Glancing over at Neal the next day on the drive into the office, Peter reached over and motioned at the scraped knuckles. "Want to tell me what happened here?"

The other man glanced down at his hand, moving it slightly in the sunlight, studying it as if noticing for the first time. He gave a bit of a shrug and said, "I was helping Chris, the owner of June's landscaping service move some stone planters over there the other night. His guys had put them out earlier, but she wasn't happy with the placement." He laughed. "He and I were lugging and pushing and pulling these massive stone planters around for an hour."

Peter looked at him. "Neal …"

"What?" the other man asked, indignant. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, but that's what I was doing the other night and it could have happened then, I guess."

The twisted logic of could haves and guesses made Peter's stomach twist slightly, but there was no sense pushing Neal at this point over something so minor, at least not until he had a better feeling if something was actually going on or not. He had asked, the other man had given some half-cocked story that had just enough ring of truth to actually be the truth, and now he had to drop it. "So where are these stone planters at anyway?" And that was all the younger man needed to be off spinning a story and one that, if Peter actually checked, would be close enough to the truth to be believable. He made a mental note to review the tracking data more closely. Since Kate's death, he had reviewed a summary of Neal's tracking data every day or so and had seen nothing suspicious, but this new development had him worried that something was going on.

"I'm just happy that Chris's men are going to have the main job of planting all these bushes," Neal said several minutes later as his tale of June's gardening projects were wrapping up. "Flowers will be nice in the summer though, I should do something with my balcony too." He glanced at Peter and then asked quietly, "You think I can get Elizabeth's help in another month or so when it's warmer?"

The agent laughed and shook his head. "Look at you, Neal Caffrey, getting all domesticated - talking about planting flowers - literally putting down roots." He looked over at the younger man and saw him grimace slightly and turn to stare out the window, an unreadable expression now on his face and his mind instantly flashed back to the late night conversations about houses in the suburbs and lawns. Silently cursing himself for his carelessness, he tried to backtrack. "Sounds like a plan," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

Neal glanced at him, "It's fine, don't worry about it." His voice was distant and he gave Peter a quick smile.

As they pulled into the parking garage, he reached over and rested his hand on the other man's shoulder for a minute and gave it a squeeze. "I think flowers will be very nice and I'm sure Elizabeth will be thrilled to help."

Next to him, Neal silently nodded, but didn't meet his eyes even as he flashed another quick smile. "We'll see, it's fine."

He sighed silently and then tried again, "If you ask nicely, I'll even help lug stuff up all those stairs of yours. The going rate of moving used to be pizza and beer."

Neal laughed and gave an almost honest smile. "Flashback to college days?"

"And later," he said, shutting off the car. "Going from a studio to a bigger studio to a 1 bedroom to a bigger 1 bedroom, who had the money to hire a company? A group of friends, the guys lugging furniture, the girls carrying boxes and organizing food …" He laughed and shook his head. "Next time you're over at the house, ask Elizabeth about getting her moved not long after we started dating from East 89th to Chelsea."

"Is she going to be happy to tell me this story or am I going to get her mad at me?"

Peter laughed, getting out of the car, thinking about it.

Seeing Peter's expression, Neal laughed, too. "And I think that pretty much answers that question."

OooOoo

Peter's words ran through Neal's mind the rest of the week, bringing up other conversations and dreams that he couldn't shake. The nights were the worst, as always, and without a case to focus on, his mind simply ran circles, too restless to focus on anything else. There were no plans to make and no grand schemes to divert his attention. When he did sleep without other distractions, the nightmares returned which was worse then not sleeping at all. Twice his hand flipped open the phone to dial Moz and both times he clicked the phone off without hitting send, unsure what he'd actually say. "I used to be a great planner and now I can barely hold a thought? Want to scheme with me?" The other man would do it but the admission was too embarrassing and what it might mean was too terrifying to say out loud. The yellow journal was full and buying another one seemed like another admission too embarrassing and terrifying to make, even to himself.

By Saturday night, he couldn't take it any more. Logging on, he found what he needed and left the studio 20 minutes later.

OooOoo

Neal groaned as he tried to get out of bed the next morning, his alarm blaring. He had gotten home around 4am and now, peering at the clock, he saw that it was just after 11. He really needed to get out of bed, take a shower and pack. There wasn't a set time he was expected in Brooklyn, but the routine had been sometime between 2 pm and 4 pm and any deviation from the routine would cause unwanted questions.

