Peter stared at his hands... waiting... waiting for her to say something... anything. In the 2 weeks since he found the shipping box he had struggled to find a way to tell Elle about what he found there ... the hope that had surged through him... yes he could see a hundred ways Neal's plan could have gone south but... he knew ... he just knew that he was ok...

Elle sighed... softly, resigned... 2 weeks of trying to think of how to tell her and in the end he had just blurted out... "Neal's alive... he's in Paris". He swallowed. His wonderful wife thought he was crazy now, but he waited for her to speak before he pressed on... waited, staring at his hands clenched into fists on his thighs...

"Peter...?' he looked up. Tears glistened in her blue eyes... she opened her mouth to say more then closed it... sighed again... then softly "Why? Why after all this time would you..."

"I found his plan... it was a crazy one... like most of his plans" Peter couldn't sit still any more. He paced their small living room... " he used real bullets... lowered the powder charge but still...he really let Keller shoot him...the position had to be just right... and blow fish toxin... the dosage had to be calculated precisely...It was dangerous and crazy but... if anyone could pull it off..." He glanced at his wife, hoping she understood his hope and his worry.

"Neal could" she smiled gently, fondly... "But if he is... out there... why... why would he put us ... put you through this."

Peter hesitated to answer... he had thought about that from the moment he found the container... he still wasn't sure he had a reason. He started to tell her he just didn't know...

The soft tune of his phone stopped him...he glanced at his wife and she nodded slightly. It might be important... "Hello?" a distant crash echoed through the line before the call cut out. Peter frowned, concern crept into his eyes. Turning his phone over he blinked... the caller ID showed an unfamiliar number... an international number... and if he remembered correctly that prefix was France...

)()()()()()()(

Neal blinked... the morning light hurt his eyes... how long? How long had he huddled there at his table trying to forget? trying not to think... at least the tears were gone... he sighed ... "forget... yeah..."

Just like that night so long ago it took sheer force of will to push himself to his feet... Coffee... he needed coffee to melt the tension in his shoulders and back...to make his icy hands stop shaking. Why was he always so cold after... as if the freezing rain was still running down his spine...? Neal shivered. How could the memory still rip him apart this way...after all this time? Of course it wasn't the only memory that haunted him...So many people he loved...gone... He shut that train of thought off before it could begin... if he went down that road he would be reduced to tears again...

He should move on again...that was the problem in New York, he stopped running... He never should have stopped. He'd let people in, let them get close... and put them all at risk, and he never had the courage to even tell them how much... not even Mozzie... not even Peter. No he hadn't spoken about that night out loud since...since it happened. Of course he couldn't hide the nightmares... but his friends could think of plenty of reasons he had bad dreams. Besides they had become rare... It had been almost 2 years since one torn through him like this. Sometimes he almost believed himself ... almost convinced himself it never happened... almost, but now...

Tentatively he opened the laptop on the counter...hacking Peter's email had seemed like a good idea when he first did it...he could keep track of whether they knew... if they were looking for him... if his friends were at risk...

It was still there... the notice he opened yesterday...familiar faces staring up at him... it felt like a physical blow to see them...just sketches...no one knew their names...probably no one cared... he swallowed, tears stinging his eyes again... "Someone cares..." he whispered to the pictures "someone remembers"

)()()()()()()()(

Something felt off as Peter walked in the office ... the rhythm of the place felt... different...everyone seemed slightly tense... and Jones was waiting for him at the base of the stairs... this did not look like it was going to be a good day.

"Peter? There's someone from Violent Crimes DC waiting for you up there... He's kind of...intense" Jones warned softly

"Thanks" Peter frowned ... outside their division AND their jurisdiction... that was definitely odd. "Did he say what he wants?"

Jones hesitated...sighed "he says he wants to talk about ...Neal" The younger agent looked ready to fight. "He seems to think... Caffrey ..." the slight pause around his friends name was all that spoke of Jones grief "had something to do with ..."

"A violent crime ..." Peter finished incredulously

"I can throw him out if you want"

"No that's not necessary..." Peter considered. " I do need you to do something for me..." he held out the mysterious number from his phone " Run this number... and keep it quiet if you can" Then with a deep breath he climbed the stairs to his office.

The agent at his desk was 40ish, 6 foot with light brown hair and worn green eyes. He tapped his fingers restlessly on Peter's desk... looking up sharply as the door opened.

"Peter Burke. How can I help you Agent...?"

"Reynolds, Thomas Reynolds..."He shook hands firmly looking Peter square in the eye. A decent man, if Peter was any judge of character, the slight hard edge in his face a necessity of the job rather than a natural part of his personality. "Agent Burke the remains of three young men were found just outside of Washington 4 days ago." Straight to the point too Peter thought liking this man already " We have been able to identify them as Leo Davis, Donny Mitchel and Rico Mendez" He pushed pictures across the desk as Peter sank into his chair " I was wondering if you recognize them..." a brief glance told him 2 things he had never seen these faces before and young men was being generous... they were boys.

"I'm sorry I don't" Peter answered waiting for a connection

"How about this one?" Reynolds flipped a fourth picture toward him and Peter's breath caught. Yes he knew the grinning blue eyed boy standing between Donny Mitchel and Rico Mendez... his arms draped playfully across their shoulders... a small smile flitted across Peter's face. He had never seen Neal so young... he looked unguarded... Naïve even... the mask was missing

"Yes that one I know" he carefully kept his voice even. "What does he have to do with your investigation?"

