Hear Me Now

Elizabeth always slept soundly beside her husband. Though she knew that his job put her in danger, she always felt safe. When he was home, she felt even safer. Nevertheless, she knew when she needed to be alert.

Returning from the bathroom at four in the morning, the woman was startled by a loud thump downstairs. She paused where she was, listening. There was another thump and this time Elle knew what to do. Quietly, so not to alert the intruder, she snuck back into her bedroom. She nudged Peter whose eyes blinked open, staring groggily at her.

"There's someone here," she whispered.

Instantly, the man was out of bed. Adrenaline flooded through his veins, fueling his awareness. He grabbed his gun from the bedside drawer, motioning for his wife to stay put. Peter started at the door, poking his head out into the hall. It was clear. He walked towards the stairs, his heart thumping against his chest. Blood pounded in his ears. He could hear the intruder's footsteps as the ascended the stairs. A shadow appeared on the wall.

"Who's there?" he yelled out.

For a moment there was silence, only heavy breathing. The agent moved a little closer to the shadow that had paused on the stairs. Hesitantly, the shadow started to move forward again. Peter stiffened his grip on his gun and stepped forward.

"Identify yourself or I shoot,"

Breathlessly, a voice called out, "Peter, don't!"

The familiar voice reached the man's ears. Anger replaced his fear as he flicked on the hall light. There, at the top of the stairs, stood Neal Caffrey, breathing heavily and as white as a ghost. Peter had the suspicion that the man had run all the way to his house only to be scared by his gun.

"Neal!" he hissed, "What the hell are you doing?"

His breath was coming too quickly for him to answer with words. Instead, he shook his head.

"Neal?"

The ex-con artist peered over his friend's shoulder. The agent looked too to find his wife standing at the doorway leading to their room. Elizabeth took in the sight of Neal, flustered and white-faced and at her husband wide-awake and angry.

"I'll start some coffee," she said with a smile, slipping past them and down the stairs.

The two friends stared each other down before finally Peter waved the other down the stairs. Neal complied with no complaint, following Elle as the smell of coffee wafted through the house. Peter grudgingly followed after.

Thirty minutes later the three of them were all sitting down at the dining room table. Neal looked agitated, twiddling his fingers together, annoyed at the thought of waiting any longer. Nonetheless, he wanted Peter to listen. The agent didn't like to listen when he bugged him, so the ex-con restrained himself. The man didn't touch his coffee though he thanked Elle graciously for it anyway. He had the feeling that if he ate something, he would puke.

By the time Peter was starting with his second cup, he was wide awake. Elizabeth wanted to go back to sleep. Nevertheless, she stayed up, hoping to provide Neal with the comfort that her husband lacked in these kinds of situations. When the agent took a deep breath, the consultant's head snapped up. Noticing this, the agent sighed putting down his cup of coffee.

"Okay, Neal. What is so important that you had to come down here and scare the living daylights out of me and my wife?"

Out of his pocket, Neal pulled out the DVD. He quickly interrupted his partner, who recognized it instantly.

"I found something,"

Before the other man could say anything, he had popped the disc in. Though he was angry, Peter reluctantly moved into his living room as the consultant fast-forwarded the video.

"I wanted to look at something a little more closely," Neal started.

"You stole it!" was the agent's furious reply.

The ex-con artist looked over his shoulder with a thwarted face. "Borrowed," he corrected.

Peter rolled his eyes. Neal continued, "I'm glad that I did,"

By this time, he had finally reached the part he wanted to show. He paused it, his finger circling the area around the hostage's coat.

"Watch,"

With that, he pressed play. Peter watched intently as the same flicker of movement his friend had seen met his eyes.

"Okay, so what? I've already seen this," he snapped, starting to get annoyed at being woken up so early.

Neal said nothing as he put the video back to right before movement. This time he put it on slow play. Each frame that the camera saw flashed on the screen. It reminded the man of those little picture books that moved when you flipped through the pages really fast.

The agent thought he might have seen something. Once more his friend rewound it and played it frame by frame. Then suddenly he paused it right before the flicker started. Peter stared closely at the spot Neal pointed at. His eyes opened wide when he thought he had an idea of what he was looking at.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"If you're thinking gun, you are correct!" cried Neal, almost pleased with himself.

The agent leaned back in shock. Seeing that Peter was catching on, the consultant replayed the part at normal speed. They watched as the silver muzzle of a gun poked out from under the guard's jacket. The guard who supposedly had been taken hostage by a deranged prisoner. The man jabbed it into the girl's side, urging her on. On cue, Constance waved her gun in the direction of the other guard. The flicker of movement was actually the supposedly hostage guard suddenly covering the gun when the other gave an almost imperceptible nod to warn him. The video stopped. Neal looked over to Peter in anticipation.

"Constance is the real hostage?" muttered Peter.

"Looks like it," Neal replied, miserably.

The look on Elizabeth's face was horrified. She didn't like the thought of the young girl, even if she was technically an adult, being held hostage and being framed at the same time. "Why would anyone do such a thing?" she asked.

Peter looked to Neal because he had no idea. The consultant shook his head as well. He had an idea, but he wasn't quite ready to share it with Peter yet. Not until he was sure.

"Maybe he needed her to steal and forge the paintings. Though it's very unlikely,"

Peter shook his head. None of this made any sense. It seemed that the more clues they got, the more confusing it all seemed. Neal was curled up into a tight ball, his face pinched with tension. The agent couldn't blame him. He had found out his sister was missing, which was alright, if a little bothersome. Now, he knew that she wasn't just missing, she was in danger. It was like reliving the search for Kate all over again.

"We need to talk to that guard," Neal said, quietly.

Before anyone else could say anything, Peter's phone rang. He answered it. After a few curt 'Oks', he hung up and turned to the ex-con.

"Another painting came in. Diana went ahead and took a look at it,"

Neal looked up expectantly. Peter's face was tense and full of anguish. He didn't want to tell the man what he knew. But now there was no going back.

"There was blood on the painting,"