OK, the plan was to have this done before the Season 3.5 premier... but, kind of like some of the plans in this story, things didn't go quite as intended. I edited a little to bring it at least mostly in line with Checkmate, but it's been in progress for a few weeks so it may not fully match up. Oh, and thanks to sarahseach who reviewed a story a couple of months ago and challenged me to do a Neal and Sara story, something I hadn't really had on my writing radar. This is not a romance, but I think they learn a lot about each other :-)

"Really? Yeah, I'd like that… It shouldn't be a problem… No, we don't have anything big going on right now… I'll check with Peter. If it's a problem, I'll call you back… See you there."

Neal disconnected the call and then sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand. Of all the people who might have called… well, Sara probably wouldn't have been the one he would have expected. In fact, after their "different people" breakup, and the subsequent introduction of Matthew Keller into her life, she probably would have been near the bottom of his guess list.

Just above the possibility that Keller might call with a genuine offer to apologize.

Even Sara's assertion that the secret of the treasure was safe with her hadn't really changed anything. Of course, that was a moot point now, after dealing with Keller and Elizabeth's abduction. The treasure – at least, what hadn't gone to finance Mozzie's disappearance as soon as Elizabeth was safe – was in the FBI's hands. The Russians' claims to it were being evaluated by the diplomats.

Neal's future was in the FBI's hands, subject to an upcoming hearing.

And now he had a lunch invitation from Sara Ellis to add to the general confusion of his life. There hadn't been a trace of the anger or disappointment that had come through when he'd returned her lock picks, and she'd admitted having seen the treasure. Of course, there hadn't been any of the sexy playfulness that had defined their relationship for a few precious weeks either.

No, if he had to characterize her voice today it would have to be… friendly, yet reserved.

It was a puzzle to be solved. All he had to do was ask Peter if he could take an early lunch.

Yeah…

Asking Peter for a favor now was kind of taking his life into his hands – and putting it into Peter's hands. Neal had done everything he could to rescue Elizabeth, coming out the worse for wear physically. Peter had acknowledged his contributions, even thanked him for what he did.

But underneath it all was the not so subtle accusation that if Neal had not hidden the existence of the treasure in the first place, the rescue would not have been necessary.

He and Peter were being correct with each other – at least, that was the best word he could come up with. They weren't in open warfare, but there was definitely no friendly banter or long conversations over beer and wine.

Maybe Peter would be happy to be rid of him for a while.

There was no spring in his step as he climbed the stairs, but he had pasted an air of confidence on by the time he reached the upper walkway. Sometimes appearances really were everything.

The office door was partially open and Neal reached in, rapping his knuckles on the wood. He waited until Peter looked up and acknowledged him before entering. Yeah, that was new behavior too, instead of just bounding in…

"Neal?"

"Since we don't have anything urgent on right now, is it all right if I take an early lunch?"

Peter's expression was instantly one of suspicion as he leaned back in the chair. "Any particular reason?"

Well, there really wasn't any reason not to be absolutely honest… "Sara called. She wants to meet."

That obviously got Peter's attention, and he leaned forward in his chair again. "Really? Is this the reconciliation phase?"

Neal shrugged. "She didn't explain why she wanted to meet. Just that she'd tell me when she saw me – and she has a client meeting this afternoon, so it has to be early."

"And if I called Sara…"

Neal sighed in resignation; not that he expected Peter's full trust, but just a little would be nice. "I imagine she'd be a little annoyed, but she'd tell you the same thing."

Peter seemed to be considering that, and then he nodded. "Fine. Just remember we have a briefing on the Westmore case this afternoon."

Neal nodded, already turning to the door. "I'll be back."

The café Sara had chosen was on a quiet side street near a park, with a terrace overlooking the green expanse. A quick reconnaissance confirmed that he had arrived first, so Neal requested a table outdoors. And given the warm weather, he decided on a nice chilled white wine, ordering a bottle of Riesling.

The wine arrived, and he had just taken his first sips, when he saw her come around the corner. As usual, her stride was purposeful and quick. But her wardrobe was simply… not Sara. Instead of the stylish pantsuits or high fashion dresses she normally sported, today she was in jeans – designer, to be sure, but he'd rarely seen her in denim. With her hair tied back and covered by a baseball cap, eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, she really didn't look like the Sara Ellis he was used to.

He stood as she approached the table, but his smile froze half-formed as he watched her look nervously around; out of habit, he looked around himself.

He stepped around the table to pull her chair out. Nothing seemed out of place. "Everything all right?"

Sara took her seat – and a deep breath. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Neal sat down again, using the motion to check the surroundings again. "You're a little under-dressed."

"I took the morning off."

