Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! Please keep 'em coming! Also, kudos to speck211 for noticing the Mika quote. Yes, the title is from the Mika song, "Blue Eyes". It seemed appropriate! Good song too…

Neal shot up immediately. Kathryn was now rushing towards them. She tripped slightly on the stairs before finally reaching Peter's, now open, door. Neal didn't say anything. His eyes widened, trying to take in everything that he was seeing. His brain couldn't keep up.

"Nick," Kathryn's voice cracked as tears began to stream down her face. Neal remained still, unable to speak or move. Peter looked from one to the other. "Nick," Kathryn repeated. Peter turned to Neal in confusion. Neal's eyes were on Peter, desperately seeking some kind of assistance. "Nick, please," she pleaded, "just say something."

"I—" Neal started, but quickly cleared his throat when his voice came out in a rasp. "You should go." He had never felt guiltier. His mother's face twisted as she tried to hold back the flood of tears that was threatening the corners of her eyes.

"I'm not leaving," she said forcefully. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but everything about his body language was warning her against it.

"I think it would just be easier for all of us if—" Neal said, not letting his eyes meet hers, but she quickly interrupted him.

"We thought you were dead," this came as more of a surprise to Peter than her unfamiliar addressing of him had. Neal was about to protest. He wanted to make her leave, to make Peter forget he had even heard any of this. He was right, it would make everything easier, but Kathryn had given way to the tears and was now sobbing in the middle of Peter's office. Cautiously, he took a step towards her. Then a few more. Until he was standing in front of her. He reached out and pulled her into a hug. Her arms reached hungrily around his neck, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "We thought you were dead," she repeated quietly.

"It's okay. I'm fine. I'm right here," Neal told her, holding her awkwardly. He loved his mother, of course, but this didn't seem like the same person who he had left ten years ago. She hadn't changed at all, but he had. He wasn't the person she thought he was.

"Neal Caffrey?" she asked him, finally pulling away. She looked up at him with a frown. Neal gave her a weak smile.

"Yeah. For ten years now," he told her, as if this change in identity was nothing. He caught Peter's accusing look. "It's not illegal, Peter, if that's what you're thinking," he added, but Kathryn didn't take any notice.

"I have to call your sister. She'll want to come down," Kathryn said, reaching for her cell phone with a shaking hand.

"No," Neal reached out and took her hand in his own. "Please, don't tell her. Just let her think I'm dead." He had spent every second that he was away from them wanting to see his sister, but it wouldn't be fair to her. She wanted her brother back. Her brother who used to play in the back yard with her and taught her how to tie her shoes and how to read the summer before kindergarten, so she could show off to the other kids. She didn't want him. An ex convict turned FBI pet, just so he didn't have to spend another four years in prison.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kathryn tried to wave him off.

"Mom, please," their identical eyes meet. "She can't know I'm here."

"She misses you though, more than anything."

"Just let me explain. Come by tomorrow afternoon. I'll tell you everything, and then you can decide if you really want her to see me again," a pained look came across his face.

"Tomorrow?" Kathryn asked, as if it was an eternity away. She was staring at him so greedily, as if she couldn't see enough of him, as if she was trying to make up for the past ten years in just a few short minutes.

"I promise, I'll be here," Neal assured her.

"Okay," she said slowly, but she made no motion to leave. With a sigh, Neal pulled her into another hug.

"I'm sorry. You were never supposed to find out," he kissed her on the cheek and then went to walk her to the elevator. When he came back to the office alone, Peter still hadn't moved. They stared at each other for several minutes before Neal finally broke. "I guess I owe you some answers."

"Yeah. I'd say so."

"Where do you want me to start?" Neal asked. There was a lot Peter didn't know about his past, he didn't think his partner could handle all of it in one night.

"How about your real name?" Peter suggested. He didn't seem at all amused.

"My real name is Neal Caffrey, Peter. I legally changed it after I left," Peter glared at him "But, before that, it was Nicholas Halden," Neal smiled innocently at him, but Peter didn't return the favor. "I have a younger sister. My mom didn't even know who the father was. She was five when I ran away."

"What made you leave?" Peter was trying his best to stay calm, but he knew that would only last so long.

"There was a car accident," Neal's usual playful smirk was nowhere to be found. His face had turned uncharacteristically serious. "I was at a party with some friends. They got completely wasted, but I said I would drive home, so I stayed sober. We were driving home, and it was really late, and they were distracting me, and I guess I just hit a patch of ice the wrong way, and we went off the bridge," he wanted to stop. He had played the scene over and over in his head thousands of times, but somehow saying it was so much worse.

"Jesus, Neal," was all Peter could say. He looked at his friend with pity. Neal tried to ignore him.

"I tried to get them out, but they were trapped, and the water was too cold, and I kept having to go back up for air. I watched my two best friends die right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't deal with any of it. I would have had to tell my mom and their parents, and then I'd have to go to their funerals, and I knew if that happened all anybody would be thinking was that I should have died too. That it was all my fault. And it was, wasn't it? If it wasn't for me, they'd still be alive. I didn't even go home to get dry clothes. I ran as far as I could and then hitched a ride to New York. You know the rest," Neal finally brought himself to look up at his partner. This was the man who had seen him at his worst. He had put him in jail, he had given him a second chance, he had gotten him through Kate's death. If anyone was going to understand, it would be him.

Peter didn't say anything for a while. He just stood there, thinking about what his friend had told him. The man he was supposed to know everything about. "Go home, Neal," he finally said, barely above a whisper. His cold voice was enough to put Neal in a panic.

"Peter, please just—"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Go home. I'll talk to you tomorrow," Peter waved him off and lowered himself into one of his chairs.

"I just want to explain—"

"You just did!" Peter was beyond calm. His yell had made Neal jump.

"I swear, it wasn't my fault. I didn't mean to kill them," Neal was desperately trying to make him listen, to understand.

"You think that's why I'm mad?" Peter turned to him in disbelief. "Neal, you lied to me. You've been lying to me since the day we met. How am I supposed to trust you if you keep things like this from me?"

"I won't do it again," Neal said, and, surprisingly, he meant it.

"How can I believe that? The only reason why you told me this was because you got caught," Peter had yelled at him before, but not like this. "Just go home."

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