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Chapter 1

Dear Neal,

I know we agreed to only use this communication for emergencies. June is ill. From what Elizabeth tells me, it's serious. I know you would want to know. Please, don't do anything rash.

Love,

Peter

10 hours later

He dreamed this moment over and over, vivid with longing, memory… need, and now painfully here. She kept his room just as he'd left it. As if nothing had happened. As if it always existed and always would. He bent over and took a few deep breaths, pushing away the thought he was too late.

Neal made his way out onto the balcony and looked over the city. The end of the day was always so beautiful he thought, so natural. The light was still clear. It was dark when he left Paris. The air itself seemed to vibrate and pulse with the heart of the city below. He hadn't expected this, he felt as if he could drown in the golds and oranges of the sun setting over the town he loved. He reminded himself the principle requirement of homesickness, is having a home. He closed his eyes.

June came up beside him. "She's beautiful, isn't she? You have a New York soul, Neal Caffrey," she joined him looking over the city. "Or should I call you Victor?"

"Oh, June," he turned and wrapped her in his arms. "I'm so sorry. Peter told me," his eyes glittered with tears.

"I should have been here," he said softly. She looked tired, but still beautiful. She was the kind of woman who was more beautiful in hard times.

"You know we don't say goodbye." She missed him terribly and held onto him more tightly than she intended. "It's so good to see you again," she said as she finally released him.

"Listen to me dear," she took both of his hands in hers. "Does anyone know you're here?"

"No. No one knows."

"Good." She was relieved and comforted in that knowledge.

"I can't believe you kept everything," Neal nodded to his apartment. He shook his head. She had given him so much more than she received from him.

"I know you'd come home. I believe in you," she squeezed his hand gently.

"I don't deserve that."

"What you deserve, is happiness. Tell me. Are you happy, Neal?"

"Today, I am," he placed her hand on his chest where he knew his heart to be.

"Come sit with me," she smiled. "I want to get a good look at you." At that moment Marguerite her housekeeper, confidant and longtime friend appeared.

"You should be resting, Mrs. E. The doctors said…."

"Doctors don't know everything, Marguerite. I'm fine and I'm quite tired of being cooped up and put away like some antique. Now please, do me a favor and bring Neal and me a pot of tea."

Marguerite huffed and looked over at Neal. "It's so good to have you back," she patted his arm. "She missed you terribly, maybe you can talk some sense into her." She headed back into the house.

"June, how serious is it? What have the doctors told you?"

"I told Peter not to tell you."

"Why?" he said gently.

"I didn't want to burden you with my illness and because it's not safe for you here yet."

After everything that happened, he should have been the one taking care of her he thought, not the other way around. He needed help and she gave it to him. He needed someone to have faith in him and she did. He needed a home and… He would do anything for her.

"There's no way I wasn't coming here tonight."

He reminded her so much of her Byron. Hesitation wasn't in his nature either. No sense in saying no. Tell him no and he'd get that same glimmer in his eyes. Marguerite returned with a steaming pot of tea and a large lavender colored afghan. She placed the tea service on the table.

"Since you're determined to be out here, I brought you this," she unfolded the afghan. "There's a chill in the air."

"Let me," Neal stood, took it from her and carefully wrapped the afghan around June's shoulders. Marguerite leaned in close, "Take care of her. She's run everybody else off." She disappeared back into the mansion.

"June, please. Talk to me. What have the doctors told you?" his hand trembled ever so slightly as he tried to pour the tea.

"I had cancer some years ago. It went into remission and now it's come back. Cancer's greedy like that, it wants more and more. It just sees bone and blood, things to devour. It doesn't see the wild magic in us."

For a moment he thought he had misheard her, the echo of his pulse was pounding so hard in his ears. He needed to breathe.

"I'm sorry to tell you like this," she stayed his trembling hand as the dark fragrant liquid spilled from her finest china teacup and spread out across the table cloth. "Sit here, next to me."

"Are you telling me you're dying?" he could barely manage the words.

"Everything is going to be all right now that you're here," she pulled him close to her. Do you remember the first day we met at that little thrift shop?"

"Like yesterday," his head was resting on her shoulder. He wanted time to slow down. "You saved me that day."

"I was standing there with all those beautiful suits Byron had worn. The midnight blue one, he wore that the night he danced with Billie Holliday," she smiled at the memory. "I was trying to decide what to do next. The door to my life with Byron had closed and my future was a question mark of chemotherapy and cat scans. And there you were, so handsome in Byron's suit, so alive."

For a moment he allowed himself back into the past and the safety of that time, a time when he still believed in things.

"I had the feeling something special was in store for me, unexpected and filled with hope and temptation just as he had been. Up until then, I was just marking time. Dressing up, but not really living."

"I never knew you were sick."

"The very next day after I left you, the doctor called to say I'd gone into remission."

"And now it's back," his voice broke. "I should never have left. I should have never put you through all that." She could feel his breathing quicken.

"You? You had nothing to do with this, child. All things end, if not now, then at some point."

"I don't want you to go," he knew how selfish… childish, he had no right but he couldn't control the words tumbling out. "I can't say good bye again. I…I just..."

"I have no plans of dying any time soon. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise me that?" he looked up at her. She smiled, "Things come together sometimes and we don't know why, but we know it's right, meant to be. I'm going to beat this, just like before and now I have you back to help."

"Me? What can I do?"

"What you do best," she looked deep into his clear blue eyes. "You don't know what's inside you, not yet. Trust me."

He breathed out, for the first time since stepping off the plane. He felt the release of fear gripping his heart and then the fatigue as sleep overtook him.

"I didn't realize I was so tired."

"Sometimes you don't know just how tired you are until you close your eyes. Close your eyes, dear."

Time was suspended, it wasn't moving at all. His eyelids fluttered, his breathing evened as he laid against her. He was so calm, so peaceful, a beautiful sleeper. She could feel her shoulder come alive under his nodding head from the wild magic inside him. With infinite lightness, she pulled the afghan around him. It was right that he was here, that he was home. He stirred and mumbled something still asleep. She softly kissed the top of his head and whispered, You never know who you might save in this world.

tbc

Author's Note:

Adoptarescue was kind enough to ask me to consider continuing my Bedtime Stories series. I'm working on it, in the meantime I thought I might try a mix up of 'Always and Forever' with a grown up Neal. I think this works as a stand-alone story, but if you have a chance it might be neat for you to read Bedtimes Stories, Always and Forever first. Reviews are always welcome.