Neal paced back and forth in his room as the sun rose high in the sky on Monday morning. It was about seven in the morning, and he knew he should be at work with his partner, FBI Agent Peter Burke, but he wasn't in the mood. Peter had called about a dozen times. Neal ignored his phone.

Just then he heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was Mozzie, he was quick to open it. Instead of his balding friend, however, Peter was standing in the doorway. Neal sighed and, seeing no other choice, moved aside to let Peter in.

"Something wrong with your phone?" Peter asked.

"Not now Peter," Neal sighed.

"We have a case," Peter told him.

"I'm sick," Neal lied.

"You look fine to me," Peter said. It was only half true. There were dark circles underneath Neal's bright blue eyes. His hair stuck up at odd angles. He was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, a rarity for him at this time of day. "So what's really going on?"

"Nothing, I told you. I'm just not feeling good," Neal said, turning his back on his partner. He sat down at the table, his eyes going out of focus.

Peter paused, looking his partner up and down. "You know I can help you, Neal, right? You can trust me."

Neal looked up at him. "Yeah, Peter. I trust you. But I'm telling you the truth, ok? I'm not feeling good. Haven't been since Friday."

"Neal, I know you well enough to know that's not true," Peter sighed.

"Yes, Peter, it is. Now can you please go so I can get some sleep," Neal stood up, walking around, his back to his partner.

Peter sighed and looked down, his eyes glancing over the kitchen table. It was then that he spotted the photograph. It was the smiling snapshot of a little girl with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a cute smile. She looked very familiar, but Peter couldn't put his finger on it. He quickly whipped out his cell phone and snapped a picture of it. He sent it to Diana, asking her to try and find out who it was. Then he looked at Neal.

"Alright, fine, Neal. But if you need anything, just let me know."

"You got it," Neal agreed, turning around but not really looking at him. Peter nodded at him and quietly left the room, heading downstairs. He was determined to find out what Neal was hiding.

Two days earlier…

Neal entered the house, led by Rebecca, a girl he had dated a few years back. She had been waiting outside his house when he came home. She told him that he had a daughter, showed him a picture of her and her birth certificate. It listed him as the father. Not only that, but there was definitely an undeniable resemblance.

Neal looked around. The house had a warm, welcoming feel. There were pictures everywhere.

"Well, make yourself at home," Rebecca said, trying to keep the stress and worry out of her voice. It wasn't working. "Jessica's room is through there," she said, motioning toward a door on the right. Neal hesitated, then walked over to it and pushed it open.

The room was not what he expected. It was a pale blue, with pictures everywhere. There were detailed drawings mixed in with photographs. He smiled at the sight. Not bad for a third grader. He walked around the room, taking in the sights. There were trophies in every spare bit of shelf space, for soccer and piano. He saw pictures of her in her games, at recitals, at birthday parties, and hanging out with friends. Her sketches were amazing, full of detail and life. If the picture hadn't confirmed that she was his child, this definitely did. She reminded him of himself.

"She drew that one in art class in first grade," Neal jumped when Rebecca suddenly appeared in the doorway. "After that, she just started drawing more and more outside of school."

"First grade, huh?" Neal asked when he recovered. Rebecca nodded with a smile. Neal smiled, too. "She's her father's daughter," he said softly.

"Yeah, she is," Rebecca agreed, struggling to keep it together.

Neal spotted a picture on the bedside table and walked over to it, picking it up. It was a picture of him and Rebecca in the park where they met.

Rebecca saw him looking and smiled. "I told her about you," she said. "She knew everything, who you are, what you did…But she knew you were a good man. Every year, she blows out the candles on her birthday cake, and someone always asks her what she wished for, and the answer is always the same. She says 'I wished I would meet my daddy before my next birthday'." Her voice started to crack at the end and Neal turned to her. Tears welled up in her eyes. Neal put the photo down and walked over to her, wrapping her in a hug. She sobbed into his shoulder. "I want her to have another birthday, Neal," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"She will, Becky, I promise…" He rubbed her back comfortingly. After a minute, he pulled away. "Now what exactly happened? You said Jessica was missing…?"

Rebecca took a moment to compose herself, wiping her eyes and nose. Then she nodded. "Her school was off today, so she went to a piano lesson around eleven this morning. Her teacher is just down the street, so I let her walk there, just like every day. She called to say that she made it there, but she never came home. She didn't answer her cell phone and her piano teacher said she left on time."

"Did you call the police?" Neal asked. Rebecca shook her head.

"I was going to, but then the doorbell rang, and Jessica's piano bag was on the porch. Inside were her normal books, and an envelope with a note saying that if I called the police they'd kill Jessica. And then it said that if I ever wanted to see her again, I'd find you and give you this," Rebecca picked a large envelope up from the bed. Written on it was Neal's name, nothing else. "It said instructions were inside."

Neal took the envelope from her. He would open it later. He smiled reassuringly at her. "I'll take care of this, Becky. If I have anything to say about it, Jessica will have a lot more birthdays to look forward to."

Rebecca nodded shakily, and Neal pulled her into another hug…