Thank you again to those supporting this story. You are keeping me writing! This is a longer chapter but I blame Neal for not keeping himself out of trouble.


The next day, Neal was determined to make several strides forward in the case. One focus was the backstory he needed to fill, and the second was his need to make a lot more progress at the warehouse. Peter picked him up in the morning to take him over to Queens, which already saved time, and Peter had also been successful in procuring all of the items that Neal had requested, with the expected exception of being unable to change the overall lighting at the building.

With these tools, Neal would finally be able to start to go through the art with keener scrutiny. The previous day, his initial approach was to reorganize the pieces with a high level assessment laced with an excitement to just get a sense of what he had on his hands. He didn't re-number anything, at least yet, as to be able to tie the pieces back to the notes already made in the file, but he was tempted to after he started to review the file itself and was dismayed at the lack of culture these agents clearly seemed to have.

"The notes are pathetic," he told Peter when they arrived at the warehouse that morning. "You might as well have hired preschoolers to document the work."

"Neal, that's a little harsh…" Peter responded, though he chuckled slightly.

"Or monkeys."

"Stop…"

"I'm serious, Peter. I'm actually being polite here. A person actually noted in the file that one of the pieces was rectangular in shape. I mean… Really?" Neal shook his head in astonishment. "Another wrote that a piece contained the colors blue and white. Not a single comment on the actual subject of the painting. They might as well have just described what they ate for breakfast."

"Okay, okay…" Peter acknowledged, smirking with slight amusement at Neal's obvious frustration. "So we didn't have Art History majors do the inventory. I get it, Neal. Duly noted once again. But we needed a valid count and basic descriptions."

"Well, you got basic alright," Neal muttered. "Whether they can actually count is another story."

"That's why it's a good thing we have you, right?" Peter clapped him on the shoulder with a sarcastic smile. "You can edit the hell out of the file, Neal. Count away. Earn your keep."

Neal rolled his eyes but silently agreed. That's exactly what he intended to do.

Peter then shifted to another topic, talking briefly about the upcoming undercover plans.

"I'll get confirmation on Willy's history later this morning," he said. "And barring no issues there, which you seem confident there won't be, then we can finalize getting you the green light. Hughes wants to chat a little later on what surveillance we can have on you."

Surveillance, Neal thought cynically. His favorite topic. He bit back a snarky response to that and simply nodded, masking his feelings through a nonchalant expression. "Sure," he forced out, trying to avoid his tone being too stiff. He wanted Peter to leave so he could be alone at the warehouse to strategically get back into the inventory, and kicking off a skeptical conversation on surveillance would elicit either a lecture or a debate, neither of which he had time or patience for.

"Just come back to the office later this afternoon," Peter continued, "and we can talk about it. We need to confirm your point of contact as well, and then we can figure out next steps."

"I already have a point of contact."

Peter studied him, his eyes conveying a mix of suspicion and uneasiness. "Come back to the office later this afternoon," he repeated. "We'll talk."

Neal was about to tell him there was nothing to talk about, because it had to be done his way, but stopped himself before the words left his mouth. He simply agreed with an earnest nod and a smile. It was a successful response. With that, Peter left the warehouse.

As his handler left, Neal realized he'd have to be cautious with his re-acquaintance with Jason. Especially if the FBI would have eyes and ears on him at that moment. But that he would worry about later. First, the warehouse…

Neal was pleased that he was able to be here on his own. He was surprised at how willingly Peter left him there, but knew Peter was likely comforted by the amount of security and video coverage in the building. He could probably literally request access to the footage to watch Neal as if he was there.

He wondered if maybe he had already done that.

When the thought crossed his mind, his immediate next question to himself was, Why do you assume it's the security detail giving him comfort and not him actually trusting you?

Because maybe he shouldn't trust me, Neal immediately answered himself internally.

That made his stomach flip-flop, and he quickly dismissed the thought, glancing discreetly at the cameras in the corners of the room. He wasn't even sure they were in working order. They looked older. He decided later that morning to test whether anyone was actually paying attention to them…

In the meantime, he continued to reorganize the paintings and sketches across the room. From the left side of the room to right, he first began sorting the pieces that looked most legitimate. There were a few 'throw-aways' as he had mentioned to Mozzie. He was surprised that anyone would have been fooled by those in particular, but at the same time, he acknowledged the average person would probably not know what to look for. He would focus on those lackluster pieces last, if at all.

