Neal didn't intend to tell Peter everything, but once he started, it all came flooding out. Falling in love with Vincent, moving in together, the start of the hurtful comments that led to the occasional shove or smack, the nights he had to leave the house because he couldn't take it, and then finally the conversation he'd heard last night.

Through it all, Peter listened, occasionally sipping his coffee or shifting his position at their table in the corner.

Neal felt horrible, like he'd betrayed some secret and now things with Vince would never be the same. But at the same time, some weight had been lifted. He didn't have to do this alone.

"I'm glad you told me, Neal," Peter said. "I know it wasn't easy, but you did the right thing."

"I can't leave him," Neal said almost desperately. "He's all I have. He's my family."

Peter held up three fingers and Neal looked at him in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Peter counted off each one. "Jones, Diana, and me. We're your family too. We care about you, and we don't want to see you hurt."

Neal ducked his head a bit with a small smile. "Diana threatened to break both my arms."

"That's what sisters are supposed to do, isn't it?" Peter teased. "But seriously. If you need to talk to anyone or if you need someone to hang out with, we're all here. Anytime, all you gotta do is ask."

"Thank you, Peter," Neal said quietly.

"You're welcome, Neal."

Neal smiled.

No more "Caffrey".

-)()(-

Neal didn't want to go home. He'd had the whole day to think, and after some new evidence had come to light, he was now positive that Vincent was involved in this Dutchman case.

The Goya painting on the fake bond. Neal had found the initials C.H. hidden in the picture, unnoticeable to someone who wasn't looking for it. Curtis Hagan. He knew the name. He was a friend of Vincent's, one who spent a lot of time restoring old church paintings.

Neal had never liked him. Hagan was the essence of a British villain, and he always looked like something had pissed him off.

He stayed as late as he could at the office, pretending to go over the Dutchman file one last time before finally deciding to face the inevitable.

The worst part was pretending that everything was fine. They couldn't tip Vincent off that they knew, so Neal had to act like nothing had changed while also trying to get as much information as possible. It was going to be hard, but Peter assured him that it would all be over soon and he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. He'd be free.

"That you?" Vincent called as Neal walked in.

"Yeah," Neal said. "Sorry I'm late. Got caught up in a case. Lost track of time."

Vincent glanced over at him from the couch, patting the space beside him. "Tell me about it."

Neal gave him a pointed smile. "You know I'm not allowed to discuss ongoing investigations." But he came and sat down anyway, happy that Vince was in a good mood tonight.

"Well then let me tell you about my day," Vincent said, draping an arm around Neal's shoulder almost too affectionately.

Neal looked at him questioningly. "I thought you weren't allowed to discuss your job either." This could be it. Some substantial evidence.

"Oh, no," Vincent said. "Not about that."

"What, then?" Neal asked. Something felt... off here.

"Well, it was nice and sunny around lunchtime," Vincent started, "So I decided to go out and grab a bite to eat. There's this coffee shop not far from where I was. They have the best muffins."

Neal knew exactly where this was going and he felt his heart fill with dread, but he couldn't pull away with Vincent's arm around him, a little tight now.

"Well, I walked in there," Vincent continued, "And you'll never guess who I saw."

"Vince—"

"It was you, Neal. I saw you. Now, I would have joined you, but it seemed you already had company."

"Vince, I can explain. It's not like that."

"Oh, it's not? First you won't shut up about this Agent Burke and now he's taking you out for coffee. I think I know exactly what it's like."

"No, Peter's just a friend. He's my—"

"Boyfriend? How could you do this to me, Neal?"

"He's my partner!" Neal exclaimed, then winced. Wrong thing to say.

"Oh, that's what he is to you," Vincent said. "You call him Partner. What else do you call him? Do you scream his name like you screamed mine just a few days ago?"

Neal tried to get away, to put some space between them, but Vincent held tight, and Neal felt fear coursing through his veins. He couldn't get out of this. Vincent wasn't listening anymore, too engrossed in his rage.

"I trusted you, Neal! I gave you everything!" Vincent was shouting now and Neal closed his eyes against it, which was why the harsh slap came as a surprise and he gasped. His cheek stung and he looked at this... monster leaning over him. This wasn't the man he fell in love with. That man was long gone.

