When Amy walked into Holt's office and saw the FBI agent sitting across from him, her heart stopped completely. She didn't breathe until Holt asked her to close the door. Her hand shook on the knob as she complied.

"Please, Santiago," Her Captain's calming voice said, "Take a seat."

"Captain, I'd prefer to stand." Amy replied, her leg already bouncing with nerves. He dipped his head.

"Very well." Holt gestured towards the man in the black suit. "You remember Special Agent Clark, of the FBI."

"Something happened with Peralta." Amy stated, trying to keep her face blank.

"No, not exactly." Agent Clark said, and Amy's body relaxed instantly knowing Jake was okay. "Peralta has managed to complete his initial task successfully." She noted the vague way he spoke, as if he feared they were being overheard. "However, he has proven to be… a difficult man to manage." Amy choked on a laugh.

"We were discussing means that his handlers could better…" Holt paused dramatically, "…Get a handle on him." Holt nodded at her with the tiniest hint of a smile. "I suggested we bring you into the conversation, as you have been partnered with Peralta longer than I have been his superior." Amy clasped her hands in front of herself as she looked down at the Agent.

"Don't expect him to take your orders. Peralta is a terrible secondary. He is going to do what his gut tells him regardless of what you want. You just have to keep him informed and pray his gut is right." With a small fond smile, she conceded, "It usually is."

"You say he's a terrible secondary," Agent Clark said, "But your Captain's records indicate he worked well under Detectives Boyle, Jeffords, Diaz, and yourself."

"Well yeah," Amy replied, slightly frustrated, "That's because we're his friends now. He trusts us and he's not about to go off half cocked if it's gonna get us in trouble. You aren't his friend, you don't have history, he isn't going to treat you the way he does us." Agent Clark leaned back in his chair, and she was made wary by the speculative gleam in his eyes as he watched her.

"Miss Santiago," He began, and Amy had to restrain herself from correcting him, "Since you seem to have experience working with Peralta, perhaps we can find an arrangement with your Captain and utilize you as well."

Amy looked back and forth from the Agent to Holt with wide eyes. As much as she had been jealous of the assignment at first, with distance she had realized how grueling that kind of deep cover could be. Amy was well on track careerwise, and risking her place in the Squad for an FBI case was not something she needed.

"Sir, I am not prepped for undercover work," She protested, "I have more than a full caseload right now, I… I can't quit the NYPD, I just can't." Holt held up a hand.

"As I understand it, there is no need for you to quit. You would not be going undercover, you would be taking Agent Clark's place as liaison, correct?" He directed the question at the Agent, who nodded. "You would take the same precautions he does as you meet with Peralta and receive updates on his progress and ferry him necessary information."

"In the event that the targets do discover you," Agent Clark added, "You could easily pass for someone innocuous like a prostitute or cleaning lady." Amy flushed with indignant anger.

"I'm sure what our FBI colleague means," Holt broke in smoothly, "Is that we have full confidence in yours and Peralta's acting abilities. You will undoubtedly have no problem keeping your meetings clandestine, you have the NYPD and the FBI's resources available."

Amy glanced at Agent Clark, and said, "Do you think I could discuss this with my Captain?" He looked back at her mildly and deliberately uncomprehending. "Alone?" She stressed. Holt gestured at the Agent, who reluctantly stood and walked out the door.

Amy immediately sat in front of his desk and bent over to mutter, "You planned this, didn't you, Sir." Holt leaned back in his seat, and Amy could recognize the small smirk as satisfaction.

"As much faith as I have in Jake," Holt said, "I have more in your partnership as a whole." Amy bit her lip. Hearing a compliment from the Captain still made her want to hyperventilate, even if she was trying not to be so obsessive about his approval. "The Iannucci's are extremely dangerous, and I don't want one of my best detectives taking them on without backup."

"Captain, this is his assignment." She said softly. "I don't want to take it away from him."