Within the credible inventory, he started to sort by style. The Impressionist pieces he began to put in one corner. The Baroque pieces went separately in their own section. Fauvism went over in another. Pointillism over there. He continued to make these separate partitions of art, moving around the room methodically.

It was almost therapeutic.

Until he had to start a separate section of its own that he wasn't necessarily expecting to. This had a mix of styles. This was the Caffrey section.


Neal humored Peter, Jones, and Diana later that afternoon when he returned to the office to go over some of the tactical plans of his undercover mission. They sat in the same conference room as the previous day. He did not want to be there – he wanted to be back at the warehouse – but he knew he had to be to get the rest of this assignment underway if they were to make the quick traction that Hughes expected.

What they wanted him to wear for 'surveillance' was pretty standard. A watch would serve as both a bug and a location device with a small microphone and tracking device implanted inside. At the suggestion he wear a small, discreet earpiece as well, he immediately shook his head.

"Not happening."

"Why not?" Diana asked him. "If you don't have that, we can hear you but you can't hear us."

"I know. That's fine," Neal answered. More than fine, he thought. "If I need you, I'll call."

"You sure?"

"Trust me, I'm sure." The last thing he needed was the FBI micromanaging his efforts and giving him conversation pointers.

Diana didn't argue but sent Peter a look. Peter shrugged and looked like he wasn't about to argue either, which Neal felt relieved about.

"And my anklet?" Neal asked.

"When we're ready, it'll come off," Peter said slowly. "Not before. By the way, Neal. Got the paperwork back on your alias… Thought you said I wouldn't find anything. Something you forgot about?"

Neal frowned. There shouldn't have been any criminal paper trail on Willy. That alias was completely clean. He was sure of it. "There shouldn't be anything," he persisted out loud. "What do you mean? Like what?"

"How about three thousand dollars of unpaid parking tickets?"

Jones whistled, chuckling to himself with a small grin. "Oh boy."

"What? I had a… a few, maybe," Neal answered in surprise. He frowned as he tried to think back. It was a long time ago. Parking in midtown Manhattan was challenging, even for motorcycles. "Not three thousand dollars worth."

"Try seven tickets," Peter responded, giving him a look. He then smirked, looking more amused than annoyed. "With compound interest over nine years. Adds up."

Neal's brow furrowed further. "Well, that doesn't seem fair."

Peter shook his head. "Fair or not... Anyway. We took care of it…" he answered slowly. "Just try not to rack up any this time or you'll pay for them yourself…"

Neal nodded, still a little taken by surprise that there was any sort of paper trail on this alias but dismissing the concern quickly given Peter didn't seem bothered by it. "Otherwise nothing on record, right?"

"Right," Peter confirmed. "Otherwise spotless."

"You drive, Caffrey?" Jones asked skeptically. "I didn't know you had a license."

"I drive," Neal affirmed, giving the other agent a brief glance. "Of course I drive."

"Of course? I knew you could hotwire anything with a motor, sure," Jones continued, chuckling again. "But I've never seen you actually drive something that wasn't a getaway."

"Then I guess you haven't seen much," Neal responded casually, curtailing his desire to make a stronger comment. He didn't appreciate Jones's insinuation but also didn't want to start an argument. His emotional side prickled at the comment. Of course he could drive. He forced himself to dismiss it and tried to move the conversation along. "So when can I go live?"

"We've had agents monitoring Messier since he was released," Diana began. "He's been laying really low, mostly at home. Hasn't been back to the office. Very few calls in and out of his landline." She paused. "One visit by Jason McDonald."

Hilks, Neal wanted to say. "A visit at his home?"

"Yes."

Peter's cell phone started to ring and he pushed his chair back, stepping away from the table to take it. He took a few steps outside the room, as he flipped it open, stating, "Burke," into the device as he walked out of earshot of the group still in the room.

"Jason has also stopped by the office," Diana continued. "Along with one other person we didn't have on the list. They came separately, and they didn't spend much time there. I mean, there's not much there now as it is." She looked at Neal quizzically. "Also, Peter said you might have a point of contact. But he didn't say what."

