Neal was moved to a private room two days after he had awakened. He noticed all the 'get well' cards, and that the photo he had cherished so much during his captivity had been framed and put on his nightstand. He knew that his friends wanted to tell him how much they cared and worried about him so he got also a lot of visitors – Peter, El, June, Moz, Sara, Jones, Diana and even people he barely knew. Neal was a people person but he rarely built deep relationships and he was used to doing a lot of things on his own – even caring for himself while sick or injured. He didn't know what to do with the attention he was receiving, all the coddling and hovering, all what can I get you, would you like something, are you in pain.

And then – his future – he had dreamt of it, but he had learned the hard way that dreams rarely came true. The torture had changed him – even if he didn't want to admit it. Before his kidnapping he would have been unrealistically optimistic about his future, now – he was uncharacteristically pessimistic about it. Where he would normally had seen chances, now he saw obstacles.

So of course he thought that even now the news was much too good to be true. Unconsciously he was waiting for Peter to tell him that there were some complications, that he would end up back in prison because someone changed his or her mind, decided to take back what had been given. When his papers arrived, he didn't even want to look at them – because looking and signing meant believing in a dream and being responsible for living a new – crime-free life. There was a certain carefree fatalism in his previous life. Taking a chance on hope was much more difficult. All of this – the chance, the promise of a better future, scared him – and Neal didn't do 'scared.' So instead he tried to build a wall, put up a façade – but he was sure that everyone had seen all the cracks. He was afraid he wasn't ready to take on all these responsibilities – he was deeply afraid that he would blow his chance, that he wouldn't be able to resist the temptations offered by the life outside the law. Of course, he kind of liked being on the right side of the law, maybe because he had so many opportunities to legally run cons. Maybe Peter was right – that he was a character from a 'cartoon.' Peter Pan – a mind (at least the emotions) of a 5-year old trapped in the body of a man in his early thirties. Maybe others were right as well – that deep inside he would always be a criminal.

For the first time in his life he actually liked being in the hospital. He knew what to expect, he didn't have to make any choices (and even the smallest ones sometimes freaked him out). When they asked him what he would like to eat, do, wear, he had to think hard – and he often just shrugged his shoulders or told them that it didn't matter. Maybe he desperately wanted to prove to everyone that he deserved the second chance – that he was mature, responsible and law-abiding. So each choice he made became a choice between good and bad, freedom and prison. He was afraid that he would do something wrong and be punished. The rational part of his brain seemed to be too deeply influenced by the emotional part full of fear and anxiety rather than hope. And Neal hated himself for this – he always had been way too composed, too rational, too analytic. He knew that if he let emotions cloud his judgments, it would sooner or later lead to smaller or bigger catastrophe – like when he went after Kate or Fowler, when he made a deal with life was about to be turned upside-down and he needed some kind of guidelines. Life as a criminal, life in prison, life as a consultant – each had some structure, predictability he had known. Life as a free man – was something new and scary. Neal let anxiety to take over and it led to many problems with everyday choices. When he was asked by Peter, what he would prefer to eat, "I can bring some Italian pasta or anything from the small bistro you like or some Chinese. What would you want?", his typical answer was: "Up to you. I don't know. Both choices are fine with me" Neal rationally knew that choosing Italian over Chinese, wouldn't put him into any trouble, but he reluctantly allowed himself to make any choice. He didn't ask himself what he would want, he rather asked about what the others thought he should have wanted.

Neal's physical condition improved more quickly and without much drama. He was getting better even though it took more time that he expected. The tubes and wires were disappearing slowly but steadily. The physiotherapy was successful (though painful and tedious) and Neal was soon moving on his own (well, with the aid of crutches). Dr Li decided that Neal was doing well enough to go home about ten days before Christmas. She still had reservations about his emotional health however, and expressed them to Peter as she was giving him Neal's discharge instructions.

"Agent Burke, physically he is doing as well as can be expected – but his psychological condition is harder to assess. Nurses and therapists working with him have told me that he is very compliant, very quiet – he did as he was told but nothing more – he didn't show any initiative, he seemed to be afraid of questions like what would you like. He's had nightmares from time to time. He eats enough but has to be reminded and encouraged to do it. I am discharging him because maybe a safe home environment will be more beneficial. Give him space but keep an eye on him. His psychological symptoms are a little worrying."

Peter had already observed Neal's excessive passivity. He also didn't like the fact that Neal wasn't trying to push his discharge date. He was too quiet for the agent's liking, rarely making a fuss and making no effort to flirt with the nurses.. When Peter brought immunity papers to sign, it took Neal over two days to do it. – He didn't ask any questions, probably he even didn't read them. Depression, PTSD…crossed Peter's mind but Neal didn't want to talk about his captivity – not with Peter, not with June, nor with El or Moz. He shrugged off the idea of talking to someone –I'm not crazyhe told them and dropped the issue. He had to give a statement – and he did. But his words were detached, emotionless.

I painted – they watched. I tried to escape – they caught me and broke my leg. I tried to sleep – they use tasers on me. I ate what little they gave me.