"One of Donny's ...friends gave me this picture... he said this one... Caffrey started hanging around the others just a few weeks before they disappeared... that after he did the others started talking about coming into big money. These boys were...small time trouble... all of them had Juvenile records..." he tapped Neal's picture" except this one... as far as I can tell he didn't exist before he started hanging out with Donny and Rico. He disappeared the same time as the others... difference is he resurfaced here in New York... while the others...I read the intake psych eval from his arrest... sociopathic tendencies... "

Peter's mouth opened then snapped shut on the anger that tried to escape. Finally he managed "Neal was never violent... not his MO"

"Are you 100% certain of that ... given his evaluation... I would guess him to be capable of... most anything."

"Yes I'm certain" Peter ground out quietly deciding his first impression of the man had been mistaken.

"I would like to speak to him..." Reynolds continued

A furious snort from the doorway interrupted him. "Good luck" Jones said externally calm...

"You cannot deny me access to..."

"You didn't read Caffrey's whole file did you" Jones replied" if had you would know he's... dead... has been for a year"

Reynolds mouth clamped shut for a minute... then he carefully unfolded a paper and lay it on the desk... "Someone here knows something... I received this... from your office... at 4:32 this morning" sketches of the three boys stared up at them from the e-mail notice sent to all law enforcement offices but this one had a reply ... 3 words

"Ask Kyle Nolen"

Peter Burke grinned

)()()()()()()()()(

Jones looked up from his screen to glare briefly at agent Reynolds... the man was determined to prove Neal was a murderer... not that it really mattered now except the real killer would walk...he turned back to the computer. The number he entered came up on the monitor almost instantly...

Business number: Secure Futures

Owner: Nicholas Collins

Address: 216c Rue Michel Carre, Paris

He looked up the company... established 11 months ago... specialized in security consultation... a strange suspicion grew in his gut... it wasn't possible. He knew that, but the man he was thinking of seemed to specialize in "not possible" .With a small smile Jones headed to his boss's office.

"Hey Peter? I've got that number you asked me to pull ... it's a Paris number ...a business line for a small startup... Secure futures... someone called you from this number?"

"Thank you" Peter looked up as Jones continued to hover. The younger man grinned

"Did you have an interesting conversation?"

"No...The call cut out almost as soon as I answered."

Direct approach it is Jones decided

"Peter is it possible that Caffrey isn't...that he's alive?"

Peter's voice was soft as he stood up "I'd guess it's more than possible..."

"He sent the e-mail." Jones hesitated "Neal was never a killer...can't imagine he ever will be"

"Me either but... He knows something about this case ... enough he couldn't let it lie ...and now we know where to find out how much"

"I'll book you a flight boss"

()()()()()()()(

Thomas Reynolds was no one's fool years of working Violent Crime had taught him to never drop your guard on the job, keep your eyes and ears open and never stop digging. So with his prime suspect deceased and certain he had trusted someone in this office with at least the cover story regarding these murdered boys Reynolds had requested the personal effects from Caffrey's desk...

Someone had silently, almost sullenly brought him the box... now elbow deep in ties he was more than slightly confused...and frustrated. He had found a nice pen... a small statue... a sketch pad...colored pencils (really?)... A rubber band ball (the man must have been a child) a snapshot with "Burke's seven" written neatly on the back... and about 20 ties (seriously what is with the ties?)... But absolutely nothing of any interest to his case.

Thomas was also well aware of the openly hostile stares he was receiving from several of the younger agents in the room. Clearly they didn't like him bringing up Neal Caffrey around here... or sitting at the only available desk and going thought the man's ties... he felt the tension in the room the moment he mentioned the man's name...and it had only elevated once the reason for his interest had circulated... not exactly the reaction he had expected...he didn't miss the conspicuous glances at the items he pulled out of the box and set on the desk... he wasn't sure what he had expected when he requested the dead man's things, but it wasn't this kind of anger... almost as if he were investigating a fallen agent.

He glanced up as agent ...Jones wasn't it? Practically jumped up from his desk and headed to the ASAC's office ... a very peculiar look on his face. Well...that was interesting...they had seemed genuinely surprised when he showed them the e-mail... "Ask Kyle Nolen" Someone here knew what that meant. Reynolds edged carefully over to Jones' desk to catch a glimpse of what had agitated the man... a French company's phone listing... it probably had nothing to do with his case... but he had a feeling it did. It couldn't hurt to have his friends in Europe look into this company... just in case...

)()()()()()()()()(

Neal poured another cup of coffee...his 5th this morning. After 3 sleepless nights... he needed the coffee to steady him. He blinked hard trying to make his mind focus on the plans of Versailles' system... he should run a test... maybe that would pick up his spirits...it would definitely be more fun than staring at these diagrams... sighing he ground his palms into his eyes... he was so tired... maybe a nap would help him focus...

The door slammed open!

"PERSONNE NE BOUGE!" someone shouted... Guns... half a dozen of them at least... leveled steadily at him. Neal froze as ordered "MAINS EN L'AIR!" hands up ...he knew the drill ... he sank to his knees, hands on his head..." what did I do? I haven't done anything..." For once Neal Caffrey had no idea why French police and Interpol agents would be swarming his home...

)()()()()()()()(

Peter stepped out of the taxi outside 216 Rue Michel Carre... anxiety twisting in his gut... the side walk was swarming with police cars...

"D*** it Neal what did you do now." he muttered... he hesitated... waiting...for what? He didn't really know... in that moment he caught sight of his friend as they lead him out of the building in cuffs... Neal looked... well... confused... shocked... he hadn't been expecting this...

As he stared...slowly wrapping his mind around seeing his friend alive...alive and real and right there... and in trouble again...

Suddenly Neal's eyes found him... a questioning gaze "did you do this, Peter?" He silently asked and the look that was almost ... hurt...

Peter met those blue eyes and shook his head slightly and shrugged. "I don't know what's happening... What did you do?" A familiar form caught his eye... light brown hair... green eyes...

"I changed my mind" Peter thought "I don't like that guy" as Reynolds beamed at him.