Thank you for everyone still following, especially those who have left constructive comments. Really appreciate it. Apologies in advance for some editing needed in this chapter... Wanted to get it up but I think I need to do another read through!

For the first time while in Vermont, upon entering the Burlington field office Peter finally did not feel a sense of heightened alert or anxiety. Every other time he'd walked into the building, it had been a rushed entrance with one thing on his mind: finding Neal. Now Neal was entering with them, which was an entirely different feeling. There was still a lot ahead of them, like finally closing down the case and figuring out what had happened over the past few days within that house, but at least the most important part of his mission out-of-state was accomplished.

It didn't necessarily feel like an accomplishment. A relief, yes. Neal, while not uninjured, was at least safe. What happened from here on out was at least within their collective control, more or less. There were no more speculations on locations and well-being, at least physical.

"He's with us," Peter told the now-familiar security guards as he gestured at Neal upon their arrival. He and Diana meanwhile flashed their badges as they walked through the main entrance, a doorway to which they were now well accustomed. The guards just nodded back politely and said nothing else as they passed.

"Hey, Boss. Forgot to mention… I told Val we'd be coming in," Diana stated as they continued walking. She kept in stride with him, walking at his side. "So she's expecting us around now."

"Oh good. Thanks for thinking of that," Peter answered. He shifted his grip on the case folders tucked under his arm. At least Diana had been levelheaded and considerate this trip. He was thankful for that and hoped, while unspoken, that she realized it as well. It hadn't been an easy trip, but having her as a partner had made it more manageable.

Their pace was brisk, and he glanced behind them briefly to make sure Neal was keeping up. He was, trailing just a few feet behind with his coffee cup still in hand, seemingly taking in the details of the building as they passed through, as his eyes were anywhere but straight ahead. He was also entirely too quiet, in Peter's opinion; just as he had been on the ride over. In fact, he'd barely said a word in the car. "You good, Neal?" he asked. He slowed his pace just slightly so Neal would catch up, and in turn Diana did the same.

"Yeah," Neal answered coolly, as he closed the gap and reached Peter's other side. "Who's Val?"

"Agent Val Clarke," Peter responded as he continued walking, surprised but also a little reassured that Neal had actually been listening and not in his own thoughts a million miles away like he'd been at the hotel. Maybe he just needed to get back into a routine… "She's been our main point of contact since we've been here."

Peter waited for a follow-up question, or questions, but Neal didn't ask anything further, simply nodding at the vague explanation and resuming his quietness.

They reached the main bullpen of the office, walking across the floor in the direction of Agent Clarke's office. There were a few agents scattered across the floor, but it seemed relatively quiet so far that morning.

Peter approached Val's door, now walking ahead of Diana and Neal. Both dropped behind and let him approach alone without any formal direction to do so. He viewed Val at her desk as he approached the open doorway; she appeared to be reviewing something on her computer screen with a focused expression. Pausing for just a moment, he rapped his knuckles against the doorway frame to indicate his presence.

She looked up at the noise and gave a small smile as she registered him. "Agent Burke. Good morning… Yesterday was quite the day; I'm sure you'd agree."

"It definitely was," Peter acknowledged, giving her a tight smile back. "Just glad we've made a lot of progress on getting to the end of this case. Or almost to the end, I should say."

Val nodded. "And we're glad you've got your CI back in one piece, Peter," she continued. "Really, it's good to have an outcome like that. After three days you really never know."

Peter cleared his throat, nodding while dismissing that thought. Alternative outcomes and 'you never know' was not something he wanted to reflect on. "Speaking of Neal," he responded slowly, "I've got him here as well." He glanced behind him, observing Neal and Diana exchanging some words casually about ten feet away. He noted Neal was tiredly leaning his weight back against an empty desk. He eyed him for a minute and then turned his attention back to Val. "Thought we could try to provide a statement to cover what took place the last few days while he was at the house… Would be good to get it on record as we size up the charges on these guys. Could help with the questioning too."

Val nodded. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that." She pushed back her chair, rising from it and moving around the desk to approach him. "We're ready for it, and the sooner we do that, the better. There's some updates from yesterday as well that we should discuss. Jason has some interesting proposals…"

"Diana alluded to that," Peter responded, a little dryly. "I'll listen to the recording you have from yesterday, whenever I can get a copy. Do you also mind sending Clinton whatever you have?"

"Not a problem." Val paused and then added, "It's only our case temporarily after all." She smiled and the tone was sarcastic, but Peter could sense a slight note of bitterness as well. It wasn't the first time he'd felt a slight unspoken conflict from a local field office. Vermont wasn't unique to bristling at outsider agendas during a case than trespassed into local territories.

Damn right, Peter thought to himself, not reacting to her tone. They may temporarily be in their Vermont jurisdiction, but this was a White Collar case from beginning to end. Cyber had happily handed the reigns over and there was no going back or exchanging hands now. He ignored the politics and focused on the tasks ahead. "Is there a room here that we could use?"

She paused and looked at him quizzically. "A room you could use?" she repeated.

He felt a little puzzled by her reaction. "A conference room, or something. I mean, I'd rather Neal have somewhere quiet to record a statement." He felt it was a relatively standard request.

"Record…" she echoed. "Sorry, I think there's some confusion," she began slowly, shaking her head slightly. "But when you said he was going to give his account of the last few days, I thought we were on the same page."

"Meaning?" Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Meaning," she repeated patiently though with a hint of weariness, "that the account would be provided in a manner consistent with the others."

