Hello again! Here's the next chapter! I don't really have a lot to say this time. So…

Enjoy!

[][][]

Chapter Two

Worst Neal Ever

Almost as soon as Peter walks into the bureau, his junior agent, Jones, asks him almost anxiously, "Did you get anything from Neal?"

Peter turns to him, trying to think up an answer quickly. Did he get anything from Neal? Well… maybe he could look into Neal's idea of him being framed. Although Neal has said a lot of things Peter can't bring himself to believe, he does believe Neal that he has never told Peter a lie. And Neal looked him in the eye and said—twice, was it?—that he hadn't done it. For some reason Peter can't get himself completely back on board where he stood before he walked into Caffrey's room.

"I don't know," Peter replies finally, but then sighs and tells the agent his real opinion. "I don't think he was a part of it. There's something not right about the whole thing. I'm going to look into it a little bit more."

Jones is a bit confused. They had spent a while in the conference room after they caught Foster, digging more up on her, replaying the surveillance video where Neal was caught, going over what she had said when they questioned her. He isn't sure how Peter's going to look into it a bit more. But the concern on his friend's face is evident, so as they part ways, Jones makes a mental note to check to see how Peter's digging (deeper) will be going later.

[][][]

It takes Peter half an hour to finally realize what's so wrong about the picture. It's the way "Neal" is running. It's too practiced, Peter thinks. If Neal were really running for an escape car in attempt to save his old friend from us, he wouldn't be striding that much like Neal. It seems as if it's that man's time to shine, to be Neal Caffrey for those five seconds he's on a camera. And it's the way the car is parked. It just happens to be in perfect view of the only camera there is outside?

There's a knock on the door and Diana and Jones walk in. Peter pauses the video.

"Hey, Boss," Diana says. "How's the investigation coming?"

Peter is excited, ready to share what he observed, but then thinks of the results that would happen afterward. These are just teeny tiny details that could mean nothing. Neal could have just been feeling good about himself in the video. "Just a hunch" is what he would end up saying. So Peter comes up with a better strategy. He smiles and sets the video to the beginning, pausing it there and turning to his colleagues.

"Put yourself in Neal's shoes here," Peter says. "The FBI is about to catch your old friend in the act of a crime. Then the fire alarm goes off, probably just as planned. As people are running toward the exits, you grab Foster in the middle of all of the people, showing her your escape route, turning your hat toward most people so they don't see your face—even though the hat and suit completely gives it away that you're Neal. You run out the side door, keeping your hat facing the camera and you hop into the car and drive away." Peter presses play on the video and points to the screen. They watch as this supposed "Neal" strode to the car, opened the car door, got in and turned his head immediately towards Foster as soon as the door is shut—his hat, once again, turning towards the camera.

Peter rewinds it back to the beginning. "Now watch how he runs," he says, playing it again. He can practically feel his fellow agents realize what's wrong. Feeling like he has just won a prize, he turns to Jones and Diana with raised eyebrows. "Now would you really be running that much like Caffrey if you were Caffrey?"

Jones laughs, knowing his boss has hit the spot. Again. "I was about to say… he sure does take a lot of thought into being sure to be Neal."

Diana has the same reaction, saying quietly, "I can't believe we missed that…"

The good feeling in the air that Peter stirred fades after a while, and eventually Jones says, "So it probably wasn't Neal in the car. What do we do next?"

Peter smiles slightly. "We find the man that was."

[][][]

The painting is done. While my mind has been on who could be the one to want to frame me, and probably pay (or steal) a fortune to do it, my hands have cleverly set the definition of the painting to the paper. The girl's dress in the painting is now, officially, "flaming" and the background is perfect. The wrinkles in the orange dress and on the blanket on the chair she lies on are some of the best I've ever done. Satisfied, I smile.

Then my phone vibrates with a text. So I clean most of the paint on my hands off on a rag, then walk over to get my phone from the table. I open the text.

Peter: I might have cleared your name. Need you at the bureau. Now.

I look up from the text and almost laugh in joy. Even after how pissed he was at me, he's still willing to help me out when I need it. I hit Reply.

Aw how nice of you, Peter! On my way.

So I set my phone back down and clean out the paint brushes and palette before I forget about them again (wasn't good last time), quickly get changed and washed up, then gather my things and head out, doing my little hat-flip as I walk out the door—even though nobody's here to see it.

[][][]

I'm headed towards Peter's office when, as I walk up the stairs, I see him through the glass of the conference room, going through some files. I walk in.

"So I heard something on my way here," I say, and Peter looks up at me, not a trace of anger on his face. If anything, I'd say amusement. I clear my throat slightly for effect. "Something about me being right?"

"I said no such thing," is his reply, and he motions for me to sit. So I do.

Didn't say you were the one who said it, is what I almost say. But then I think he might get the wrong idea, so I keep my mouth shut.

"Thought you might want to see this before we get started," Peter says, a remote in hand, pointing it toward the TV and hitting play.

It's the surveillance video of how Harleigh and the guy posing as me get away from the scene. They come in from the bottom of the screen, running like everybody else. There's a black Sonata parked conveniently in plain sight of the camera—mistake number one. It almost seems as if it were directed to that particular spot… Then the other "me" fails at trying to run like me—mistake number two. There's no eye contact or communication at all, not even a look between Harleigh and this guy to determine which side of the car the other would get on… It's all practiced. Repeatedly. This Neal gets on the side closest to the camera while Harleigh goes around to the other (probably so he doesn't have to turn towards the camera), then the second his door shuts he turns toward Harleigh, who isn't quite all the way in yet: a nervous tick to look away from the camera, ensuring that it doesn't see his face once. The car speeds off before Harleigh has her door shut all the way, but she does and the car speeds off to the side of the screen—but not before I get a glimpse of the blurry license plate: LHS-2350.

When Peter turns the TV off, I turn to him, a revolted look on my face. I take a breath, holding it there for a second before saying, "Peter, please tell me that that video is how you figured out I wasn't there." Surely, Peter Burke would have picked up on at least one of those things…

Peter smiles. "That is how I figured out you weren't there."

"That was probably the worst stunt I've ever seen," I go on, with the same wide-eyed-disgusted face, then grin at my next thought. "And it took you how long to figure this out…?"

Peter gives me a look. "Oh shush," he says. "I was still trying to contain my rage by seeing you there."

"But it wasn't me there."

"No, but however bad his acting may be, he does look a lot like you in the video," he replies.

"It wasn't just his acting…" I point out, then shrug. I guess he could have been mistaken for me…

Peter shrugs too. "Okay, so we need to figure out who that guy really was."

I nod.

"Do you know of anyone in her past it could be?"

"I've been wondering about the same thing, Peter," I reply, leaning back in my chair. "I don't know. I'm sure she has plenty of partners and enemies..." I breathe, getting ready for an explanation. "The thing about Harleigh is, she will do anything for money. Especially anything for a nice adrenaline rush. Anyone could have offered her this job."

"Which one?" he asks.

"This one. Her framing me to get me into trouble."

"A little tattle tale," Peter smirks, then thinks of something, pointing his finger. "But she got caught."

"Purposely," I add. "Another thing, she never gets caught. Unless paid enough, and there's a plan behind it."

"Boss," says Diana, who walks in the room, looking a bit flustered.

Peter looks up.

"Foster's gone."

There ya go! Hope you liked! Review please! =D