A/N: Things are actually really starting to happen now! Yay!!
Peter hadn't been sleeping well since they had left New York. Coffee was quickly becoming his best friend. He'd stay up, drinking his coffee, pouring over the information they had over and over again. Tonight, thought, something else was nagging at him. That man Neal had been holding a staring contest with earlier today... How had Peter recognized him?
Growling slightly under his breath, Peter threw his papers to the side and pulled himself closer to his computer. It took him a couple hours, but he finally ran across an email that had been sent out to every FBI agent across the nation containing a picture of the mystery man. A warning of how dangerous this man was accompanied the photograph and the man's name (Michael Westen) and Peter frowned. Of course he was dangerous, he was associated with Neal, but notices like this...
Peter stared at the phone number given in the email for a while, deliberating. Finally, he grabbed his phone and dialed the number.
"Yes, this is Peter Burke. I need to report a sighting of Michael Westen."
XxXxX
Michael snorted awake unhappily when Sam's phone rang the next morning. Dragging himself to a sitting position, Michael watched Sam roll over, snatch his phone and check the caller ID.
"What've you got for me, George?"
As he listened, Sam pulled himself out of bed and threw on some pants. Finally: "That's perfect, George. Thanks a bunch." He turned to Michael.
"We've got Caffrey and Burke's hotel," he told Michael. "I've got a breakfast meeting with a buddy of mine who said he might have some information on this kidnapping ring. You and Fi wanna check out Caffrey's hotel?"
Michael nodded, grabbing his own phone and pressing the speed dial.
"You know, Michael," Fiona's voice answered. "You could just come over. You do realize that, right?"
"Sam's found Caffrey's hotel," Michael told Fi, ignoring her sultry tone. "Get dressed. We leave in ten."
It was actually eight minutes later when Fi knocked on Michael's door, ready to go. Sam slipped past her, nodding in her direction before Michael joined her, shutting the door securely behind him. Without a word, they turned the opposite direction Sam had left and started for the stairs. They turned a corner in the hallway and halted, both of them pulling out pistols and aiming at the two men who had also halted just five feet in front of them.
Neal frowned at the guns and raised his hands defensively. "Do you really have to use those?"
"What are you doing here?" Michael demanded, not lowering the pistol. Neal's lips twitched into a smile.
"We wanted to talk to you, actually," he answered, jerking his head behind him at Moz. Moz looked even less thrilled about the pistols aimed his direction than Neal did.
Michael examined the two men carefully. "How'd you find us?"
"Moz has connections."
Michael didn't look particularly happy about that answer. "What do you want to talk about?"
Fi gave him a glare. "Can't we just shoot them?" she hissed. Neal threw a glance at her.
"Is that really necessary? I mean, come on."
Michael didn't reply to either of them and just waited for Neal to answer his question. Neal's eyes flicked between Fiona's murderous stare and Michael's stony one before answering.
"I get the feeling we're here on the same case. I thought we could work on it together, maybe."
Fiona made a scoffing sound and Michael ignored it, keeping his eyes locked with Neal's. "What makes you think we'd be of any help?"
Neal smiled. "The fact that you're Michael Westen, burned spy who isn't supposed to leave Miami. Speaking of which, why is this so important that you'd risk leaving Florida?"
Fiona just about had a conniption. Michael placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her before replying.
"Not exactly the best way to get me to help you. You've got a FBI leash around your neck."
"Michael, we should shoot them now and be done with it," Fi muttered. "If he's already told his FBI friends--"
"Peter doesn't know," Neal interrupted. "And he won't find out."
"Oh?" Fi challenged. "And why should we believe you?"
"Really, lady?" Moz piped up. "You've got some anger management issues!"
"Moz," Neal said warningly.
"Fi," Michael echoed. Both Moz and Fi glared at their respective partners before simmering down. Michael was still staring at Neal critically before he finally lowered his pistol. Maybe these guys could help them. They needed it. And Michael wasn't going to back down on this one, if only for Nate.
"My brother's wife was kidnapped. We tracked the ring to Chicago."
Neal's smile returned easily. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Fi huffed. Michael glanced at her with a frown before turning back to the con artist.
"What about you? Why did you follow the ring to Chicago? I know there are plenty of capable people here to handle you and your FBI buddy's job."
"Peter's wife was kidnapped by these guys," Neal answered, tone softening at the mention of Elle. "We're here unofficially."
Michael nodded, satisfied and Neal grinned again. "Shall we compare notes?" he asked, eyes sparkling. However, Michael was interrupted by his cell phone going off. Pulling out his phone, Michael turned around, eyeing the caller ID.
"Yeah, Sam."
"Mike, we've got a problem. My buddy who's been keeping an eye on the higher ups for any new information or movement on your burn notice just called. Management knows you're in Chicago. You're going to have feds all over your ass anytime now."
Michael swore under his breath, shutting his phone without another word and turning slowly back to look Neal square in the eyes, well aware of Fi's questioning gaze boring into him.
"If you're FBI buddy doesn't know about me, why the hell do the feds know I'm in Chicago?"
Neal's eyes flew wide. He realized how much of a problem this was, for both Michael and himself. If Michael really was as dangerous as he was made out to be... And both him and his girlfriend had already threatened to shoot Neal and Moz.
Neal threw his hands into the air, taking a step back. "I never said anything to Peter, I swear." He could feel the fear from Moz radiating from behind him. Michael hadn't raised his pistol again, but he was taking deliberate steps forwards, eyes blazing. Fiona, however, still hadn't dropped her gun and was walking forward with Michael. Neal's eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them, trying not to panic.
"Look, if I'd told Peter about you, why the hell would I have come to talk to you, well knowing who you are and what you'd do to me if I screwed you over?"
Michael paused. The kid had a point. Neal wasn't stupid.
"Michael..." Fi hissed. Michael ignored her.
"How did--"
Neal shook his head, cutting Michael off. "He did catch a glimpse of you yesterday at the crime scene. I thought I shook him off, convinced him you were nobody--" (Moz tried to turn a poorly concealed scoff into a cough.) "--but he did say he thought he recognized you. Maybe he did some digging, but I had nothing to do with it!"
Michael's finger flew out, seeming as dangerous as a bullet to both Moz and Neal until it froze, inches from Neal's nose. Michael's eyes grew even sterner, if that was possible, and he glared for a second before speaking.
"If I--"
"I'll talk to Peter," Neal interrupted again, talking quickly. "Okay? We're leaving now," he said as he turned to the side, pushing Moz back down the hall, "I'm going to talk to Peter today, soonest possibility I get." Just before Neal disappeared down the corner, he threw his own pointer finger at Michael. "I still want to work together, if you're willing."
Fiona gave a short laugh, but Michael didn't reply as he simply glared at the space Neal had just vanished from.
A/N: Oh, Peter. I love you, but sometimes... :)
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