A/N: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all my Muslim readers. I might not be able to update until Eid is over and in case that happens, an early Eid Mubarak to all of you! I hope you have a fantastic time. Enjoy the parties! I sure do :P

Thank you everyone who has been reading this story. A special thanks to everyone who took the time to review, it means a lot. As usual a special thanks to my wonderful beta, Fierce Queen who picks out all the errors in the story and corrects them. And without further ado, I give you Chapter eight! Enjoy!

Peter Burke was an excellent agent, one of the best in the FBI. He kept his work relationships professional, never over stepping his bounds. His detective work was absolutely fantastic and his famous 'gut instinct' was known for solving more cases than most agents could only dream of. During his training at Quantico, he learned many things other than how to carry and use a gun. He learned the best ways to chase a suspect, to corner them, and to calm them down enough to prevent a shooting match between the two parties. He learned how to interrogate suspects, make them admit to the crimes he had proof that they had committed. He was good at detecting tells. Body language would give it away when the nail was hit on the head, and then he would chase down that path, usually coming out successful with the suspect carted off to jail to serve his or her time. He knew how to play the good cop and the bad cop, how to scare a suspect into admitting a long list of crimes and how to sympathize with a victim enough to calm them down and get information about a case. He was, however, not good at the emotional stuff and tears scared him more than any weapon pointed at him might. That was Neal's forte, empathizing with a victim. Understanding their pain and terror and then calming them down. He seemed to know exactly what was needed to make someone feel comfortable again.

Neal Caffrey. He remembered when he had snagged the conman's file in his earlier years. He was known as James Bonds then. Back then, Neal had just been another criminal—someone to catch and lock up. But then their cat-and-mouse chase had begun, and Peter had fun. He actually enjoyed chasing the young man and trying to solve the clues he had purposefully left him. Over the three years Peter had spent chasing him, he had found himself dreading the day when he would catch Neal and when the young man would be placed behind bars. He had realized soon after he started chasing the younger man that he was in fact not a bad person. He was smart, and Peter Burke loved intelligence. Neal hated violence and made sure that no one was hurt during his innumerable, alleged, heists. Not to mention the fact that he was young. Neal had been about twenty-three when the FBI had been put on James Bonds' trail. Just a boy. Peter used to wonder what had turned Neal down the road to be a criminal—he could have done anything with his life. Neal was smart, talented, charming, and good looking. Anyone would have hired him. But Neal had preferred making forgeries and doing super human feats during his heists. He had admitted to Peter a few weeks ago that he was attracted to the conman's life because of the rush. It was like a drug to him.

Nonetheless, when Neal had made the unusual deal with the FBI Peter had doubted it would work. But, against all odds, their partnership had flourished and so had their friendship. Peter clearly recalled his mentor, Agent Philip Kramer, telling him that it hurt to put cuffs on his previous CI because it wasn't like arresting a suspect—it was slapping cuffs on a friend. He supposed that was the reason why he had felt such unimaginable rage towards the man when El had been taken. Neal had betrayed him. His best friend had betrayed him. And it hurt. A lot.

So when El had been home safe, and Neal had tried apologizing, Peter had cut him off. Instead, he thanked Neal in an emotion-less voice and gestured for Jones to take Neal away. Since that day, Peter hadn't made eye contact with Neal, hadn't even talked to him. Peter brushed past him whenever he came in the same room as the conman. He had refused to listen to any explanations Neal tried offering and took a perverse pleasure in the hurt look that shadowed the young man's face.

But now he wished he had. Because in spite of the anger he felt towards Neal, he was still his friend. And his friend was in the hospital surrounded by wires and tubes. His friend had looked him in the eye after countless days and flinched. Neal had flinched when he saw Peter, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Neal turned his gaze downwards, staring at his hands as if they held the secret to The Holy Grail or Mona Lisa's mysterious smile. Neal nervously clasped and unclasped his hands as El looked between her husband and her favorite conman. She had tear tracks on her face, and Peter immediately took a step forward to find out what was wrong but she shot him a look.

"Well, I'm tired. I'm off to get some coffee. I'll get some for you too, hon," his wife announced as she gently kissed Neal's cheek and left the room, shooting her husband a glare that promised her wrath if he upset Neal in any way. She closed the door behind her, leaving the two men alone for the first time in more than two weeks.

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