"Who said I was going back?" Neal's voice was light, his face trying for half teasing, but Peter could see the terror that still lurked in the back of his eyes.

"You know you made that choice when you decided to come clean about this."

"I can't come back … I'm dead, remember?" He grinned at his friend. "How are you planning to explain that?"

"The same way I explained it the last time you faked your… death." Peter's voice held just a hint of hardness… anger. Clearly he was still not quite forgiven for that trick.

Neal sighed… resignation in that sound. "I don't want to go back. I have a life here."

"Really?" Peter glanced around the apartment. Elegant but…empty. "Girlfriend?"

"No." Neal's smile looked just the tiniest bit forced. "I haven't had much time."

"Friends…?" there was no answer. The silence spoke volumes. "You've been isolating yourself here. I would think coming home where people care about you would be a relief"

"I work with people. I'm fine'

Peter bit his tongue, and took a deep breath before he redirected the conversation back on topic. "You are the only witness to a triple murder… Reynolds is not going to let you get away with hiding here."

"He doesn't believe me Peter." Neal looked at him knowingly "and even if he did… if I go back, they are going to lock me up. I ran."

"No they won't. You were a free man when you…left. You had a contract remember. Unless…" Peter's smile slipped into a small grin. "You do have access to a lot of museum security plans."

"I do…" the grin was a bit less tight

"You haven't been tempted to… replace some of the older art have you?"

"It's not a crime to be tempted." His eyes were laughing at last.

"No it's not… though tempted changes to doing pretty easily with you."

"If there are any forgeries in the places I've worked the last year, they are not mine." His voice was solemn but his eyes continued to sparkle mischievously "unless, of course, they were there before" Peter gave an exaggerated sigh and shot his friend a glare.

"Then you have no reason not to come home."

"Yes I do." Neal's voice held unyielding stubbornness.

"Then let's hear it."

"I'm not your problem anymore, Peter." The blue eyes of his friend were suddenly serious. "If I come back to the States it will be with Reynolds as his witness or prisoner. Whichever he decides I am. You don't have to take care of me."

"Yes I do Neal. You're my friend."

"Not anymore." There was a fierce determination in those eyes "your friend died last year. I'm Nick Collins now and I can't" the pain on Peter's face choked off Neal's voice. His resolve visibly wavered. "Just go home to your wife and son…and stay as far away from me as you can."

He thought he was protecting us… he's still protecting us "I can't do that" Peter kept his voice even "Because whether you want me to be or not I will always be your friend."

"I don't want you to be! I don't want you within a hundred miles of me!" Neal tried to look angry and indifferent, but he knew he failed. In his heart he was desperate for his friends and his home. A year spent alone after knowing how it feels to be cared for… it had been harder than he expected.

"I'm not going anywhere." Peter looked him straight in the eye "Reynolds seems to be a good agent but I don't trust him to take care of you."

"Peter, please." There is open desperation there now in the soft plea "they are going to find me."

"Who?"

"Whoever this is… not the trigger men but whoever Nolan called. Sooner or later they will find me and I will not let you get caught in the crossfire."

"And I'm not going to let them get to you either."

"No. It's not worth the risk. I know what a good friend is worth, Peter, and I don't want you involved in this." Peter glared at him, resisted the urge to shake him. Then he sighed

"I'm not going to let you die… again."

"I know…last year…upset you, because I was your responsibility but…I'm not now." Peter's face twisted slightly as he opened his mouth to interrupt but Neal continued. "Please, I'll be ok. You said Reynolds is a good agent…then he'll do his job, even though he doesn't like me."

"Not until he confirms your story. You are stuck with me at least until then. No more argument. You are coming to New York until he is certain you told him the truth." His only answer was a reluctant nod.

