Neal Caffrey's mind woke up. He knew it must be daytime because he could tell that the sun was shining even with his eyes closed. He sniffled and buried deeper into the covers, refusing to open his eyes. If he focused hard enough, he could see the pink of his eyelids. The pink turned to red. Fire red. And he remembered the heat and the flames and the screams. Not Kate's screams, no. His own.

He lay motionless, eyes still closed. He wanted to scream. But he balled his fists and bit his lip. No. Not like this. He could hear movement in his room. June. Or Mozzie. They were the only ones left. A lump grew in his throat. And grew, and grew, until he couldn't hold it in anymore, and he convulsed with tears.

"Neal?" June.

He buried his face in the pillow and screamed. Screamed until his throat was sore. June held him and let him cry. He let her hold him. He could use it now. He cried until his eyes hurt and the tears burned, until he softened into whimpers. June tried to coax him up to eat or drink. She'd even poured him wine. But he refused it. Refused everything. Not right now.

She understood. So she left the wine on the table and sat with him on the bed until the whimpers died down and he fell into a fitful sleep.

When he woke again, the tears were gone and his heart was numb. He moped around the room, trying to distract himself, but found no solace in anything. So he dropped into the chair on the balcony and stared into the horizon.

The world should've stopped. The sky shouldn't be so blue. The people on the streets shouldn't be so carefree. The trees should be razed. Every building burnt to ashes like nine-eleven all over again. Because he was so dead inside. He thought of jumping off the balcony. If he did it right, his head would split on the concrete, his neck would snap and he'd be home with Kate. Too dramatic. And he couldn't do this to June.

So he thought about buying pills, going back to the home he once shared with Kate, and downing the pills with wine before closing his eyes and going to eternal sleep. At least it was peaceful. Then he thought about Peter Burke and the FBI squad and how they'd discover him. He thought about how Burke would react, how he would go home in a daze and break the news to Elizabeth, how Elizabeth would cry herself to sleep. No, he had to do this somewhere safe.

There was a knock on the door and June let herself in. "Neal? There are-"

"Neal Caffrey?" came an unfamiliar voice. "You're under arrest."

"For what?" June snapped. "He's been here the whole time! I can prove his alibi."

"For trying to escape the country."

June opened her mouth to protest, but Neal's voice broke through the chaos, flat and cold, the way he never was. "It's okay, June. It's okay."

He got up, let the officers cuff him and let them take him to prison. Again. He didn't feel so much this time. He wasn't intimidated. He knew how it worked. Besides, it wasn't some maximum security prison where he was locked up with murderers and rapists, no. Minimum security. The type he could break out of in one try. Just like old times.

He would deal. He let them put him behind bars in a sparse cell with nothing but a crude bed, a basin and a bucket for a toilet. He lay down on the bed, barely registering the smells of prison and the cold, hard slab against his back. Orange jumpsuit. Just like old times.

But not really. Because this time, Kate was dead.

-xxx-

END. Because Season 2 happens. Thanks for reading!