Hey guys! Sorry this took so long. Life has been crazy. But, just so you know, if I had gotten more reviews instead of story alerts and favorites, I would have written faster. I'm not asking for a long, award-worthy speech. Just a couple sentances will do about how you think it's going so far. That's all. Anyway, thanks for reading! Btw, I AM glad you guys have been adding this to your story alerts and favs. Don't think I'm not, because I am. Thanks!
~Erika

Emily Wall woke up the next morning and immediately checked her messages. There was still no activity. The young woman sighed, got up, took a shower, and got ready for the day, her little brother dominating her thoughts.

Around ten-thirty, she heard a knock at her door. Emily hesitated before going to open it. She saw two men, both wearing suits, one tall with brown hair and eyes, the other slightly shorter and African American.

"Emily Wall?" the taller one asked. Emily hesitated, then nodded. "We're here about Neal Caffrey."

Emily froze, then slammed the door in their faces and locked it before turning and running to a window in the back of her room that led out to the fire escape. She had just climbed out when the door burst open and the two men rushed in, guns in hand.

Oh my God! Emily thought in terror. She closed the window behind her and raced down the first flight of stairs to the landing for the next floor. She heard someone on the fire escape behind her, but didn't dare slow down to see who had followed her. She took the stairs two at a time, using the railings to support herself. When she got to the last landing, all that was between her and freedom was a ladder. The girl climbed down a couple rungs, then jumped down. When she steadied herself, stood up, and turned, she discovered that she was staring down the barrel of a gun, wielded by the brown haired man. When she looked above her, she saw the African American man also had a gun trained on her.

"I'm not going to tell you where Neal is!" Emily snapped, her voice strong even though her eyes were wide and terrified.

"We know where Neal is," the brown haired man said seriously.

"Really?" Emily was shocked. "Then...why...?"

"I'm Special Agent Peter Burke of the FBI," the man told her, taking out a badge and showing it to her. "That's Special Agent Clinton Jones. We're friends of Neal's.

"Why should I believe you?" Emily challenged.

"Because we're telling the truth," Peter said firmly as Jones jumped down from the fire escape.

"If you're telling the truth, then where's Neal?" Emily demanded, her body still wound like a spring, ready to take off.

"That depends," Peter said through narrowed eyes. "Who is he to you?"

Emily hesitated, debating her options in her head.

"My brother," she said at last. "Neal's my baby brother."

"Neal and I aren't exactly close," Emily told the two agents as they sat in her hotel room. "We haven't talked in years."

"What happened?" Peter asked.

"I, uh...I went to college," Emily sighed. "Neal never really forgave me for that."

"Why not?" Peter was confused.

"Well, um..." Emily looked down. "When I was nine and Neal was seven, our mom started to date again after our dad..." she shook her head. "Anyway, after I turned eleven, mom married Joe. For a while, things were great. But then he, uh...he turned out to be a jackass. It was a lot harder for Neal than it was for me. Joe only rarely went after me. But Neal...I tried to stop him but..." Emily sighed. "I needed to get out of there. I got the chance to go to college and I took it, no hesitation. Neal and I had a huge fight before I left. He felt so betrayed...But I couldn't stay. I couldn't do it anymore. Anyway, on my first day at college, I got a call from Mom. She told me that Neal and Joe got in a fight. Neal was shoved through a display case, where Joe kept his guns, and...he shot Joe in the leg. Then he ran off. I tried to call him. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found. Neal's really good at disappearing."

"Yeah, we know," Peter nodded.

"Anyway," Emily sighed. "I looked for him off and on for the next fifteen years, but I could never find him. Then, a couple years ago, I started getting really close. Apparently, someone heard about my newfound success."

"Who?" Jones spoke up from his place beside Peter.

"I don't know," Emily admitted. "This guy showed up at my apartment. He said that I should tell him when I actually found Neal. When I refused, he threatened me." Emily shook her head. "Look, I have to know. What happened to my brother? Is he ok?"

Peter and Jones exchanged glances.

"Neal was in an accident," Peter said at last. "A hit-and-run."

Emily's eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God," she gasped. "Is he alright?"

