Neal's commitment to be a good person was as flaky as one of Mozzie's conspiracy theories.

That's how he started his eulogy speech, delivered to the intimate group of friends gathered to say goodbye to their dear friend earlier in the afternoon. Despite the good-natured jibe, he wasn't joking. To be fair, Peter didn't doubt each and every time Neal had promised to go straight that he meant it. At the time. But then something would always happen, someone would need help and eventually those someone's would find their way to Neal. The kid was the best after all, even Kramer had thought so, hence the want to steal Neal for himself. What made Neal vulnerable was the kid was an incurable romantic and would fall hook, line and sinker for any sob story that needed a happy ending.

"Neal could always come up with a plan." Mozzie drunkenly tipped his empty glass at Peter, daring him to deny it.

The sun had set, and after having packed up what they could, covered what was left, they'd settled in the now bare Riverside Drive apartment for the long haul, neither one wanting to leave or remember the past few days with any kind of clarity. Spending his evening purging the remains of Caffrey's wine collection with the little guy was not something he planned on, but after signing the paperwork officially ending Neal's obligation to the FBI, Mozzie had made a very reasonable argument that what better way to celebrate their friend's posthumous freedom than to polish off his overpriced alcohol.

"It was never the plan I had a problem with." Peter slurred, eyeing his own empty glass in disgust.

Neal conning himself into believing his bad actions were justified if his motivations were good, was the real problem, Peter explained to a thoroughly unimpressed Mozzie. In executing a con, despite all best intentions, people inevitably got hurt. Maybe not physically, but tricking people into trusting you leaves scars all the same. Peter had wanted to change that part of Neal, give the kid a way to use his skills and get that high without the messy aftermath. But like an often-chastised child Neal repeated the same mistakes again and again, unable to resist the lure of the game he and some of those closest to him considered their daily lives.

It's all his fault, Peter knows this. "I should've just grounded him." He growled to himself. He threatened chastisement again and again, but never followed through. "I should've just done it."

Mozzie paused in his opening of a fresh bottle of Merlot and stared across the table. Head cocked to the side like Satchmo, round eyes piercing through thick black frames like he was puzzling out how to get him to admit to the aliens kept in area 51.

Too used to Mozzie's unnerving observational habits Peter stared back. His own eyes narrowing, he proceeded to explain - in detail - his theory on how Neal would be alive right now if only he'd taken a firmer hand, reined in that impulsive behaviour which so often got him into more trouble than he could handle. To his credit Mozzie didn't argue, but countered with a confession of his own culpability, admitting he could have done a better job of protecting his friend from his own idiocy.

Of course, they were coming at this from two different sides, but the basis of the argument remained the same. Peter knows he's used Neal's brilliant skills of thievery much the same way as those he would condemn for such an action. The difference being, as he justified to Diana once, was when he did it, it was FBI sanctioned. However, according to his incredibly smart and insightful wife, those two magic words fell into the same category as Neal's misguided justification's and she wouldn't accept excuses from either of them. Her belief being that they both wanted their own way and would do whatever it took to get it, aka they were both stubborn idiots.

"How about we agree we're both soft in the head where Neal's concerned and leave it at that?" Peter's smile was easy and as light as candy floss, the alcohol doing what alcohol does and taking all the pain away.

Not satisfied with the Merlot, declaring it too heavy for the occasion, Mozzie left the table switching it for a Riesling and returned waxing lyrical about some of Neal's more ludicrous alleged crimes, making him sound like a very mad, but very proud parent. Peter weighed in with his view of the ones he was aware of and the age-old argument over what constituted right and wrong continued. The two of them did manage to agree on one thing in their drunkenness though. Neal never learned, was always seeing how far he could get over the proverbial line, consequences be damned.

"You know, keeping you in his life was the one thing Neal never listened to me about." Peter tensed and Mozzie must have seen because he was quick to assure this tale had a happy ending. "It wasn't personal suit. You're the suit. Talking to feds is not what we do."

