04 FIRE

Agent Joseph Ruiz impatiently drummed his fingers on his steering wheel. An hour plus watching the front and rear entrances of the Zazze Club was trying his patience. His patience was already frazzled by a long week, and now Mr. *&^%! Con-artist Caffrey messing with one of his major cases only served to worsen the pounding in his head.

Finally, the rear entrance door opened and Caffrey stumbled out with Maury Trenton. Trenton grabbed Caffrey's arm and threw it over his shoulders and headed to an SUV parked in the alleyway. Ruiz started his vehicle and pulled out behind the SUV. He hoped there was enough traffic that his presence would go undetected. The SUV headed to the docks. Ruiz hung back to avoid Trenton making him.

Trenton stopped along a side street and hauled Caffrey from the SUV. Caffrey slumped to the ground, his back against an old concrete building. Trenton flipped a knife open.

"Great. Just great," Ruiz muttered as he drew his firearm. "Now I have to save the miserable shit too."

Ruiz caught himself as he realized Trenton was at Caffrey's feet cutting the tracker; he re-holstered and tucked back into his vehicle.

"What? ... What? ... When? ... Where? ... Why'd they BOLO already? ... Yeah, well, I dropped the damn thing. No, don't ask where. Just... Okay, then, call the Marshals off. ... Yeah, we'll take the heat."

Jones had answered half of Peter's questions before he could complete them. Peter smiled briefly, then sighed, a deep, tired sigh. Neal was outside his radius and had now cut his tracker. The combination had caused the Marshals to put out a BOLO for Caffrey. Peter hadn't received the initial call; El had been chatting on their main line and he'd turned his cell off while he attempted to dry it out. To say the least it had been a tiresome week. Peter's weekend looked like it was going to be just as tiring.

'No rest for the wicked ... or me.' Peter thought as he strapped his shoulder holster tight, shrugged his jacket on, and headed to the kitchen.

El looked up as he entered.

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "Dessert's off?"

Peter nodded shyly.

El knew Peter wanted nothing more than to put his feet up and spend a quiet weekend together.

"Dessert will keep, hun," she soothed. "Do you have to pick up Neal?"

Her face dropped as Peter's expression soured.

"Oh, he didn't?"

"Ohhh, he did." Peter sighed again.

Peter leaned down and kissed El on the cheek and headed out into the chill of the night.

A cool wind blew off the harbor. It wrapped around Neal, playing with the dark wisps of hair that fell across his face. The wind taunted him, mocking, then danced off with the last remnants of warmth. Neal clutched the tracker in his hands, shivering, aching, tired ... and laughter ringing in his ears?

It was back, the wind, only this time it brought the Peter voice with it. Neal shuddered.

"Peter ... I hurt... Stop."

"You know I can't do that."

"You ... can."

"Neal. Neal!"

Neal was drifting off.

"No time to sleep, buddy. Besides, it's rude when someone's talking".

Neal looked up, startled; he was sure someone had just kicked him.

"I didn't kick you. I tapped you with my foot."

"Kicked."

"Tapped."

"Just ... just ... come get..." Neal's teeth chattered.

"I'm coming."

Neal heard, then saw the sedan slide up to the curb. Neal felt relief wash over him. Then surprise, then concern, as he watched Agent Joseph Ruiz come around the front of the vehicle. He knew Ruiz didn't like him. Fair enough. Ruiz caught criminals. Neal was a criminal. Ruiz couldn't catch Neal. Peter caught Neal. Ruiz wasn't happy. Neal muffled a laugh. He should write a children's book. Ruiz really wasn't happy.

Ruiz squatted beside Neal. Dark eyes scowled at him.

"What's so funny, Caffrey?"

"The book."

Ruiz tilted his head. He couldn't smell liquor. Drugs? Caffrey didn't seem the type. Mind you, Caffrey never made much sense to him anyway. The first case...

"The bible?" Ruiz shot out.

Neal shook his head.

Ruiz shook his head too. Why was he having an inane conversation with this, this criminal.

"Enough!" Ruiz's anger cut through Neal's false calm. "I don't know what you're f..ing around at, Caffrey, but I do know you're under arrest."

Ruiz dragged Neal to his feet before the words sunk in.

"What? No. Peter is..."

"I don't give a rat's ass what Peter is, what you are ..." Ruiz slammed him across the hood of the car. "... is under arrest." He finished his words as he forced Neal's hands behind him, clicking the cuffs shut and yanking him up and to the back of the sedan.

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