Friday morning, two days after rescuing Nicky, Peter and Neal entered the FBI building together. They'd gotten confirmation that Adler was in fact locked up and received surveillance privileges as well. Adler's men were being interrogated, but they really hadn't committed any crimes, unless working for Adler was considered a crime—Neal thought it was.

In the elevator, Neal shuddered. It was something Peter almost missed, but he'd gotten so good at picking up his partner's miniscule movements. "What's on your mind?"

The doors swung closed and Neal glanced over at him. "I don't feel all that great today," he admitted. "I'm not sure what it is." He was trying to lie and failing.

Peter took his hand, rubbing his thumb over Neal's skin. "Listen, we can always reschedule the hospital visitation, Neal. It's not like you promised her you'd come today." Neal sighed, nodding. Of course Peter could see right through him. The fact that Neal had been restless in his sleep, muttering things at random, helped, too. Peter caught a lot of what he said, watching his facial expressions, and how he was reacting physically. Anytime he mentioned Adler in his sleep, he'd start thrashing and Peter struggled to wake him up. Mentions of his mother had him curling against Peter, attempting to crawl into his skin and hide away. Peter held him then, debating on whether or not he should wake Neal.

Neal stopped taking naps throughout the day because he knew he was having nightmares and guessed by how sweet Peter was acting that Peter was aware of it as well. "I feel obligated," Neal whispered. "She's always had the ability to make me feel guilty on a whim."

The elevator paused once they'd reached their floor and the doors swung open. Peter motioned for Neal to walk ahead of him, trailing after the younger man. They both hung their jackets in the same area and, since they were alone for the time being, Peter stood behind him, holding his hips as he pressed his lips against Neal's neck. Neal seemed hesitant to make any moves, but Peter grinned, speaking first. "I know it's not the time nor the place," he mumbled against Neal's neck, "but I want you to know how deeply, truly in love with you I am."

Neal rolled his eyes. "We really need to stop watching sappy love stories before fucking."

Peter laughed, kissing Neal's neck before resting his chin on the younger man's shoulder. He slid his arms around Neal's waist, clasping his hands together in front of his abdomen. "You love those movies and I love watching them with you." Neal smiled, resting his hands on top of Peter's. "So, for tonight, what are we watching?"

Neal chuckled, leaning back against Peter. "I haven't thought that far ahead. I'm thinking about the meeting we have in a few hours, about going home and making dinner for us, and about how hot the lovemaking is going to be since you just bought more condoms." Peter shivered, thrilled by Neal's words. "Oh, and I found your porn collection under the bed, in case you didn't know that already." Peter froze. He'd hidden those perfectly—and only watched them if Neal wasn't around for a couple of hours. "Someone," he said pointedly, "decided to shove my shoes under there, so you basically exposed yourself, Peter."

"There was always that little thrill in the idea that you might not see them though." He nipped Neal's shoulder gently. "And you're in no position to talk. The laptop had a virus on it because somebody went on one too many gay porn sites."

"Ah, fuck you," Neal said noncommittally. "I got the virus off before you even knew about it, dork."

"Your history doesn't lie though."

Someone cleared their throat and they separated quickly. This was someone neither of them recognized. "I'm Agent Turkovich."

Peter stepped forward, extending his hand to the woman, "Agent Burke." He gestured towards Neal. "This is one of our probationary agents, Caffrey." Neal murmured a pleasantry while shaking her hand, then he put his hands in his pockets. Peter thought about telling Neal to take the fedora off since they were at work, especially since someone new was here—and he's a probie, for that matter.

"You two seem pretty close for a special agent and probationary agent."

There was no reason to hide their relationship, as Hughes told them. Peter nodded. "He and I have been together for several months now."

"And Hughes is all right with this?" She seemed like the type to frown upon internal business-relationships. Peter nodded again. Something in Neal's gut told him they were about to get screwed. "Well, I'll be taking over for Hughes while he attends to personal matters. As long as I'm here, I'd prefer it if you didn't get so…close. What you do in your off time isn't my concern, but you will focus as long as you're here."