The hot, pounding water from the shower almost put him back to sleep and he quickly turned it to cold, waking himself up. Two cups of coffee and left over pasta from Friday's night dinner had him awake enough to straighten the studio and pack. By 1:30, the food and another cup coffee left him feeling able to get through the rest of Sunday under Peter's constant gaze. He'd catch up on his sleep tonight with no problem.

Yawning as he slid out of the cab in front of the townhouse, he took a deep breath, bouncing his bag slightly in his hand. On Sunday's he brought over clothes for Monday and Thursday, so he always had something to wear. Elizabeth had offered to add his laundry in with theirs, but he smiled and instead carried his home with him when he and Peter left the house Thursday morning. Now, once again standing on the sidewalk, he looked up at the house and forced himself to smile. It wasn't just tiredness that made him pause, it was his feet that were reluctant to move. Forcing himself to put one in front of the other, not wanting to see Elizabeth discreetly peeking out of the upstairs curtains at him or listen to Peter make a joke about sending printed invitations, he climbed the steps and opened the unlocked door. "Hey," he called out, stepping inside and flipping the door lock behind him as he put his bag at the foot of the steps. He had offered to ring the bell or simply pick the lock, but they insisted on leaving the door unlocked for him.

"In the kitchen," Elizabeth called out. "You're just in time, too."

Walking through the dining room, his nose twitched as the smell of silver polish hit him full on.

"Don't even think about pausing at the table," another voice called out from the kitchen. Pushing open the door, Peter looked meaningfully between the silver pieces laid out on the table and the younger man. "I know exactly what's there …" He smiled as Neal held up his hands. "Maybe you should just put them in your pockets to be safe."

Not rising to the bait, Neal stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to look innocent. "Happy now?"

"I'll be happy when my assistant gets back in here," Elizabeth called out. "Both of you would even be better."

"We're being summoned," the older man said, stepping aside and holding the kitchen door open.

"Actually," Neal said, pausing in the doorway, "you're being summoned, I was clearly an afterthought."

Resting his hand on the younger man's back, Peter pushed him gently forward. "Doesn't matter, just go."

"So, how can I help, Elizabeth?" Neal said, eying her position standing on the kitchen counter. "Looks very tempting in the dining room." He glanced at the older man, who had resumed his station at the kitchen sink and was washing crystal glasses. "Not that I was tempted or anything."

Glancing at her husband as he made a half snort, she smiled. "One of my best friends is finally getting married. Two other women and I are throwing her a huge shower next weekend. It seemed like a fun idea for all of us to pool things we used when we all were married."

Neal caught Peter's eye rolling expression and hid a smile. "But wouldn't it be easier just to use stuff from the business? Surely you have most of it or can easily rent it on the cheap?" He caught Peter shaking his head at him from the sink. "Or not."

Elizabeth glared at him for a moment. "There's symbolism behind using things from other weddings. Plus, it's more personal this way. She's celebrating on things from my wedding and the weddings of friends, not the same silver used at the 50th birthday of some law firm." Pulling down another 4 goblets, she held them out, "Here, take these to Peter, please, and you can help him dry."

"Yes ma'am," he said, stepping closer so he could take the glasses. In truth, he enjoyed helping around the house. It made him feel less like a guest or a casual friend and more like family or at least a close friend. You didn't make just any friend wash dishes, that was an … honor reserved just for those you knew wouldn't mind or even if they did mind a bit, would expect it somehow. After sleeping in their guest room for months, after all they had put up with from him, done for him, since Kate's death, he felt he would gladly wash dishes forever and still not get close to paying back the debt he owed.

OooOoo

Collapsing into the couch, Neal leaned his head against the back and sighed, closing his eyes.

Peter groaned as he sat in the chair and stretched his back. "How many boxes total?"

The other man shook his head. "I have no idea. I stopped counting in self preservation around 20."

Leaning over, Peter picked up the phone from the coffee table. "I need to call Rick and tell him what's coming."

"So he can flee?"

