Author's note: Sorry for the lengthy delay; I haven't had time to post any updates. Here's the final chapter though—enjoy!

Chapter Seven:

Neal had gauze wrapped around his forehead. Peter didn't feel safe with letting Neal stay by himself at June's. The elder woman was off with her daughter in Paris, touring art museums. Elizabeth had bullied Neal into their house, giving him the guest bedroom and making him feel comfortable. With her cooking and TLC, Neal was starting to lose the shadowed look in his eyes and sallow color to his skin.

Mozzie had even been able to bring a smile to the young man's face. Peter still felt useless in helping Neal recover. He felt like he wasn't doing enough.

"I was so worried you weren't going to come." Neal quietly confessed one night as Peter walked in to check up on him. His voice was soft and raspy; a reminder to his suicide attempt and the induced vomiting that ensued.

Peter leaned forward, looking the other man in the eye, "Neal, no matter what I will always be there for you and do… just about anything for you." Neal's eyes were wide as he noted the sincerity and honesty in Peter's voice. He grinned, "Even if it causes me to have to fill out a ten page report."

Neal gave a relieved smile as he leaned back into the pillows. Peter stood to turn off the light and then made his way to the door. "Get some sleep, Neal. El's making waffles in the morning." Neal groaned in contentment, eyes fluttering shut as he drifted off to his dreams.

Peter looked at the innocent face of the conman. It wasn't hard not to care for the wayward man. He had the heart of a kid, and he couldn't help but hate Kate for twisting the young man with wishes, hopes, and love into doing her dirty work. All Neal needed was someone to push him in the right direction and keep him from straying. He needed a friend, a partner… a father figure. His eyes softened.

He remembered how he had almost lost him. Not since he had been shot at during the prayer book incident. He remembered tapping Powell not once, but three times. Some would consider it excessive. His report and Internal Affair investigations looked into the malicious or vendetta possibility behind the number of shots he fired. It all boiled down to the man with the weapon though. Even after the first two, Powell was falling forward—in a kamikaze attempt—to impale Neil with his dying strength. The third bullet threw off his trajectory, instead sending him backwards.

He stared at Neal for a while longer, memorizing his face. The innocence on his relaxed face slowly erased the haunting image of Neal's still form on a gurney, looking for all the world defeated. "Good night, Neal. Sleep tight." He walked out of the room, letting the door click behind him.

He'd always be there for Neal. With all the trouble the kid got himself into, somebody needed to watch the kid's back.

FIN