Peter nodded, gritting his teeth. "Understood," he said tightly. She sauntered away, her hips shifting from side to side as she walked up into Hughes' office.

"Fuckin' bitch," Neal muttered, pressing a quick kiss against Peter's cheek before taking a seat at his desk. Peter chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I normally don't talk about women like that, just so you know."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart." He leaned over Neal to look at what he was doing on the computer. "You're only going to upset yourself," he said tentatively, straightening up, his hand still on Neal's shoulder.

Neal sighed, scrolling down the page. "Adler confessed—to the kidnapping, the abuse." Peter squeezed his shoulder, waiting for the rest. "He fucking denied the rape. That son of a bitch." He hit the desk in frustration, spinning his chair. Peter took a step back so Neal wouldn't hit him.

"Neal, he's going to be charged with rape. I'll see to it that he is." He paused, thinking back to everything Neal had told him about the whole ordeal. "Can you get in touch with the doctor who checks you every six months?"

He looked up at Peter curiously. "I never saw the medical files he stored away, Peter. I don't think there's any mention or suggestion of rape, even if he thinks he knew what happened."

"Give me his name."

Neal moved over and Peter stood in front of his desk, taking over. "Paul Jamison."

Peter nodded, pulling up the database. He entered his information, knowing he'd get more access than Neal would. He pulled up files from the office and scanned through the names. When he found 'Neal Bennett,' he clicked on it. He saw medical records dating back to when Neal was sixteen. He remembered Neal telling him about the STD he'd gotten from Adler, saw that there, and continued scrolling. "Bingo," Peter said. He highlighted what he wanted Neal to see.

"Significant signs of rape," he whispered, horrified.

"Hey, it's okay," Peter said, looking down at him. "This is good. If you can get him to clear this, it can be sent over to the DA's office." Neal paled at that and Peter reached out to stroke his hair. "I know you don't want everyone to see this Neal, but there's going to be a trial—you're going to testify in front of people you don't know. You're going to tell them what he did to you and he'll get put away."

Neal nodded, swallowing hard. "I can call him in an hour or so when the office opens up."

Peter leaned closer to kiss Neal's hair. "We're going to take him down, sweetheart."

By this point, people were coming into the department. Most of them paid no mind to Peter and Neal, knowing what was going on between them. They just assumed the two of them would be working on a lot of cases together now. "Caffrey." Neal looked up when he heard his last name. Turkovich was standing in Hughes' office's doorway, gesturing for him to come up.

"This can't be good," he said under his breath. Peter rubbed his back for a brief moment, watching as Neal stood and walked up to the office. When he was inside, Turkovich closed the door and gestured for him to sit down. She didn't sit down when he did, but it looked like she was interrogating him. Neal was trying to deny something—or explain something, but she wasn't listening to him. He was surprised when Neal got up and moved towards the door. "Peter," he said tightly.

Without hesitating, Peter made his way up and into the office as well, shutting the door without having to be told to do so. "What seems to be the problem, Agent Turkovich?"

"She wants to suspend me," Neal said, obviously hurt and appalled.

Turkovich spoke over him. "His recent submission into solitary confinement seems to be enough for me to suspend him."

Peter's eyes widened. "The reason wasn't even work—"

"The reason isn't my concern, Agent Burke." She was bitter, snappish with him. That immediately put her on Peter's bad side. "The file said he was considered a suicide risk. I don't think it's very healthy to have someone with this mindset working with us until he's—"

"Excuse me," Peter interrupted, "but I don't seem to recall you telling me you had the authority to access our files. Hughes would have told me if you did." She glared at him, knowing she'd been caught. "Consider this a warning, Agent Turkovich: you suspend him, my wrath and fury will hit you tenfold. You can't just waltz into this building and assume you have authority over everything for something so temporary. Reese will be back on Monday, so you really do have no authority."

