This is an AU take on the series final, so obviously there's spoilers from that episode. Enjoy!

I don't own White Collar any of its characters.

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Title: Some Day One Day.

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Neal stared at the wall before him with tired but sharp eyes. The wall was painted in a pale tone of cornflower, a color that was supposed to be cool and calming, and Neal loathed it. He wasn't sure he could put into words the reason behind that feeling, and that only served to make his annoyance grow with every second he stared at it. He should be able to tell why the damn color was wrong.

At least the incredibly bland painting 'decorating' the room was hanging to his left, so he didn't have to see it all the time. Unlike the wall.

Or maybe, just maybe, it wasn't about the color of the walls or the painting themselves. Perhaps it all came down to Neal's hater of hospitals or even the fact he could feel the effect of whatever drugs they were giving him fading little by little.

This wasn't his first hospital stay, of course, and just like every time he had been stuck in one, Neal hated every minute of it. Well, he had hated every minute he had been aware enough to realize where he was- which was a small fraction of the time, all things considered.

"Nothing interesting on TV today, I see."

The familiar voice coming from the doorway dragged Neal's attention away from the wall. The frown slipped off his face as Neal blinked slowly at the other man. A tentative smile tugged at the corner of his lips a moment later.

"Hey, Peter."

"Hey yourself," Peter greeted with a smile after closing the door. Then, he walked further into the room. "You're looking better today. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Neal responded with a shrug and a twitch of his lips. It was followed half a second later by a wince as the small movement sent a wave of pain through his body. He really needed to remember what a bad idea it was to do that. "I also could be worse, though."

Like Keller, a dark voice whispered in his head.

Neal tried and failed to keep his expression neutral, so he focused instead on forcing the unwelcome thought to the back of his mind. It was a thought that kept coming back again and again ever since Neal learned the fate of the man that, once upon a time, he had almost called a friend.

His brain refused to believe Matthew Keller was truly gone now. It felt like no time passed at all since Neal saw the bright crimson of his own blood covering Keller's hands and the grim look on his face.

"You okay?" Peter asked, leaning forward with a concerned expression on his face.

"I'm fine," Neal quickly reassured Peter, a halfhearted smile on his lips.

Peter stared at him with narrowed eyes. It was a very familiar look, so Neal waited patiently for Peter to accept he was telling the truth.

"Right," the agent said with a sharp nod. "Well, if you're really sure you're alright, there's something I need to discuss with you."

Discuss, Neal thought dryly. He had to give Peter points for the creative way to avoid saying he needed to interrogate him.

He didn't need to be at one hundred percent to know what this was about. In fact, the only surprise in all of this was that the agent waited until now to bring it up. Peter was a good person- one of the best Neal had ever met, but he was also not someone who allowed feelings and emotions to cloud his judgment or interfere with his duty. Neal had firsthand experience in that regard.

Neal could always play the sympathy card, of course. He would pretend to be willing to talk despite his poor condition and let Peter be the one to 'decide' this wasn't the best time after all. That would give him the time find a way to skip his next rounds of meds and, with a clear head, come up with a story that explained why he escaped with Keller and what happened to the missing money.

It was a good plan. A plan Mozzie would have approved of. Too bad Neal wasn't going to use it.

He wasn't lying completely flat on his back right now, but it was close enough to bother him. It took Neal no time at all to decide he preferred to be uncomfortable and in pain than stay in such a vulnerable position if he and Peter were to have this conversation.

Neal waited only a second and then sucked in a breath as white-hot pain filled his body the moment he pushed the button.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Peter exclaimed as he got to his feet. He watched with a helpless expression, reaching out to help Neal but stopping before his hands made contact. "Are you okay?" He asked after a moment.

"I'm fine," Neal breathed out when he finally could speak again. He forced himself to release the soft blanket clutched between his white-knuckled fingers. "Just sitting up so we can talk."

Peter stared at him, disbelief and disapproval warring for dominance on his face before morphing into a familiar expression of resigned exasperation.