"And you won't be. Your job would be as a liaison only, an intermediary. Jake will still get all the danger and glory he craves."

On some level, Amy knew that was true, Jake did like this assignment because it was cool and nitty gritty. But, another part of her, the part that had been blinded by Teddy until one night in the parking lot, suspected that he leapt at the chance to get away from her. He'd given her a going away speech and everything. If she showed up in a capacity that required constant communication, she might be pushing him when he needed space.

"I don't know if this will work, Captain." Amy confessed.

"Confidentially," Holt said as he shifted closer, "Agent Clark is so disdainful of Peralta's reckless, thrill seeking behavior and improvisation, that he is considering pulling him and abandoning the case." Amy caught herself about to gasp. "You know as well as I do how much closing the Iannucci case means for Peralta, probably more now that he's spent a few weeks scoping out their organization first hand. I know you want to protect his feelings," The Captain gave her a look that felt far too knowing, "But even Peralta will be able to see the pragmatism in this arraignment."

Personally, Amy was skeptical about that, but she didn't contradict him. Instead, she nodded quietly.

"Good." Holt said, relaxing back into his seat. "You must work out the details with Agent Clark. If you find your current cases suffering you are welcome to lean on Boyle or Diaz." He paused, and Amy hesitated, almost turning to leave, thinking he might be finished. He added slowly, holding her gaze. "Above all, look out for your partner."

Amy took a deep breath and said, "I will. Thank you, sir."

She left the Captain's office with her back straight, eyes quickly finding the FBI Agent at the coffee maker, avoid conversation with the oblivious Hitchcock. Amy knew most of the squad was watching her as she sat down at her desk, but she didn't acknowledge their curiosity. After a moment when everyone went back to work, Amy met Agent Clark's gaze. She gave a sharp nod, and didn't pay attention to where he disappeared to after that. She'd be hearing from him soon.

When Amy pushed open the door to the diner, her eyes alighted on the familiar leather jacket immediately. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed back a hundred possible greetings. He was sitting with his back to her, in the far corner, underneath a dull light. She wouldn't be surprised if he tampered with the light himself to get the right atmosphere.

Amy squared her shoulders and walked over to his table. Maybe she was imagining the tensing of his shoulders as he heard her heels approach. Amy slid into the booth, laying her purse, the burner cell poking out just visibly enough. She tucked her skirt, too short for her usual tastes, under her legs, wasting time before she had to see his face.

"I sort of figured something was up when the text came in that we weren't meeting in one of Clark's favorite underground garages." He said, tone light and unremarkable.

Finally brave enough, Amy looked up. Why she expected him to look radically different after only a couple weeks, she didn't know. Jake was the same; same smoothly shaved jaw, same bright childlike eyes, same hair curling around his ears. No new scars or anything she could see. It was possible he wasn't sleeping as well, there was a hint of purple under his eyes, and his skin looked a little less healthy, but nothing terribly shocking.

"He came by the station." Amy told him, wishing for a cup of coffee like the one cradled in his hands. "Apparently you've been kind of a jackass to him, old school Peralta style."

Jake nodded with a faux-contemplative frown. "You know, it is possible I haven't been on my best behavior." He was watching her carefully, and Amy realized he was guarded around her now. The jokes and sarcasm that had come easily to them before was now smokescreens to skirt around things said and unsaid. She had no idea what to do, how to break down the barrier, if she should, if she even could.

"I'm taking over as your handler." Amy said, deciding to stay professional for now. He must've come to the same conclusion, because while Amy could practically hear 'You could handle all of me any time', Jake said nothing. Oddly disappointed, she rummaged through her bag as Jake stirred his coffee in her periphery. Finding it, Amy pushed the book across the table. He picked it up and squinted at the title.

"You know I'm not gonna learn Spanish, right?" Jake said, waving the phrase book at her.