She looked away from Peter, muttering a dismissal, and he took that as a win. He grabbed Neal's hand, tugging him along as he threw the office door open and led Neal back to his desk where they'd been having their discussion. "That was…impressive," Neal said, sounding a bit dazed. Peter smiled at him. "You really put Turkobitch in her place in there."

Peter chuckled. "I've told you before that I'll do anything for you—even if you don't ask. Well, you called me in there, so…" Neal kissed his jaw, allowing him that. "Should we discuss the meeting we have with Sullivan?"

"I'm your probationary agent, Agent Burke. I'm at your command." He smirked up at Peter.

The older man rolled his eyes, sighing. "You always do this, you bastard." He rested a hand on Neal's hip, rubbing it. "Damn shame that our lunch break will be spent investigating a potential murderer."

Neal shrugged. "We could always find a broom closet."

"Don't tempt me."

They looked over a few things regarding the trial Neal would have to attend at some point in the next couple of weeks and then headed up to Peter's office with all of the information on their murder case in hand. Neal sat down across from him, as was their routine. Neal had lost himself in thought somewhere along the way and Peter noticed how focused he was. Neal was biting the end of a pen, reading into something very attentively. He didn't startle when Peter asked him what he was doing. "Finding damning information on Sullivan." He leaned back to look at Peter. "She's moved around quite a bit, switching between companies every so often each time she relocates. I'll have you pull up some info on these companies just to be sure, but I guarantee we'll find some issue related to the corporate psychologists."

Neal rattled off the names of the companies he was referring to and Peter looked them up. He scanned through some articles and other relevant files, only to laugh. Neal raised an eyebrow. "You're absolutely right. She was in DC before coming here, and the corporate psychologist there was also killed—foul play ruled out."

"So they determined it was a suicide." Peter nodded. "She's good," Neal said, sounding mildly impressed. "She knows how to cover her tracks, but we're going to catch her in the act."

Peter looked at him in confusion. "How so?"

Neal only smiled, extending his hand towards Peter. "Doctor Nick Halden, corporate psychologist, at your service." Peter stared at him in disbelief.

"I sometimes wonder if you're psychotic," Peter muttered. "How are you going to get inside and get the credentials for this?"

The younger man chuckled. "Easy. The receptionist changes every few days. We'll have a new one today. You'll introduce yourself—probably drag Jones along if you'd like—and go about your meeting as you would if I were going in with you."

"Okay, but my question about the credentials is still unanswered."

"You've gone undercover before. You'll give me good references." He winked and Peter gaped at him.

•◊•

"You're officially insane." Neal laughed, putting his reading glasses on. He was wearing a nice suit with a clip-on nametag Peter had made for him pretty quickly—Peter's authority over the lower-ranked agents was impressive at times, if not a bit frightening. Peter reached over to push one of Neal's curls back behind his ear. He also made sure the earpiece was properly in place. "This is a transceiver piece, so if I hear that you're in trouble at any point—"

"—you'll rescue the damsel in a man's body." Peter rolled his eyes. "I'll be listening on your end, too. She should go to you before coming to me."

Peter nodded. "You've got the recorder?" Neal patted his chest, smiling. They had a pen clipped to the breast pocket that would serve as his recording device. "Gun?" Neal opened his suit jacket, showing Peter the holster harness wrapped around his chest. "Kiss?" Neal smirked, leaning forward to kiss Peter's lips.

They parted a moment later. "Jones is here," Neal said, nodding at the side view mirror. "Best of luck to you, Agent Burke. I'll see you on the inside."

"Good luck, Doctor Halden." He kissed the corner of Neal's mouth before they both got out of the Taurus. "All right. Get your sexy ass inside," Peter muttered as Jones was nearing them. Neal nodded, heading towards the building. He had all the proper paperwork he'd need to provide once he was inside—courtesy of Agent Peter Burke.