When I was done with the panels, they took me to the basement. They put some chains on my ankle – I don't remember exactly and they hit me – with hands, bat, then kicked me. I don't know for how long – I lost consciousness and woke up in the hospital. I don't remember anything else.

He didn't want to talk about his future, either. He didn't react in any way to Peter's job offer. Nor to Sara's for that matter. He told them I'll think about it. And he never gave them any answer.

Peter wheeled Neal outside the hospital to his waiting car on his discharge date. They had argued about the best possible housing arrangement for Neal. He didn't want to live with Burkes so June had rearranged one of the rooms on the ground floor so Neal could be on his own and the stairs wouldn't be a problem. He was still going to physiotherapy but even June couldn't convince him to go see someone to talk to. Neal argued with everyone that he was fine.But nobody believed him. They let him be – but everyone was worried. Neal was as far away from fine as one could possible imagine – and the worst of it was that they didn't know what had caused his state. Of course, the kidnapping and brutal beatings must have taken toll on him but his captivity seemed to be only partially responsible for his attitude. He had wanted freedom so badly that they expected some happiness, hope, even cockiness when Peter announced that Neal had been granted what he had dreamt of. And it didn't make sense – Neal didn't make any plans, didn't talk about his future.

The White Collar Division decided to throw a small party just before Christmas – to celebrate not only the fact that Neal was a free man, but perhaps even more – the fragility and value of life. Besides, Christmas seemed to always be a good excuse to meet and express some joy. Neal, however, seemed uninterested in anything related to Christmas. He had rejected all invitations to Christmas dinner. Peter suspected that he hadn't bought gifts for anyone as well. Not that anyone expected big presents – they were more a gesture than anything else – but Neal's reluctance to do it worried them even more than his pale skin and sunken cheeks.

The Belgian Ambassador promised to come to the office party – he wanted to meet Neal, thank him and ask about the possibility of painting the panels that had been painted by the student, not Neal. Belgians wanted to have the copy of the Ghent Altarpiece painted by one suspected that the latter wasn't an option – Neal hadn't drawn, sketched or painted anything since he had regained consciousness in the hospital. Even without anything else, this was the final proof that 'Neal' and 'fine' did not belong in the same sentence.

Neal attended the office party wearing one of his classic suits along with his trade mark smile that, sadly, didn't reach his eyes. Conversation centered around Christmas plans, gifts, food, all the usual things. Neal only nodded, smiled and picked at his food. Eventually the Ambassador asked for a private talk with Neal and Peter. They entered Peter's office and stood by the window enjoying the view. Neal was using the cane to support himself.

"Mr Caffrey, I'm glad that you're doing better. I would like to ask if it would be possible for you to paint the two panels painted by the student? You don't have to give me your answer right now – please think about it. I hope you will agree and it will be the last thing you forge." The Ambassador's attempt at a joke would normally have prompted Neal to laugh and reply with a witty comment. But this time the words seemed to feed his fear, to be a proof that he didn't deserve this chance. He interpreted the Ambassador's words far differently than the Ambassador had intended.Because you will always be a criminal. Conmen don't change. Enjoy your freedom while you can. It won't last forever.You will be back in prison soon. What Neal heard sent him into a panic attack. His weakened body betrayed him before he could reply, and his knees buckled. Only Peter's quick reaction saved him from landing on the floor.

"Whoa, buddy. Let's get you down." The Ambassador exchanged worried glances with Peter. Within seconds, Neal was seated in one of Peter's chairs, his head bowed and his tie loosened. Peter called for the FBI medic to come in the most discreet way possible and have a look at Neal. The Agent shushed Neal when he had tried to protest.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine. Just give me a minute and some water," Neal tried to convince them.

"Agent Burke, I will keep Neal company if you can organize some water." Peter nodded and left the office. He didn't want to cause Neal additional embarrassment so he tried to act normally.

Seeing Diana, he said, "Neal collapsed in my office and I called for a medic to come have a look. Can you quietly show him up to my office without letting anyone else know?"

"On it, Boss. How's Neal? What happened?"

"I'm not sure. His knees buckled. Damn it, I should have dragged him to someone to talk to – I doubt it was caused only by his physical state. Let's just hope it's nothing serious and we won't end up in the ER. Dr Li would strangle me."

While Peter was organizing the water (some juice and something to eat as well – he suspected that Neal and breakfast didn't meet that morning), the Ambassador tried to apologize to Neal.

"Mr Caffrey, I'm sorry if something I said caused you distress. The comment about 'your last forgery' was just a poor attempt at a joke."

"It's ok." Neal replied. His eyes were closed and he was trying to even out his breathing.

"No, it's not ok."

"But you were right – I'm a criminal and always will be. It's probably just a matter of time before I blow the chance you helped arrange for me. The least I can do is to paint the panels. And I'll do it as soon as my leg is better. If you need it sooner, I'll find a way to do it."

