handcuffs in his hands.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. It's just… we have to…", he started.

Neal met his gaze now, smiled slightly. "It's all right, I understand!" He turned and offered his wrists.

"No! I guess in front of you will be all right!", Jones hurried to say.

So, Neal turned again, throwing him a grateful glance. Jones took his bag, cuffed him hesitantly and covered his wrists with a jacket. Neal recognized that he was even trying to touch him as less as possible. Somehow that evoked a mixture of shame and relieve inside him. He dreaded what was coming in the detention centre.

But somehow, he felt he deserved it, even if it would destroy him. So what? With Keller on the run, he would never be free anyway. And maybe the world would be better off without him.

He stiffly went beside Jones.

"Bye honey, it was a pleasure to have you here!", a young and utterly beautiful nurse said on their way out, smiling at him sadly and trying to avoid his cuffed wrists.

He gave her his best, but faked, Caffrey-smile. "Thank you, Nancy! For all you've done!"

This was repeated several times till they reached the exit. Jones smiled amused and raised his eyebrows.

"Everybody's darling in here, huh? Pretty impressive!", he chuckled.

Neal shrugged, but smiled back. When they reached the agents car, he helped him on the backseat.

During the ride, they both remained quiet for several minutes. Jones watched the kid through his rear-view mirror. Neal stared out of his window his face expressionless.

He looked way beyond his years and like a very young child at the same time. Not for the first time, the young agent wished he could do something. He hated the thought of that tortured and intelligent boy in the company of so many young offenders. But on the other hand, that was what he was. A young criminal. And after all he just had to answer the FBI's question to get a deal, but he adamantly refused to.

Jones cleared his throat. "You know, Caffrey, if you want to talk, there's still the opportunity to drive to the FBI headquarter and do so instead juvie until your trial.", he said.

Neal turned around, weakly smiling. "Thank you, Agent Jones. I really appreciate your offer. But no, I have nothing to say."

The young agent shook his head, while Neal continued to stare out of the window. He understood now why Peter was so fond of this young con. He somehow felt the urge to protect and save him, even though he tried to recall who he really was, a young mastermind in the body of a teenager. Was his attitude a con, too?

They reached the centres entrance, high barbed wire fences lined a large, dark and old looking building. The rainy weather did the rest not to make it seem very inviting. Jones' eyes flickered in Neal's direction and he thought he saw a trace of fear on the young offender's face. They walked through the front gate and Jones signed him up.

"This is Neal Caffrey. He's in FBI custody, so I need to see the warden before I go, to make sure you comply with the regulations."

The pimply young man who had let them in, looked at them uninterested.

"Mr. Finnigan isn't available.", he snarled.

"Well, I think he is. I recommend using your phone to announce we're here.", Jones said sternly, throwing him a sharp look and pulling out his badge.

The young man sighted, but reluctantly picked up the phone. Only ten minutes later, a man in his late fifties in a black, ill fitting suit arrived, looking very grumpy.

"My name is Warren Finnigan. What can I do for you?", he said, obviously in a hurry.

"Well, I'm Agent Jones and this is Neal Caffrey. He's in FBI custody and I would like to make sure he will be treated as we want him to.", Jones simply said.

Neal couldn't help but eye him bewildered. Mr. Finnigan seemed confused, too.

"What do you mean, "treat him like we want him to be treated?"", he asked surly.

"Mr. Caffrey here is a very important witness, so first of all, I want you to make sure he will be safe inside your facility. He was having a hard time lately and needs time to recover. Furthermore, he's not a violent offender. So, I'd appreciate if you could offer him a single cell and as little contact as possible with other, possibly violent inmates. We will visit him regularly to record his statement and make sure he is treated well until his court hearing. Do you understand?", the young agent explained sternly.

Warren Finnigan seemed fairly unimpressed. Even though Agent Jones meant well, Neal had the impression that this speech wasn't to his advantage after all.

"What YOU have to understand is, Agent Jones, that this is not a luxury hotel. We treat everyone in here equally. In the end the inmates are all criminals, parasites of society, who have to pay for what they've done. And we let them pay."

Neal felt his heart sank, but he did his best to appear confident. Jones looked indignantly at the director.

"Mr. Caffrey ISN'T a parasite, Mr. Finnigan. He's made some questionable choices, but…".

