Despite the fact that nobody needs a shot to get through the hiatus anymore – thank God, we have our guys back – I hope you, who are still following this story will hang in there with me a little longer. Thanks to canadianscanget and mam711 for their help. Enjoy!

Neal could not really decide whether it was a light heaviness or a heavy lightness that filled his head. He wasn't allowed to take pain relievers other than Tylenol, and that didn't really do the job. The elevator ride to the 21st floor at the Bureau didn't exactly help either. Now, however, might be his last chance to join the team on this investigation and he wouldn't step back because of a headache. Peter kept looking him up and down, worry written all over his face as though he might suddenly collapse. Neal felt like telling him to 'cowboy up', that he had nothing to worry about. He didn't.

Neal was surprised when he looked at Peter and didn't get another deep frown in return, but an almost-suspicious look. Neal smiled. He could handle suspicion far better than worry.

"What did I do?"

Peter looked as if he had to give this question a second thought.

"Neal, could you do me a favor?"

"Uhm, yeah… sure…"

Peter lifted his hand as if he wanted to underline every word with it.

"Could you not be you for once?"

Ouch. Peter immediately noticed Neal's dislike of his request and started to explain.

"I mean, you're not exactly at your best and I already feel bad for dragging you back into this… but Richter – she isn't cut from the same cloth. She had a problem with you from the beginning and now she's cornered. The press is on her back just waiting to get a good story, we still have no proper lead, the case seems to get more complicated every day, and her man Schröder is out of play with a lung contusion… I'm begging you here, Neal."

"No, you're not begging. You're practically ordering me to keep my mouth shut and do as I'm told without asking questions or speaking my mind."

Neal looked into Peter's eyes and expected another staring contest, maybe because they did those more than they should these days. But Peter wasn't trying to challenge him; he didn't even seem mad. When the agent started talking, his voice was quiet, assuasive.

"I'd never ask you to keep your mouth shut. I have a bad feeling; had it since we became part of this task force on these heists. I need you to be smart, to be brilliant, but… don't play games, Neal. Oberon seems to think he's your Moriarty. Don't fall, that's all I'm asking you to do."

The elevator stopped and Neal was more than glad the conversation was interrupted by the less private atmosphere of the open-plan office. Peter might have exaggerated a little but he wasn't a guy who made a mountain out of a molehill. Neal was a little disconcerted by Peter's strange attitude towards this investigation. He had hoped his handler would need him to defuse the tension that had built over the past few days but the longer Neal thought about it the clearer it became that Peter would never have asked him to play David Hall again if they didn't need him. The only reason Neal was working on this case, despite the fact that he had been attacked not even two days ago, was the basic necessity of his presence.

Peter stopped in his tracks when he realized Neal wasn't following him to his office but had loosened his tie, and walked over to his desk.

"Anything I can do for you? Special invitation? Red carpet?"

Neal didn't react, and opened the drawer FBI agents generally used for their gun. He put his silk tie, colored in strident cyan, into the only empty spot and quickly went through the choices he had left. He went for a dark silver-gray tie and watched Peter's eyes widen. Neal smirked as he straightened the tie and secured a sedate tie-clip to it.

"Hey, you want me to get Richter on my side… This will help."

"You look five years older."

"I used to call it the 'Federal Style' but then I met Diana."

Peter cocked his head. "And then what?"

Neal shrugged. "I found out that not all federal agents dress like you."

The agent rolled his eyes and motioned for Neal to get going. Before they reached the conference room Peter briefly clasped Neal's shoulder while opening the door for him. Neal wondered if Peter did it more to reassure himself than anything else.

The room was crowded, stuffy, claustrophobic, and the noise hit Neal like a wall. A wave of nausea washed over him. He hesitated to step fully into the room and to his surprise was saved by none other than Commissar Richter.

"Mr. Caffrey, good to see you again. May I speak to you in private, please?"

Peter opened his mouth to say something but Neal decided that it might be a good opportunity to show the German policewoman that he was trustworthy enough to handle an operation like this. He nodded and left the room, waiting for Richter to do the same. Neal leaned against the railing and hoped they would go somewhere he could sit down. It annoyed him that his body refused to work the way it should. Richter finally made her way out of the conference room and stopped in front of him for a once-over before she asked him to follow her into the small office the FBI had cleared out for her.

