There's glass all around him. A good sized shard is sticking out of his back, and he's pretty sure something's wrong with his head because the only thing he can say is,

"Peter…"

"Neal? Neal, where are you?"

The voice is tinny on the phone, and he knows he's supposed to say something … something important … he can't even remember dialing.

"Peter." Help me remember.

"What happened?"

He remembers running. Thievery and someone bolting ahead of him. Glass roofing beneath his feet. Something breaking. "Peter."

"I'm pulling up your tracking information. Talk to me, Neal."

"Peter…" My leg won't move. Bones aren't supposed to stick out of the skin, right? "Peter!" It hurts and I think I'm in trouble.

"Are you injured? Is anyone else there?"

"Pe…" Make the air come back. He needs to tell Peter something. It's important.

"I've got your location. Keep talking to me, Neal."

"Peter…" You shouldn't be coming. El… El needs you. Don't leave her alone because of me.

"What is it, Neal? …. Neal!"

The voice shouts his name and he has to answer it, he has to, because it's Peter and he's the only one who ever cares enough to keep searching, and he's the only reason Neal kicks off the warm blanket that coaxes him to forget the pain and the fear and just slip away to somewhere that's quiet and safe.

"Peter…" I'm tired. Can't I sleep? We've worked so long on this case and it's four in the morning, and I only need ten minutes.

"Don't. Don't you dare. You keep your eyes open, Caffrey, do you understand?"

Orders… he doesn't like orders. He wonders Peter will scold him if he acts surly and annoyed. He doesn't want the threat of jail or a new handler, but Peter is being incredibly bossy. Neal tries to tell him to go bark at Satchmo if he wants a good, obedient dog, but the only thing he can sigh is, "Peter…."

"Hold on, Neal. We're almost there. Think about Elizabeth. What am I going to tell her when I get home?"

Elizabeth. She is Peter's Kate, but infinitely more loyal and giving. Neal doesn't deserve her kindness. He doesn't deserve her tears.

"Peter!" An animal screams and his own throat feels sore. Please, Peter, I'm tired. Stop running after me and just let me go!

"Neal!"

Doors slam inwards and expensive shoes squeak on the tiled floor. Glass crunches and a hand lifts his head, and suddenly there is too much noise and light flashing in his eyes and Peter's voice is calling his name over and over …

"Neal. Open your eyes for me, kid."

Grit loads down his eyelids and he tries to ignore the command. Warm fingers grip his hand tighter and a firm voice supersedes his resistance.

"Neal."

Comforting darkness shears into an off-white canopy. Overhead lights buzz and monitors beep, and there is an ache in his back and a sharp pain in his leg that makes him want to scurry back into his hiding place.

"Neal. Look at me."

Agent Burke is bellowing orders again, and his C.I. is expected to obey. Well, maybe Neal Caffrey has different plans today.

"Neal."

A gentle squeeze to his hand. Tender. Caring. Like he imagines a dad would give to a son who is worthy of such affection.

"El is here. She's worried about you. Let me tell her you're okay."

He wants to be obstinate and childish, because he really feels like Agent Burke is using the "kid" expression too liberally, but his eyes like to play funny tricks whenever Peter isn't supposed to be looking. His head turns without his permission and he sees Elizabeth sleeping in a chair, her hair mussed and dark shadows lining her eyes. Then he glances at Peter and he looks away in shame.

I'm sorry. The words won't come out. I'm sorry I was stupid. I'm sorry I hit the glass instead of the roof beam. I'm sorry he got away. I'm sorry you had to spend a whole night looking for me when you should have been safe in bed with your wife. I'm sorry I ruined everything.

"It's okay, Neal. We got him." There is no accusation in Peter's voice and Neal has to look at him now, just to make sure Peter isn't pulling his own con, because even a lawman can lie.

"It's okay," Peter says again. "We caught the guy responsible. You're safe. Nothing else matters."

He wants to believe him, and he does. Because this is Peter. And if Peter says it's okay, then everything is okay. And Neal knows he'll do anything to make sure it stays that way.

Thank you. He tries, but his tongue still thinks it's welded to his teeth. Thank you for coming after me. Thank you for not letting me go. Thank you for caring.

All he can say is, "Peter."

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A little more fluff than angst, but the idea hit me at ten-o'clock at night and it was irresistible. First attempt at White Collar: feedback would be terrific!