Pain still flooded Neal's senses, but he offered him a thin smile.

"You-" Peter cut himself off with a shake of his head. He was silent for a moment, but when he spoke again, he met his gaze. "Neal Caffrey was declared officially dead two days ago."

Neal could do nothing but stare at the other man with wide blue eyes, his mind racing as he struggled to make sense of the words. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to forgo his meds for this conversation even if he wasn't planning anything.

He felt his mouth open and close several times almost of its own volition, not a single word uttered. Peter, like usual, came to his rescue.

"I know it's a lot to take in." Peter's voice was gentle, his hands raised in what Neal could only guess was supposed to be a placating or reassuring gesture. He could see Peter's mouth moving as he continued talking, but he couldn't focus enough to make sense of the words.

It took what felt like an eternity, but eventually, Neal recovered enough from the initial shock to try to speak.

"How-"

"You brought down the Pink Panthers, Neal," Peter told him plainly. As if it were that simple. "The least we can do now is make damn sure you're protected."

He blinked at Peter, a wan smile tugging at the corner of his lips after a moment. "That's not what I was going to ask."

Peter settled back on the uncomfortable hospital chair, clearly surprised by his response. "Oh?"

Neal's smile widened slightly. "How did you know?"

"You told me."

"What?"

"You were pretty out of it the first few times you regained consciousness, but it wasn't hard to put together some of the things you said. That, and I also took the liberty to visit the storage unity you rented recently," Peter added, a smug smile flickering across his face.

"Oh," Neal said softly. Peter was meant to find the storage unity and see its contents, but this was not the way it was supposed to happen. He probably had been searching for the missing money and found something else entirely.

"It was pretty good the plan you cooked up," Peter commented. Admiration and a touch of wariness colored his words. "Nobody would have suspected a damn thing- not even me. Too bad Keller decided to use his knife instead of the gun."

"Yeah," Neal murmured, looking down at the lax hands resting on his lap. "I should have known he would find a way to mess up my plans even if he had no idea what they were."

It was almost poetic, really. Keller's last act in life had been to spoil his plans. Neal wouldn't go as far as to say he died happily, but it was likely that there had been a fair amount of grim satisfaction involved in the knowledge that, one way or another, he had taken him down with him.

"I know why you did it." Peter's firm, no-nonsense tone cut the silence, making Neal raise his head. "Someone like Woodford is dangerous even behind bars, and you would have become an obvious target as soon as he got even the slightest suspicion you weren't in prison along with the rest of the group.

"You were trying to protect yourself."

"It wasn't just about me," Neal explained after only a moment's hesitation. Peter deserved the truth. "There's a reason no one had dared to cross Woodford before, Peter. You're right that it wouldn't have taken him long to realize I was responsible for what happened, and once he did, he wouldn't have been satisfied just killing me. He would have set to destroy everyone I care about."

"And yet, you decided to go ahead with the operation anyway."

"By the time I realized how far the consequences could go, I was already in too deep," Neal confessed quietly. "Trying to get out would only have made things worse."

Peter stared at him. It was clear from the look on his face that he wanted to scold him for his recklessness and lack of foresight- it would be by far not the first time that happened, and yet, he remained silent.

Neal fidgeted a little, growing more unease with every second that passed. He almost would have preferred the lecture over this thick silence.

"I'm sorry," Peter finally uttered, his expression almost pained. "I'm sorry you didn't feel you could come to me with this."

Neal blinked in surprise. That was not what he had expected.

"It wasn't because of lack of trust that I didn't tell you about this, Peter," Neal explained gently. "I know if I told you, you would have done everything you could to help me, just like you always have, but I don't think it would have been enough. And I didn't want to get you involved in all this," he added, making a vague movement with his hand to encompass everything.

Peter continued to stare at him, his expression unreadable.

