Disclaimer: I have no right or rights to be writing White Collar. No profit is made with this, if that helps.

"Time to go, Neal," Peter said, producing his handcuffs. "Sorry about this, but it will be tomorrow before they can get us a replacement tracker."

The afternoon spent cooped up in the conference room had done nothing to Neal's well-groomed facade. "Oh Peter, really?" he said, on seeing the handcuffs. Despite his own afternoon spent in an agony of dread, Peter felt like a betrayer. He shoved aside those feelings. If Neal decided to run, playing Peter would have to be his first step. He couldn't let that get started.

"Right wrist," Peter said, more gruffly than he meant to.

Neal lifted an interested eyebrow at the fact he was to be handcuffed to Peter, and held out his right arm. It was the click of a half second to turn Neal Caffrey from asset into albatross. Next was the walk through the office, with Neal in the humiliating position of perp, arrestee, suspect. None of which Peter had any actual evidence he deserved. But he was Neal Caffrey. Guilty until proven innocent.

Peter watched the faces of his agents as they passed, taking note. Smirks on some, blank poker-faces on others. Worried frowns on a few. Quite a few people murmuring to each other. Neal kept his head up and a slight swagger in his step. A sidelong glance told Peter he was still smiling at anyone who would meet his eyes, which was darn few people.

A driver brought the car to the underground parking door where Peter and Neal waited, so Neal was safely in the back seat of a locked car next to Peter without ever leaving FBI headquarters. A divider of bulletproof glass kept them isolated from the driver. Neal stared out his window as Manhattan crawled by in fits and starts. His stillness seemed unnatural, but Peter's trained eye saw the pulse that pounded below his collar line, betraying the adrenaline coursing through him. Peter spoke little, letting him stew. "Where're we headed?" Neal finally asked.

"Hotel. We're keeping you overnight the way we protect witnesses in danger."

Neal looked interested. "The Trump Tower? The Palace? Waldorf- Astoria?"

"Best Western, out of town."

Neal rolled his eyes. "That's right. FBI budget." He eyed the handcuffs at their wrists. "You staying with me?"

"Yeah," said Peter grimly.

Neal gave a small nod. "Tell Elizabeth I'm sorry."

"For what?" Peter asked, alarmed.

Neal's expression said, isn't it obvious? "For keeping you away from her again. Have you called her yet?"

"Of course." Of course he would have remembered to, eventually. Neal gave him a knowing smile and returned to staring out the window.

Peter cleared his throat. "Neal, about Kate …" Neal gave him cautious attention, not turning his head, but studying him sidelong. "When a woman tells you it's over and you keep looking for her, it's not healthy."

Neal sat up, willing to have this conversation, after all. "And it's stalking, as you pointed out before. Yes, I know."

"I know you said it's different when she's 'the one,' but you gotta see that everyone always thinks their girl is 'the one.'" Neal scrunched his face at Peter in an amused wince. "You don't fall in love with a woman unless you think she's 'the one.' That's how it works," Peter said. "And as for her being in danger," yes, he had heard what Neal almost told him in the conference room, "don't you see, we all want to be the hero for the woman we love. You're letting your heart play tricks on you."

Neal nodded and turned back to his window. "I'm sure you're right, Peter."

Peter sighed to himself. That had gone nowhere. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Neal, I will make you a deal," he said.

Neal looked back at him. "Sure, I like to deal," he said with a small smile.

"Stay," Peter said, earnestly, "until we replace your tracker, and I will find Kate."

Doubt flickered in the eyes that usually regarded him with trust. "You'll find Kate," he said.

"I won't tell you where she is, but I will find her and make sure she's okay. I swear to you."

Now open disbelief marked Neal's face. "A minute ago you were telling me not to stalk my old girlfriend and now you're offering to do it for me."

Peter dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I'll have to do it off the clock, but I can and I will." He met Neal's gaze steadily. "I'm playing every card I've got to keep you from fucking up your life any farther. Stay and I will find Kate."