"Son, no. You will do it when or maybe even more significantly if you are ready. No piece of art – even the most precious one – is worth your pain or any discomfort you might be in. You are far more important and valuable that all the paintings and sculptures in the world. You survived the hell of your captivity and you risked your health, your life, to gather the evidence to put these men away. I know that many people have some doubts about you – but I'm afraid that you doubt yourself the most."

"Once a criminal, always a criminal."

"Son, don't think like that. So-called good people sometimes commit horrible crimes – and so-called bad people put their life on the line to protect someone else. And who would be the sinner and who would be the saint – it's not easy to decide. Life gives us many trials – orders us to choose, laughs at us, gives us bad luck when we need a break and good luck when we've lost our faith. We never know who we could become at the end. Don't be afraid. The future is unpredictable." Neal didn't reply. But the words seemed to have some effect on him.

"You have so many people who care about you. Don't keep them at arm's length. Let them help you, be with you. Maybe talk you out of some untrue and unproductive ideas you might have." The Ambassador smiled gently. Neal had tears in his eyes. He didn't want to break down in front of a man he barely knew, in an office full of agents, so he just whispered, "Thank you."

"Son, nothing to thank me for. Please take care – you are an incredible young man and I hope that – if you feel up to it – we might have dinner some time and discuss European art. And don't worry about the panels." The Ambassador squeezed Neal's shoulder and when Peter came back excused himself.

"Neal, the medic is on the way. Here is your water. Did you eat something this morning? I won't yell, promise. You barely touched your food here."

"A bit. I wasn't really hungry."

"Ok. How about some juice?" Neal tentatively took a sip. The medic arrived soon – dressed in casual clothes for which both Neal and Peter were thankful. Peter quickly explained the situation. After some probing and prodding, he ordered Neal to drink some fluids and eat something.

"Sir, I don't see any cause for a immediate trip to the ER – but it's your call. Let's try to get some fluids and food in you. If you keep it down, just go home and rest. If you feel any worse, you should get yourself checked out in the ER."

Neal was really grateful that he was spared the trip to the ER – at least for the time being. He obediently ate some pastries and drank his juice. He felt better – a bit. The Ambassador's words were still fresh in his mind and Neal realized that the older man was right – he had friends who were ready to help him, but first he needed to accept their assistance.

The drive to June's was silent. When Peter helped him get settled in his room, Neal said, too quickly for Peter to translate, "Petercouldyoustayforawhileplease?"

"What was that? Are you in pain? Shall I call the doctor? Do you need anything?" Peter's overprotectiveness suddenly struck Neal as funny. Neal started laughing. Truly and hard. But after a while, his laughter turned into sobs and within minutes Neal was a weeping mess. Peter wasn't good at comforting so he simply hugged Neal and let him cry. The agent sighed with relief – it was the first time when Neal had expressed any emotions so openly since his rescue. It wasn't nice or pleasant, but it was necessary. The younger man calmed after a while.

"Sorry." He whispered trembling slightly, mostly from exhaustion.

"Nothing to be sorry about. Let's get you under the covers."

"Peter, do you think I could…it would be…you know, Christmas dinner with you…" Peter tried to hide his smile.

"Of course. You can even bring Mozzie if you want. El always cooks enough for a small army."

"Thanks…And…are…are you busy tomorrow?"

"I can get not busy," the agent answered. Neal smiled. He wanted to go shopping and to the cemetery – to pay his respects to Hughes, maybe even visit Kate's grave.

Peter tucked Neal in and promised to pick him up at 10:00 in the morning so they could do some last-minute Christmas shopping. On his way out, the agent talked with June.

"I don't know what the Belgian Ambassador told Neal but he seemed to have knocked some sense into him. I hope he will be able to accept our help. Finally. Maybe in a day or two you can remind him about the therapist you mentioned."

"Thank you Peter. And what about Christmas?"

"Well, let's call it a Christmas miracle – he wants to go shopping tomorrow." June just smiled.

The next day was tiring for Peter and Neal – but both of them were satisfied. Neal bought presents for everyone he held dear – even for Peter when the agent wasn't watching. They ate lunch together and went to visit Hughes' and Kate's graves. Neal was still quiet but acting far more like himself than he had in the previous weeks.

When they came back to June's late in the afternoon, Neal collapsed on the couch and fell asleep holding a huge teddy bear he had bought for Theo. Peter couldn't resist smiling at the charming scene Neal and the bear presented, and snapped a photo, sending it to Dr Li with a text. I think we might have turned a corner. For the better. She replied: Let's hope so. And please make him more comfortable –he doesn't need neck problems.

"Neal, let's get you more comfortable. Doctor's orders." Neal mumbled some nonsense and he held the bear so tightly that the agent could only hope that Theo wouldn't mind (and that Neal wouldn't drool all over it). Peter decided to step by the store on his way home and buy another one – just in case. He removed Neal's shoes and covered him with blankets. And smiled – he hoped that they had actually turned a corner. Neal talking, smiling, joking, bringing so much joy (and trouble) was the best Christmas present Neal could give them.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This story was orginally published at archive of our own (happy_phantom). My beta Ayam made this story much better. Thank you!

I posted it here because I need a small favour from you, my dear Readers and Writers.

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