The older man chuckled. "As temping as that is …" He quickly switched topics as the other end of the phone was picked up and filled his friend in on the car load of newly cleaned crystal and silver that was currently being driven his way by Elizabeth. "I'm just telling you," Peter said, "I got a friend to help and I swear, it took us a good hour to load up the SUV. Easily 30 boxes of stuff." He laughed and glanced at Neal, "No, I didn't send him with the boxes and Elizabeth - there wasn't room in the car. Plus, he belongs to me - you can round up your own friend."

"I could have gone with her," Neal said as Peter hung up the phone a minute later.

He shook his head. "No, Rick lives down the street from one of his cousins; he'll have plenty of help." Sitting up a bit straighter, he eyed the other man.

"What?" the younger man said, yawning behind his hand.

"Tired?"

Neal looked at him wearily before giving a small nod, "A bit. Those boxes were heavy and it was a long day."

The other man nodded, still studying him. "Is that the only reason you're tired?" He paused. "Having trouble sleeping still?"

"A bit," he said after a minute. "But it's fine. I'm OK. It's not too bad or anything, nothing like before."

Peter nodded. "What's rule number three?"

Neal stared at him and shook his head. "Why?"

Standing up, the other man motioned for him to stand up. "You tell me."

"Rule number three is that I'm not allowed to go roaming around after 10 o'clock," he admitted, settling deeper into the couch instead.

"And what did you do last night?"

"You're checking my anklet again?" Neal shot back. "I thought we were past that, Peter, and you trusted me! What do you think – "

Peter held up his hand. "Stop." Moving closer, he sat on the couch, looking at the other man. In a lower voice, he continued, "What did we agree on when you moved back to June's?"

The other man glanced away and shook his head. "I can't believe you checked my anklet."

"Get over it," Peter ordered firmly. "That's not the discussion right now and I don't believe for one second that you're actually shocked or upset by that fact."

Neal opened his mouth as if to protest and then slowly closed it, glancing away as he shook his head. "I didn't think you were still checking," he admitted.

"Well, I am and I saw you leaving June's around midnight and not getting home until almost four." Peter eyed him. "Want to tell me what you were up to at that warehouse?"

Trying not to look surprised, he just shook his head, eying the sofa cushion and refusing to meet Peter's gaze.

"Not even a story you want to try to float past me? Some elaborate tale of the warehouse being some top secret moving dinner party with the hottest chefs or an exclusive wine tasting where the atmosphere of urban decay and emptiness is a fitting contrast to the richness of the tannins?"

"Take your pick, all of those sound good to me," he said quietly. "Would any of those work?"

"No."

"Then I don't have anything else," he said, trying to keep his voice casual. "But your ideas sound fun – I vote for one of those."

Ignoring him, Peter stood up again and held out his hand. "OK then. Up, you know the drill."

"You're going to paddle me again? You don't even know what I was doing! Maybe it was important?" the younger man said, switching from casual humor back to hurt outrage.

"And I've asked you twice what you were doing and you're refusing to say," he said. "Should I paddle you for playing games too?" When the other man simple looked at him, he continued, "And honestly, Neal, it doesn't matter. The rule is that you're not to be out when you're not supposed to be and that's pretty much all that matters to me." He lowered his voice. "This is something we agreed to, correct?"

Reluctantly, the other man nodded.

"And we agreed that even though you weren't officially living here any more, we were going to keep up this arrangement. Correct?"

Neal nodded again, slowly standing up.

Reaching out, Peter pulled him closer and hugged him. "Let's go."

"I'm tired," he said softly, leaning in close.

Peter nodded. "I'm sure. Four in the morning is pretty late." Giving Neal another quick squeeze, he let go. "Come on, let's take care of this issue and then maybe you'll want to lie down for a bit. Elizabeth is picking up dinner, but she'll be a couple of hours, I'm sure."

OooOoo

Settling Neal face down across his lap in the basement, Peter rested his hand on the other man's bare butt. "Want to tell me what's going on, Neal?"

"No," he said after a long pause. "Nothing is going on, I just couldn't sleep so I got up. That's it." Shifting slightly, he tensed his muscles and turned his face more into his folded arms.

Knowing he'd never get the younger man to open up to him until he was ready, Peter didn't push. Instead, he picked up the paddle and rested it on the bare skin. "The reason really doesn't matter, you're not to be out alone after 10 pm, certainly not until four in the morning and you know that. Right?"