Neal nodded, surprised but relieved that it sounded as though Peter had taken his earlier comment seriously. Maybe this would be easier than anticipated if Peter let him take the lead. "There's a bar," he shared. "Jason goes there almost every night. That's where I'm going to start."

"A bar," Diana echoed skeptically.

"Yeah. He's a regular. And I'm about to become a bartender there."

"Does Peter – "

"He doesn't know the details yet," Neal started.

"You think he'll like the details?"

Neal shrugged. "It'll work. It's a really easy way in."

"Getting to know him as a bartender?" she responded doubtfully. "Why would he give you the time of day?"

Neal smiled at her, withholding the words 'Because I already know him' from the tip of his tongue. Instead he said, "I make a really mean martini."

"I'm sure."

"I do."

Peter reappeared at that moment in the doorway of the conference room. He closed his cell phone and returned it to his pocket. "Neal," he said. "Come here."

Neal looked up and caught Peter's eye, not at all liking the tone in which he heard his name. The man also suddenly looked irritated. But why? It wasn't the parking tickets. Neal hesitated, frozen in his seat. What had happened? What was the phone call? He'd just confirmed Willy was clean. What else could it be?

"Now," Peter said stiffly when there was no movement.

Neal pushed back his chair and frowned, getting to his feet slowly. He walked out of the room and reluctantly joined Peter outside, not before casting a quick glance back at Diana and Jones. They both looked at him briefly with shrugs before starting their own forced small talk as though to try to ignore the obvious change of their boss's demeanor outside the room.

"Peter, what is it?" Neal asked the man earnestly once outside with him. He could feel his pulse quicken.

Peter gave him a disapproving look, crossing his arms over his chest. "Neal," he started, tone low and stern. "I'm only going to ask you this once. And I can't believe I have to. Did you cover the cameras at the warehouse?"

Neal blinked. He stared back at Peter. "What?"

"Don't give me that face, like you have no idea what I'm talking about," Peter responded gruffly, shaking his head. "And don't answer me with a question. Did you?"

Neal paused, listening to the background sound of voices across the office and distant ringing phones. That was it? That was the phone call? He really had to stop jumping to conclusions every time Peter said his name. Here he was worried that there was something else in his past alias or some other past indiscretion coming back to haunt him. He suddenly relaxed and then smirked. "Yes. But nearly six hours ago… Did they really just notice now?"

"You think tampering with FBI security cameras is funny?" Peter retorted curtly.

It was funny. But Neal neither confirmed nor denied that due to his handler's seriously unimpressed tone. "Peter… It took them six hours to notice… Six hours. That's kind of crazy, right?"

Peter's expression darkened. "Neal. I told you I wouldn't be there to hover over you. That was on the condition that you're smart," Peter said firmly. He poked Neal in the shoulder, hard. "You think that's smart?"

Neal rubbed his shoulder briefly from the contact. "Apparently smarter than the security team over there if–"

"Neal. I am not kidding."

"Me neither. I was just testing the security. To see how tight it is."

"Just testing the security?" As an eye roll started, Peter reached out and took Neal by the arm, pulling him closer, so they were just inches from each other. He kept his hand gripped on his arm. "You could have just asked. It's tight," Peter responded stiffly.

Six hours tight, Neal wanted to answer. Then he did. He couldn't help it. "Six hours tight. They noticed after I'd already left. Maybe you should be more mad that an FBI facility has shitty security," Neal responded facetiously, knowing he was crossing the line. "That isn't my fault. Maybe you should be thanking me for highlighting it." After the precarious comment, he winced slightly, fearing the reaction.

First he was silent, just staring at him with an incensed gaze. Then Peter squeezed his arm even harder, and leaned in. "Enough. Don't be a smartass. You've seen me angry. Want to see it again?"

"No," Neal admitted. He shivered slightly at Peter's tone.

"Six hours," Peter said, repeating Neal's comment from a moment ago. He raised his eyebrows. "And what exactly did you do over the six hours that you knew the video was down?"

"It wasn't down, per se," Neal corrected slowly. "It was still up; it was just… obstructed."

"Semantics. That's great, Neal. Your favorite game. What'd you do?"