"Neal liked to do more than talk." Peter giggled evilly, refilling his glass to the brim.

"Yeah, and look where that got him. Four years lost with an added four on a leash which could choke him at any time."

"Hey! He did the anklet all on his own." Peter set the bottle down, took a long sip, savoring the warm yet fruity smell that was just so Neal. "You knew about the phone calls?"

"Calls, gifts, birthday cards" Mozzie raised his eyes from his glass and looked Peter in the eye. "Before you sent him to prison, didn't you ever question why he kept returning to New York, why he didn't just go?"

Disappear. Peter knew what Mozzie really meant. And yeah, he did.

"Neal had… issues." Mozzie stumbled, changing his words at the last second. "I knew he'd get attached. Why I never wanted him talking to you in the first place." Mozzie's response was a good-natured grumble. "The anklet was just another desperate scheme that seemed good at the time."

"He was a lost kid who wanted to feel safe." Peter echoed, recalling a conversation from too long ago. "Structure and clear boundaries did that for him."

In the height of his sulking, as El called the low period between him deciding not to turn Neal in for the coin robbery and getting the call that paved his bright new future in Washington, Peter often found himself wandering the streets of Brooklyn at odd times of night. Whenever he was unable to sleep or quiet his brain he left the confines of his comfortable home, walking block after block, testing his own self-imposed radius trying to feel something other than cold and bitter disappointment. It ran through his veins, beat within his chest and infected his brain. He couldn't escape or find release and Peter wondered one cold lonely night when the air was especially heavy with the stench of self-recrimination if this was how Neal felt every day of his ankleted life. Trapped in a fugue state, unable to balance the person he is with the one he was being forced to be. The idea that Neal wasn't being true to himself unless he was thieving or lying sent a chill through to his bones, making them feel brittle and chalk like, liable to snap at any moment.

Peter usually only made it as far as the park before having to rest. Sitting on the bench in the dead of night, only a handful of like-minded New Yorkers for company, he often found himself contemplating the being that was Neal Caffrey. He flashed back on some of their memorable moments together; arresting the Dutchman, Neal's eyes lighting up when Peter called him partner for the first time, Neal pushing passed Jones and hugging him so damn tight after being kidnapped by Keller, Peter doing the same after finding Neal in Cape Verde. It was all so bittersweet, and sitting there, with nothing but the moon and sounds of the city for company, his final thought before heading back was a wish to erase the previous months and have a do over. Of course, that would have meant Neal never reconnecting with his father, that door being permanently left a jar, a little of Neal still incomplete. Peter thinks he could have lived with that.

The one night he came home in an even less than happy mood than usual and told Elizabeth about Neal wanting to 'fix things' between them, El had done what she always did and dug until she got the full story. That being Peter had shut down any 'fixing it' talk and point blank to his face, told Neal he was a nothing more than a criminal and always would be. Now he would freely admit the second the words were out his mouth he wished he could take them back, the look of devastation on the kid's face as he slipped from his office making him feel ten times the monster he'd accused Neal of being. But nothing he felt at the time compared to how he felt faced with the immense disappointment of his wife. Peter can honestly say he's never experienced the full wrath of El until that moment. They've had their ups and downs, but very few serious fights, so when she'd stared at him silently for well over a minute, it initially didn't register with Peter that she was holding back from verbally ripping him to shreds. In the end, after a refilled wine glass and plenty of chest pokes, it was very concisely pointed out to him in the sternest of tones that the sun didn't shine out of the FBI's ass and Peter needed to give some thought to who really mattered; his family, or his job?