The warden interrupted him rudely. "Don't tell me how to do my job, Agent Jones. It's none of your business."

He grabbed Neals shoulder to push him through an open door besides him. Neal winced in pain.

"We will take care. Like we always do. Now go please, come back if you want to see him, but go now."

Jones looked at Neal, undetermined, who raised his voice.

"It's all right, Agent Jones. I'll get along.", he announced in a firm voice.

The warden turned to guide him further inside the room, but Jones stepped between them.

"I need my cuffs if you don't mind."

The warden groaned, but waved his hands to signal him to go ahead.

"Give me a minute!" Jones turned to face Neal, who willingly offered his wrists.

The young agent looked him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Caffrey. But I'll be back soon. And let me know whenever you need something!", he murmured.

Neal managed a hesitant smile. "Thanks, Agent Jones. I really appreciate that.", he replied calmly.

He held his gaze. "Just one thing.", Neal added. "Could you… I mean, would you… tell me when he's awake? No more, just that he's all right again.", he added shyly, his eyes round and childlike again.

Jones smiled. "I will, Caffrey, I promise."

The warden now became impatient. "You really have to go now, Agent Jones. You're messing things up.", he said and pushed past him.

Without another word, he guided Neal inside the room, leaving Jones behind, lost in thoughts, the cuffs still in his hands.


Four weeks later

It took Peter almost a week to get some of his strength back. When he finally was released from hospital, El insisted in four more days at home with just relaxing.

Peter tried to complain, but El was adamant, he wasn't ready to visit or help Neal in any ways. She calmed him down by saying that at least he was safe and couldn't do something stupid. And Peter had to admit that she was right. He still felt exhausted even after a visit in the bathroom.

But he used the time to find out more about what had happened after the incident with Keller. His team visited him twice at home.

Jones explained, Neal had to stay in hospital for almost five days. He behaved well after that first attempt to struggle, did not once try to run.

Peter felt awful when he got to know that Jones had to cuff him during his whole stay, but he understood, it was protocol.

The young agent explained that Neal had been very quiet after the outburst right after he woke up. He frequently asked about Peter, but never answered a single question, just repeated, that it had been all his fault.

After his recovery, especially Hughes had insisted to imprison the young con until his court hearing, so that he could come to his senses. Jones described how he had got him there and his frequent visits afterwards.

Neal had refused to see him but was forced to twice.

He hesitantly admitted that Neal seemed depressed and subdued, even a little unkempt and he had fresh bruises during both of his visits.

The young agents described his unpleasant conversation with Warren Finnigan, who he tried to contact after each of his visits but couldn't reach him.

"That guy is a bully, Peter. I suppose he's giving the inmates a hard time, no mercy at all.", he shook his head. "But I couldn't do much. I just can't understand why Caffrey isn't talking. He seemed to be so cooperative at last."

Peter rubbed his temples. "He blames himself, even though I'm a 100 % certain that it wasn't his fault.", he explained grimly.

Jones smiled faintly. "I promised him to call as soon as you're awake, boss. And I did so two days ago. Asked the attendant to tell him. Maybe now he'll open up."

Peter felt a warmth inside. Why the hell was he so fond of this boy?

"From now on, I'll take care again.", he announced firmly. "And what about Keller, any news?"

Jones shook his head again. "No. This man is a miracle. He just disappeared. But that room down there is absolutely amazing, boss. Stolen pieces of art from four different centuries."

"Could you find out what is missing? What he was looking for?"

Jones sighed. "Unfortunately not. There wasn't even a hint. And like I said, Caffrey wasn't much of a help. But I got the impression that he knows something we don't. I suppose he's still afraid of Keller. Do you think he could even get to him in prison?", he asked, obviously concerned.

Peter frowned. "Maybe. He definitely is a dangerous man with a lot of connections. And as long as Neal's inside that facility, we can't do much to protect him."

Jones sighted again. "At least he has a lawyer now, a funny looking little guy with tinted glasses. I met him once when I tried to see Caffrey. Maybe he can do something to improve his situation. I'm sorry, boss. I know it's not the right place for him."

Now Peter shook his head. "It's all right, Jones. He did a lot to earn his time in juvie. Even though, in this particular case, I have to admit that I just don't think it's where he belongs. But it's in line with the law. So don't worry." But Peter himself couldn't stop worrying after their conversation.