"Well, he's alive," Jones sighed. "He suffered some brain damage...it's pretty bad..."

"He's fine," Peter assured her. "But he, uh...he's having trouble remembering a lot of things about his life."

"Oh God," Emily shook her head. "Can I...Can I see him?"

"I don't think that's a good idea right now," Peter said honestly. "Neal barely remembers who he is. It would only frustrate him if he learns that he forgot his own sister."

"But, I..." Emily tried to protest, but she gave it up with a sigh. "Alright," she agreed.

"Can you describe the man who threatened you?" Peter asked. Emily nodded. "Ok, so we're going to take you to the FBI and have you talk to our sketch artist, ok?"

"Ok," the woman nodded. Peter smiled encouragingly at her, and then the three of them made their way out to the street...

Peter and Jones sat in the front seats of Peter's car. Emily sat in the back seat. The car was silent. Peter turned onto a side street to avoid some traffic. As they cruised through an intersection, they were suddenly blind-sided by an SUV. No one had time to scream as the sound of crunching metal filled their ears.

When they finally stopped moving, Peter looked around, his eyes fuzzy. "Emily," he murmured. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Emily nodded, wincing in pain. There was glass in her face and arms, and a bruise was already beginning to form on her forehead, but she looked relatively ok. Then Peter turned his attention to Jones. It was his side of the car that had taken the most damage.

"Jones," Peter sighed. "Jones, you good?"

Jones didn't respond.

"Jones?" Peter reached over and prodded his friend. He got no response. Nervously, he checked his pulse. He was relieved to feel his colleague's heart still beating strong.

Peter sighed, disoriented and in pain. Suddenly, his window shattered, and the doors were unlocked. Emily screamed when her door was pulled open and she was dragged outside. Peter fumbled for his gun as his door, too, was hauled open and he was yanked out of his seat and forced onto the ground. Someone swiped his gun from him, and the FBI man was left defenseless. Peter tried to sit up, but he felt someone step on his back, pinning him down.

"Hello, Agent Burke," he heard a man sneer. He felt someone haul him to his feet and shove him against the car, pinning him there and pressing his own gun into his ribs. The man attacking him had hazel eyes that sparkled with a sense of superiority and light brown hair that was cut short and kept neat.

"It's nice to meet you," he continued. Peter struggled violently to get free. The man got annoyed and struck the agent across the face with the gun.

"Ah, ah, ah," the man warned. "Behave, Agent. How would Neal feel if he discovered that you got his sister killed?"

Peter glanced behind the man and saw Emily being held at gunpoint by another man. Immediately, Peter went still.

"Good, Agent Burke, good," the man pinning him to the car approved with a nod. "Now give me your phone."

Peter hesitated, then reached into his pocket and handed over his cell phone.

"Thank you," the man grinned. Peter jumped when he threw the phone to the ground with all his strength. The phone broke on impact, the screen shattering. "Now stay right here," The man spun Peter around so the agent's back was to Emily and the other captor, and his own back was to the car. He let go of Peter's suit and sat down in the driver's seat of the car. He kept the gun trained on Peter, then reached over to Jones. He took the unconscious agent's gun and handcuffs, and slapped one cuff around Jones' left wrist and one around the steering wheel. Then he took the keys and threw them out of the car and into the street. Finally, he got out of the car and turned to Peter.

"Let's go, Agent," the man smiled. Then he and his partner forced Peter and Emily into the back seat of an SUV that had pulled up alongside the wreckage. One of the captors climbed in the back with them, and the other climbed into the passenger seat. The driver of the car, a man in his late twenties with brown hair and green eyes, took off as soon as the doors were closed...

Peter struggled against the cuffs that bound him to the support post in the small, dark room he was forced into when they got out of the car. Emily wasn't with him. She was in a different room. There was only a bare light bulb above him as a source of pale light, casting most of the room in shadow.

"Don't waste your energy," warned someone leaning against the door. "You're not getting out of those. You're no Neal."

"No," Peter admitted. "I'm the man who caught him."

"True," the man allowed. As he walked toward him and stepped into the space illuminated by light, Peter recognized him as the man who pulled him out of the car. "But somehow I doubt that you could ever do what he does."

