This finishes it off. Thanks to all for reading and reviewing, following and favoriting.

I own nothing but the mistakes for which I accept all responsibility.

Chapter Eleven

Derek was greeted by what he recognized immediately as the polished version of Neal Caffrey. His smile was bright as he rose from the table. He was wearing a gray suit; a white button down collared shirt and a thin black tie with a gold clip. The folds of a crisp white handkerchief extended from his right jacket pocket. A black fedora sat on the table he had just risen from. He was a picture of elegance.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me here, Mr. Andrews." His extended hand shook Derek's with a firm grasp. "My options for travel are somewhat limited." Derek smiled in returned, taking his seat as Neal returned to his.

"Yes, I remember," Derek said. "You look much better than you did the last time I saw you."

"My wardrobe has improved too," Neal said easily, handing Derek a menu and opening one of his own. "I think it was a blue print hospital gown that opened in the back I was wearing the last time."

"You didn't have to do this you know," Derek said after the waiter had brought drinks and taken their order. "You have thanked me already, as did your friend Agent Burke."

"I know," Neal replied, "But I wanted to do more than just say thank you. Even buying dinner isn't much of a payment for saving my life."

The food was excellent, and the conversation was remarkably comfortable. The subject matter moved from restaurant reviews to police work to the New York art scene; all subjects in which Neal Caffrey was well versed. Burke had said that Neal was the smartest man he had ever met and Derek could believe it. He was not only smart, but he was also well read and up to date on a variety of topics. Derek doubted that the man ever just relaxed; he was the kind whose mind had to have constant stimulation. Otherwise he would be bored.

At the end of the meal, Derek detected a slight change. Neal's entertaining, almost playful, demeanor shifted to a more serious one. "I don't remember much about the night I was stabbed," he began, carefully maintaining eye contact with Derek "but over the last week, I have gotten some brief flashes of being at your cabin."

Derek was surprised. Not so much that Neal remembered bits of that night but that he would bring them up. He knew that version of Neal was not one the man embraced. He waited on Neal to continue.

"I'm afraid I might not have been the ideal patient," Derek smiled at the slightly apologetic look on the young face.

"You weren't that difficult and given the circumstances everything you did was completely…."

"Pardonable?" Neal finished, eyebrow raised.

"Understandable." Derek wasn't sure what part of the night Neal was remembering and unless he named specifics Derek wasn't going to volunteer any information.

"All I remember is feeling…." Neal paused; only a brief flicker of discomfort crossed the man's face "Upset. And you told me you were there to help me; that everything would be okay."

"Yes, I did," Derek answered, trying to read the face of the man across from him. Was he fishing for more information, afraid of what he had revealed about himself? If he had been hard to read at the hospital, he was impossible now. There was a definite pause before Neal spoke again.

"Thank you for that." The sincerity of the words, and the underlying emotion beneath them told Derek immediately that this was the reason for the dinner. Neal had thanked him for saving his life, but this was thanks for something else altogether. Neal knew he hadn't been at his best, and when he had needed consolation Derek had given it.

"You're welcome, Neal," Derek replied, watching him closely. He could see the man debating saying something else; something that hadn't been on his original script for the conversation. Derek never doubted that there had been a script.

"And thank you for whatever you said to Peter, too."

Apparently the script had been readjusted. It was Derek's turn to raise his eyebrows in question.

"He told me goodbye when he left with you," Neal explained, "Then he came back in to…." He paused slightly "to talk to me-to tell me something." His eyes met Derek's. "I know it was because you said something to him."

"I just reminded him of what he said to me," He answered truthfully. Since he had told Burke about the waffling, he didn't feel bad about disclosing this information to Neal. "He told me that you were like a son to him."

"Really?" Neal looked a bit bewildered.

"Really," Derek answered, "And that was exactly the impression I got of him when he found you in my cabin that morning."

The young man seemed to take that in. "And you reminded him of that?"

"No, I reminded him of how close you came to dying that night and told him that if you didn't know how much he cared about you, he needed to tell you."

"Well, he did," he admitted. "It was very uncharacteristic of him. I didn't know what to say." Neal looked sheepishly at Derek, "I told him to get some rest."

Derek smiled. He could imagine the awkwardness of that exchange but was glad Burke had taken his words to heart and had talked to Neal anyway.

"Uncharacteristic, huh?" Derek asked, already knowing the answer, "He doesn't express a fatherly attitude often then?"

"Maybe that of an irritated one," Neal scoffed with feigned indifference, "disappointed by what he sees as poor decision-making and irresponsible actions."

"Some fathers are better reading their kids the riot act for what they do wrong than they are at telling them what they do right," Derek said. He knew that Burke's opinion mattered to Neal whether he showed it or not. "He sees the things you do right, too."

"I hope so," The longing in that quiet statement caught Derek momentarily off guard. It was the only crack in Neal's facade of self-assurance that had appeared during the entire conversation.

"I know so," Derek said with confidence. Neal nodded, then gave his attention to his pie. Whatever Burke had said to Neal about his feelings hadn't been as straightforward as Derek had just put it. If Derek had to guess, he would guess that Neal was averting his eyes as he processed the conversation. Since the script had been abandoned, he didn't have planned responses or reactions. He needed a few moments to regroup. When Neal met Derek's eyes again he was back in his usual state; cool, collected and unaffected. He was the picture of ease and confidence and Derek could see how he had earned the title of conman extraordinaire.

Again, hands were shook, thanks given and received. Just when Derek thought the man had finished and was ready to go, he turned suddenly and looked at him again. Perhaps the façade wasn't as firmly in place as Derek had thought.

"He really said I was like a son to him?" The voice was both tentative and hopeful.

"Yes, Neal, he really did."

A smile of genuine pleasure suddenly covered the young face. "That was worth being stabbed to hear." He flipped the fedora in his hand and placed it on his head. "It has been a real pleasure, Mr. Andrews."

"Likewise, Mr. Caffrey."

When Neal Caffrey walked away, there was a spring in his step that could only be attributed to happiness.