"They're codes." She explained shortly. "We text from the burners one of the phrases so we know when and where to meet." Jake flipped through the pages, eyes scanning the handwritten blue pen in the margins.

"Let me guess," He said with a grin, "You came up with these all last night?" Amy rolled her eyes so she didn't have to confirm it.

"If anyone asks about the texts, you can say I'm your Spanish tutor or something." She went on, ignoring Jake's snort in response.

"Fortunately," He said brightly, "Most of the Iannucci's are kinda racist and there aren't that many Hispanics in their crew. No one's gonna be looking over my shoulder to wonder why I'm texting nonsense." There wasn't anything Amy could really say to that.

Jake sighed with a serious note that set her on edge. "I'm sorry you got roped into this. You got the boring end of the stick, while I'm out here getting drunk with a bunch of criminals." The way he described it didn't sound all that desirable.

Amy shrugged. "It's not that bad. I've got a lot of paperwork and official report writing to do, but you know I like that anyway." Jake smiled at that, ducking his head shyly.

She bit her lip. She shouldn't push. She shouldn't get into dangerous territory. But she needed to know if they could be okay. It was still possible to hand the position back to Clark if Jake wasn't cool with it. More than anything though, Amy wanted him to know that she wasn't heartless, that she did care, even if she couldn't articulate how much yet.

"Plus it beats not being in contact for six months, right?" She said, trying for levity and failing miserably. His face was blank as he stared down at his lukewarm coffee. "I mean, covert ops, shadowy meetings, secret codes, it's all really dope, and stuff."

His eyes flicked upward at her as she trailed off. Jake was nervous, she realized, which was the last thing the op needed. He had to be focused. Drawing in her own anxious breath, Amy began to clear the air.

"Listen, Jake, maybe we should talk about what happened in the parking lot." She said, her eyes on the sugar dispenser between them.

"We don't have to do that." Jake replied with a desperate cheerfulness. "Nothing's changed. I'm still on a crazy dangerous mission, you're still with Teddy, we totally don't need to talk about my stupid feelings thing."

Amy didn't know what to say. There were things she could've told him, like that it was because he was on a crazy dangerous mission that she'd been thinking about him and what he meant to her and what a future without him would be like. Or that she was thinking of not being with Teddy, because he didn't want to go dancing, and he thought teddy bears were juvenile and their shared name annoyed him, and he never tried to read her secret lists. Or how she had replayed his words in her mind hundreds of times now, and even if she knew his confession by heart and despite the fact she had no idea how she felt about him, she really wanted to hear him say it again.

But Amy supposed she shouldn't say anything until she knew for sure. He clearly wanted to forget about it for the time being. He was babbling on nervously.

"I jumped the gun with the whole no contact thing, obviously." Jake said, shaking his head. "And that's awkward. But now we're working together, just like old times, except this is way more Die Hard than anything we've done, so—"

"We aren't really working this together." Amy corrected him. "You're in deep and I'm still at the station, so aside from our meet ups and communiqués, we can't be seen together. We're taking all the precautions the FBI did." Jake nodded, but he looked put out about it. "Hey," Amy said as she leaned closer, "I don't want to blow this for you, okay? We have to be really careful."

"Yeah, I gotcha." He pulled out the flip phone from his pocket, the untraceable cell the FBI gave him. He passed it to her. "Gimme your number." Amy entered her FBI issued phone number into his, under the contact name 'Spanish Hottie'. Jake laughed when she gave it back to him.

"What," she said defensively, "learning a new language to impress a cute girl is totally plausible."

"Yes, anything that happened in 10 Things I Hate About You is definitely true to real life."

"I'm not flashing anybody for you." Amy said sarcastically.

"We all know the overachiever ends up with the drop out in the end." Jake said, and there were too any layers for that sentence to be a joke. Amy watched Jake's face scrunch with embarrassment until she couldn't take it and had to look away.

