Title: Hiding Amongst The Greys.

Summary: A comment from Neal prompts Peter to ask- or attempt to ask about Neal's time in prison.

Characters: Neal Caffrey and Peter Burke.

Warnings: Nothing graphic, but there's mention of past physical abuse. Nothing sexual.

Notes: None.

...

"Don't define your world in black and white, because there is so much hiding amongst the greys." - Unknown.

Neal barely held back a sigh when he noticed him staring. Again. Peter had been stealing glances from the moment they sat down maybe thirty minutes ago, and while Neal had been willing to wait for Peter to finally say what was on his mind or just brush it off and stop looking at him, he now realized neither option was going to happen any time soon.

He reached for his cup of warm tea and took a small sip. It was far from the best tea he had ever tasted, but since he wasn't up to preparing it himself, he hadn't complained. Elizabeth would have been the perfect hostess, preparing him a perfect cup of tea and making sure he had anything he needed and more. Sadly, she was in San Francisco for the week, so he was left to accept Peter's hospitality and his slightly clumsy attempts to make him feel comfortable.

That was probably not very fair to Peter, though. After all, he brought Neal home with him so he didn't have to deal with the stairs at June's, and after yielding the couch to him he made sure there was a fluffy pillow for him to rest his sprained ankle and an ice pack. He even saved him from a very effusive greeting from Satchmo when he entered the house.

Neal looked down at the dog with a fond smile. It was silly, really, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling a little smug and content when Satchmo chose to lay by the couch instead of moving to Peter's side.

He cradled the mug between his hands and turned his attention back to the TV. There was an old and familiar Gary Grant movie playing, so even if he wasn't paying much attention to what was happening on the screen he could still enjoy it-

At least until he felt Peter's eyes on him again.

"Alright. Out with it." It was possible that as the effect of the pain meds Peter forced him to take passed, the pain was slowly making itself known again, which had turned him a little morose. Maybe.

Peter turned back to him, this time with a startled look. "What?"

"You keep stealing glances at me. I noticed," Neal informed him, giving him what he hoped was a pointed look. "It's obvious there's something you want to say, so just say it already so you can stop doing that. It's annoying."

"Of course you noticed." Peter shook his head. He looked equal parts amused and annoyed at being caught. "Alright. I admit there's something I want to talk about."

Neal said nothing. He stared at Peter with slightly raised eyebrows and waited.

Peter looked down at his clasped hands before raising his gaze to meet Neal's. "While we were in the hospital you said I shouldn't worry too much. You told me this wasn't the worst beating you had ever had."

Neal didn't remember it, but it was possible he may have said something like that if Peter had looked particularly guilty or worried about him. The drugs they pumped into him probably helped loosen his tongue as well, making him forget the fact Peter wasn't going to let a comment like that go. Still, he hadn't asked a question, so Neal remained silent.

Peter's eyes never left his face. "You were locked up in a maximum-security prison for four years."

'Yes, and I'm sure you remember who put me there.' The words were on the tip of Neal's tongue. He wouldn't have hesitated to voice the dry remark any other day, but he did this time.

"I remember, yes."

"I never agreed with that, you know. You belonged in prison, yes, but not alongside the type of prisoners they put in a supermax." He shook his head, lips pressed together. "I tried talking with the attorney and the judge, but they didn't listen. They couldn't see past the fact you were a flight risk." Peter's somber expression lighted up a second later. "It turns out they should have listened to me."

"Um. Peter, you do remember I escaped prison, right?"

"Oh, I do. But if they had put you in medium-security as I suggested, it would have saved them the embarrassment of having a prisoner just walk out of what was supposed to be one of their most secure prisons."

Neal's amused laugh was cut short when the movement jarred his bruised ribs. He hissed softly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Neal breathed as he wrapped one of his arms around his chest. "Just remind me not to do that again."

"I'll do that," Peter promised with the flicker of a smile.

Once the pain subsided Neal took a sip from the tea he had forgotten he was still holding and watched Peter as he settled back on the armchair. "You know, I started working on plans of escape as soon as I had a good grasp of the coming and goings in there. In fact, the plan I used was the third I put together. With a couple of small upgrades, of course."

"So why didn't you escape before? If you already had a plan- or plans." There was honest curiosity shining in Peter's brown eyes as he watched him.

"I thought about it, more than a couple of times, but it was only four years." Neal shrugged- or started to. He immediately aborted the movement with a grimace. "I thought if I could just do the time I would be truly free once my time was up."

It would have also given him the option to stay in New York if that was what Kate wanted. There was no point in mentioning that now.

"I was also thinking about you, you know," Neal added with a grin. "I thought you could use a break from chasing me all over the world. I'm sure Elizabeth appreciated having you home again."

"We would have appreciated it even more if you had turned yourself in when I started chasing you."

"But where would have been the fun in that, Peter?"

The moment of levity was over sooner than he would have liked, and they fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence once again. Neal waited for Peter to say something else, but he didn't. He just reached for his beer and took a swig as he looked back at the TV.

Satchmo whined softly, obviously perceiving the change in the room. It prompted Neal to put his mug away so he could use his now free hand to scratch behind the dog's ear.