Peter had penetrated the man's defenses, he could tell. He sensed the thoughts churning behind Neal's gaze gone glazed. The fear and uncertainty Neal had shown in the office Peter now saw in full force. Neal swallowed, hard, and ran an unsteady hand through his thick hair, unconcerned that he had mussed his perfect styling. He drew breath to speak, then let it out, not meeting Peter's eyes. Peter held his tongue, not pushing, not insisting, not yet. Neal needed time to consider it, judge the offer, weigh his odds. Peter felt his own heart pounding.

"You could –" Neal stopped himself, and bounced his head back against the seat, staring at the roof of the car. His lips parted and he breathed hard.

Peter talked on, hope flaring in him, giving Neal cover to think. "Yes, I can. I'm good at finding people, remember? I've got the resources of the FBI. I can do this more quickly than you can, and I can keep it legal."

"But what if she is in danger? How would you know?"

"What kind of danger?" Both confused and triumphant that Neal would discuss the offer. "If I find her and she's all right, then she's all right."

"Not if – Peter, just because you find her at such and such an address, how does that say she's all right? She could still be – someone else could –" Watching Neal bleed panic and youthful rejection denial all over the car was more than Peter could take. He kicked into a kind of parental mode.

"Neal, unless there's something you aren't telling me, there's no reason to think she's in danger just because she left you. Now is there more to the story or not?"

"No, no," Neal moaned, leaning against his window, eyes closed. "Peter, don't do this to me."

Irritated, Peter yanked the handcuffs enough to hurt. Neal's eyes flew open. "Don't you do this to me, dammit. Now do we have a deal or not?"

Neal just looked at him, panting, trapped. Peter watched as he forced himself to calm and recover. He swallowed before speaking. "What do you want from me? My word?" he gulped.

"Exactly. Your word that you won't even try to run."

"My word," Neal said, as if the concept were new to him. Maybe it was. Peter knew that in numerous cons Neal must have given his "word" earnestly and convincingly, never for a minute intending to keep it. Now he was confident Neal was considering his word as something intrinsic to himself and valuable, not to be promised dishonestly. Peter caught his breath as he realized that in their brief partnership, Neal had not actually conned Peter in any apparent way until the Dali at Riker's thing earlier today. He'd seen him toss around lies and misdirection to suspects, security men and once, almost reflexively, to a priest, but in no significant way had he lied to Peter. Even the sleight-of-hand he pulled to keep himself out of Riker's was really aimed at Hughes, and Neal had left the carry-through in Peter's hands to forestall or complete, as he saw fit.

Something wrenched in his chest as it dawned on Peter that, in whatever Neal Caffrey way it worked, the man might be truly trying to go straight. If it weren't for that damned Kate.

"You'd take my word?" Neal asked, sounding awfully young. "And just let me go home?"

God, this hurt. "Of course not. I can't do that. You know that," he practically pleaded as he saw the bitter hurt on Neal's face. "Listen to me. Give me your word not to try to run and then keep it, and you'll score huge trustworthiness points. Huge. Look what a bonus could come out of this. I'll find Kate for you and the whole division might learn to trust you."

Neal swallowed again. "What if I can't keep it?"

Peter let out a held breath in exasperation. "Well, then the deal's off, obviously. But you can keep your word. People do it all the time. You'd be an idiot not to." Peter kicked himself mentally for that last part as Neal turned away from him, back and neck tense. Out the window Peter saw they were arriving at the agreed-upon back stairwell of the hotel. He needed to make the call that would cause the staff person to open the fire door for them.

"I didn't mean that. Just – do we have a deal?"

Looking up at the hotel, Neal answered, "I think I'd better save my word for when I know I can keep it, sorry."

"You already promised me once you wouldn't run."

Neal looked over his shoulder at him, blue eyes calm and thoughtful. "Yes, I did. But you want me to promise not to try."

Peter dialed his cell phone. "I don't see the distinction," he grumbled as he put the phone to his ear.

"Maybe you will," Neal said.