In a split second of bravery, Neal shoved Vincent off him roughly, eyes filled with anger of his own. "Stop it! Just stop!"

To his great satisfaction, Vincent seemed to pause, surprised. But it didn't last long and neither did Neal's confidence.

"Look at you," Vincent said. "Has Burke been getting inside your head? Do you feel powerful now that you're a big bad FBI agent?" He took a sudden step towards Neal, who flinched back, which made Vincent smile. "No? Don't ever speak to me that way again, understand? Do you understand me?!"

Neal said nothing, biting the inside of his lip to keep it from trembling.

"Get out of here, Neal," Vincent snarled. "Just know this: one word out of your mouth that I don't like to anyone, I'll end you. I swear I'll make your life miserable in every way. And I'll do the same to Peter Burke."

Neal stared at him in shock. He couldn't be serious. "Vince..."

"Go!" Vincent shouted, taking another threatening step towards him.

Neal needed no further encouragement.

-)()(-

"Hey."

Neal glanced up at the voice, unfamiliar. But then this place was full of unfamiliar people. He wanted to meet them all, make connections in this city.

He turned to the right to see a man looking at him, dark hair groomed to perfection and a smile that rivaled his own. "I don't recognize you. Have you been here before?"

"No, I haven't," Neal replied. He extended a hand for the stranger to shake. "Neal. Neal Caffrey." He'd spent so long in Nick Halden's shoes, his real name sounded like an alias.

"Vincent Adler," the handsome man said, shaking the hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Neal. Mind if I buy you a drink?"

So forward. Neal was a little caught off guard, but he smiled brightly. Who was he to pass up a drink with such a stunning creature? "Not at all."

Vincent was tall, strong, seeming to hold a strange power over everyone in the room. His eyes were like a bird of prey's, locking onto Neal and seeming able to gaze right through him, into his very soul. It made him shiver, but the sense of excitement that came with it was unlike anything he'd ever felt.

Every word, every gesture, it was grace and dignity personified. Neal was falling before he knew it.

They spent the rest of the evening together, talking, finding that they had a lot in common. Neal quickly forgot about why he'd come here in the first place, why he'd dressed up in a suit that made him feel awkward and uncomfortable.

That suit came off at Neal's place later that same evening. And in the morning, there was a single rose on the pillow along with a note written in elegant handwriting. A number and, 'with love, Vince'.

Neal smiled, twisting the rose between his fingers as he felt a blush appear on his cheeks. The rest of that day, the smile had never once disappeared from his face.

Now, as the memory crossed his mind, Neal wasn't smiling. It didn't bring red to his face, only tears to his eyes. What had happened between then and now? What had he done to deserve this? Where had his Vince gone? Why? His mind was full of questions that only made it hurt more.

He didn't know where he was going, only that he couldn't go back home. But he had nowhere else. No one else.

Peter...

No. That would really be asking for it.

'Stop thinking about Vincent and think about yourself!' he thought angrily. 'You've already told Peter enough. He'll understand. He can help. He said he would.'

Decision made, he started off in that direction. It was late. Peter and his wife would probably be sleeping. Oh gosh, his wife. What would she have to say? Neal had never met her, so he wasn't sure how she would react to him showing up at her doorstep asking for Peter. Maybe this was a mistake. But no, it was his only option.

He knew where the house was. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. But once he reached it, he hesitated again. What was he doing? He could just find somewhere else. Someone else.

His hand was already knocking on the door and he stepped back a bit, trying to smooth his appearance before it opened.

A woman he assumed was Elizabeth answered the door and gave him a bright smile. "You're Neal, right?"

Neal was a little surprised that she knew him with a look, and he gave her an equally bright smile. "Guilty as charged. Sorry to drop in like this."

"Oh, no problem," she insisted. "Come on in." Over her shoulder, she called, "Peter, Neal's here!"

When the agent came in sight, he looked surprised, but not angry. He didn't even ask what he was doing here, just beckoned him inside. "Make yourself at home. Get you anything?"

"No, I'm alright, thanks."

Elizabeth gestured to the stairs. "You two talk. I'm just gonna go up to bed, okay, hon?"

"Goodnight, honey," Peter smiled, coming to sit in the chair across from the couch where he gestured for Neal to sit. "What's going on?" he asked once they were alone.