Neal frowned, not at all liking the expression that Peter had on his face nor his tone. It was one of not just aggravation but also of suspicion. He once again got the feeling that Peter did not trust him. And that made his gut feel twisted inside. It hurt, but it also made him feel angry along with a whole bunch of other emotions he didn't want to sort out or process. "What did I do?" he echoed. "What do you even mean by that?"

"I mean, what did you do, Neal? You covered the cameras. Why? To do what, exactly? You just said you had it obstructed for six hours."

Neal grew increasingly exasperated. "Are you serious?" These types of moments made him question everything. He thought he was close with Peter. He thought he could trust him. Now he felt conflicted. "What'd I do…." he repeated flippantly. "Well, obviously, Peter, I covered the cameras so I could commit some sort of heinous crime. Mozzie came in the back door, we did tequila shots, murdered three of the guards, let in some hookers, and then smuggled the real Picasso and Degas from the inventory out of the building."

Peter did not look amused. "I'm being serious, Neal."

"Me too," Neal shot back irritably. He glared at his handler. "I didn't do anything, Peter."

Peter eyed him warily, as though he wasn't sure how to react. "If that's true, then why'd you cover the cameras in the first place? You had to have a reason."

"Want to go there with me now?" Neal persisted, voice rising. "You can count every goddamn piece yourself. Check the crappy notes of your agents against what's there. It's all still there, because I didn't do anything." His voice shook slightly, and he cursed himself, but he felt hurt and angry from the unspoken accusation. Every action of his was dissected by Peter, and it appeared to always be under a distorted, negative lens.

Why was he even defending himself? He shouldn't have to, he thought irritably. "Why don't we do that?" he challenged. "Let's do that right now."

"No, Neal. I don't want to go over there," Peter responded firmly. His mouth was a thin line. "I want to believe you."

"Then believe me," Neal answered bitterly. "You know I didn't do anything there, Peter."

"That I can currently prove," Peter responded stiffly.

Neal sighed. While his heart raced with nervousness over this conversation, he also wanted to push Peter back, to stand up for himself. He'd honestly just been testing the reactiveness of the security at the warehouse. And yes, it had somewhat been for selfish reasons. If there was no detection of the cameras being covered and they remained that way tomorrow, then he would know he had a little bit of flexibility in what he could do in that room. But it wasn't really a big deal and he hadn't yet done anything. Testing security wasn't a bad thing, right? Neal was a little surprised at Peter's annoyance and frowned himself.

But as he thought about it, mind racing, he could also slightly start to understand Peter's side and began to feel a little more remorseful about what he had done and taken so lightly. Peter often said to put himself in his position, to better understand why Peter reacted the way he did to things. Doing that now, Neal could begin to realize how it looked. His actions did look bad. They looked suspicious. And reckless. That wasn't his intention. He tried to clarify.

"It wasn't my intention to look at all suspicious. It was just a test. It's also just paper, Peter," Neal explained. Maybe part of the man's anger was because he thought he damaged the cameras. "Just scotch tape and paper. I didn't… didn't damage anything."

Peter hesitated briefly. He took a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lowered his head for a second before looking back up at Neal again. He was still holding Neal by the arm with his other hand. He asked with forced calmness, "Then why did you do it?"

"I didn't do—"

"Stop," Peter interjected sharply. "Enough, Neal. You did do something. You covered the cameras." He paused momentarily. "You understand? You covered the cameras," he repeated. "Why on earth would you do that?"

Neal looked first at the hand gripping his arm and then up at Peter's expression. He felt conflicted but also cornered. His first instinct was to respond with a typical 'I don't know,' but he knew that wouldn't get a good reaction. "Just to see if they'd notice," he answered honestly. "To see if you'd notice."

"Why?" Peter persisted.

"Just because," Neal responded. He winced as Peter's grip tightened. "I'm sorry," he said reflexively. "But I really did it just because. I wanted to test their reactiveness. That's all. Honest. The cameras looked really old."

"And you didn't do anything else." It was a question, though Peter delivered it as a statement.

"I didn't," Neal insisted.

"And do not play your word games with me here. Were you planning anything else?"

Neal didn't want to lie. He really didn't want to. But it was hard, especially being questioned like this. He didn't want to answer that question. Because giving Peter the answer he wanted, which Neal desired, would be a lie.