He couldn't tell if Peter believed him or not. It hurt a little, but he couldn't say he was surprised. Not really. Neal could only hope Peter at least knew him well enough to know he never would have planned something so ruthless if he had any other choice.

His relationship with Peter may not be what it once was or what he had still hoped it could be, but Neal had no doubt news of his death would have been a hard blow for him. Just like they would have been for Mozzie and June, as well as Elizabeth and maybe even a handful of people in the FBI.

Neal would never have chosen to hurt them that way if he hadn't been desperate. Desperate and utterly terrified of what could happen if he didn't.

Even now, he was still convinced it was the only thing he could have done.

"So, what's gonna happen to me now that I'm dead?" Neal asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them once again. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips only a second later when he saw Peter's whole demeanor shift.

Of course, Peter was all too happy to leave behind all the emotional stuff he had no idea how to handle and focus instead on talking strategy and making plans. Good to see some things hadn't changed.

"Nothing is going to happen until you've recovered fully," Peter's tone left no room for arguments. "I meant it, Neal. This wasn't just some minor injury, and you need to treat it as such."

"Of course," Neal replied with his most innocent, candid smile. He received a narrowed glance in response. "And then what?"

Peter shifted a little in his seat but never broke eye contact. "They want to put you into the Witness Protection program."

Neal couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

It wasn't a happy laugh, and it didn't last long at all. There wasn't much Neal could do with the still-healing stab wounds Keller left him as a parting gift, and he was reminded of that fact every time he did anything other than lie very still on the bed. Like now.

Neal's hands instinctively flew to his abdomen as soon as the pain started and just as quickly went away when they only made things worse. Jesus Christ. And he thought the pain had been bad before.

"-right? Neal? Do you need me to call someone?"

Neal forced himself to shake his head in answer as he tried to ride the waves of pain that threatened to drown him. His chest and abdomen felt as if they were on fire, and his lungs seemed unable to provide the oxygen he needed. Amid the excruciating pain, he could feel the reassuring weight of Peter's hand on his arm, offering his silent support.

The first thing Neal saw when he finally opened his watery eyes again was the concern and alarm on Peter's face as he hovered by his side, looking older than he had just minutes before.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he rasped. Peter stopped him with a raised hand and turned to fill a glass with water from the bedside table.

Neal blinked at the glass he was being offered, only then realizing he needed to release the sheets trapped between his clenched fists so he could take it. His hands weren't steady enough to hold the glass, though, so Peter had to help with that as well.

"Thanks," Neal rasped once Peter took the empty glass away.

Peter let himself drop back into his chair with a deep exhale. "What did I just tell you about giving yourself time to heal?"

"Sorry," he murmured, a grimace crossing his face as he adjusted his position a little. "I just-" He took a breath. "I can't help but wonder how many people have been lucky enough to need the Witness Protection Program twice in a lifetime."

"You have always been special, Neal."

Neal offered Peter a blinding smile that turned more genuine when he received in response the eye roll he had been expecting.

"And what happens if I don't accept our government's very generous offer?"

"You can do that," Peter assured him with no hesitation. "There'll be tons of paperwork and probably a signed waiver to ensure you understand the possible consequences of the decision you would be making, but they wouldn't stop you."

"So, they basically want me to state that if I get murdered it will be my own fault and not the government's," Neal summed up in a wry tone.

"That's- a way of putting it, I guess," Peter admitted with a grimace. The pain that was sure to follow was the only thing that stopped Neal from offering a few pats to Peter's arm as support and encouragement.

In the years since they started working together, Peter was forced more than once to acknowledge and accept the fact he couldn't always trust and blindly follow the orders or rules imposed by the government he had sworn his alliance to, but that hadn't made it easier for him.

"In any case, even if you decide not to enter WITSEC, you will be set up with a brand new identity courtesy of the USA government." Peter's smile was a flickering thing, gone almost as soon as it came. "Of course, you will also be strongly advised to get out of the city- maybe even out of the country."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Neal responded, even as his mind continued reeling from everything he had learned in the last minutes. He wondered if this was all just a dream or maybe even a hallucination caused by the drugs. He always had weird reactions to them. "You know how long I've waited to be allowed to travel further than two miles unsupervised."