)()()()()()()()()()()()(

Thomas Reynolds had never been able to sleep on a plane but he reclined his seat and pretended to, so he didn't have to maintain a conversation with his companions. He could hear them talking softly over the hum of the engines. Oddly enough agent Burke and Caffrey seemed to enjoy tormenting each other. The verbal barbs they threw at each other would have been the end of some relationships but these two seemed to take them playfully. He thought listening to them while they felt unobserved would be enlightening as to just how far Caffrey had Burke manipulated but so far the conversation had been entirely light with occasional questions about mutual friends.

With a sigh he tried to find a more comfortable position and let his mind wander… Molly. She drifted into his mind as she always did when he didn't push her away. He could see her as clearly as ever, three and a half years hadn't faded the image at all. Her beautiful golden green eyes, the curve of her lips, her long auburn hair brushing her hips. He could still feel her slim curves in his arms, still smell the warm sweet scent of her.

He tried to push the thought of her away because he knew where his mind would go next if he didn't, but he failed. He saw her … just the way she looked that last day. The park, her laugh, her eyes filled with love and joy, the swirl of her hair. At six months pregnant her normally slim form was rounded, full. They were in the park. A beautiful day, she wanted to meet him in the park for lunch. Molly loved to be outside. While he watched her he was scheming, planning. She wasn't the type to get married because of the pregnancy but once the baby came he would propose… he knew just the ring she would love.

In his mind he saw the man coming, running toward Molly. Thomas saw the gun in his hand, but he was frozen to the spot, unable to move. He heard the crack of the shot, echoing forever. As she fell the man stepped over her as if she was nothing…just litter on the sidewalk. He never paused, not even for a heartbeat...never missed a step. Thomas ran to her… held her. He felt the moment her heart stopped… the paramedics did CPR all the way to the hospital because the baby was alive… they could still save his daughter, they told him, but Molly, his beautiful Molly was gone. Emily came into the world 2 lbs. and 12 ounces … almost 3 months to early and without a mother.

"She was in my way." The man shrugged when they caught him, casually, without regret.

"they shot Rico first, then Leo... then ...Donny" Caffrey's voice sounded very much the same two days ago, except for the slight hesitation as if he were trying to remember the boy's name. Donny Mitchel was17… beaten half to death, shot in the back of the head and left to die alone in the forest. Caffrey couldn't be bothered to remember his name.

Reynolds felt sick, he hated cases that involved guys like that… and worse this time the monster very well might not be going to jail. If Caffrey was telling the truth…Reynolds snapped his eyes open and ran a shaky hand through his hair, sweat trickled down his face.

"Are you ok?" Caffrey sounded almost sincerely concerned. Reynolds glared at him and stood up. "Two more hours on this flight… just two more hours with the man." He told himself.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds left them at the airport with a promise that once he had compared Neal's version of events to the evidence… if it held up he would arrange a formal protection detail. He barely glanced at the sketches offered…though he did take them. Neal watched him go quietly.

"He really doesn't like me." Peter smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"You are something of an acquired taste."

"You liked me when you met me."

"I had been tracking you for 3 years. Come on, let's get you home"

"Home?"

"Elisabeth may have mentioned to June that you are alive"

"She shouldn't have done that… these people are dangerous."

"She has agreed to take a vacation… once she sees you."

Neal nodded "I still don't like it. They could follow her, hurt her. At the very least her home could be damaged."

"I think she is willing to take that risk" a familiar voice broke in.

"Jones?" Neal grinned "Peter is there anyone you didn't tell" Jones clasped his shoulder to assure himself the man in front of him was solid.

"Good to see you Neal." He said quietly "been pretty boring around the office without you." The other man grinned.

"Wasn't expecting you to meet us at the airport."

"Peter asked me to handle the security arrangements for Mr. Nick Collins… discreetly. Speaking of… I have 4 people lined up boss, not counting you and myself. Two agents who will be glad to see…Collins, and two newbies who won't recognize him."

"Thank you Jones." Peter told the younger agent.

"You really think these people will come for him after all this time?"

"I don't know."

Conversation turned to lighter things as they rode to the mansion. Neal couldn't help an honest smile as they pulled up in front of the house. Home… nowhere else in his life had ever felt so much like home. June met them at the door herself. Without a word she embraced Neal the moment he stepped through the door, silent tears on her cheeks.

