"All teams move in but do not enter the building. Team one take the north entrance, team two, east. I want every inch of this place surrounded but do not, I repeat do not enter the building until I get there, do you understand?"

Peter was adept at multitasking, Neal noticed, as he watched his handler yell orders into the radio - whilst still keeping his other hand on the wheel, and eyes on the road. Sure, it made Peter's already choppy driving a little more unbearable, but so far there had been no sudden breaks, and they were still within the speed limit, if only by decimals.

They were only a few blocks away from where the stakeout van was positioned, and where the teams were moving into place. With Neal's help, or more accurately because of Neal, they were able to get a location on the whereabouts of Lorenzo, and Peter had ordered a stakeout to confirm Neal's intel. According to the agents in SWAT they had a visual on their gem thief at the address Neal had provided, so now they were heading that way to arrest him, hopefully with little, preferably no resistance..

Neal was a little worried that Peter would want to know where this information was coming from. He had every right to be suspicious after all - they had only been after the Magpie for less than a week, and despite only having heresay and rumours on the guy, Neal had been able to draw a plausible address seemingly out of thin air. It was only a matter of time before they started accusing him of being involved in the crimes, and Peter hadn't exactly said much to him today.

Of course, Neal would gladly offer a few names of his see all, know all informants - if it didn't make him look insane.

"Alright, we're here."

Neal glanced out of the window. The derelict building stood out stark against the relatively upmarket area it resided in. Though it wasn't the target of bricking or graffiti from today's youth, it was still clearly uninhabited, from the outside at least. Neal thought it was suspicious that a criminal, who had remained off radar for so long and was clearly skilled in his trade, would pick such an obvious location to hide away in.

It all seemed intentional, like Lorenzo had something else planned. He turned to voice this to Peter but he turned too late, receive the back end of the car door. With a sigh, he got out from his own side, where Peter was speaking to Jones, who was flaunting a bulletproof vest and armour that looked like Star Wars merchandise. Peter was stepping into his own protective gear.

"I thought Lorenzo wasn't dangerous?" Neal caught up to his handler, who was donning a serious look that hadn't changed all morning. He presumed Peter was always this edgy when a case came to a close. Either that, or he had a gut feeling that he wasn't sharing with anyone.

"We don't have anything to suggest so, but you can never be too careful," Peter accepted an earpiece from Jones, fitting it in his ear.

"Where's my costume?" Neal asked, nodding towards the gear. "A dead CI is a useless CI."

"Yes, and that's why you're stepping out on this one. Wait for me in the car."

Neal blinked. "Excuse me?"

Peter sighed, as though he'd been expecting this argument. He turned to Jones - "Give me five," he instructed the younger agent. "Wait for me by the entrance. Do we still have eyes on our guy?"

"Target last seen on the second floor," Jones replied, signalling his team by the front of the building, lined up along the wall, to get into position. He headed over to join them, most likely going over the plan a final time.

"What do you mean I'm stepping out on this one?" Neal spoke up as soon as Jones was out of earshot. "This is because of the therapist thing isn't it? You don't trust me!"

Peter herded Neal over by the Taurus, away from the others. "Of course not, Neal, but I just think we should start with a smaller operation first. I don't want you getting hurt, and this is a simple arrest, there isn't anything you can do on this one."

"Well if it's so simple, why do you want me out of the way?" Neal's voice was hardening, and a look of hurt flashed across his face. Peter tried not to think about it.

"Next operation, I promise. I know you'll knock the undercover work out of the park, but leave the arrests to me."

"Fine." Neal turned away before Peter could say anything else, throwing himself back into the car. He used enough force on the door to express his thoughts on Peter's betrayal. What was the point in working with the FBI if they were going to keep him wrapped in cotton the entire time? He'd practically solved the case single-handedly, and now he was missing out on the most exiting part of it.

Peter looked as though he wanted to say something, but he turned back and made his way towards the building. Neal watched him address the unit, before the first team moved in. Neal sighed, longing to be part of the action and feeling more than a bit betrayed. Since Peter wasn't here, he put his feet up on the dashboard. Peter would soon experience the full front of the Caffrey sulk, and he wouldn't be happy about it.

"Are you the guy who talks to the dead?"

Neal spun around to look over his shoulder into the back of the car. There sat a man, early twenties, with the same square jawline and brown eyes as Lorenzo. Neal recognised that immediately. Lorenzo's file never said anything about relatives, nor dead ones at that. "What do you want?"

"My brother's going to make a huge mistake. You need to get your guys out."

"I'm sorry but you'll have to be more specific." So The Magpie, had a brother. Or a dead one, but Neal couldn't decide whether this was a good thing. "Does he know we're here?"

"Yes, it's a trap. There's a bomb."

Neal froze, looking back towards the building. Crap. "Are you certain? He's your brother, if this is some kind of-"

"I'm positive, and if you don't act soon your buddies will be blown to bits-"

"Nice imagery."

"Look, I was killed six months ago in one of my brother's backstreet operations when someone tipped the feds off. He blames them for my death, and he's going to get revenge on the system. There is a bomb. I saw it. He's not thinking straight. You have about-" the man broke off to glance down at a gold plated watch on his wrist. Neal wasn't entirely sure that it worked. "Eight minutes."