"I'll text you in a week for an update," Amy said, strictly business, "unless the FBI has new intel. Memorize the codes and hide the book." Jake groaned, and Amy had to smile. "You were the one who wanted to play spy, now you've gotta follow through."

"You're gonna suck the fun out of this, aren't you?" He said, but he sounded light and teasing, and it actually helped her relax. Jake took the book and shoved it in his pocket. "I'm going out with some of the guys tonight," He said as he stood up, "I'll let you know how it goes."

"Good luck." Amy said, but he was already turning and walking away. She settled his coffee bill and tried to ignore how brusque he'd been. It was just the messy situation, she told herself; a successful infiltration required his full focus. Nothing's changed between them personally.

She spent the rest of the night with the words 'romantic stylez' on repeat in her mind as she tried to decide if she wants things to change.

From Contact 1:
Holá señoritá, me llama Jake. Yo soy bueño.
(Hello girl, my name is Jake. I am good.)

Amy shook her head at the message she got later that evening. It wasn't from her book, he'd clearly parroted what he retained from middle school Spanish class.

From Spanish Hottie:
Tu Español es muy maló.
(Your Spanish is very bad.)

"News to report," Jake began their next meeting by looking up into space, "Luis is thinking about buying a dog, but he isn't sure which is cooler, a Rottweiler, Doberman, or Pit Bull, and Alex is having marital problems, she doesn't trust him, shocker, and there's a mysterious shipment coming in on the 3rd, but no one talks about it while I'm in the room." He lowered his eyes to hers with a defiant sort of expression she wasn't used to being directed her way. "Do you think that's what the FBI wants to hear?"

"Don't get frustrated." Amy said, leaning against the side of the tunnel, watching the skateboarders across the field. The park was a completely different place after dark. There weren't many people around to observe them.

"I'm in the crew," Jake said forcefully, trying to convince one or both of them, "But they still don't trust me to do more than look menacing, which, I have to admit, is not really my forte." He kicked at a rock on the ground, and Amy winced as it skittered away. "Why does Leo even want an ex-cop if he isn't going to do anything fun?"

Amy took a deep breath. "Okay, it's been a while since you were a rookie, so maybe you don't—"

"Are you saying I'm old, Santiago?" Jake said with a gleam of mischief in his eye. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"I'm saying," she retorted sternly, "you don't remember what it's like to have people look down on you and not trust you with things."

"This isn't like that. When Holt first became our CO he didn't trust me to do stuff, he thought I was an idiot. This is different, Amy." Jake shook his head, looking vaguely out over the park. "They're suspicious. They know how long I've been a cop, and no matter how much I drop hints about how I hate authority and the paperwork stuff and following stupid rules they know I wouldn't just... Stop being me."

He doesn't look at her, hasn't been able to hold her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. Jake was getting antsy and that's dangerous. This is a part of her job, she reminded herself, talking him down.

"What have you told them about your time as a cop?" She asked seriously, and Jake was finally pulled out of his own head enough to see her.

"Clark said to keep it vague." He replied, sounding a little confused.

Amy shook her head. "No. You wouldn't become a criminal even if you were fired. That's gonna become obvious the more you're..." She tried to think of a way to say his goodness shines through without besmirching his acting abilities or getting too corny. There wasn't a way, so she settled for, "...you." Jake, predictably, looked annoyed. "But a Jake Peralta with a selective history might. We just have to find a way to tweak some stories to fit this new you."

"Okay," Jake said slowly, testing the idea out, "what are you thinking?"

"When have you hated the rules and regulations the most?" Amy asked.

"Whenever the Vulture claims jurisdiction over one of our cases." He answered immediately, anger obviously still simmering under the surface.

"Perfect." She smiled widely, thinking this wouldn't be that hard after all. "Now think of a time when you've displayed any interest in crime." Jake shot her a skeptical smirk. "There's gotta be a time. Rosa and I talk about how every perp has a better apartment than us because apparently crime pays."