Peter seemed to see the wheels turning in Neal's head. He squeezed his arm again. "Neal."

"I don't know." Neal let out the admittance and closed his eyes. "I don't want to lie, Peter. I didn't plan anything specifically. I promise I didn't, but I can't say it wouldn't have crossed my mind tomorrow if no one had noticed what I did. If I went back tomorrow and they were still covered," he shrugged, "then I don't know. I hadn't gotten to tomorrow yet."

"Neal…" Peter said in an exhaled mutter at the honest answer. He turned his eyes briefly towards the ceiling in exasperation as he shook his head. "God dammit, Neal…."

"I can say no instead," Neal offered, hating the look on Peter's face and the disappointed manner he said his name. "If you want me to I'll say no. Because it's all completely hypothetical anyway, but I… I'm trying to be completely open here, Peter. And if I say 'no' then I wouldn't really be honest, because the possibility of something at another time crossed my mind. And – "

"Stop. Just stop," Peter cut him off. "You're driving me crazy, do you know that?" Peter responded in clear frustration, giving Neal a trying look as he interrupted the ramble. "You are absolutely driving me crazy. Do you know that?"

"I'm sorry."

"The more you say that, Neal, the less I think you ever mean it," Peter said with a shake of his head. Peter didn't say anything for a moment, allowing a heavy moment to pass between them. Neal stayed absolutely still while Peter gazed at him solemnly.

Then Peter started to speak. "I don't think you're sorry. I think…" he said slowly, voice sincere, "if we're both being honest here, I think you were really just testing the system…" He sighed, pausing again slightly, and then squeezed Neal's arm again, harder. "I want to think you just can't help it… That it's just what you do. You're wired that way. Like it's your gut instinct to just test things like this. And it makes me wonder what else you're testing. But you need to learn to stop. Understand? What do I do to get that in your head, Neal? You need to learn to help it."

Neal nodded silently, not trusting his voice but wanting to give Peter his attention and show him he agreed. Because now Peter was, despite painfully holding his arm, seemingly trying to be gentle. His voice had calmed. It was like somehow Neal's rambling attempt at a truthful answer had worked. Peter now seemed more perplexed and frustrated than angry. And Neal was somewhat confused at that, because he expected Peter to continue to show anger, but he didn't want to stir the pot by questioning it. Another apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he realized Peter was right. He didn't mean it. So instead he said nothing.

"I'm about to set you out on this case, without anklet, without much oversight," Peter continued, voice lowered. "I was planning to really let you lead this. Because I want to believe you can. But you keep making me wonder if that's a bad idea. Between this, and the stunt you pulled at the stakeout, I just… Every day you…" Peter cut himself off and shook his head again. "You realize it's both of us on the line here, right? Do you need a reminder of that?"

Neal shook his head. No reminder needed. "Peter, I really only did it because I thought they wouldn't notice…" Neal replied softly, staring at the floor. Peter's tight grip on his arm was making his bicep feel numb, but he was afraid to ask the man to let go or to mention the potential wrinkling of his suit. He thought about Diana and Jones back in the conference room. On multiple angles. One, could they hear this discussion? Probably not. He hoped not. And two, they'd probably never had a conversation like this with Peter. Not in a million years.

"Yes, that's what you said. But how's that supposed to make me feel better?" Peter asked. He used his grip on him to shake him slightly. "You wanted to 'test it'? Was it worth it? Remember how I told you that you keep on doing things that would land other CI's back in jail? Well this is another one, Neal. You know what it's like to get a call that says after I left my CI alone he dismantled the security cameras in two rooms?"

"I didn't dismantle them…" Neal objected. "It's paper and –"

"And scotch tape. Yeah, I heard you. Do I need to be next to you at all times or else you're gonna do something stupid?"

"It wasn't – I… I don't know what to tell you," Neal said softly, honestly. He didn't. And he wanted Peter to let go, of him and the subject, so he was trying to choose his words carefully. "Why can't you treat me like them?" he asked, eyes directed to the conference room behind them.