Neal struggled to find the words and Peter was patient. He was beginning to wonder if he should have come at all, but he was here now. After a moment of playing with his hands, he said, "I wasn't sure where else to go. Vince was pretty bad tonight."

Peter's eyes hardened, but more out of anger at Vincent, Neal was sure. "Did he hurt you again?"

Neal shook his head, even if it was a lie. "He saw us today getting coffee together and..." He shrugged helplessly and felt the threat of tears in his eyes, but forced them back again. Sometimes he despised his own sensitivity.

Peter, if he saw his struggle, didn't call him out on it. Instead, he gave him a small smile and said, "You're more than welcome to crash here tonight. Guest bedroom is all made up, down the hall to the left."

Neal gave him a grateful look. "Thank you, Peter. And sorry for—"

"You don't have to apologize about anything," Peter said firmly. He reached over to give Neal a pat on the knee."We'll talk in the morning, okay? Get some sleep."

As the agent disappeared upstairs, Neal watched him go, once again surprised by how easily he'd been accepted. He was beginning to question these last few years with Vincent. Had he really been so blind? Had he really not seen the lies, the manipulation, the abuse? Or maybe he had and he'd refused to acknowledge it.

Well, he was acknowledging it now.

-)()(-

Morning came quickly. Once his head had hit the pillow, it was surprisingly easy to fall asleep, even though his dreams were plagued by nightmares. He felt sick, but he knew he was making the right decision. He no longer loved Vincent the way he had before. It wasn't the same man he slept beside. Something had to change.

He rode with Peter to the office, and it was a quiet ride. Neal stared out the window, feeling sure of himself, and yet still wishing for things to just go back to the way they were. He wanted to go home, he wanted to kiss his lover again, he wanted to be lost in those eyes again, but he knew he never could.

"You gonna be okay?" Peter asked once they were in the elevator headed up to the 21st flor.

Neal nodded, showing more confidence than he actually felt. "Of course. Let's just focus on the case and figure out how Vincent and Hagan are connected." He saw Peter's hesitation, though, and he looked at the older agent in disbelief. "Don't say it. You are not pulling me from this investigation."

"It's Vincent Adler," Peter said, as if he didn't know that already. "I don't feel comfortable letting you go after the guy who hurt you like that."

"What do you think I'm gonna do?" Niel asked. "Kill him?"

"Or hurt him back."

"If you were in my shoes, would you do the same with Elizabeth?"

Peter looked appalled. "No!"

Neal looked at him pointedly. "I still love him. Despite everything he's done, I could never hurt him. So you have nothing to worry about, I promise you that."

Peter sighed. "Alright. But you stick with me on this, alright? Nothing stupid."

As the elevator doors opened and they stepped out, ready to work, Neal smiled. "Nothing stupid."

-)()(-

"How you holding up?"

Neal glanced up at Diana's voice, clearing his head of the endless papers and files in front of him. She'd brought coffee. "Not bad," he said, reaching out to take his when she handed it to him.

"Well, if you ever want to talk about 'not bad', I'm willing to listen," she said knowingly. She could read right through him.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said with yet another convincing smile. He knew she was offering genuinely, but he never liked talking about his problems to other people. There had been a time when he would have talked to Mozzie, an old friend of his, but they hadn't seen each other in a long time. And Mozzie was a difficult person to get ahold of.

Come to think of it, he missed the little guy. He'd nearly forgotten about him after so many years. Vincent had somehow convinced him it was a bad idea to consort with conmen, and Neal had listened to him. He'd told Mozzie to get lost and now he was really regretting that. Vincent had been wrong.

After a few minutes, he climbed the stairs to Peter's office and tapped lightly on the doorframe, causing the man to glance up. "What's up, Neal?"

"I'm gonna take an early lunch. You mind?"

Peter looked at him the same way Diana had earlier. "Want some company?"

Neal shook his head, gesturing vaguely. "No, it's fine. I just need some air and I've been meaning to walk down to this oyster bar. Supposed to be the best in the city."

Peter gave him a dismissive wave. "Go right ahead. There's not much progress being made here anyway."

"Thanks, Peter."

