Peter felt the night air work its way through his tonsils as James's words hung in the air. Behind him, his ears caught the faint strains of a groan that came from Neal and a small gasp that escaped Elizabeth.

Fighting hard to remain calm, and to keep his hand away from his gun, he thought rapidly.

His federal training kicking in, he knew he had to mitigate the situation.

"El, Neal…go on inside the house please" he instructed firmly, making sure his voice betrayed no hint of the fear that was spilling around his gut.

Neither of them moved.

Gritting his teeth, and being unsurprised by Neal not moving, but hoping El would hear the undercurrent of urgency in his voice, he tried again.

"El…please, go on inside and bring Neal with you."

This time, his shocked wife jarred into action. Stepping back, she threw an arm around a paled and gaping Neal, and gently steered him towards the house.

Peter quickly fell into step beside them, effectively forming a barrier between the two and the silently watching, and eerily smiling, Bennett.

The smile merely increased when El threw him a look of deepest and scathing loathing.

Before Peter could usher the pair into the house, James had called out, his voice carrying the same loaded quality as before.

"Be seeing you soon son."

Snarling, Peter gently propelled his wife and the kid into the house with increased haste, and quickly shut the door behind him.

Feeling a wave of tension leave him at the thoughts of the vermin on his porch having to physically get through him to get to them, he turned to face the man who within minutes, had caused such upset.

Again, relying on his training to get him through this bizarre situation, he forced himself to think like an agent.

"James Bennett, you are under arrest for the murder of-"

Another chilling laugh cut him off, raising the hairs on the back of his neck once again in the process.

"Oh no, I don't think so…" James chuckled with a maddening superiority, "not unless of course, you want your little adopted puppy to join me in the big house?"

Peter stared silently as the taunting words registered dimly in the peripherals of his mind.

"What are you talking about?" he eventually growled, having a sickeningly good idea just what was being insinuated.

Leaning against the porch frame, the unwelcome visitor crossed his arms and smiled smugly.

"Oh come now, Agent Burke…you're a clever man, you clearly have my boy thinking you're the greatest thing on two legs…surely you can figure it out?"

Resisting the urge to calmly reach out and choke every single last morsel of oxygen from the man in front of him, Peter strove to remain calm.

This man was dangerous, more dangerous than even he knew, and the slightest of wrong moves could clearly bring all manner of hell down on Neal.

"You have something on him?" he demanded.

Nodding his head slowly and with a contrasting benign smile, James considered his next words carefully.

"Yes…I do. I have enough on that offspring of mine to send him back to the little adoption shelter line up you picked him out from, for a very long time."

Peter's limbs vibrated with rage at the callous and indifferent way the low life trespassing on his property was speaking about Neal, and he began to see a red mist descend in front of his eyes, obscuring all reason.

Fighting hard, he pushed away the mist, and steadied his breathing.

"Your own son…you…you would do that to your own son?" he asked in disgust, looking the man up and down in uncharacteristic disdain.

Snorting slightly, the fugitive shrugged his shoulders.

"He's clearly made his bed here with… you people" he snarled, "so he's just a means to an end now."

Barely able to believe his ears, Peter shook his head in unadulterated contempt.

"You make me sick" he said softly, never meaning a handful of words more vehemently.

"I'll bear that in mind" James sneered, "now, are you ready to talk business?"

Peter blinked.

"Business?"

Letting out a dramatic sigh, James threw his eyes up to heaven.

"Yes Peter, business. I've just told you that the kid is a means to an end, and if he comes through on that end, none of you will either see or hear from me again and the sprog stays out of maximum security."

Paling, the federal agent thought rapidly, all the while keeping a careful eye on Bennett.

Sighing, he realised that his options were limited.

Hughes wouldn't hear of cutting Neal any kind of slack should even the slightest hint of prior crimes with hard evidence cross his desk.

"How do I even know you have anything on Neal?" he shot at the silent James.

Grinning, the man slipped a hand into his jacket pocket.

"Thought you would ask that Burke" he crooned, fishing out a small voice recorder.

Peter eyed the device silently, and as soon as the play button was pushed, Neal's voice began to fill the night air.

Neal's clearly…merry, but not quite completely drunk, voice.

The air suddenly seemed to be difficult to force down his windpipe as the conversation between James and Neal played out, with the kid, in response to his "fathers" urging, recounted crime after crime, and heist after heist that he pulled off before his incarceration.

The tape went on for what seemed like an eternity, and to Peter's heart wrenching horror, ended with Neal's voice clearly being constricted with unshed tears.

"Thanks…dad, it's been good to tell everyone everything."

Smirking, James shut the tape off and eyed Peter with an almost sociopathic satisfaction.

"Amazing what a kid will spill with the right prodding, isn't it?"

Silence hung between the two men as Peter struggled to get himself under control.

"You bastard" he bit out quietly, "you complete and utter bastard."

Chuckling, James shrugged his shoulders.

"Can't deny that I suppose, now, I'll ask you again. Are you ready to talk business?"

His head was nodding in the affirmative before he knew it, and he heard his voice saying a bitter "yes" before he could think about it.

What choice did he have?

"Thought so" James smirked. "Now, how about we go inside and get comfortable?"

Shaking his head vigorously, Peter's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"This is as close as you're getting to Neal" he growled, "and even this is too damn close."

Raising his eyebrows in feigned surprise, James tilted his head curiously at snarling and seething Peter.

"But…if he's in there, and I'm out here, how will I tell him the plan?"

Grinding his teeth and reminding himself that if he shot the man right now, somehow and someway, a tape of the conversation he had just heard would wind up in FBI HQ by morning, Peter took in a deep breath.

"What plan is that then?" he ground out, feeling his heart pound frantically against his rib cage.

Silence ensued as James ran appraising eyes over the clearly apoplectic agent, before grinning his almost manic grin.

"The one Peter, where the boy breaks into the Smithsonian, and fetches me my retirement package."

….

TBC

…