"Like them?" Peter repeated. He let out an exasperated breath that was almost a combination of a surprised chuckle and a sigh. "Like Jones and Diana? Neal, they would never do this." Peter shook his head. "If they did –" He cut himself off as he continued shaking his head. "I can't even… Neal, I can't even put myself into that scenario to answer you because it would never happen. Put yourself in my place," Peter persisted. "How would you feel to get the phone call I just got?"

"Mad," Neal admitted. "I know. I understand. I get it now that it looks suspicious."

"Think hard. From my side of things. Should I take you off this case? Is there too much temptation? I can easily have Jones or Di—"

"What? No!" Neal said in surprise, eyes widening. "No, Peter. No, you can't." He could, and Neal knew he could, and also knew telling the man that he couldn't do something would usually just incense Peter to do it, so he immediately regretted his words. "Do anything else. I'm not tempted. There's nothing tempting. It's probably all fake anyway."

"Neal." Peter shook his head but didn't have much more to say. He released Neal's arm but remained close to him. "Listen to me. You know I want to trust you. I do, Neal. I really do. You make it really hard sometimes. Should I trust you?"

Neal nodded. "Yes." He so badly wanted Peter's trust. And to be on the case. He rubbed at his arm where he could still feel Peter's hand despite being free. "After I did it, I basically spent the whole time just going through the pieces to reorganize them." He now felt incredibly stupid. "I can show you tomorrow. This is a good case. I can… I can help a lot. Don't be mad."

Peter sighed and took a step back, rubbing a hand distractedly over his jaw. "I'm trying not to be. I… I really am, Neal." He frowned. "But you've got to tell me about things like this. When you get thoughts like this. You don't need to test it yourself. You need to call me."

"I'll try."

"And you swear there's no other surprises? You absolutely didn't do anything else when the cameras were obstructed?"

"Nothing," Neal affirmed. "I told you. Nothing else."

After a long pause, Peter nodded. "Okay. I believe you. I actually do, Neal. But don't prove me wrong. Don't make me regret this. If you're on this case, you gotta be just like any other one of my other agents. You can't go out 'testing' the rules and who's paying attention. Don't be stupid."

Neal narrowed his eyes and nodded firmly, staring at Peter's shoes. "I won't."

"Look at me."

Neal sighed and looked up. He met Peter's eyes, and suddenly felt slightly queasy. The man looked incredibly serious. But his tone wasn't angry anymore. Neal shuffled his footing briefly. "I won't," he repeated while maintaining the eye contact. No new stupid, he thought to himself. Withholding the information on Jason was probably stupid, but that was already done.

"Good." Peter paused. "We need to change the way you're wired, Neal. How do we do that?"

The question seemed rhetorical, and Neal didn't know the appropriate response anyway. So he didn't answer. He just frowned and stared at Peter's shoes again.

Peter then sighed and cursed briefly under his breath. "Okay. I'm going to call them back. I'll tell them you were asked to test their security measures."

Neal looked up in surprise. "Really? But, Peter, that's a—"

"If you're about to say 'a lie', then rethink your words," Peter interrupted, raising his hand to point a finger at him. The annoyance was back. "I'm trying to be patient with you, but another word, and I will lock you up right now."

Neal blinked and stared back at him.

"Don't think I won't. We have holding cells. And I will use them." Peter pointed to the conference room. "Go back. Talk to them. Discuss logistics. I will be back in five minutes."

Neal nodded, though he dreaded returning to the room with Jones and Diana. He knew they were going to look at him with inquiring minds on what had just been discussed outside the room. But he didn't argue. He didn't want Peter's mood to change. He wasn't sure if a holding cell was an empty threat like the other warnings or not. And he didn't know exactly how he expected Peter to respond to what he'd done since he never even had considered he would find out, but he now felt like the man was being surprisingly lenient.

As Peter took out his phone again and turned his back to Neal, Neal quickly headed back into the conference room as directed.

The two agents just stared at him as he returned just as he expected.

"What'd you do now?" Jones asked him with a look of condescension, a small smirk on his face as Neal took his seat at the conference room table again.

Neal smiled at him widely with teeth, holding his head high. "He just needed my opinion on something."

Neither of them looked like they believed him.

"Your opinion," Jones repeated.

"Yep," Neal responded briefly. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms low over his belly. "My opinion."

"On?"