Jones paused beside Peter. "You put a lot of faith into the kid, Peter."

"I know it isn't misguided is the nice part. I trust him to carry out his part. This is his first major assignment." He didn't tell Jones how terrified he was that all of this could go wrong very quickly. Sullivan could walk into Neal's 'office' and open up to him, then shoot him. Neal had no vest on as protection. If he was shot, he was likely to be as good as dead if her shots were perfect. "We give him five minutes to give her the papers and get into the elevator, then we go in."

They were listening to the conversation Neal was having through the earpiece. "Hi, I'm Doctor Halden—the new corporate psychologist," he said, his voice sounding very charming. Peter could only imagine the charming smile that went along with it. The woman at the desk seemed flustered as she asked for his documentations and credentials, which he provided without hesitation. She said everything checked out nicely and gave him directions to his office. "Thank you very much." Peter heard his footsteps and then the pushing of a button. The elevator dinged and opened for him. As soon as the doors were closed, he spoke again. "Good work, Peter. No problem at all." He scoffed through the earpiece. "And you called the idea 'insane.'"

"I recall calling you insane, not the idea," Peter countered, smiling.

He could just see Neal shrugging. "It was implied, Burke." After a few moments, the elevator dinged again. "Getting out to head to my office. Good luck, guys."

Peter wanted to tell Neal he loved him—just in case things went south. However, he didn't want to do that in front of Jones. Neal knew without having to hear it though. "All right, it's our turn now. You're posing as Neal now. You're a probie." He said that with a hint of amusement.

Jones sighed. "Grateful that we aren't in a relationship. That corporate psycho of yours seems to suit you well."

"Kinda distracting, guys," Neal muttered, slightly annoyed.

"Okay, okay. We're going in." Peter and Jones both entered the building, Jones trailing behind Peter to fit the role he had to play. The receptionist greeted them and Peter gave her a small smile before flashing his badge. "Special Agent Peter Burke. My probationary agent and I had a scheduled meet with Jane Sullivan today. She is in, right?"

The woman nodded. "Oh, yes, of course." Peter refrained from sighing. "I'll send you right up. She said to expect you."

Peter thanked her and led Jones to the elevator. "Neal, how's it going?" he asked when the doors closed.

"We have the warrant, right? I forgot to ask earlier."

Peter chuckled. "Yes, dear. I do know how to get a warrant very well. Also, we're on our way up. You aren't too far from where we'll be."

"Good to know you'll be quick to assist if she decides to murder me on my first day."

He heard the sarcasm in Neal's tone. "Just grin—that wide grin that I love. It'll win her over." Neal groaned. "Don't worry. If all goes well, this op will be done soon."

Neal went quiet after that, which concerned Peter. "Peter, she's coming to me first," he whispered a few moments later.

"Shit." They hadn't anticipated on her seeing Neal before them since they had a schedule to uphold. "Just relax, Neal. We're still in the elevator."

"You must be our new psychologist," she said sweetly. He knew how nervous Neal felt right now and couldn't blame him.

After all, Neal was alone in a room with a potential murderer. "Must be," he replied cheekily. "Doctor Halden."

He heard rustling of clothes and figured they were shaking hands. "Jane Sullivan."

Neal sat down, which made Peter even more on edge. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a little time before one of my meetings has to start. I figured I'd come check you out—pick your brain for a few minutes, if possible."

The elevator shut down, jostling Peter and Jones in it. "Fuck," Peter hissed. "Neal, we're stuck in the elevator on the fifty-second floor."

"Of course." Peter figured that was intended for him, but decided to ignore it and work on finding a way out. If they needed to race up a flight of stairs, they would. "What's on your mind?"

Peter heard heels clicking on the floor. "How old are you, Doctor Halden?"

Neal swallowed. "Thirty-two."

She let out a light laugh, which made Peter feel sick. The buttons in the elevator weren't working. "Any wife and kids?"

"Neither, ma'am."