"What he did," Peter corrected. "Neal's changed."

Hazel Eyes laughed out loud. "Dalmatians don't change their spots, Agent Burke," he chuckled. "He may have you fooled, but he's the same as he has always been."

"How do you know that?" Peter asked doubtfully.

"Call it a gut feeling," the man shrugged. He started pacing in front of the restrained agent, studying him, seeming to be fascinated by him.

"What do you want?" Peter demanded, still struggling to get free.

"It's nothing personal, Peter—can I call you Peter?—It's just business," Hazel Eyes shrugged. "Neal has skills that are very profitable. He's one of the best out there. He had a momentary and fatal lapse in judgment with Kate, but now, that's out of the picture. And now, he can start churning out quality forgeries and making us rich."

"That's a great plan," Peter conceded. "There's just one problem."

"Oh?" Hazel Eyes raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

"Neal," Peter smirked. "When you idiots ran him over, he hit his head. He hardly remembers who he is."

"Wait, what?" Hazel Eyes stopped pacing in front of the agent, sounding genuinely surprised.

"You ran Neal over a couple days ago," Peter stated, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Think about that for a second," Hazel Eyes said with a humorless, obviously upset chuckle. "Why would we run our future asset over with a car when we could have very well killed him, as well as any chances at the money he could have made us?"

"Well, if you didn't run him over, then who did?" Peter sounded doubtful.

"You're the FBI," Hazel Eyes said pointedly. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Look, the point is," Peter sighed. "Neal's no use to you. His is so confused right now. He barely knew who he was when he woke up. We had to tell him his own name. He was trying so hard to remember his life, his heart gave out. It's not worth it, taking him."

"Nice try, Peter," Hazel Eyes smirked. "But in the long run, having Neal around is profitable enough to make any issues we encounter along the way worthwhile."

Peter was quiet, unsure how to answer.

"So Neal's in the hospital, huh?" Hazel Eyes asked, beginning to pace again. "Which one?"

"Nice try," Peter laughed. "But there's no way in hell I'm telling you. Why don't you figure it out yourself?"

"Why would I do through all that trouble when I have you right here?" Hazel Eyes questioned with a small half-smile, his voice calm and rational.

"Because, you're not going to get anything out of me," Peter told him defiantly.

"Oh, I'm not, am I?" Hazel Eyes chuckled.

"Nope," Peter shook his head.

Hazel Eyes laughed whole-heartedly. "You know, I like you, Peter," he said sincerely. "I really wish you were going to get out of this arrangement alive, I do. But, unfortunately, Fate was not on your side today. Why don't you just make things easier on yourself and tell me what I want to know?"

"Because Neal is my friend," Peter snapped. "And right now, he's confused, he's frustrated, and he's completely defenseless. I will not feed him to the sharks just to save my own skin. I can't justify that under any circumstances."

"How very noble," Hazel Eyes sounded unimpressed. "Loyalty like that will only get you in trouble."

"Maybe," Peter conceded. "But I know he'd do the same for me."

"Well, one way or another, we're going to find him," Hazel Eyes pointed out.

"I'm sure you're right," Peter acknowledged. "But the longer I keep my mouth shut, the longer that's going to take. The longer it takes, the more time my people have to figure out what's going on, to put more people on Neal's protection detail, and to start finding us."

The fist came out of nowhere, delivering a strong blow to Peter's abdomen. The agent doubled over as much as he could, the wind knocked out of him, struggling to draw air into his lungs. Before him, Hazel Eyes smirked, seeming to enjoy Peter's discomfort. As Peter's breathing began to return to normal, his captor quickly regained his composure and cleared his throat.

"Do yourself a favor, Peter," He said at last as Peter began to straighten up. "Just give it up. Things will be so much easier for you later if I know we can have a working relationship."

"We can't," Peter growled.

"Shame," Hazel Eyes frowned. Then he sighed. "Alright, well, I'm gonna go. I'll be back later, ok?"

Peter watched as Hazel Eyes turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Peter was left alone in the dark, cold room, continuing to struggle against the handcuffs...