It took him longer to answer that time. "On Halloween, when I made that bet with Holt to steal his medal. I was bragging about being an evil mastermind." He was getting the point, his whole posture lightening.

"That could work." She agreed, contemplating. "But you shouldn't mention the squad. We don't want to make them think you're too close to us."

Jake pointed at her suddenly, exclaiming, "I bribed some guys in the holding cells to help me! Boom!" Amy shushed him quickly, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, even the stoners have gone home. We're in the clear."

"We can't take chances, Jake." She chided him.

"You're in your civvies," He began determinedly, listing on his fingers, "You probably employed all the evasive driving maneuvers to get here, I put on a great performance as 'Drunk Jake' who had to be thrown into a cab by several Iannucci crew members, and I know for a fact I wasn't followed when I slipped out an hour later." He scuffed his sneakers in the dirt, but Jake looked at her when he went on, "Can't I just relax with the one friend I'm allowed to talk to?"

Amy uncrossed her arms, her whole body sagging. It was nearly too much to hear. She'd been so focused on the mission, she hadn't realized how Jake must feel about their meetings. It must be the only time he could drop the act and be himself. The problem was, she couldn't let him.

"Right now, I'm not your friend." Amy told him flatly. "I am your handler."

Jake stared at her for a long moment, waiting for her to reveal a tell, but she refused to break. This was her job, to protect him. It would be her fault if she let his vigilance lapse, if the Iannucci's caught him, if something bad went down.

They parted ways shortly after that, Jake still terse and sulking, Amy hating herself a little for making him so. All the possible ways the mission could fail were coming to her relentlessly, and no matter how hard she tried to focus on forming contingency plans, she was unable to push away the memory of Jake, real, alive, and disappointed in her.

From Spanish Hottie:
Más vale maña que fuerza
(Brain is better than brawn)

From Contact 1:
El loro viejo no aprende a hablar
(You can't teach an old dog new tricks)

A couple weeks later they had their fifth meeting, but it was the first in daylight and in a public place. They met at the dog park in Union Square. It bustled with people and their pets, lots of noise, and everyone's attention was on the rabid game of fetch.

Amy was leaning against a tree, upwind, just close enough that her antihistamines were pulling their weight. She'd found a tutorial on YouTube and fixed her long hair to look like a bob. The pins and curls felt strange, but it was a good disguise, one that would easily differentiate Detective Santiago from the innocuous woman Jake was seeing. She wasn't sure why he'd asked for this meeting ahead of schedule, and the uncertainty made her anxious.

"Fancy meeting you here." His voice was low as he appeared at her elbow. She glanced his way with an easy smile that wasn't quite her own. For some reason, every time his profile remained the same it was a small relief.

"Are you a dog person?" She asked, honestly curious.

Jake shrugged. "I wanted a dog until I was 10. My mom had me dog-sit for a coworker and that bitch was mean." He paused, blinking out into the sun, before catching his mistake and adding, "The dog was a bitch, a literal bitch and a mean bitch, not the coworker, I'm sure she was a lovely lady." Amy snorted a soft laugh, causing Jake to turn and face her fully. The laugh caught in her throat.

"Oh god, what happened?" She asked, forgetting herself and raising her hand to cup his cheek. Thoughtlessly, she swiped over the purple and blue bruise with her thumb. Jake winced at her touch, jolting her back to clarity. Amy dropped her hand back to her side, clenching her stupid fingers so they couldn't do it again.

"Leo had some guys pushing molly at a club." Jake began in a murmur, leaning against the tree beside her, a smirk on his lips that didn't touch his voice. "Then these other guys were giving Leo's guys trouble, I think they might've been a rival gang, I dunno. Leo told me to get rid of them."

"By yourself?" Amy whispered indignantly.