Jones cocked an eyebrow. "Wasn't Caffrey's kid the one we were looking for?"

"Yes, but Halden doesn't have family on record."

The sound of the heels got closer to Neal. "Doctor, you seem very professional," she said with slight amusement. "I'm sure you've seen my records with the psychologist you're filling in for. I told him about my husband—how he died."

"If you feel like talking about it, by all means." He was trying to prolong the conversation until he knew Peter and Jones were there to back him up, but nothing seemed to be happening on their end.

"Well, you see, I murdered him." Neal was silent then and Peter's heart raced. "He was a man with a pretty face. He stole thousands from me, Doctor." She paused deliberately, trying to make Neal nervous. "You kind of remind me of him already. The resemblance is astonishing."

Neal forced a laugh. "That doesn't happen very often." Peter heard Neal get up from the chair. "I take it you weren't arrested for his death, since you're out and about."

Jones finally got the elevator doors to open. They had to climb up a little to get onto the floor, but they'd done it. "We're on our way, Neal," Peter said quickly as they raced up the stairway.

"I have killed a lot of men, Doctor Halden." A gun was loaded and Neal made a startled sound. "They were all corporate psychologists—like you." The gun fired just as Peter and Jones got to the fifty-third floor.

"Neal!" he yelled. They picked up the pace, realizing they were quite a distance away from Neal's office now. Another shot fired and Peter heard someone throw a chair. "God damn it, Neal. Pull your gun."

A whole round of shots started to fire. "I did, damn it. Get here now!" he hissed.

Neal was fortunate that the desk was bulletproof. He'd scoot out a bit and shoot if he could manage, but he was trying to distract. The heels clicked on the floor faster and Peter listened as it sounded like the desk was shoved aside. Sullivan groaned, obviously having been hit by the edge of it, he guessed.

A gun was knocked to the floor and Sullivan chuckled. "Sweetheart, I know you're not a psychologist."

Neal was struggling to keep the gun away from him, Peter realized. They were nearing the office now and Peter's gun was already coming out. "FBI!" he called out as a shot was fired. Peter came in, firing his own gun. He thought he'd been able to get Sullivan, but she did the worst thing possible and twisted at the very last second. His heart stopped when he realized he'd shot Neal—right after he'd been shot by Sullivan. He cried out and collapsed to the floor. Jones came up behind Peter and fired at Sullivan's shoulder. She screamed and the gun flew out of her hand. Jones was quick to holster his gun and get his cuffs out, immediately doing so once he was able to get the upper hand over her.

If not for the earpiece, Peter would have thought he'd killed Neal, but he could hear him hissing and biting back painful cries. Peter vaguely heard Jones call for paramedics as he moved around the desk. Neal was lying on the floor, holding just above his left hip and his thigh, blood seeping between his fingers over both. He frantically tried to help Neal, but Neal told him to stop. "You've done enough," he said painfully. He closed his eyes and Peter saw him grit his teeth.

"At least let me get you to the lobby for the paramedics," Peter pleaded, feeling terrible. His aim should have been perfect. Neal shouldn't have been caught in the crossfire.

"What the fuck were you aiming at?" Neal asked when Peter helped him stand.

Peter swallowed. "You had her at an angle. I aimed for her elbow."

Neal leaned heavily on Peter while they waited for the elevator, assuming it worked now. Fortunately, it did. "Well, that's something you need to work on because you were nowhere close."

They got into the elevator and Peter felt Neal's blood soaking through his pants. He glanced down, disgusted with himself for being careless. They got to the lobby just as the paramedics arrived with a gurney. Neal bit his lip when Peter lifted him carefully, setting him down on it. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice thick.

Neal shook his head. "Finish up here and come get me, okay?"

Peter nodded, watching them put temporary bandages on Neal. It was bleeding through heavily. They took him back to the ambulance and he felt frozen in his guilt. There was a slight possibility that he could have killed Neal if he'd shot him in the stomach. That thought alone made him sick.