"Please, take a seat."

Neal started to feel uncomfortable when he couldn't read anything from the way Richter was treating him. He sat down and waited for her to continue. He didn't have to look hard to see that she was paler than usual and that she tried to keep her hands folded to stop them from shaking. Probably too much caffeine or too little sleep, Neal figured.

"How are you, Mr. Caffrey?"

He wasn't sure if she wanted a real answer or if she was just trying to be polite. Given Richter's apparent definition of politeness, he bet she was seriously interested in his well-being. Neal cleared his throat to steady his voice.

"Been better."

"Agent Burke told me you were unconscious for quite a while…"

"Uhm, yeah… but not because of a serious injury. It was the… you know, uhm… They say there's this spot between the shoulders and…" Once again Neal regretted that he had never had any combat training. "Never mind. I'm fine. Just a slight concussion."

Richter nodded and leaned back in her chair.

"Agent Burke filled you in?"

"David Hall received an email from Oberon, who was amused that he and Hall had obviously betrayed each other. Oberon wants to give Hall a second chance and promised to play fair this time. What I don't know is why you want me to play Hall after you made it very clear you didn't want me on your team?"

Richter's face was impossible to read. "I don't understand it. Why? There is more than one thief in New York to hire. Why Hall? Why take the risk and work with someone who has already shown that he can't be trusted?"

Neal noticed that Richter had problems keeping up her sharp British school accent. Her natural German accent sneaked into her words, which made them sound sloppy. Richter was nervous. She was afraid to make a misstep.

"Do you really want to know my opinion, Commissar Richter?"

The policewoman smiled and her eyes showed a glimpse of the menace to the criminal world she could be.

"Please, enlighten me."

"Oberon has Anna von der Hagen; I'd bet my life on that. But – and this is important – he can't get his hands on the manuscript she took without a good thief. So it's logical for him to appreciate, and therefore choose, the thief that he now knows can't be easily fooled. He's under pressure. Taking a hostage isn't that easy in a world full of cameras, cell phones and computers. But he can't take the risk and kill her before he has the missing Nibelungen manuscript."

"Are you sure she was the one who took it?"

Neal nodded without hesitation. "Yes. But don't ask me where she hid it. I have no idea. But I think we'll find out if we contact Oberon and tell him Hall wants to work with him again."

Richter didn't say anything for a moment. Neal didn't dare interrupt her thoughts; he knew he was on a slippery slope with the head detective.

"Oberon wants Hall to take a room at the Paramount Hotel. No further instructions. We tried once to outsmart him and it didn't work. I want you to know that I'm not using you as bait. I just… I don't need another agent trying to be a con. I need David Hall. I need you." She straightened up and made sure he was looking at her. "This is dangerous, Mr. Caffrey. I've talked to Agent Burke and he made it clear that he isn't happy with my decision to send you in. You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"With all due respect for Agent Burke, I think I'm your best chance to get this guy behind bars."

A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.

"Then I suggest you talk to Agent Burke. We'll have a suite ready for you tonight."

Neal shook his head.

"No suite. Book me a Broadway Classic room."

Richter seemed impressed.

"I thought Neal Caffrey wouldn't pass on a chance to enjoy some luxury…"

Neal was relieved to find a smirk on her face and returned a warm smile.

"You're right, I wouldn't-"

"-but David Hall would."

"Now we're talking the same language..."

Richter chuckled and shook her head.

"I'm starting to understand what they see in you." She stood and Neal did the same. "You should make sure you get some rest. We'll have your back."

"I know."

Peter was waiting in front of his own office and Neal was already on his way to talk to him when he heard Richter calling his name again.

"Oh, and Mr. Caffrey…" She had her arms crossed. "I like your tie. But if you think I'm that easily manipulated, I'll show you what I can do with that spot between your shoulders."

Neal waited for her to smile but instead she turned and disappeared into her office. Neal cringed; he hoped Oberon wouldn't be too big a problem since he apparently wasn't even able to con a suit anymore.

a/n: Excuse the Reichnbach reference... I had to put it in as long as so many people get it and before I have to rely on the few who read the books. ^^