"And your reconnaissance of the area was fairly obvious."

She looked at him for a moment, opened her mouth as if to reply, and then slowly shook her head. "It's probably nothing."

"Something related to one of your cases that you can't tell me about?"

Sara chose to ignore the question, instead pointing to the bottle. "How's the wine?"

He took the hint and dropped the questioning – for the moment. "Quite refreshing," he answered, filling her glass.

She took a sip, nodding her approval. "Very nice. Have you ordered?"

"Nope. Waiting for you." He watched as she picked up the menu, pretending to be studying it. But from the slight angle he had on her, it was clear her eyes were really focused on the street. "You picked this place," he started, still not seeing anything out of the ordinary around them. "Have you been here before so you have a recommendation?"

"Hmmmm? Oh, I think the Asian chicken salad is perfect for lunch."

"Sounds good." He lifted his hand, getting the waiter's attention. When the server got to the table, Neal pointed at the menu item. "Two of the chicken salads, please. And a crock of the French onion soup to share."

That finally got a small smile from Sara as the waiter moved away. "I thought your French onion soup was the best anywhere."

"Maybe I just like to check out my competition." He leaned back in his chair, sipping the wine. "I'm glad you called."

"Me too," she admitted. "Sometimes I do miss having you around."

"Sara, I'm sorry…"

She shook her head, holding up a hand to stop him. "Neal, don't. Please. We can't change anything that happened."

"True. But I don't want us to be enemies."

"Tell me where the Raphael is and you'll have my eternal gratitude."

"That's what lunch is about? The Raphael?"

"No. No, that's not it at all." She shifted nervously in her chair, taking another look at the street. "I think someone has been following me."

"Sara, tell me."

She sighed, took another look around, and finally turned back to him. "Do you remember when I asked you about ways to defeat a Tech-98 alarm system?"

"Sure. I told you about the Wi-Fi angle."

"Yeah. It was actually about a week later before I could get in."

"Should have let me help you."

"It wasn't the Tech-98. The target just suddenly had a lot of company. I don't think even Wally Burns could have gotten in."

"More company than normal, I take it."

"Definitely. But just as quickly, they all left again. I waited a couple of days and went in – with bolt cutters." She looked around again before slipping her hand into her bag. "Recognize this?"

Neal looked down at the photo she slid across the table. Then he looked again, surprised. "This looks like a Crosse miniature."

"Good eye. Forged any?"

Neal ignored the little jab and studied the photo. "It's the real thing?"

Sara nodded. "I had to wait a bit for our authentication expert to get back to town."

"I could have done it for you."

"Separation of work and pleasure, remember?"

He grinned. "Right. So if it's the real thing, what's the problem?"

"When Pablo was examining the miniature, he found something hidden behind it." She pulled out an envelope, once again looking nervously over her shoulder. "This is a copy, after the Sterling Bosch analysts finally decrypted it," she said, shaking a micro-SD card onto the table.

Intrigued, Neal pulled out his phone and slid the card in. He paged through the documents for a few minutes, finally pausing when the server arrived with their salads. "Thank you."

"Anything else right now?" the waiter asked.

Sara shook her head. "This is fine, thanks."

When they were alone again, Neal looked up. "Cyril Donnelly? As in the deputy police commissioner?"

"Yeah. Documentation of a whole shadow unit he's running. Everything from fixing parking tickets for political cronies to vigilante action against people accused of major crimes."

"But who got off on technicalities," Neal finished.

"Exactly."

"So you want to take this to Peter?"

"I don't know if he'd have jurisdiction. But not knowing how far this goes, I can't take it to the police."

"True. Why didn't you just come to the office?"

That caused Sara to take another look around. For a moment, she seemed to be studying something, but before Neal could decide if he should look, she turned back to him. "There's something else. The first time I thought someone might be following me… well, we were still together. And I think I might have seen someone outside of June's one morning when I left."

"So they might know about me."

"Maybe. And maybe they'll think you know something. I wanted to talk to you about that without other people around."

"Thanks. I haven't noticed anyone, and I'm usually pretty good at seeing a tail."

"Remnant of that misspent youth?"

He grinned. "Something like that. All right, let's eat, and then we'll go talk to Peter."

The taxi drove by slowly, the driver seeming to look for an address. Just past the restaurant the vehicle stopped, and a man in a non-descript suit got out, walking toward an office building. But instead of going in, he slipped into a narrow alley just beyond the door.

Around the corner a black SUV pulled over to the curb; with the tinted windows, it was impossible to see the occupants. Just behind that vehicle, a dark green panel van stopped. The side door slid open just a couple of inches, as if someone might be watching.

They waited.