A/N: Disclaimers are in part one.

Looking deeply unhappy, Neal unlocked the handcuffs and stepped back. Peter swore under his breath and reached around to release his painful left hand. Neal made a motion toward that side of the chair, "You want me to –"

"Don't you move," Peter barked. Neal froze. The knot finally yielded to him and Peter pulled his swollen hand to his chest and stood, rubbing it.

"Peter …" Neal said, watching warily. Standing, Peter was able to look down at the other man; this infuriating, tricky, unpredictable, clever, treacherous – did he mention infuriating – Neal.

His gaze on Peter's face, Neal sat on the bed.

Peter walked back and forth in front of Neal, rubbing his hand and trying to get his temper under control. "You – you – do not get to do that to me," he said.

"Of course not," answered Neal, contrite.

Neal was wrong about one thing: what he'd done was more than assault, not that assault alone wouldn't be enough. Peter could unquestionably nail Neal for that. The thing was … the thing was … all it would do is send Neal back to prison. Peter could do that to Neal at any time. He didn't need justification. But he'd have to explain why he'd picked now to do it, which would be deeply embarrassing.

Well, first things first. "My phone," he demanded. It lay on the bed next to Neal. Neal scooped it up, handed it over, and snatched his hand back like he was afraid a handcuff was going on it at any moment.

He hit Elle's speed dial and she picked up on the first ring. "Peter?" she asked, sounding worried.

"It's me, Elle," Peter said, "everything's all right."

"Oh, thank God, Peter," she said. "You're really all right?"

"I'm fine, Elle. And Neal is …"he paused, glaring at the harmless-looking man sitting straight-backed on the end of the bed, "in a lot of trouble. Did you call anyone?"

"Oh, Honey, I should have, shouldn't I? It's just I promised him five minutes. Do you need me to do anything?"

"No, Elle, it's all right."

"Did he let you go on his own?"

"Well, yeah, except for you. What did you say to him?"

"I – I can't tell you right now. We can talk later. What will happen to him?"

She couldn't tell him? What's with that? "I don't know yet. I haven't decided."

"Is it only up to you?"

Peter glanced at the door. As shocking to his pride as the incident had been, no one knew of it yet. Neal hadn't gotten so far as to break a window, and nothing happening in the room had been heard by the NYPD officer on sentry duty. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Good," she said. "I know you'll make the right decisions."

"Oh, you do? And you know what those should be?"

"Now, Honey, of course not. I'm just glad it's up to you. If it comes up, please tell him I wouldn't tell you what I said. I'll explain later."

Peter opened his mouth in confusion, then shut it. "Okay," he said. "Love you."

"Love you."

Peter put his phone away and regarded Neal. He leaned against the desk, his legs crossed at the ankles. "Give me one good reason why I don't put you back in prison for this little stunt."

Neal swallowed, real fear behind his eyes. "Only one?" he ventured.

"One. A good one."

Neal seemed to consider, perhaps sensing that he had to choose carefully. Peter really did need a good reason, otherwise for the sake of his own ego he would have to strike back, hard, and prison was as hard as it got. Only then he would lose Neal. He needed Neal to talk him out of this, but not with apologies or promises, with simple facts.

The air was thick with their thoughts. Peter examined his potential excuses, weighing them against his fury and how likely he was to get past it. Would Neal try using Elle? What had Elle said to him? Did she promise him something? Oh, Neal had better not take that tack; Peter would not be happy to have his wife used against him. The best reason would be that Neal was helpful on cases, but it fell short in the face of this. They needed trust between them for their "partnership" to work, and that trust lay in tatters next to Neal's silk tie.

Neal looked up. "Okay," he said with the tone of a man preparing his last words to the executioner.

"Let's hear it."

"I never promised you I wouldn't try to run. I only said I wouldn't do it. And I haven't."

Peter gazed into Neal's eyes as Neal gazed back. Unbelievable. Neal was unbelievable. Peter pushed off the desk and stepped past Neal to hide the small smile he couldn't smother. With one unexpected choice, Neal had given him the needles he needed to knit up their raveled trust. He picked up the tie and handed it to him, showing him the smile. "No, you didn't," he said.

"Can I stay?" Breathless, the mangled tie in his hand ignored.

"You – are …" Peter couldn't finish. Too many ways to finish that sentence, and it was cruel to keep Neal in this kind of suspense. "Yeah. Don't do this again." He rubbed his wrist.

Relief lit Neal's face and the man bounced (yes, bounced) to his feet. "Thank you, Peter, thank you. You won't be sorry, I promise."

Abruptly exhausted, Peter said, "Don't promise. I don't want to hear it; just sit down somewhere and don't bother me."

Still bouncing, but clearly pressing his lips together to keep from talking, Neal brushed by Peter and sat in the chair he'd been in. "I'll sit right here. I won't move until someone puts a new tracker on me. Do you want to 'cuff me to the chair? Here are my wallet and phone again."

"Keep them. If you're going, you're going. What did Elizabeth say to you?"

Neal smiled his brightest smile. "What did she say she said?"

"She wouldn't tell me."

"Then it really wouldn't be right for me to betray the confidence." Neal stretched his legs as far as the bed and the wall would let him, and showed every sign of living up to his promise to sit there until a new tracker came.

Peter cast his eyes heavenward and went to the door. He unfastened the chain and turned the latch.

"Officer," he said, sticking his head out. He was startled to see a pretty young woman in a NYPD uniform sitting in the chair, reading a book. Of course, they'd changed shifts at midnight. She jumped up, wary, dropping the book onto the chair. "Nothing's wrong. I'm Agent Burke," he said, putting out his hand.

"Sgt. Buehler," she said, nodding and giving his hand a shake.

"Would you come inside with us, please? I'm not expecting any external threat and could use the help staying awake."

She followed obediently into the room and gave Neal an interested look. Neal came to his feet, forgetting his vow to stay in the chair, so he could shake her hand with a stunning smile. "Sgt. Buehler, meet Neal Caffrey," Peter said wearily, annoyed that Neal clearly thought a pretty woman guard was his personal gift from heaven. "Neal, sit back down."

Neal sat with a promptness that made Sgt. Buehler raise her eyebrows in surprise. "I'll let you two get acquainted. I really need to stretch my legs. Sgt. Buehler, he is not to leave the room under any circumstances. I don't care if the fire alarm sounds, you wait for me, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," she said.

"Neal," he put warning into his tone, "don't let me down now."

"Peter," said Neal solemnly, eyes twinkling, "virtue is its own reward. I see that now."

To be continued