Disclaimer- Don't own, don't sue.

A/n- Australia is a bit behind, so my apologies if anything here majorly clashes with canon.

One-shot

Neal dreamed of chess pieces, Rembrandt and Kate. All to the tune of the sound in the music box.

He had heard it once, a recording and he heard it now, tucked away in his subconscious. A warm wind gushed through his open window, June had given him the room upstairs, it got better airflow, but on balmy nights such as this, it was nothing but a pain.

The conman nee FBI consultant had already kicked his blankets to the end of the bed and was twisted in only his cotton sheets when the muggy heat and the dripping air poked its way into his sleep filled state.

Sitting up and cringing at the dull thudding at the base of his temples, Neal Caffrey stood, the cool of the floorboards welcome on his feet and loped over to the window, he paused for a moment to breathe in the fresh air and yet wincing against its persistent temperature, deciding sweltering was better than suffocating he neglected to close it and instead peered out at the few blinking lights in the city, streetlights and traffic lights, all with accustom sounds.

The rest of the house was silent; June wasn't up late watching infomercials to kill the time and was most likely trying to slumber through the heat as he had been.

Neal sighed, "So much for that." He scrubbed at his face, harder then necessary and as the distant tinkle of a tune rang in the back of his ears he knew he would have no further rest tonight.

Resigning himself to his situation, he made his way down stairs, careful not to make a sound, bare-chested and barefooted, her found the kitchen in the dim light of familiarity and scrounged up some microwave mac and cheese.

He tapped his foot and yawned as he waited for it to re-heat, he glared down balefully at the tracker strapped just above his foot, and suddenly he didn't feel so alone.

He was about half-way sitting down with his yellow gloop and a bottle of coke from the fridge when he heard it.

A knock at the door, one sound first, followed slowly by another, weak, almost a scraping weariness.

Neal frowned, who in gods name came knocking at the door this time of night or morning, could be bad news, but bad news generally didn't knock unless it was with a knife or gun. But the alternative, good news had the decency to wait for sunrise.

The sound came again, more desperate yet just as loud, and Neal abandoned his post at the table for his curiosity and made his way out into the hall, he peered at the door closely as he approached as if expecting to develop some sort of x-ray vision.

Suffice to say, he didn't and was left with genuine old fashioned turning the handle to answer his questions.

It wasn't bad news.

It wasn't good news.

She collapsed into his arms and he was so startled he almost dropped her, scooping her into his lap his shocked mind processed what his body hadn't yet.

She was hurt, bloody, bruised, broken, his fingers raced over her hoping for his magical touch to cure, but as she smiled up at him, a split in her beautiful lips, his actions began to catch up with his thoughts.

"Kate what the hell?!" he gasped, gathering her tighter in his arms aiming to protect her from a danger already past.

"I came home," she whispered and he could barley look at her and yet he couldn't stop staring as he lifted her, carried her in to the lounge room and deposited her like porcelain onto the couch.

He brushed her hair away from her face and pressed a shaky kiss to her forehead, "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," he didn't think she could possibly know that those words were the only thing that gave him strength to go and retrieve June, to leave her again, but then she was Kate and he was Neal and she was canny like that.

June was all practicality, first aid kit and phone calls, and it was maybe twenty minutes later when the door was opened again and Peter entered, looking cautious with Elizabeth at his back looking concerned and confused. Mozzie was just minutes behind them; looking as if he already understood.

And Neal didn't notice any of them, maybe he had shut down when he returned to the living room and found her still there, still real and close and still touchable.

He laid himself next to her and pulled her against his chest, his arms around her, holding her together, his lips resting against her hair, as he tried to breathe and think, but mostly just tried to breathe.

Peter chatted on his cell phone getting answers, June tendered her wounds calm and collected, Mozzie looked anywhere but at them, he'd seen it all before, he knew Neal and Kate, could remember them off by heart. Only Elizabeth watched them curiously, sometimes out of the corner of her eye, sometimes not, but she watched them always, understanding them in some movement, baffled by them in the next.

They were like her and Peter, but they were Neal and Kate, so not.

Neal wasn't sure where the time had gone, but the next thing he knew he was waking again and for a moment fear filled him with dread that it had all been a dream, before he felt the familiar weight in his arms, felt the familiar shape of her against him and relaxed.

He gingerly opened his eyes and realised they were alone, light was streaming in the windows and it was clearly morning, where the others had gone he cared not.

"You're still here." For a moment he thought his conscious had somehow spoken to him out loud before he realised it was her, her voice, her words.

"So are you," he replied, his voice thick with sleep, it seemed odd to be effected by humanity at that moment.

"I'm sorry Neal," he looked down at her, and felt his chest ache at the sight of her bruised cheek, swollen jaw.

"You're forgiven." He said unthinkingly and it was true she would always be forgiven, always trusted.

"You don't understand yet," she murmured.

"Still forgiven," he managed for her his best smile. His famous Neal Caffrey smile.

"I lied you know,"

"I know."

"I left you."

"I know."

"I've done so much more."

"I know."

She grimaced as she shifted, rolling slightly so she could better look at his face, it hadn't changed a day, not to her eyes, just as she remembered it, she traced the line of his jaw lightly with only her finger tips and sighed. "It's not too late to change your mind."

"I know. I don't care."

She didn't seem to have the fight left in her to argue anymore, to try and make him see sense, to make him do the right thing and turn away from her forever. She didn't have the fight to battle herself and her own hopes so instead she nodded, without a word and sunk back against him, her head against his chest ignoring the ache it forced upon her bruises.

He didn't care if she hadn't deserved forgiveness, for she was Kate and he was Neal.

And she would always have it.

I know it's odd to ship a couple that have barely had one scene together, but Neal is awesome and Kate's intriguing (i'm hoping she'll turn into a good guy) and i can so why not? Flames welcome guys, all comments appreciated.