The other man nodded, face still hidden by his arms. "How many?"

Picking up the paddle, Peter shook his head even though he knew the other man couldn't see him. "Enough that I hope it will make an impression and give you something to remember next time you want to go roaming alone." He had a number in mind, of course, since he knew he couldn't count on Neal to give any sort of indication he understood or that the punishment had made an impression. Resting the paddle again for a second, he lifted his arm and brought it down sharply on the bare butt four times in rapid succession. "I'm not going to allow you to be out at night, Neal. You could get hurt or get in trouble and you need to be sleeping. If you can't sleep, then you need to tell me and we'll work on solving the problem together." Delivering three more hard swats, he said, "Is that clear?"

"Yes," the other man said hoarsely, shifting as if he could escape.

Tightening his hold slightly, Peter concentrating on the paddling, making sure the strokes were evenly spaced across the skin and at the same time, focusing on Neal's reaction. The ragged breaths, tense muscles and squirming told him that it was making a noticeable impression but that the younger man wasn't in serious distress. He also wasn't crying, which he knew he couldn't expect. Fourteen strokes later, he put the paddle down and rested his hand on the hot flesh. "Take a deep breath for me, Neal, we're done. You can relax."

"So you're serious about the no roaming thing, huh?" he said, trying hard to make a joke as he sat up, avoiding all eye contact.

Ignoring the comment, used to this reaction, Peter helped him stand up and pull up his boxers. Sitting back down, he gently guided Neal down with him, holding him close. "Take a deep breath for me," he ordered, feeling the small shakes going through the other man's muscles. "Just be still for a few minutes," he said softly.

"I can't," Neal said a second later, pulling slightly away. "I need to go … upstairs or out or … something." His voice was rough as the tremors increased.

"No," Peter said firmly. "Sit here with me. You're fine."

"No, I'm not." He gave a short, harsh laugh. "I'm not fine on so many levels."

"Yes," he said, resting his hand on the other man's head for a moment before moving down to his back, "you are." Reaching back with his free hand, he managed to snag a small blanket off the back of the couch and settled it over Neal. "You're here and it's all good. That's the important thing, everything else we can tackle.."

OooOoo

Glancing at his friend sitting next to him in the passenger seat the next morning, Peter cleared his throat. "How did you sleep last night?"

Neal shot him a quick smile. "Good, I was tired. All the unpaid slave labor around your place and everything wore me out."

The older man shook his head. "We fed you, you know." Studying the other man out of the corner of his eye to gauge the reaction, he said evenly, "I know it wasn't a success last time but if you want to try talking to someone again or maybe take something to help you sleep, it can be very easily arranged." Adding as an afterthought, "Privately or through the Bureau's resources, it's not a problem either way."

"No, I'm fine," he said quickly. "I was cleared, remember?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm pretty sure you were being more honest yesterday when you admitted you weren't."

Neal shook his head. "I was upset yesterday and not thinking straight."

"Yeah, that's why you were being honest for a change," Peter said, struggling to keep his voice firm but open. "So tell me, what's going on? Be honest with me here." It was such a fine line they walked between knowing when Neal was playing games with him to get a needed reaction, to tell him to push and call him out and when he was simply resorting to well used coping techniques. As he told Elizabeth, he simply had to trust his gut about the younger man. Right now, it was telling him that they were dealing with coping strategies for issues he couldn't handle yet , not deliberate lies that the other man was trying to cover up.

"I am being honest. I'm dealing fine."

"I don't consider dealing by roaming the streets or hanging out at some warehouse until the early hours 'fine,'" he shot back, frustrated at how best to handle the situation. Taking a breath, he forced himself to be calm, knowing that the younger man would simply dig in his heels if cornered. "What about you coming back to our place for awhile? Say, a couple of weeks. This way, if you want to go roaming around, I can go with you, keep you company."

Neal looked out the window, watching the city pass outside and slowly shook his head. "I'm fine, but thanks." He turned slightly and gave Peter one of his smiles that screamed 'Trust me!' and had the exact opposite reaction with the agent. "I won't get hurt, I'm careful."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Neal," he said, pulling into the parking garage. "There's not time now, but give it some thought. But in the mean time, don't think we're through talking about this."

"Of course not."