[for Jane]

Neal hadn't intended to worm his way into getting to live in New Pemberley. He'd enjoyed talking to Jane, and found her kindness comforting as he tried to navigate this strange new place that he'd found himself living. It wasn't like he was looking for another June, another woman with a too-big, empty house, but he'd found one anyway, and, well, he wasn't stupid; he wasn't about to turn down an offer of a private room.

He wondered what Peter would say, if he were here. Somewhere in between reading Neal the riot act and demanding to know whether Neal or Mozzie were behind this whole island business, Neal had to think that Peter would have appreciated the irony of Neal's fresh start on the island.

But none of that mattered. Here, Neal was on his own. Here, Neal wasn't even Neal, a fact that he sometimes had to keep reminding himself, even if Victor by design wasn't entirely too different.

After a short trip to the compound to scavenge through the clothes box once more, Neal made his way back to his new home. He had a small armful of clothes that he struggled with while he made his way through the front door. A tie slipped off of the top of the pile and went bouncing across the floor, unfurling some distance away.

"Crap," Neal muttered, trying to readjust his bundle so he could lean over and pick it back up.