Peter cocked his head. "What about your little trip to Cape Verde?"

"I was on the run then, so it doesn't count," he dismissed with a small wave of his hand. He very pointedly ignored the fact that even if Peter and the authorities wouldn't be chasing him this time, he would still be on the run. It didn't bear thinking right now.

"You and Mozzie lived in luxury for months on a private villa by the sea. Of course, it counts."

He ducked his head to hide a grin. When it was put like that, it definitely counted, even if Neal spent most of that time wishing he was back in New York. They never really talked about it, but he was sure Peter knew that as well.

In the comfortable silence that followed, Neal took a moment to really look at Peter. The dark circles under his eyes, the sharp lines etched on his face, and the tension on his shoulders were familiar to him, but all signs were present this time, and that made it different. It reminded him a little bit of the time El had been kidnapped- minus the absolute rage and frustration that had emanated from his every pore, of course.

Neal wondered how much of what he saw came as a result of Peter's restless work to protect him.

"How did you even convince the higher-ups to do all this?" He asked softly. "I mean, I had to fight tooth and nail to get them to agree to commute my sentence in exchange for the Panthers, and now they're all but standing on parade to see me out of the country."

"That's a bit exaggerated, don't you think?"

He offered him a smile and the tiniest of shrugs.

"I don't think you understand how big this is, Neal." Peter raised a hand to stall him before he even opened his mouth to argue. "We took down the Pink Panthers in an operation that took weeks instead of months or even years. An operation that by all rights should have entailed a lot more manpower and resources than it did. Not only that, but by the end, only three deaths were registered, two of which were criminals."

Neal couldn't help it. He flinched as soon as he heard the word 'deaths'. Peter noticed, just like he noticed the expression of pain that crossed his face half a second later. Thankfully, he didn't comment on either.

"You infiltrated the Panthers just when they were planning to hit the Federal Reserve, and thanks to you, we stopped them with a bust that turned out as well as any bust can be expected to. Higher-ups are already scrambling to get their names tied to the operation, and even politicians are coming out to take credit for it." Peter shook his head. "This is huge, Neal, and you are the reason it was made possible."

None of what Peter just said came as a surprise. Neal knew what he was offering in exchange for his freedom when he presented the idea to Peter. Still, it was a little overwhelming to hear the ripple effect it had caused.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "But you have to admit doing a remarkable job for the government hasn't worked that well for me in the past."

"I know," Peter said solemnly. "But this time is different. I made sure of that."

The words and tone Peter used caused a shiver to run down Neal's spine. As he met Peter's dark eyes, Neal wanted to ask him how exactly he made sure of that. Ask him how they could be certain this time was different.

Neal asked nothing. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to those questions, not now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. For now, he would trust Peter's word.

The silence that filled the room at that moment wasn't quite so comfortable. It was a thick silence filled with unspoken words. Doubts and regrets, and truths that had remained unsaid for years.

Good thing Neal was excellent at misdirection.

"Do you think they'll let me pick my new name?" He asked suddenly, making Peter's head snap in his direction. "You know I have some experience choosing names for myself."

Peter stared at him as if he couldn't quite believe what he just heard. "Do you have something in mind already?"

"Maybe," Neal teased, the corner of his mouth curling upward. He would miss his name. Neal Caffrey belonged to him in a way Daniel Brooks never had and Neal Bennett never could. It was more than an alias and had been for a long time.

"Oh?" Peter prompted, leaning forward with obvious interest.

The last time he needed to start over, he took his mother's maiden name as his own, so it was fitting that this time Neal would try to honor two equally important women in his life.

Neal projected an air of nonchalance as he spoke. "I'm not set on a first name yet, but I think the last name Parker has a nice ring to it. Or maybe Carroll. What do you think?"

