Author's Note: This chapter contains spoilers for 'Forging Bonds'.
Pulling up in front of his house, Peter forgot all his earlier grumbling about El not being home and thanked god for it. At least she didn't have to see what the cruelty of some heartless people had reduced Neal to. Neal, whose smile had charmed and conned thousands out of thousands; Neal, whose wit had kept Peter on his toes for three memorable years, that same Neal had been abused and violated and now lay fever ridden, delirious with fatigue and illness, in the seat beside him.
Peter turned the keys and pulled them out. He quickly got out of the car and ran up the stairs to unlock the door to his house. He calmed the excited dog that ran out to greet him by scratching him behind the ears and told him to go and lie down by the couch. He then turned and made his way back to his car.
Neal was still sleeping and by the looks of it, he was having a nightmare. His eyes were darting from side to side beneath his closed eyelids and he was muttering under his breath. Peter could take an educated guess as to the subject of the young con's nightmare, so after opening the seat belt he quickly nudged him awake. "Hey buddy, c'mon let's get you inside."
Neal awoke with a violent start and for a moment he shrank away from Peter, blue eyes gazing at him warily, until they seemed to recognize him and he relaxed visibly. "Where are..?" he seemed unable to continue his question but stared at Peter instead.
"We are at my house kiddo, and you need to get inside. Now stay still and I'll carry you in." Peter answered him, moving his arms beneath him to pick him up.
"But you got to kiss…me first" Neal murmured weakly as Peter carried him over the threshold and into the house.
Peter looked down at him, surprised, and then chuckled. "Huh, no such luck. I'm in no mood to commit polygamy. Consider this more of a kidnapping and less of a marriage." He countered setting Neal slowly on the couch. The young man's feeble attempt at making a joke at Peter's expense had given him some hope. A Neal who managed to quip one liners in such a state was a Neal who'll recover.
"Now you stay here for a while. I'll get you something to eat. You must be starving." Peter told him. He wasn't sure that Neal had heard him until he tried to ruffle his hair and got his hand weakly slapped away. Smiling he went to the kitchen to fix Neal something.
"Hey sleepy head, get up. Dinner's ready." Peter said setting the tray of soup and water on the table and moving Neal so that he was sitting up.
"Water…" Neal rasped taking in the tray in front of him and Peter grimaced. Of course he needed something to drink, why hadn't he thought of that before?
Peter held the glass to Neal's parched and cracked lips and Neal starting gulping it down hurriedly. "Hey go slow! You'll choke yourself!" Peter warned removing the glass and putting the bowl of tomato soup on the con's lap.
Neal stared at the soup and then looked up at Peter. "Why are you doing this?" The question was asked so softly that Peter almost didn't catch it.
"Hey! N My cooking is not that bad you know. And besides you need to eat." Peter replied with a glint in his eye.
"Peter… You know that isn't what I meant." Neal stared at him, completely serious for once.
Peter was silent for a few minutes and stared at his hands. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Neal raise the spoon to his lips only to spill all the soup out, unable to hold it straight in his quivering hands. Peter took the spoon from him gently and slowly brought it to his mouth. Neal looked him in the eye for a second before opening his mouth.
"I don't know why I am doing this. But I do know that I cannot send you back to prison. Not after knowing what happened…" At this Neal looked away, ashamed.
"Neal, look at me." Peter said softly, sensing Neal's self-disgust. "What those people did was wrong. No one should be treated like that, no matter what they have done."
"So you really won't send me back?" Neal looked at him, big blue eyes round with surprise and hope.
"I don't know what I'm going to do right now. But no I will try not to send you back. Not if I can help it." It broke Peter's heart to see the undiminished relief that coursed through the body of the con in front of him at these words. The poor kid had been through enough. He would do everything in his power to prevent him from going back to where there would be no one to look over him, to protect him. "Now open your mouth, this soup is getting cold."
When dinner was over Neal settled back on the couch and closed his eyes. Peter got up to take the empty tray to the kitchen and brought Neal a glass of water and a cooling pad to help bring down the fever, which had improved considerably as Neal had gotten some energy. He sat on the floor besides Neal and placed the cooling pad on his forehead.
"Peter, are you there?" Neal murmured half asleep.
"Yea buddy I'm right here." Peter assured him taking hold of his hand and pressing it gently.
"Stay Peter… else bad people will come back…" Neal whispered.
"Go to sleep son. I'm right here." Peter gave his hand another gentle squeeze and brushed the bangs falling on the young man's forehead. "If they come back they'll have to go through me."
Even when he was no more than a file on his desk, Peter had felt an unexplainable pull towards the young man. Then he had opened the file and gazed in wonder at the bond, its perfect beauty making it unable for him to believe that it was forged. And yet it was. There had been no face and no name at first and James Bonds had gripped Peter's life. Then there was a sketch, and a name. Slowly but surely Peter had become acquainted with the enigma that was Neal Caffery. Or Nicholas Halden at that time. And the time that Peter had spent chasing him had developed between the two of them a special bond. Neal was good but Peter was slowly getting better.
He was catching up with the con man, always just one step behind him. And as if Neal had noticed this he started leaving clues at crime scenes, clues that only Peter would understand. And thus the game had started. Actually it was less of a game and more of a dance. It seemed like they were courting each other, each individual matching the excellence of grace and speed of the other. All that remained was the finale: who would win this game? Which of the two amazing performers would tire fast?
Though at that time Peter would never have admitted it, but those days had been the best days of his life. He actually felt alive while playing the game with an opponent of his caliber and it had been with not a small bit of disappointment that Peter had claimed victory over the infamous Neal Caffery.
Now looking at the sleeping man in front of him, Peter wished that he hadn't caught him at all. What would have happened? He wouldn't have gotten the fast promotion and amazing reputation, but Neal would have been happy. He would have had a life with Kate, and his boyish innocence would never have been marred by the cruelties of prison. Taking in the lean form spread over his couch, the chiseled features, and the slightly hitched breathe, Peter vowed that happen what may. He would not allow this man to put one foot in a prison cell again. He would look for a way to make his remaining sentence disappear or any other alternative, and if he didn't find anything he would help Neal escape. The law be damned. Peter Burke will not mess up Neal Caffery's life any further than he already had.
So far tell me what you think about it. RnR!