"If he wanted it to be public, he would have asked me in here," Neal responded simply. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up in time to see Peter returning to the room, pocketing his phone and looking slightly exasperated. He caught Neal's eye briefly as he took his seat at the table, but then looked over at his other agents.

Drumming his hands on the table briefly, Peter was ready to get back into business. His expression had quickly converted to one of attention to the case and nothing else. "Alright. Point of contact. Let's talk."

Neal was relieved to jump back into the case with relative ease. He knew Peter was going to be annoyed with him for a while, but appreciated he didn't bring that into the conference room. Until a second later when Diana spoke.

"Apparently Neal's idea is to get a bartending job," she said. "At the bar that one of these guys frequents."

"A bartending job…" Peter echoed slowly and stoically. He turned his head from Diana to his CI. "You're just full of surprises today, aren't you…"

Neal took a breath, reminding himself to stay poised. "Let me explain first before you make a judgment here, Peter. I have firm knowledge that Jason is at this particular bar almost every night. It's the easiest way to make contact with him. And if I work there, it's much more plausible why I would be there every night too. And that way he also knows where to find me once we connect." Re-connect, he thought wryly.

"Find you for what?" Peter persisted. "Why would he want to develop a connection with a bartender? And please don't say because of your charm. Trust me, you're not that charming right now."

Neal glanced at Diana who had a telling look on her face. That was exactly the criticism she was raising earlier after they were interrupted by Peter's phone call. He then turned back to Peter. "He'll want to connect and stay in touch. Because I'm going to be more valuable to him than that," Neal stated confidently.

"In what way?" Peter pressed.

"In an industrial way," Neal answered. "A lucrative one."

Peter still looked skeptical. "And you expect that to come up across a bar conversation while you're mixing him a drink."

"Yes," Neal responded affirmatively. And Jason didn't drink mixed drinks. Whiskey neat. But Neal didn't offer that.

"I would think this guy's a little more discreet than that," Jones said slowly.

Neal was tempted at that moment to break the news to them all that this wouldn't be a first time introduction for him and Jason. That Jason knew how valuable he could be and how much money he could make him.

But after the conversation he'd just had with Peter on his warehouse activities, Neal was afraid it would be the last straw with the man. He had just threatened taking him off the case. He definitely wouldn't understand why he had been withholding this information. The reality was that it was the perfect way into the lives of Messier and Jason. But Neal wasn't sure if Peter would see it that way. "You'd be surprised at what comes up over a drink," Neal responded patiently instead. "I've done this before."

"And what if it doesn't work?" Peter asked simply.

"It will," Neal replied confidently. He gave Peter a genuine look. "It will work." He paused. "I know these types of guys. And I know they're going to want to continue this operation of theirs, despite what we just took from them. I'd be willing to bet they probably have already committed some of the work we have, and they're trying to figure out what to do about that. Quickly. Once I drop a couple of names, I'm in. Trust me."

Peter looked uncertain. He drummed his fingers again against the table as he studied Neal carefully.

Trust me, Neal repeated in his head silently. He was sure his previous conversation with Peter was still going through the man's head, and he was trying to wrap his head around whether or not Neal's idea would work. He'd probably lost some points with his handler now. And what about the list? This would definitely go on the list…

"So it's not a terrible concept," Peter admitted, to which Neal breathed a sigh of relief. "So I'm not shooting it down just yet." He leaned back slowly in his chair. "So you want to target Jason, not Messier?"

Neal nodded. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Yeah. It's the best way in. I've been going through all their files to figure out the best angle, and I need to do it that way. Jason's my point of contact."

Peter pressed his lips together, as though thinking. He cast his eyes towards Diana and Jones. "You guys have any alternative ideas?" When he was met with a combination of shrugs and a headshake, he turned his attention back to Neal. "You feel sure about this?"

Neal nodded. "Absolutely."

"And you're certain you can get a job at the bar, or do you need FBI influence to do that?"

"Caffrey influence is enough," Neal said, shaking his head. "FBI isn't necessary." He saw all three of them roll their eyes and ignored their sentiment. "When can I start?"

"Tomorrow," Peter said slowly. "Give me the name and address of the bar."

Neal could see there was still hesitation in Peter's eyes. He wasn't sure if that would have been there if not for the phone call from the warehouse. "I will. You won't regret this, Peter."

"I better not."