Two years later.
Diana barges into Peter's office on a Tuesday around noon.
"They found him, boss!" Found whom? He tears his eyes away from his computer and looks at her, uncomprehending.
"They found the bastard that killed Neal," she clarifies. Peter stiffens. He tries to ignore the memories that flicker on the periphery of his mind at the mention of Neal.
The image of his best friend, lying bled to death in the middle of a fancy hotel suite. The sound of his death rattle...
He regains composure after a few deep breaths.
"Apparently he's a hired hit. His DNA matches the samples from various crime scenes, including the ones from the penthouse," Diana continues.
"What's his name?"
"Henry Smart." Henry Smart. The face that haunts his dreams finally has a name.
"Where is he?"
"7th floor."
Peter rises from his seat and grabs his suit jacket. Diana is still standing on the other side of his desk, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Peter considers her offer for a moment. He knows the events of that fateful day affected her almost as much as him. She tried to hide it, but Peter knew her long enough to notice the changes in her behavior after Neal's death.
"No." He needs to do this alone.
The elevator ride takes excruciatingly long. He should have taken the stairs.
Peter hurries down the corridor towards the interrogation rooms. A middle-aged agent stops him right before his destination.
"Can I help you?"
"I need to talk to a suspect," Peter declares. "Henry Smart."
The agent raises his eyebrows.
"I'm Special Agent Tim Dekay and in charge of the Smart case," he says, still blocking Peter's way. "And you are?"
"Special Agent Peter Burke, White Collar division." Dekay's eyes light up with realization.
"I can't let you see him, Agent Burke."
"Excuse me?"
"I can't let you see him," Agent Dekay repeats. "This is my case."
"You don't understand! Smart murdered my partner!" Peter snarls and clenches his hands into fists. He waited two years for this day. Two agonizing years on the sidelines. They can't take this away from him! He deserves to look the bastard in the eyes and to rub in his face, how he will never ever see the light of day again. How he will rot in prison for what he has done. "I-"
"That's the problem." Dekay interrupts him, utterly unimpressed with Peter's outburst. "You're not thinking clearly. It could compromise our entire case, if I let you talk to him now." He eyes Peter up. "Or whatever it is you plan on doing with him."
"I'm a witness! I could-"
Dekay shakes his head. "Not now. Come back once your feelings have cooled down and we'll have a line-up." His voice is firm, but his eyes are kind. Peter wonders how much the agent knows. "Take the afternoon off and go home, Burke. You'll get your shot at retribution in court, when you testify against him."
His tone is final and tolerates no dissent. On any other day Peter would approve of steadfastness, but not today. Peter presses his lips together and gives Dekay a curt nod.
He leaves without another word.
Peter decides to make a detour on his way home. He needs to clear his head before he faces Elizabeth and he knows just the right place to do that. A place that, ironically, used to be Neal's refuge during his time on the run. The young con man went there to find peace, when his life fell apart and all he could do was wait for the others to make the next move.
Peter parks his car and walks the rest of his way along the river to his destination.
The jetty always looks the same. A constant in Peter's life.
Whenever he has a particularly bad day, he visits this spot and takes a break from everyday life.
Sometimes he comes here and thinks about Neal. Like the first birthday in a decade without a card from Neal or the day Neal's sentence would have been officially fulfilled.
It has been months since his last visit. Life has been busy.
Peter rests his arms on the railing and looks across the river at the city's skyline, and for a moment he can pretend that he left all his sorrows on the other side of the running water.
Satchmo welcomes him with an excited bark and a wagging tail, when he arrives at home.
"Peter?" Elizabeth calls from the kitchen.
"Yeah." He hangs up his jacket and pats his dog on the head.
"You're home early. Is everything okay?"
Peter takes a photo of Neal and himself from the bookshelf.
"Honey?"
El peaks around the corner, when he doesn't answer. She comes to stand beside him and places her hand on his shoulder. He leans into her, enjoying the touch.
She smiles softly. "I really like this picture."
"Me too," Peter murmurs and puts it back on the shelf. "They arrested Neal's killer last night."
Her grip on his shoulder tightens, but other than that they both don't move or talk for a long time. The silence is soothing.
Eventually, El gets a bottle of wine from the kitchen and leads him to the couch. They sit down, drink and remember. Elizabeth tells about her favorite moments with Neal and Peter tells her about his. They laugh at Neal's antics and bicker about his odd fascination with hats. Peter hasn't felt this good in a long time. With each anecdote he feels a little warmer, a little more at ease. It's nice to have someone to share your memories with. When Neal was first gone, everything they had been through together seemed less real. Like some fantastical dream.
He sobers up, when he realizes the sad truth behind his thoughts.
A memory, that is all Neal is. A cherished one, yes. But still just a memory.
Life goes on.
And now that Neal's murderer is finally under arrest, nothing is keeping Peter in New York any longer. After more than a decade the chapter of his life called "Neal Caffrey" might be coming to an end once and for all. Peter doesn't know how to feel about that.
And like she knows exactly what is going on in Peter's head, El takes hold of his hand and squeezes it. It's a small, reassuring gesture that reminds him he's not alone.