He knew Ellen's real name now, but Kathryn Hill was the young police officer who arrested her partner, not the caring woman who helped raise him. Neal couldn't use the name Ellington either since Neal Caffrey's connection to June was too public, but she hadn't always been June Ellington.

A look at Peter's face told Neal the other man knew what he was trying to do. Of course he did. Nobody knew him better than Peter Burke.

"I think they are fine names," Peter answered with a warm smile. "I'll see what I can do."

"Let's hope the higher-ups are truly as appreciative as you seem to think they are," he joked lightly.

"I'm sure I can convince them to see it our way."

Neal's smile grew as he met the other man's gaze and saw the spark of mischief and determination in his brown eyes. He had no doubt Peter would find a way to make it happen, no matter how unorthodox and lenient everyone around him thought it was. It wouldn't be the first time.

He couldn't help but wonder when he last saw this Peter. A Peter Burke who was willing to take a chance on the man he chased for three years. The same Peter Burke who saw who he was and what he was, and still found something worthy. It happened before Peter went to prison, Neal knew that much, but he couldn't remember the exact moment, the context. He hadn't known then that it was something he needed to commit to memory before it was gone.

Neal was self-aware enough to know it wasn't Peter's fault- not entirely. They both made mistake after mistake until they couldn't move forward any longer. They tried to make it work, all of it. Working together and being friends, and attempting to put him back on the straight and narrow. They mostly succeeded with the first two, but the third was always a struggle. One step forward, two steps back.

It would probably have worked better if Neal had been sure it was what he wanted or if he hadn't needed to turn back to that side of himself every day to do the job Peter had gotten him out of prison to do.

None of it matters. Not anymore. Peter Burke was still the same FBI agent set on doing things by the book, and Neal Caffrey was gone- gone for good this time. It was for the best, really.

The sudden tight grip of Peter's hand on his forearm made Neal open his eyes again, surprised to learn he had closed them in the first place. He was immediately alarmed when he saw Peter's eyes glistening with tears.

"I'm so glad you're alive," Peter whispered softly.

The raw honesty and affection in his glassy brown eyes took Neal's breath away. He knew Peter cared. Of course he did, but not like this. Not this much. Not after everything. Neal found himself at a loss. All of his endless quips and clever words failed him. The only thing he could do at that moment was move his free arm until he could put his hand over Peter's, ignoring the pain the movement caused him.

"I'm glad to be alive too," he replied with a watery smile as a single tear ran down his cheek.

Neal had always believed that credit should be given where it was due, and, in that moment, he knew he owed a heartfelt thank you to Matthew Keller for ensuring his last and biggest con failed.

He couldn't stay here, Neal knew that much, but Peter's caring words and the love shining in his eyes gave him hope. A hope that there was still a place for him here after all, and he wouldn't have to stay away forever.

Neal could come back home to this strange little family he managed to find in the most unlikely of places after years of fruitless search. Some day, he will be able to see June again, meet Elizabeth and Peter's child, and speak to Diana and Clinton again.

He would leave now, but it wouldn't be forever. Neal would get to come home someday.

...

A/N: This was supposed to be posted for Caffrey-Burke day last week, except it didn't get finished on time because of course it didn't.

I will start by saying I don't hate the show's ending, and I like that it gave us the freedom to decide what Neal's path would be afterwards, but I still found myself wanting to spare Peter and a few select others the grief of thinking Neal died, and making things a little bit better for them without ignoring season 5 and everything that happened. Let me know your thoughts!

As for the fic itself, I will admit there are parts of it that I absolutely love, others I think are pretty neat, and the rest, I fear, is just word vomit. This fic has been in my drafts for a long time now, and though I've done edits in recent years, I can't for the life of me cut stuff out. I just can't. So, yeah. I hope someone out there enjoyed this mess. 😉

Title from the song of the same name by Queen.

This is unbetaed and I'm not a native speaker, so please feel free to point out any mistake you may find.