Neal wasn't listening any more; he was already out of the car. "Do you know Mozzie?" He turned to the ghost, who had faded momentarily to reappear beside him.

The ghost smirked. "Everyone knows Mozzie."

"Good. Find him." Neal pivoted abruptly and began running towards the entrance of the building. Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of Lorenzo as he ran out through a side door, that hadn't been mentioned in the operation specifics. Neal had more important priorities than to chase him. He bolted up the first set of stairs, but Peter must have already cleared that floor. The building had five floors, and there wasn't much time.

He bumped into, or rather bumped through Mozzie as he cleared the top of the stairs. He didn't hesitate to bring the paranoiac up to speed. "Moz, I need a distraction," Neal breathed, a hand to his side to ward off the oncoming stitch. He considered himself fit, but the cocktail of adrenaline and determination was playing hell with his body, and there was a lot of ground to cross between floors. "You need to get Peter to stop moving forwards because there's a bomb and it's going to blow up if we don't get him out of here."

"What am I supposed to do?" Mozzie argued. "I haven't exactly mastered the whole penny up the wall thing yet."

"I don't know. Just do something!" Neal didn't have time to argue; the clock was ticking and Peter's life, along with all those other agents were in danger. He raced past just as the ghost dissapeared, heading for the second floor.

Hearing a crash from above, he silently thanked Mozzie for the intervention, praying it was just that and not borderline mass destruction. With him you could never be too sure.

Reaching the third floor, he ran right into the muzzle of a sniper from SWAT. He suddenly found himself faced with over ten guns all pointing in his direction, apparently waiting for someone to give them the all clear to not shoot the FBI's consultant. Wide eyed, he held up his hands, looking past them for Peter, who was storming over, breaking through the circle of agents to seize his shoulder and pull him to one side. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I made my orders very clear. You could have been killed, Neal!"

"Peter, there's a bomb. Lorenzo set a bomb and it's going to go off with us inside if we don't get out now." Neal didn't waste time by letting Peter vent out his fury on him.

The agent tensed, but he didn't look convinced. Perhaps exasperated was a better word.

Neal wasn't surprised - he had just foiled days of extensive planning and resources even if it was to save the lives of everyone involved.

"A bomb? Neal, how could you possibly know that, you were in the car."

Neal opened his mouth to respond but Peter silenced him with a finger, speaking into his earpiece. "Do you know anything about a bomb?"

The answer must have been negative, because Peter looked more pissed off than he had all morning. He motioned for the rest of the agents to continue up the stairs.

"Peter, please!"

"How could you possibly know there's a bomb?"

Neal went silent, eyes pleading but unable to bring himself to confess. Peter couldn't know...nobody could know. "I-I can't-"

Peter cut him off. "Neal, go back to the car," he ordered, before releasing his consultant, and moving towards the stairs to follow the rest of his team.

Neal ran after him, standing defiantly in the agent's path. "Peter, listen to me! There is a bomb somewhere in this building. That is a fact. If you do not get everyone out of here, we are all going to die. Lorenzo has already left the building already. He's set a trap, Peter. Please believe me!"

Peter scanned the con's face, noting that whether he was right or not, Neal certainly believed what he was saying. Nobody could fake that kind of sheer panic. He looked genuinely terrified, and he knew the man only let other's see his emotions when they needed to, so this must be one of those times. He glanced between the stairs and his pleading consultant. "How could you possibly know this, Neal? I can't just abort this entire operation, everything we've worked for, if I do not have a valid reason. Why can't you tell-"

"I'm psychic." Not a complete lie, but it was vague enough to hide the truth.

Peter froze, narrowing his eyes. That was something that had failed to make an appearance in Caffrey's file.

"Psychic?" His voice dripped with scepticism, towards both Neal's honesty, and the whole of the psychic crap in general. But somehow, he couldn't not believe him.

"Peter, we're running out of time!"

There was a long silence, only dispelled by the sound of footsteps from the floor above. Then the agent put a finger to his earpiece and yelled into it, "Halt operation. Get everyone out of the building now!" He turned to Neal. "Let's go,"

Once certain his men were following, he ushered his consultant towards the stairs, as they raced back towards the entrance of the building. They made it out with just seconds to spare. The force of the explosion tore out of the building with an anguished roar. It threw them violently to the ground, along with the agents from SWAT who had thankfully made it out in time. The sky rained debris down on them as the heat from the building surged at their backs.

Peter was up first, along with the other agents who were slowly picking themselves up off the ground, guns and riot shields scattered across blackened concrete. The world seemed oddly muffled from the ringing in his ears, but he could make out Diana racing over from where she had been monitoring in the van, checking over everyone for injuries with a phone to her ear.

Peter rolled Neal over, who groaned something that sounded like 'Now do you believe me?' He took that as a good sign. The kid was sporting a small cut to the head, but it didn't look serious. "Neal." Peter gently tapped his consultant's cheek, rousing him. "Neal look at me."