Neal didn't owe this to Peter. The agent had been just doing his job, he knew, and Neal may have enjoyed their cat and mouse game until the very moment he was on cuffs, but that didn't change the fact it was Peter who put him in prison. If he couldn't bring himself to ask the question he really wanted to ask he probably didn't deserve to hear the answer. Except-

Except, Neal knew Peter, and he knew Peter wasn't going to let this go now that his thoughtless comment had put it in his head. He would look through prison records and who knew what else in search of answers. Neal didn't have a choice if he wanted to maintain even a little control over the situation.

"You still haven't asked the question you really want to ask." Neal met Peter's gaze straight on for a long moment before speaking again. "You want to know if I became someone's punching bag while I was in prison. Or worse."

Peter swallowed hard but didn't avert his gaze. "Did you?"

"No." Neal made a short pause. "Mozzie understood what I was getting into better than I did, and he made sure money reached the right hands to ensure I wouldn't be maimed or killed in there."

Peter's relief was obvious in the long exhale that escaped his lips, in the release of tension on his shoulders. He was, of course, relieved to know nothing terrible had happened to him in prison, even if he was uncomfortable with the methods used to achieve that. Peter was far too smart to be unaware of the way things worked in prison, but that didn't mean he liked being reminded of all the ways the justice system he believed in was corrupted.

"Moz never visited me in prison, and I always understood why, but he made sure I was as safe and comfortable as I could possibly be while I was in there." Mozzie probably wouldn't appreciate him telling Peter that, but it was important he knew even a small part of the things Neal owed Moz.

Kate's short visits every week and Mozzie's support from afar were the only reasons he survived prison, there was no doubt in Neal's mind about it. He wouldn't have been strong enough to do it on his own. Each had been essential in their own way.

The only person who had heard details about his time in prison before now was Mozzie and only the bare minimum. It was all behind him now, so there was no reason to dwell on it. Almost against his own will, Neal found himself talking, his gaze meeting Peter's.

"It was still prison, though, so even Moz's best efforts weren't enough to stop some inmates from throwing a few punches at the beggining."

"How bad?" Peter demanded, looking ready to go make sure the guilty parties were punished. The reaction almost made Neal smile.

"The guards intervened fairly quickly, so It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Just a few cracked ribs and some bruises." And a couple of minor fractures and cuts that needed stitches. Neal didn't mention either the time a group cornered him in the showers in his first week. A couple of inmates Moz somehow convinced to look out for him arrived before anything happened, so there was no reason to mention it.

"The first few months were tough, but once I had the time to learn the ins and outs of life in prison I found ways to make myself useful, so things got better."

Neal didn't look away from Peter, almost daring him to ask for details even though the last thing he wanted was to give them. He wasn't even sure why he said as much as he had already. Perhaps there was a small part of him that wanted Peter to face the fact doing the right thing also had consequences. Or he just needed to say it out loud to someone else.

"That shouldn't have happened. None of it should have happened." Peter looked angry, but there was guilt lurking in the deeps of his brown eyes along with something else Neal couldn't put a name to. "If I had known-"

"Don't. Just don't," Neal cut him off sharply. He tried not to imagine how much worse it could have been if it somehow got out he was being protected by a Fed. "Whatever happened, happened, and none of it was your fault, Peter. I mean it."

Peter met his gaze for an endless moment, his brown eyes sharp and searching and kind. He nodded once, the movement hesitant.

Neal closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the pounding in his head. So much for talking to Peter himself so he wouldn't go looking for details elsewhere. That could have worked if he had stopped talking before he said too much. Probably. Peter's motto was 'trust but verify' where he was concerned, after all.

He could still feel the weight of Peter's gaze on him, so he turned his attention to Satchmo. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as soon as he saw the dog was once again sleeping peacefully on the rug.

"You know," Neal started after a moment, his tone still subdued. "I still haven't told you the worst thing I had to endure in prison."

"Tell me," Peter prompted, his expression grim but determined.

He took his time before answering, his solemn blue eyes never leaving Peter's gaze. "The food."

Peter stared at him for a moment, his expression blank. "Neal-" he finally growled warningly, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm serious, Peter," Neal interrupted in earnest. "The food is terrible. Worse than terrible. It's inedible, every bit of it. Even Satchmo eats better food than prison inmates. Hell, half of the dogs in this country eat better food than that."

It was a true and valid complaint, but it was also a distraction. Peter most likely saw right through it, but Neal was hoping he would go along with it anyway. It had been known to happen once or twice.

"I'm sure you found a way around that."

"Maybe I did," Neal replied, a genuine smile on his lips that Peter copied a second later.

And just like that, the tension that had been between them just minutes before was gone. It wasn't over, Neal knew Peter too well to believe that, but at least for now, he didn't have to worry about it.

...

a/n: It is my personal head canon that Neal's first months in prison were hell, and that the only reason he didn't end up dead or worse was Mozzie's silent intervention. That didn't last long, though, because once he had a good read of the place and the people there he used all his smarts and charm to make things better for himself, just like he told Peter here. I just can't imagine someone like Neal, who hates violence and looks like he does not having a tough time in a supermax, and yet what little we saw of him in prison and his single cell certainly looked like he was doing alright by the time he escaped.

Thank you very much to the people who took the time to leave me a review in the previous chapter. I hate feeling like I'm begging for reviews, but it's very discourageous to post things and feel like nobody is reading them, let alone enjoying them.