Two days later Peter finally felt strong enough. He insisted on driving alone, he wanted to see the boy without anyone else present.

When he reached the prison and was guided through into a small interrogation room, he couldn't help but notice the gloomy corridors with all the grids and the other inmates he passed, who looked so much older and stronger than Neal.

After some time in the tiny room, he could hear footsteps and straightened up expectantly.

A bored looking guard opened the door, but no Neal.

"The inmate isn't willing to come, sir. Do you want us to force him?", he dully asked.

That took Peter by surprise. He hesitated for a moment.

"Well, yes, I definitely want him to come!", he confirmed, and the guard left without another word.

Peter sighted and leaned back. How could a kid his age be so complicated?

It took more than twenty minutes until he could hear footsteps again, alongside loud noises. One guard opened the door, another one did his best to push the struggling Neal inside.

The boy had his hands cuffed and was wearing a far too big orange overall. He squirmed without looking at him and tried to leave the room again, but both guards stood in his way.

"I told you, I don't want to be here. Let me go! Leave me alone!", he yelled desperately.

Peter stood up. "Neal!", he shouted.

The young con stopped fighting immediately and turned in slow motion, his expression deadpan. He just stood there, staring at him motionless.

The guards still stood undecidedly in the door frame. Peter cleared his throat.

"You can go now, we'll get along.", he announced calmly.

The older guard nodded. "Just knock whenever you're ready!", he announced, and they both left, locking the door behind them.

Neal still just stood there and watched him as if he was a ghost. Peter noticed that his hair looked greasy and he had dark circles under his eyes and bruises on his left cheek and on his forehead. Even though Peter couldn't believe it, but the boy looked even thinner than the last time he had seen him.

"Sit down, please.", Peter said after a few quiet moments. Neal hesitated for a moment. After a demanding nod of Peter, he came closer and sat awkwardly on the bench in front of the agent, putting his bony cuffed wrists on the table surface and stared intensely at them, his expression still blank.

"You didn't want to see me.", Peter stated calmly.

Neal weakly shook his head. "I didn't know it was you. Expected Agent Jones again.", he mumbled, still avoiding looking him in the eyes.

"In spite of everything, you shouldn't have come." He lifted his gaze, met his eyes briefly. "But I'm glad you're all right.", he added quietly.

Peter remained quiet for a few seconds. "You're looking awful.", he simply replied.

Neal chuckled dryly. "Yeah, well… like Mr. Flannigan said, it's not the Ritz Carlton. But it's where I belong and I'm all right."

Another heavy pause. "You're obviously not, Neal. Did anyone tell you that I'm among the living again?", Peter asked.

Neal shook his head. "But I'm glad you are!", he said, sweeping his gaze.

Peter tried to touch his hands, but the young quickly pulled them away and placed them in his lap.

The agent heavily sighted. "Neal, what do you want to achieve by behaving like this? I KNOW it wasn't your fault what happened down there. So why on earth do you refuse to talk?", he yelled in desperation.

Neal remained quiet, he looked exhausted and very young again, his bright blue eyes appeared cloudy and tired. He concentrated on his hands again.

"Oh, come on, tell me! You owe me that!", Peter realized that he was slowly losing his temper and ran his hand over his face.

"I AM responsible for everything. And now you just have to forget me and go on. I want to go now!", Neal tried to get up, almost losing balance.

Peter reached over the table and pushed him back on the bench, ignoring the boy's sharp inhaling. "Do you really think I could just do that? Leave you alone, after all that had happened? Do you?", he said as calmly as possible.

Neal shrugged.

"Open your mouth, kid. You won't get rid of me that easy.", Peter stated.

Neal raised his gaze and for a short moment the agent could see the deep despair in the young con's face.

"Please, just leave me alone Peter.", he begged silently.

The agent just shook his head and held the boy's gaze. Neal sighted.

"You almost died because you wanted to help me. And Keller, he's still out there. You don't know him like I do. He won't give up. Even here…" he interrupted himself. "And after all that happened YOU will be his target anyway. But if you stay away from me, you will be so much safer. Please, Peter. I'm a lost case. I told you, I'm all right, I can do this on my own."