Now Peter wasn't going to argue that three years in, and lord knows how many fights, heists and near misses later, Neal was most definitely their family. However, that didn't excuse his illegal behaviour, and he told Elizabeth such. Something which in the history of stupid things to say in a fight with his wife, was one of the stupidest. Elizabeth did let loose on him then. Airing every grievance she'd ever held about the FBI, twice over. Peter felt - quite rightly - like a massive prick. He may have been the one behind bars, but he wasn't the only one they put in prison after James killed Pratt. El and Neal were in their own prisons. The corrupt sect of the FBI had ripped his family apart and, according to El, Peter was still defending them. He wanted to point out that he was defending the good guys not the crooked ones, but by this point he'd learnt to keep his mouth shut and take the hits. Elizabeth had asked Neal to do whatever he could to get Peter out of jail. As far as she was concerned Neal had come through. End of story.

Peter feels he should just be grateful Neal didn't attempt a prison break and have him on the run, but the agent side of him still couldn't get passed the idea he was freed through a criminal act. Elizabeth couldn't get passed the idea he would chose to risk everything when the cards were so insurmountably stacked against him, and Neal couldn't get over the idea that Peter just wouldn't forgive him already. It had been a mess, and Peter had let his anger get the better of him. Shaken that stability Neal so relied on and sent him on a path which ultimately lead to his death.

"You and Neal, I was jealous." Mozzie announced sudden and solemn, his smile more of a flat line stretching his round face.

"Why?" Peter shook his head, vision blurring, mind unable to keep up with Mozzie's train of thought while his own culpability was under serious review.

He didn't think Mozzie would answer, but then he did and damn it, near broke Peter's heart all over again. There was so much he didn't know. So much going on behind the scenes of his and Neal's friendship he never saw.

"He always had this thing about not lying to you, and only you." Mozzie lost his not quite smile altogether, words slurring with a hint of bitterness. "After you snapped the anklet on him it was like he dared not breathe without your approval."

"Now, I know that's not true." Peter pointed one wobbly finger at the lowered bald head.

Letting a strained giggle escape his turned down lips Mozzie stood from the table. "One thing I do know is true. He loved you suit." Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, nothing but raw emotion and incurable regret shining in both. "He loved you more than anything."

Peter didn't know what to say to that. Havisham quickly disappeared out onto the balcony, leaving Peter to blink away the moisture gathering in his eyes. Pulling himself together, internally blaming the alcohol for his blurring vision he followed.

"I loved him too." Peter said quietly, joining Mozzie at his side, taking a good long look at the magnificent view before burying his nose in his glass to disguise the tears he was still trying desperately to choke back.

They stand together in silence, staring out at the city, its lights seeming just a little dimmer now somehow.

"It's been real suit." Mozzie placed his empty glass on the empty side table and slipped out without another word, leaving Peter to take in the view alone, one final time.

2.

"He loved you suit."

Peter hears the words, echoing in his head like they were spoken just yesterday, not a year ago. Maybe it was the combined circumstances of seeing Mozzie for the first time in over 6 six months and it being the first anniversary of his friends untimely passing. Maybe he was just hearing things. Wouldn't be the first time.

He loved you.

Peter told Neal he loved him once. A moment of poignant whimsy hidden in a humorous aside to try and bridge the chasm stretched between them. A chasm Peter had created out of concern and possibly a little jealous. Neal hadn't noticed, was too busy being mad at him about the man formally known as 'Sam'. Peter wondered if it registered later, after the dust settled and Sam turned into James and James turned out to be exactly what he and Mozzie suspected him to be. Not that he was in the habit of agreeing with the little guy, or of telling other guys he loved them for that matter, but Neal was special that way. As the evidence inside the storage container he was staring at contested to.

Looking at the well documented plans, displayed like a work of art down to the last detail, stirred up a lot of emotions Peter thought he'd put to bed, but unlike those cold nights wandering the streets looking for direction, or his and Mozzie's drunken farewell to Neal and his wine collection, he had no doubts about what he was doing next, what he was going to do the second he left this tomb. Because no matter how often Neal pissed people off, stole under the FBI's nose or concealed his true motivations from those he claimed to trust, Peter Burke loved Neal Caffrey. He was his best friend, they were family and he was going to make damn sure he had the chance to tell him that.