-)()(-

As it turned out, Mozzie wasn't that hard to get in contact with. Estelle was still where she'd always been, and it didn't take much convincing to get her to fly. Neal watched her disappear into the sky and hoped Mozzie would even still want to talk. He wouldn't blame him if he still held a grudge for the way Neal had kicked him to the curb. But he hoped beyond all hope that his old friend would be willing to listen, and be there when he most needed him to be.

He wound up going to the oyster bar, even if it had only been part of the excuse to get out. It made him feel better, knowing he hadn't lied about that. He didn't like lying to Peter.

Tomorrow, hopefully, Mozzie would show up at the right time and place, and Neal could properly apologize to him. And also ask for his help. He knew it might be too much all at once, but he had to try. For the sake of the friendship they had once shared, and could again. Besides, if it meant taking down Adler, he was sure Mozzie would be on board. Those two had never gotten along.

The sound of his phone ringing interrupted those thoughts and he glanced at the ID, then immediately froze when he saw Vince's name on the screen. He stared at it, letting it ring once, twice, three times. Should he answer? Why? What reason did he have?

His curiosity got the better of him, though, and he held the phone to his ear, sliding the little green button over. "What do you want?" he said in way of a greeting, glad that his voice actually sounded strong.

"Neal," that familiar voice spoke. "What I want is for us to stop playing games."

"You started this," Neal said, "You're the one playing games."

"No, you started this. And now I'm going to finish it. Get the feds off my tail and I'll let you go. You can run off into the sunset with Peter Burke and never hear from me again."

"Just tell me one thing, Vincent."

"Is that a yes?"

Neal ignored that, hesitating before asking, "Was any of it real for you?"

Silence was his answer. Silence and the click of the line. Neal breathed a shaky sigh, putting the phone back in his pocket. That was it then.

No, he wasn't going to stop. If anything, he wanted to see Adler caught even more. And he'd rally his new friends to make that happen. He'd work day and night until they had a solid lead to follow.

Back at the bureau, he threw himself into doing just that, going through everything he knew to try and come uo with a plan of action. It didn't matter that he had very little luck. He was trying.

Evening rolled around and he was forced to face a new problem. He had to go back home at least one more time to gather his things. That would make it final.

Peter had been thinking the same thing, apparently, because when Neal left, flipping his hat onto his head, the other agent was there beside him, not saying a word. They both fell into silent agreement. No thank yous necessary. Neal was glad to have someone he trusted at his side, and that was all that mattered right now.

But when they walked up to the front door and Peter finally spoke to say, "Nice place," Neal suddenly had a moment of panic and he glanced at his friend reluctantly. "I don't think you should be here. If Vince comes back..."

"Then he'll have to go through me if he wants to try anything," Peter finished. "It's okay, Neal. You don't have to do this alone."

Neal sighed then nodded, opening the door and stepping inside. It felt like walking into enemy territory, but he ignored that, heading straight upstairs with Peter in tow.

He didn't want to be here longer than necessary, so he started gathering his things, bringing his suitcase out to stack his clothes in. He ignored the pictures on the bedside table, especially the one of him and Vincent in Paris, kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower. Peter noticed it, though, and Neal tried not to notice his noticing.

Luckily, they missed Vincent. Neither of them said a word on the way back, which Neal was grateful for. He was already fighting against his emotions. He couldn't do that and pay attention to conversation at the same time.

They hadn't really discussed it, but Neal came home with Peter again. Elizabeth seemed prepared, and she'd even made dinner for three. Clever woman. Peter was lucky to have her.

Neal didn't feel much like eating, though, so he excused himself and headed to the guest room, setting his two suitcases on the floor and immediately sinking into the mattress, lying flat on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow, mostly to muffle any noise.

He fell asleep against tears that soaked into the fabric.

-)()(-

The sun was at its highest and Neal looked out over the water. Riverside Park. Noon. Where was Mozzie?

The morning had gone okay. Elizabeth had made a huge breakfast for the three of them and this time, Neal hadn't been able to resist. Peter didn't patronize him by asking if he was okay. Instead, they drove to the bureau together, hoping to get an early start. They still had nothing new on Adler, Hagan, or what was going on.

Then Neal had taken his lunch break to head to the park. Peter had offered to come with him, but Neal had made up a plausible excuse to say no.

