At long last, this story comes to an end. It's been a long ride – a really long ride. But thank you to everyone who stuck with me. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, etc. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you.

Disclaimer: I don't own

Neal took a deep breath as the elevator dinged, steeling himself before stepping off the lift, and making his way into the familiar, bustling bullpen of the white collar crimes division of the New York offices of the FBI.

He hadn't set foot inside this building in almost three months, and in a lot of ways, it felt like coming home. The cast had come off his arm two days ago, and his ribs were – mostly – healed. A few twinges here and there, but nothing to be worried about. He had gotten the all clear from his doctor the day before, and was truly excited to be coming back to work.

He set his coat down at his desk, and then made his way over to the stairs that led to Peter's office. He nodded and smiled at a few agents, all of whom returned the gesture, pleased to have the consultant back with them.

Diana joined him as he made his way across the room. "Welcome back," she said with a smile, handing him a cup of coffee.

Neal returned the smile gratefully, grasping the beverage and taking a large sip. "Thanks," he said once he swallowed. His mind flashed back to their first meeting, and he couldn't help but ask, somewhat cheekily, "So does this mean I don't have to go down to the coffee shop outside anymore?"

Diana paused briefly, before she, too, recalled that statement she had made when they had first met at that airport during the Dutchman case all those years ago. She remembered her annoyance at the cocky criminal in front of her, and how she had seen him as nothing more than a convict-turned-consultant. But the years had changed their dynamic; from the cases they had worked together, to the evenings they had spent in each other's company. She had seen behind that cocky exterior, and found the truly remarkable man underneath. The last few months had shown her a different side of the man she thought she knew, and, while she didn't really have all the details, with her knowledge as a federal agent, she could piece together an incomplete picture. She really had no desire to keep digging though. She wouldn't bring it up until Neal wanted her to know.

The agent and consultant made their way up the stairs in companionable silence. Jones was with Peter, going over what was presumably their newest case.

Both men welcomed Neal back with smiles, before Peter handed him a file and told him to get to work.

XXX

A folder slapping down on the desk brought Neal's attention out of the file he had been reading. He looked up, and shot a questioning look at Peter, who was now half sitting on the edge of his desk, a slight smirk playing across his face.

"Anything interesting?" Neal asked, setting down his own reading for the moment, and picking up the folder his boss so clearly wanted him to look at.

Peter shrugged with one shoulder. "Tell me what you see," he replied. "You're better at picking up the little details than me."

Neal smiled as he began to read. "Was that actually a compliment?" he said by way of response, though he really wasn't paying attention anymore, as the file – lists of numbers and locations – began to hold his full concentration.

Peter almost snorted, and thought about coming up with some sort of reply, but he could tell by the look in Neal's eyes that he most likely wouldn't hear it anyway. Instead, he just sat back and waited.

It didn't take long, before Neal looked up, quirking an eyebrow as he returned his attention to his partner. His question was silent, but Peter knew exactly what it was the former felon was asking. It was a testament to how long they had worked together.

Peter nodded, smiling slightly. "The third property?" Neal nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought too. You up for a ride?"

That question needed no verbal response. Neal was up and out of his chair almost before Peter had finished speaking, grabbing his coat and heading towards the elevator. Peter simply shook his head, chuckling, and followed after his partner.

XXX

It was several hours later when a tired but victorious Peter and Neal re-entered Federal Plaza, pleased with the success of yet another closed case, and happy that they had not lost a step, despite how long it had been since they had worked together.

Peter looked over at his partner, taking in everything, from the slightly hunched form, to the way he was absentmindedly rubbing his wrist – it had healed, or so Peter thought, but he supposed it was probably still a little stiff.

Neal glanced back, feeling the eyes on him, and quirked a questioning eyebrow. Peter gave a half smile. "You all right?" he asked quietly.

Neal drew in a breath to answer – the customary 'I'm fine', but then blew it out and looked down. "A little sore," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Peter felt a large grin coming on, but held it in wisely. He was happy that the former conman had become so comfortable with him, and was willing to let him in.

He said nothing for almost a minute, simply listening to the elevator ding as it passed each floor on its way up. Neal appreciated it; he appreciated everything Peter had done for him over the passed few months. It was amazing how much the FBI agent knew him – he always seemed to know exactly what was needed. When to talk, when to stay silent, and when to push. He had helped Neal so much. For the first time since he was a teenager, Neal actually felt like he could move on. For the first time, when asked how he was doing, he didn't feel like saying 'I'm fine' was such a lie.

"So how's it feel to be back?"

Neal looked up, to see Peter watching him, a concerned and caring look in his eyes.

He couldn't stop the smile from forming. "Good," he replied simply. He didn't say anymore, but Peter understood. Nothing more needed to be said.

At that moment, the elevator doors opened, and FBI agent and conman stepped out, making their way back to the bullpen of the white-collar crimes division. Neal stopped in the middle of the room and took in the hustle and bustle of agents coming and going, phones ringing, paper rustling. The small smile that had formed in the elevator widened, as Hughes stepped out of his office and executed his patented two-finger point. "Oh yeah," he said softly, "it's good to be home."

And done! I know, yell, scream, hate me for taking so long. I'm really trying to tie up all my stories, and I apologize for pushing this to the back burner for so long. I hope you all enjoyed, and please review!