Neal's eyes blinked sluggishly in surprise, before he seemed to snap back from wherever it is he went, frowning and pushing his handler to one side so he could sit up. That, quite frankly, turned out to be a terrible decision, and left his stomach doing somersaults in protest. He groaned, holding back the urge to be sick. He didn't wish to stain Peter's only decent suit.

"That's it, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No!" Neal responded a little too suddenly. "I mean, I'm fine. There's no need to."

"You need to get checked out, Neal. You're bleeding."

Neal dabbed his shirt sleeve to his head, and sure enough, Peter was right. "Look. It's nothing serious. It doesn't even need stitches. A couple of painkillers and I'll be fine."

Hospitals were never a good idea, and the last time he'd been in one - a real one - he'd totally lost his shit. That was over 15 years ago, and he'd vowed he would never return. The mere thought of it sent him into panic.

Peter wasn't having it though. "Neal, why are you being hard on yourself? You could have a concussion. Do you expect me to just let you go wandering around New York and bleeding on everyone?."

"Peter, I'm not going to the hospital." Neal was surprised he still had the energy and mind power to argue, despite how his head was spinning the opposite way to his stomach.

The agent sighed and stood up, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He also knew a concussion when he saw one. "Alright, but you're coming home with me."

"What?"

"Neal, if you won't go to the hospital, you need someone to watch over you to make sure your head doesn't explode in the next twenty four hours. Consider it bureau provided health insurance, since it's a safe bet that you don't have any. Now stay sat down for a bit-"

"On the floor?"

"Yes, on the floor, Neal, because right now I'm not quite sure standing up would agree with you. I'll go find you some water, okay?"

"Okay."

It didn't take long to find a bottle of water from somewhere, which Neal gratefully accepted.

"Not all at once okay?"

"Yes, Peter. I'm not going to keel over and die, you know."

"You'd better not, it would make me look bad."

Neal grinned, looking better than he had before. He waved Peter away - "Go check on your team."

Peter patted Neal's shoulder and then searched the crowd for Diana. Spotting her, he headed her way. "Is anyone hurt?"

"Just bruises and headaches, thankfully. We were lucky, it could have been much worse." That Diana's eyes drifted over to Caffrey gave Peter an idea of what she was thinking. Everyone had heard the consultant rattle off about a bomb, which just happened to save the lives of half the division. They would have questions - Hell, he had questions, which he was going to ensure Neal answered as soon as his concussion was taken care of.

"Go on, ask me," Peter said, letting her take that as a cue to ask the question everyone wanted to know.

"How in hell did Caffrey manage to know about a bomb before we did? We had absolutely nothing that could indicate Lorenzo even knew we were coming."

Peter mulled over his next options. Neal didn't seem too happy about telling Peter, for reasons that were beyond him. However, nobody was just going to sweep this under the rug, not until he came up with a valid reason for Neal's intel. Whether he liked it or not, his team needed to know how they'd narrowly missed being blown sky high. "He's psychic." Peter didn't sound very convincing, because he was still trying to convince himself.

"I'm being serious, Peter." Diana gave Peter a look, before taking a harder look at his expression. "And...so are you. Wait, you actually believe him?"

"He said he'd never lie," Peter replied, as though that explained everything. It did, in a way.

"Are you sure he wasn't involved? It seems awfully suspicious that he just happened to know the exact location of our gem thief, and then he plucked the idea of a bomb out of his head. What if he and Lorenzo are in it together? How can we be sure he's not just using us to help his criminal buddies?"

Diana had a point, but she hadn't chased Neal for three years. "I know Neal. That's not him."

"Well, if that's what you think, then you have my support. He looks like hell," she nodded to where Neal was sitting, looking particularly sorry for himself. "I'll deal with Hughes, go get him fixed up."

"Are you sure?" He didn't like the idea of letting her deal with their boss alone, especially once he was told about how well the takedown had gone.

"Peter, you were in the building too. Remember I was out in the van. You need a good night's sleep just as much as Neal does. Go."

Peter was lucky to have such a loyal team. He thanked her, and then walked back over to where Neal was sat, this time next to a funny little balding man. Fortunately for him, he could only see Neal. Meaning he couldn't hear the man say 'Right, that's my cue to go,' as Peter approached, nor could he see him take off with such haste that could only come from a strong dislike of the government.

Can you stand?" Peter held a hand out to his consultant.

Neal took the offered hand, using it to hoist himself up off the ground, grimacing as he tried to rewire his brain to his feet. He smoothed down his suit, briefly checking for any tears or burn marks, but unlike him, it seemed to be in good health.

Peter scoffed. "Neal, your suit's fine, and even if it wasn't, you're only coming home with me. The only other person you can flaunt your stylish attire on is El, and well, if you're trying that hard to impress my wife I should be worried."

"You think I'm stylish?" Neal's I'm-totally-making-fun-of-you smirk was a little down on it's usual influence, but it still had some of it's effect.

"Let's go."


Some long awaited Hurt/Comfort. Your thoughts are always appreciated. Now that Peter knows about Neal, there's room for things to start getting exciting! Remember this fic is also cross-posted at Ao3.

This chapter was Beta'd by the amazing VividEscapist.