Jake nodded, his eyes back on the dog park. "It was a test. Leo doesn't care about molly, it's nickels and dimes. For all I know the other guys were on Leo's payroll too." Jake sighed "He needed to see that I was loyal. I did what he said and I got my ass kicked."

"When was this?" She asked, getting suspicious. She was right to be, as Jake shifted uneasily at her probing.

"Last night." He answered, in a tone that knew what was coming. Amy swallowed down the anger. She couldn't yell at him in public, that would make people notice them. They were supposed to look like two strangers chatting, maybe getting their flirt on. So she laughed instead, something loud from her belly.

"That's hilarious," She said with a saccharine smile, "Because you should've texted me immediately with a sitrep." Jake rolled his eyes, and Amy wanted to slug him for not playing along.

"I'm telling you everything now, okay?" He retorted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Here's the deal," Jake said, taking a deep breath and holding her gaze, "After Leo picked me up off the floor, shit got real. He said he had a job for me, just me. He wants police records, like, a lot of them. On which drug runners are under surveillance, CIs in his territory, all the open investigations against members of his crew, it's, it's—"

"Okay, okay…" Amy said vaguely, halfheartedly trying to placate him while her thoughts are already racing.

"Some of his territory is in the Nine-Nine." Jake went on in a strained whisper. "I'd have to compromise our investigations."

"Don't worry. We can swing this." Amy replied.

"I can't hurt them." Jake said, so firmly as to make it an immutable fact. "I don't care what the FBI says, I won't make the squad look bad."

"I promise, Jake, we can work something out." Amy assured him, laying a steady hand on his arm. He looked down at it in surprise. "The squad won't suffer and you'll come out okay with Leo. Trust me." His shoulders sagged and he looked at her with bright wide eyes. There was a desperation to him that caught her off guard.

"How is everyone?" He asked quietly. "You gotta fill me in, I'm going nuts here." It was the first time he'd asked after their friends. Amy realized then what it had been costing him to hold back. She swallowed thickly, and started to ramble about everything she could think of.

Gina was taking his absence the worst. She thought he'd simply been fired and was ignoring everyone out of pettiness. At first she'd been partying more and making bad decisions (one in particular had the whole squad shaking their head). It had actually been Rosa who knocked some sense into her. The two had been closer lately, becoming unlikely companions in their off days.

Terry had begun leading his own investigations as of late. He claimed it was the natural progression of being reinstated, but everyone had to pick up some slack without one of their best detectives. Amy liked working with Terry, as did Boyle. They were very efficient.

Captain Holt had arraigned for a rookie detective to work with the Squad. The guy was very green, and Holt was spending a lot of time trying to get him up to shape. No one had told the rookie that his position was temporary.

"And what about you?" Jake asked when she thought she'd run out of stories. He somehow sounded more wistful than he had at the beginning. "How're you... I dunno." Jake shook his head briefly before smiling at her ruefully. "How's Teddy?"

Amy pursed her lips, and lowered her gaze to her flats. She wished he hadn't asked that one teensy, infinitely complicated question. Clearing her throat, she took the plunge.

"I wouldn't know. We haven't talked for over two weeks." Jakes face shifted at that, and even though she was watching him closely she couldn't discern what those minute expressions meant. "I told him I had a lot going on and I needed some time to sort things out." Amy crossed her arms, feeling terribly vulnerable. "I said he shouldn't feel bad about seeing other people and he didn't fight me on it."

"That's..." Jake began, but he cut himself off. "I'm sorry, Amy, that sucks." It was the first time he'd called her by name since he'd left, and she forgave him for the slip. She'd missed hearing him say it, soft warmth in the simple syllable.

"Thank you." She said softly. He mirrored her uncertain attempt at a smile. His eyes were earnest, even if his jaw was tight. Amy felt like she should explain, make it clear that she hadn't left Teddy because of him, but she honestly couldn't. Lying to a boyfriend about an undercover op was one thing. The way her heart had contorted itself into a veritable Gordian Knot was something else entirely.