First off, Mozzie would never talk to him with a fed present, probably wouldn't get within ten miles of him. Second, Peter didn't need to know what sort of people he hung around with, not that Mozzie was bad. He was a con. Neal caught cons for a living. But he didn't fancy seeing his old friend behind bars.

"I hear you've made it to Suit status."

Neal smiled. That familiar voice could only mean that Mozzie had come after all. He turned to look at him, his smile brightening. "You haven't changed a bit."

Mozzie shrugged, stepping up beside him. "What can I say? I'm a regular Peter Pan. You, on the other hand... You look like one of them now."

Neal nodded, looking down at the ground. "It's good to see you again, Moz."

Mozzie snorted. "That's not what you said last time."

"I know. But that was a horrible mistake. I shouldn't have let Adler control me like that. And I'm sorry for making it seem like I didn't want you around."

Mozzie gazed out over the water, seeming to contemplate the words. "You don't have to apologize. I figured it was the snake behind it. So it's 'Adler' now? No 'Vince'?"

"It's over," Neal replied, nodding. He smiled, though there was no amusement in it. "And now my partner and I are investigating him and it feels like everything's changing too fast. I don't know which way is up, which way is down. And I've been thinking a lot about what happened between us. I feel guilty as hell. I just wanted to apologize."

"And ask for my help," Mozzie said knowingly.

"Moz..."

"You didn't have to say anything," Mozzie said. "I came here already on your side. That's what friends are for, right?"

Neal sighed, feeling like he could cry again. He hugged his friend tightly, saying a quiet, "Thank you."

"Now then, what can I do?"

-)()(-

"I found Hagan. There's this warehouse, down by the docks. Hagan runs it through a shell corporation out of Guatemala."

The look on Peter's face when he placed a small scrap of paper on his desk with an address scribbled on it was priceless. "We didn't know about this. How did you?"

"I don't think you rely on rumor as much as I do," Neal replied. He wasn't giving up Mozzie. Not anytime soon.

Peter looked like he wanted to question it, but the bureau had been after the Dutchman for too long. It could wait. "What do you say we go check it out?" he suggested, already standing up to slip his jacket on.

Neal smirked. "I say it's worth a look."

He hadn't stopped by earlier, wanting to bring it to Peter first, so even he didn't know what they were getting into here. He just hoped Mozzie's info would be enough.

The address led them to a warehouse district near the water and they easily located the particular warehouse that would be of interest to them. They kept quiet as they approached and as they leaned against one wall, trying to stay out of sight, Neal tilted his head, listening.

"You hear that?"

Peter glanced at him with a minute shake of his head. "Hear what?"

"Kind of a rhythmic shh-shh. That's a press. Damn it Peter, that is a printing press. He's printing the bonds in there right now, you can hear him!" He had picked up on it quickly, probably because he knew to listen for these kinds of things and he'd heard them way too often.

He hadn't forgotten about those bonds. The ones that would get them Hagan and after that, Adler. Things were finally coming together.

"How long until they're done?" Peter asked.

"A multicolor print shop as complicated as the Goya. Test proofs, ink formulation, perfect registration, he'll be running it for days."

Neal itched to just open the door. It was that easy. But he was an agent and he knew all about warrant law. All they had was sound coming out of a warehouse and nothing to link it to Hagan. They needed definitive proof before they acted. Already, an idea was forming.

"Hey," Peter said, nudging him out of his thoughts. "Good work."

-)()(-

Neal stayed with Mozzie now. He told Peter he'd found a temporary place of his own, which was true. He just hadn't mentioned the part where he'd be sharing it with a conman friend of his.

"So," Mozzie started, pouring them some Cabernet he'd scrounged up from places Neal didn't want to know about, "What makes you so sure that Hagan is the key to catching Adler?"

Neal looked at him questioningly. "They're friends. Hagan's bound to have something on him we could use. And Peter's pretty good at getting information he wants."

"You may want to reconsider that," Mozzie said. "Word on the street is that they've been having business troubles. Hagan is running that bond forging operation on his own."

Neal felt his hopes sink a bit. "Do the streets say anything else?"

"Quite a bit, actually, but nothing substantial. If I were Adler, though, I'd be going after Hagan."