"I can't tell you how good it is to see you, sweetheart." She almost whispered, when she allowed him to breathe. "How have you been? You look like you lost weight… have you been taking care of yourself?" she didn't let him get an answer out before she pulled him in for another hug. Shocked he managed a look at Peter over her shoulder. He had never seen June this emotional and he wasn't entirely sure what caused it. Was she really that lonely here in this big house? When she finally let go with a murmured apology, Neal gave her a gentle smile and wiped the tears from her cheeks softly.

"It's good to see you too. "He lay his hand on her arm "I missed you."

"I kept your room like you left it…well mostly." She gave him an affectionate smile "I'm afraid your friends took a few little things after…"the older woman swallowed hard. "They all wanted to remember you. I could hardly tell them no…" there was an apologetic tone to the helpless shrug she gave.

"Thank you June. You don't have to do this… I feel terrible about sending you out of your own home."

"You stay as long as you need to. And Neal, sweetheart, be safe" she wrapped him in one last hug before she let him go upstairs.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Neal stared at the painting…it wasn't finished but he still couldn't think what it needed. The trees and the stream that flowed wildly between them were dark… haunting…cold. Running… splashing through the stream, slipping in the mud on the bank… cold, cold rain on his neck. He shivered. He hoped that being back here, in this place that would always feel like home would help, but… the painting hung on the easel as disturbing as ever. He had painted a nightmare, his deepest darkest fear, maybe there was no way to fix it.

The young agent sitting on his couch cleared his throat softly. Neal glanced at him, he was leafing through a magazine absently. The kid was obviously bored. Babysitting an artist while he stared at a painting for hours was clearly not the exciting job he joined the FBI to do. Neal grinned at the kid. "Protection detail is pretty boring, huh." The young man's eyes darted toward him. Neal's grin widened.

"That obvious?"

"Pretty obvious."

"Sorry, Mr. Collins." He sounded sheepish

"It's Nick, agent Thompson

"Jason" Neal's smile relaxed a little, putting people at ease was still what he did best.

"Not as bad as the van though." Jason stared at him with open curiosity

"No, not as bad as the van."

"Hungry?"

"What?"

"You've been sitting here for 6 hours today… are you hungry Jason?"

"I am actually… should I call for something?" Neal laughed and gestured to the kitchen.

"Oh….you want to cook" clearly surprised

"Well the fridge is stocked. And there is nothing like homemade..."

"My mom always says that."

"Smart lady." Jason beamed. "Call Mike in from the hall and we will make some dinner." Neal didn't mind take out occasionally but, three days of carefully screened take out was more than enough. The first day Peter and Jones had stayed. Today he had been introduced to these 2 boys. Neal considered how much of his life he had spent running from and working with the FBI… it wasn't surprising really that being protected by them felt … almost like coming home.

Within minutes he had the two young agents laughing while he cooked. The tense atmosphere lightened dramatically. After dinner Mike returned to his station outside the door and Neal waved Jason away… offering his shower and promising not to go out on the terrace. A few moments alone was just what he needed. He was content for the first time in a long time.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Peter glanced at his phone when it rang. He should have been home by now. Elle probably had dinner ready half an hour ago but his stop for diapers had taken far longer than it should have. He sighed as he grabbed the ringing phone. "Hon I'm on my way-"

"Pe…ter" Not Elle…

"Neal? What's wrong?"

"Found….me…" He was already turning the car toward the mansion… it was only a couple of blocks but the silence that followed on the other end of the line made it seem like a hundred miles. He sprinted into the house and up the stairs.

Agent Michael Jefferies sat at his post outside the apartment door he glanced up as the ASAC rushed toward him

"Sir?" he asked as Peter shoved the door open.

Peter froze… his mind did not process the shattered wooden frame of the French door… or the blood… he couldn't see past two blue eyes staring back at him…Vacant eyes that did not track his movements as he stepped into the room.