2. Conclusions

"Peter, I know that he's the leader," Neal protested. "All we have to do—"

"No, Neal. It's too dangerous without backup." Peter opened the drawer of his desk and slid the file in. Neal opened his mouth to add something, but the agent stopped him. "And you won't get any backup because our division doesn't handle these types of cases—unless, of course, you can prove he's the guy?"

Neal smiled. "Oh, I can prove that he's the guy!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Can you do it legally?"

"No," the ex-con said, shaking his head.

"Then the answer is still no!"

Neal's blue eyes flashed a feeling of hurt, but his infamous puppy eyes quickly replaced it. That was not going to work this time. "Peter—"

"No."

Neal closed his eyes and nodded, and Peter knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Neal," he said, his voice softening, "I know what this case means to you. This girl—Madison—she's out to kill Cipriani. The only thing relating him to the mob is what she's told us, and none of it checks out!"

"But there's still a chance!" Neal said, his eyes snapping open. "If we can get him in, we can confirm her story!"

"Neal, what did she tell you?"

"Cipriani was the man who killed her husband. All she wants is to put him to justice," he said. Whispering, he added, "I know exactly how she feels."

Peter clasped both hands together and sighed. "Neal, she's never even had a husband!"

Neal's eyes widened.

"She's been playing you, Neal."

His eyes were clouded with deep thought for so long, Peter thought he was reliving Kate's death. The explosion was unexpected, it had caught both of them by surprise, but as soon as Neal screamed in anguish and started to run towards the inferno, the agent had found himself instinctively trying to comfort him and keep him away from the plane. He would never forget the expression on his partner's face, the way his face contorted in such pain and agony he could hardly stand to watch him desperately call for Kate to come back to him.

However, she didn't, and she never would.

Peter reached over to put a hand on Neal's shoulder when the man suddenly jerked his head towards him.

"Whether she lied or not, Cipriani is the ring leader," he said, determination in his eyes. "Even if he isn't, there's a good chance that he knows something. I say we should find out." He flashed one of his signature smiles, and Peter almost agreed with him.

Almost.

"No, it's still too dangerous," he said. "I can't let you risk it. If he is the ringleader, he is in possession of weapons far deadlier than ours. For God's sake, Neal, he deals weapons to rival the U.S. Army!"

"Peter—"

"No, Neal. Go home."

Neal rolled his eyes. "What, now you're benching me?"

"As of now; yes, I am. No go!"

The only way to describe Neal's expression was pissed. Like a stubborn child who had gotten himself grounded, he opened the clear glass door and briskly left the FBI building with Peter watching him from the door of his office.

The minute Caffrey entered the elevator, his partner felt a sudden sense of dread. He slowly sat back into his chair and leaned back, lost in thought. Almost mindlessly, he opened the drawer and reached for the file Neal had given him.

According to the file, Cipriani was an Infantry officer before he deserted, taking with him many of the prototype weapons. Once back in the states, he began replicating them and selling them to the highest bidder. He had to admit, the information Caffrey had managed to ascertain was quite extensive. Nowhere near as extensive as the file Peter had made on Neal, of course, but very impressive.

He looked at the lists of possible aliases and crimes and became more and more convinced that the ex-con was correct in assuming that Ian Cipriani was, in fact, involved in the illegal arms trade.

The more he believed Neal, the more intense his feeling of anxiety. He began thinking of what would happen if—no, Neal definitely wouldn't listen to him. The felon was all hero. No matter what his reasons, he always did what he thought was right. If he hadn't been the one to arrest the con man or even assigned to his case, he would have thought Caffrey was a decorated agent.

Different scenes flashed through his mind: happy ones, where Neal took precautions and managed to catch the man in action without cutting his anklet; and the morbid fantasies of Neal telling every word of their conversation to Madison, trying to help her, and his crimson blood staining the ground.

The moment he thought about blood, he sprang from his chair, grabbed his jacket and left the white-collar floor without a word. The moment he got into his Taurus, his cell phone vibrated. Ignoring it, he started his engine and pulled out into the street.

He cursed when he saw the traffic in front of him. The line seemed to be a never-ending river of cars, its movement almost nonexistent.

Looking for the traffic light to see what the holdup was, he cursed even more: the light was green. He slammed his hand down on the car horn, and a few brave drivers followed his example.

"Damn it, get a move on!" he yelled, though it was to no one in particular.

Finally, noticed the cars start to move. The minute he saw an open parking space, he pulled over, muttering, "Pft, fast my ass. I could walk faster than that!"

Peter swung open the door and, once he was out, slammed it shut again. Then he winced and looked apologetically at his car before running down the sidewalk.

He was only one block away from June's mansion when his cell rang again. He stopped and checked the caller ID: it was Diana.

He flicked it open and said, "Yeah."

"Caffrey's cut his anklet."

Peter froze. It was no surprise that Neal would cut his anklet, but so soon? Neal definitely didn't go willingly...did he? He slammed the phone shut and sprinted the rest of the block.

Finally, he reached the gate of June's house: it was unlocked. Urgently, he flung the gate open and dashed inside and up the stairs.

He banged on Neal's door, breathing heavily as he called out, "Neal? Neal, open up!"

He could hear the incessant beeping of the anklet, wincing at the high-pitched wail it let out. He tried the knob, and it, too, was unlocked. He burst through the door and looked around the room.

No Neal Caffrey.

His eyes rested on something that lay on the floor directly in front of him. It was Neal's traffic anklet, and it was covered in blood.\


Well, this isn't my best idea. It seems a little rushed, to me. The end is all...BWA! But, of course, everyone says, "Oh, it's perfectly fine, dear!" -_- Yeah, tell that to the part after, "Now go."

Anyway, please read and review this cliffhanger!

^^ Rachel