Neal sat up straighter, eyes brightening. "But he hasn't yet. Hagan moved everything on him. He's hiding from both him and the FBI. We know where he is, Adler doesn't. We could use that."

"How?" Mozzie asked.

"I'm working on it."

Mozzie sighed and took a sip of his wine. "You plan on telling all this to the other Suits?"

Neal glanced over at him knowingly. "I won't tell them about you. Don't worry."

"And if they ask where you got this information?"

Neal shrugged with a smirk. "Like you said, word on the street." He offered the other man a genuine smile. "Thank you, Moz, really. I couldn't have asked for a truer friend."

Mozzie smiled right back. "You always were a charmer," he huffed in amusement. "I'm glad that snake is gone. You were never really you when it came to him. Like a lion, convinced it was a housecat."

Neal tipped his glass to Mozzie's with a slight clink. "Hear me roar."

-)()(-

"No."

"Peter—"

"Absolutely not, Neal," Peter said firmly. "I'm not putting you in that position."

"Then what's your plan?" Neal asked. He knew the FBI didn't have one, which made his their only option. "It has to be me. There's no other way. And we only have two days before someone dies. I know what I heard."

"And that someone could very well be you," Peter shot back. "All the more reason to keep you as far away from this as possible."

"We have nothing else," Neal said. "Sure we'll probably get Hagan anyway, but what about Adler? I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to let him walk."

"This is dangerous," Peter said.

"I heard you the first time. Do you really have that little faith in me?"

"It's not a matter of faith in you, it's about faith that Adler will even believe all this. He's not an idiot."

"I know that," Neal replied. "I know him."

Peter looked at him with a tight jaw and a conflicted glare. "I don't like this one bit."

"You're not standing in my shoes," Neal pointed out. "And I have no problem if it means we get Adler. I'm willing to risk it."

"You're asking me to let you play cat and mouse with a man we both know is dangerous."

"I'm asking you to help me take down a bad guy," Neal said. "Last I checked, that's what we do."

Peter sighed. "How do you plan on drawing him out? He knows you work for us. He'll be expecting a side angle here."

Neal looked at him and only hesitated a short minute before clasping his hands behind his back. "We should go get coffee."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Now?"

"I need to tell you about Nick Halden."

-)()(-

The city was alive. Its pulse ran through the very ground beneath his feet, the air he breathed, the lights all around him.

Neal Caffrey was mesmerized. Only an week in New York and it felt like home to him already.

He settled in, he walked the streets, and he began to search for a purpose here. That was when he met Mozzie.

Theirs was an odd friendship. Mozzie knew a lot about the art of the con, something Neal had been teaching himself all these months away from home. Together, they made a formidable pair. Neal was daring. He was up for anything Mozzie concocted and he showed promise of being one of the greatest cons in history.

They steadily gained themselves a reputation, enough to warrant an alias or five. Neal Caffrey disappeared and Nick Halden became a clever trickster that called New York his canvas.

Nick Halden and his unknown little friend became well-known and liked by the con community. Everyone knew they kept their word, they were honest with their own, and they even helped out a few ne'er do well youth trying to move up in the world. And the cons they pulled were perfect. No loose ends, no mistakes, flawless in every way.

Until Vincent Adler wound his way into Neal Caffrey's heart, not realizing that he'd begun to stifle Nick Halden.

It wasn't long before the world stopped hearing of the trickster. He simply disappeared. And Neal Caffrey joined the real world again, leaving Mozzie behind.

...

"That's your story," Peter said with an incredulous stare.

Neal sat across from him, nonchalantly sipping his coffee. "That about sums it up."

"But you're an agent with the bureau! Neal, if anyone knew about this—!"

"I'd be ruined," Neal replied. "I know. But I trust you, Peter. You know who I am and you know I've never hurt anyone. I never would. That past is far behind me now."

Peter sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I'm beginning to dislike these coffee conversations of ours. Neal, what you're asking of me..."

"I know," Neal said. "I'm asking you to hide this from the bureau. Everything I just told you. But only until after this thing with Adler is over. Then, if it still bothers you, I'll resign."

"You don't have to do that," Peter said with a shake of his head. "Now what's your plan with Adler?"

Neal smirked. "First, we do our jobs and get a forger off the streets of Manhattan."