He tried to get up once more and Peter reached over to push him back again.

"How many times have we been at this point, Neal? I already feel like a broken record.", he shook his head again. "I can take care of myself, Neal. Bloody hell, I'm an FBI agent and you are a teenager. It is NOT your task to take care of MY safety. Do you get that? And what happened wasn't your fault. I just haven't thought this through properly. I promise you, we'll find Keller and he won't neither harm you nor me or anybody else. Do you hear me?".

No response.

"Do you?", he asked again, more intense.

Neal nodded slightly, but again avoided looking at him. Peter viewed his sunken cheeks and bony neck.

"God kid, don't you get anything to eat in here?", he asked concerned.

Neal smiled and raised his head. "I haven't had such an appetite recently. And, you'll hardly believe it, the food is not really high class. They should ask Elizabeth about her recipes.", then quickly lowered his gaze again and the smile vanished.

"She misses you.", Peter announced quietly.

Neal didn't react. The agent grumbled in frustration.

"What about your bruises?", he asked and noticed the hint of desperation in his voice. Neal shrugged again.

"I accidently hit the door frame?", he answered lamely.

"Very funny. Truth please.", Peter demanded.

Neal looked up and directly met his eyes now, his body visibly tensing.

"Oh, come on Peter, this is a prison, not a children's birthday. You know that. But I can cope. Don't worry."

He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "Please Peter, can I go now? Please.", he begged, still holding his gaze.

The agent observed him quietly for a few seconds. "All right, if you want to go, then go. But I'll be back Neal and you can't prevent that. And you will have to talk to me, whether you like it or not." Neal shrugged again and stood up.

"I don't think I've a choice, have I, Agent Burke?", he silently asked.

Peter shook his head and circled the table to call the guards.

Before leaving, Neal hesitated and stopped in front of Peter.

"I'm glad you're all right, Peter! Please tell Elizabeth that I miss her, too."

He turned and vanished through the door, slightly limping, his body still awfully tense.


After his unpleasant talk with Neal, Peter insisted on a conversation with Mr. Finnigan and went right through into his office.

"I suppose it's about Mr. Caffrey again, am I right?", the warden greeted him unfriendly.

"You guessed correctly, Mr. Finnigan. I'm special agent Peter Burke, white collar division.", Peter replied sternly.

The warden sighted heavily. "This kid is a pain in the ass. Just trouble with him. Anyway, what can I do for you?"

Peter eyed him intensely. "What kind of trouble?", he asked slowly.

"Well, at first that other agent, that brought him in. He demanded some extras, which is absolutely inappropriate. We treat them all the same. No special favours. And from day one, Caffrey just caused trouble. He plays the guards against each other, gives snooty answers and refuses to leave his cell. And he keeps getting into fights…"

Peter interrupted him. "He WHAT? Are we talking about the same kid? The Neal Caffrey I know rejects any form of violence."

The warden hesitated. "Well, yes, I assume he's not really popular among the other inmates."

Peter took a deep breath. "I see. Now we're talking. I noticed the bruises all over his face and there are obviously more, he walks stiffly as hell. Has he seen a doctor recently?"

Mr. Finnigan seemed annoyed. "Mr. Burke…"

Peter interrupted him again.

"AGENT Burke.", he said pointedly.

"Yeah, well, AGENT Burke then. This kid refuses to leave his cell whenever he can. He is not willing to see a doctor either. And we can't force him…"

Peter hit the table with his fist. "You WILL Mr. Finnigan. You will force him! And you will make sure that he EATS properly. He consists only of skin and bones. YOU are in charge to protect him, Mr. Finnigan. And I will hold you personally responsible for every damage he takes. Do you understand?", he shouted angrily.

Mr. Finnigan rolled his eyes. "How do you think we should do that? We've got over 300 inmates in here."

Peter bend forward and glared at him. "I don't CARE how you do it. But I promise you will regret it if you don't do it like I said. I'll be back tomorrow, and I want to meet him in a better constitution!"

Mr. Finnigan leaned back in his chair, raised his hands to soothe the man in front of him and smirked half-heartedly. "Calm down, agent. I'll take good care of your golden boy."

"You better do! He doesn't belong here, Mr. Finnigan, and you won't destroy him. I will do anything to prevent that!"