I'm really sorry! I never thought it would be so long before i could post another chapter!

Thank you very much for your reviews! They remind me that i'm not allowed to give up on this story!

And a special thanks to ButtermilkCavalry; you really help me so much! I can't thank you enough!

When the friends parade started, Neal wasn't sure of his decision any more.

First, there was El. El's smile. Some soup. A few words but not many. El didn't need words anyway. She was there. Her hands on his arm, in his hair. He knew she held back her tears and he tried the same.

"You know you can talk to me, honey. Peter can leave us alone if it makes it any easier for you. Right, hon?"

She turned around to Peter and Neal thought for a moment that there was a slight flash of jealously in Peter's eyes but there was some sort of inscrutable trust between Peter and his wife. He trusted her. The agent just left them alone.

Neal didn'ttalk.

...

There was Moz too. Later in the afternoon. The little man wasn't blabbering about government conspiracies for once. As El before, he tried to just there for his friend. Helping him to get to the bathroom and back. Neal wasn't able to hide how embarrassed he felt just as Mozzie wasn't able to conceal his anger.

"I'll get him Neal. I swear to God I'll get him."

Neal didn't talk.

...

Then, there was Jones and Diana. Worried sick but still professionals to the core. They asked questions; wanted information or explanations, some sort of truth they could work with. They tried it the nice way. They tried it the hard way.

Neal didn't talk.

...

When the night came it was just the two of them again. The FBI agent and the conman.

Neal was on his bed, cross-legged, his eyes closed. The doctor had left a few minutes ago.

"He needs rest. I strongly advise an x-ray too but it can wait. Most of all he needs rest," he had told Peter on his way out. He had diagnosed a few broken ribs, a bad wound in the thigh and bruises. A lot of bruises.

It was just the two of them and the silence was almost unbearable. Peter couldn't think of a time when he had felt so helpless and alone before.

Neal didn't say a word.

Didn't look at the agent.

Didn't move.

Until Peter had enough.

"You have to talk to me Neal. I can't help you if you just keep everything to yourself."

Peter let his seat at the table and sat down at the foot of the bed to get closer to Neal.

The conman opened his eyes, staring at his friend, wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was a way to get out of this mess.

"I need you to help a friend of mine," Neal started and Peter frowned. He hadn't expected that.

"I was supposed to do something…" He shook his head while he kept talking. "Something I didn't want to do. Or they would hurt my friend."

"Who's 'they'?", Peter asked immediately.

The young man kept shaking his head, fighting down his tears. He was sure he had made a mistake now. Peter wouldn't help him if he didn't explain him everything. And he wasn't going to. He couldn't.

"I can't tell you, Peter. I'm sorry.", the young man tried.

"And what did they want you to do?"

Neal considered answering the question. If he answered honestly, Peter might be glad that he had trusted him and he would help him to get Luigi out.

"They wanted an escape plan.", the conman dropped his head, afraid of Peter's possible reaction. But Peter didn't say a word. He just gently put a hand on Neal's shoulder and squeezed it slightly.

"Did they hurt you because you didn't accept to help them?"

Neal shrugged. "Something like that...", he finally answered.

"I'm sorry they did this to you, Neal… I'm… I want you to know that I'm really proud of you," the agent said, "But you have to give me their names Neal. They can't just get away with this!"

The younger man nervously ran a hand through his hair. "I can't do this Peter. You know I can't! I trusted you, I came back here with you, I jeopardize my friend's life to follow you!", he was angry now. Angry at Peter for not being able to drop his perfect 'FBI Special Agent' side sometimes; and at himself for believing Peter would ever be anything else but the man he was. Neal realized that the man he would give his life for any minute probably wouldn't do as much as put his unconditional trust in him. Peter would always need to know more; he would always ask questions. Neal looked at Peter and didn't know if he should feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed or just angry. Peter seemed to notice because he took a deep breath and moved even closer to Neal.

"Okay, calm down", Peter started, "we'll find a way together, okay?"

Neal nodded slightly.

"What do you expect me to do for your friend?", the agent asked.

"I need you to try and find a judge to release him with an anklet." Before Peter could react Neal lifted his hand to cut him off. "He only has a few months left on his sentence. He's married, has a kid he has never met yet; he would never run. Not for anything. But if he stays there, he's gonna get killed."

Peter didn't react at first. There were a million ideas running that came to his mind, questions he asked himself. How dangerous was this guy? Had Neal worked with him? What would happen if he stayed in prison? The most disturbing was: was Neal trying to con him to get his friend out?

The agent finally took a look at his friend and, noticing all the bruises on his faces, the purple bags and dark circles under his eyes and decided that no one would go that far for someone considered anything less than a friend. And if he was that important to Neal, Peter would help. But he still needed some answers.

"Why is he in jail?"

Neal frowned slightly. "Bank robbery," he said before realizing how bad this had to sound in Peter's ears. "There was no violence, they had fake guns. Check his file."

"I will," the agent answered.

"And then you'll get him out?", Neal asked hopefully.

"If I think that he isn't gonna endanger anyone, I'll try. But first I'll ask the warden to isolate him," Peter said and Neal nodded.

"I think you should try and rest now," the agent continued, "You can write down your friend's name and I'll check in the FBI database."

Neal did what he was told and handed Peter the piece of paper. "Are you going home?", he tried to ask as casually as possible.

"No. I'll stay here for the night.", Peter answered.

Neal simply nodded once again and lay down, exhausted but for the first time in weeks with something like hope.

I hope you liked it! Please review, I'd love to know what you think!