"The others…"

"Agents Riley and Thomas conducted the interviews with the other suspects yesterday. They're also fully up to speed on the inventory that was taken at the house." She paused. "In order to maintain consistency and obtain an impartial record, then I suggest any other parts of this case interrogation should also be—"

"Wait a minute."

"Yes?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Agent Clarke…" Peter interjected. Before continuing, he caught himself and paused. He took a moment to step further into her office. He glanced behind himself once again, taking in the distance of Diana and Neal briefly before gently closing the door behind himself, ensuring the discussion was private. "Before we continue, let's just make sure we get a few things straight."

Val looked at him expectantly. "Get a few things straight in what way, Agent Burke?"

"To start," Peter began, attempting to refrain from the aggravation he felt in his tone, "I want to remind you that Neal is not a suspect. He is a part of this case just like any one of us. And in that vein, this isn't an interrogation. It's not an interview. It's not any of the above. It's a statement. Nothing more, nothing less."

"A statement."

"That's right, Val. And if you treat it any other way, we're not proceeding right now."

"I respect that he's your CI, Peter," she responded. "Honestly, I do. And I know he's had a strenuous last few days. But in all due respect, I find in these situations it's better to have these … discussions... facilitated by someone a bit less partial. They know what's in the house, so they know what to ask in case something isn't mentioned… You're welcome to watch but in terms of participation—"

"He just needs to give a statement on the record," Peter persisted stiffly. "There's nothing to be partial about or otherwise. None of us were actually there."

"Given his position as a CI, I'm sure he's not unfamiliar with some questioning, Peter…"

"That's not relevant," Peter responded rigidly. "Not today."

She sighed. "Agents Riley and Thomas have the appropriate supporting evidence from the house, and from the other suspects' statements," Val continued. "To see if there is any corroboration, or something in the details we otherwise might miss, I have to insist, Peter. It's not that I think you can't get the same information they can. I just think they might be able to supplement the interrog…uh, the discussion to get more context. They know what to ask."

Peter could feel his blood pressure start to rise. The continued use of the phrase 'the other suspects' rubbed him the wrong way; perhaps he was being too sensitive but he felt it implied Neal was in that category. And her implication that he could not get the same level of information from Neal as her agents was ridiculous. Not to mention, if they thought for a second that they could talk to Neal like he was anything other than an equal member of the team…

Ensuring Neal was treated like an equal was always something Peter looked out for. It took time and effort to ensure it. It was an investment, and sometimes more than he had originally bargained for. With his own team, it had been easier. With other agents, there was still sometimes a challenge… Neal never raised it himself, which also bothered Peter because he could never be sure he'd addressed all issues, but the overall New York office had quickly learned Neal was off limits, particularly when Burke was around. He was now in a different office, and didn't know their opinion, but could only assume based on the challenge of semantics he'd faced with the supervising agent now and during the last few days.

"There's also a matter of the police," Val continued before Peter could respond.

"The police?" Peter frowned. "In what way?"

"They need a statement as well. They were called to the scene, both to the house and to where Neal was located, and they have their own paperwork to address. A firearm was involved and—"

"Fine. I'll take care of that." Peter waved his hand dismissively. "I called them, I directed them. I can take care of that."

Val nodded. "That would be great. Thanks." She paused. "And, Peter…. Neal is clearly an important member of your team. I don't mean to imply otherwise. There are just certain protocols and formalities that we follow to ensure we're getting the best of our system. If you know what I mean."

Peter stiffened at the comments slightly. The best of the system, he repeated silently in his head. "Listen, Val. Neal's going to give the same statement regardless of which way we go."

"I don't discount that," she said, somewhat agreeably. "But if you don't mind, I'd rather we follow the protocol we have in place."

"Meaning you'd prefer Riley and Thomas facilitate?" He reminded himself to pick his battles, squashing the rising anger the best he could, and channeling calmness. Forcing it. She sounded genuine enough and he had to not read into it further. He knew that. So he forced himself to react with composure. He tried to imagine what Hughes would advise in this scenario, and he could immediately envision his supervisor telling him that he was overreacting. He was being too protective. He had to give Val and her agents the benefit of the doubt. They were equally invested in the case, and they just wanted to collect information in a consistent, documented manner. That didn't imply anything against Neal.

So while he felt a surge of annoyance, he finally shrugged. It was just a statement. He would watch. He would make sure it went according to his rules. He would interfere the moment it didn't, and hopefully it wouldn't come to that. "Fine, Val. Not a problem. If that's what you want, I'll just observe."

"It's not what I want," she responded. "It's what makes sense given their current proximity to the case. Besides, I'm sure given the events of the last twenty-four hours, you've got some catch-up to do anyway."

"Caught up pretty well last night," Peter responded stiffly, nodding down at the case files tucked under his arm. "But sure. Like I said, there's no issue." And you better not make one, he thought.

Neal lifted his coffee cup to his lips and tilted it, draining the rest of the now lukewarm liquid into his mouth while carefully watching Peter and his interaction with this other female agent in the short distance from them. He swallowed down the bitter liquid with a gulp. Diane was making small talk with him, and he was trying to pay attention, nodding or giving one-word answers as needed, but his real attention was on the interaction several feet away. It was something else to focus on besides the other narratives in his head. A welcomed distraction.

His mind was otherwise still focused on the unseen news from that morning, and the fact there wasn't a single television in sight at this office. Finding something else to focus on was a momentary respite.

He observed immediately that both Peter and Val's posture indicated a less than desirable working relationship. While he kept his eyes on them, he took a few steps over to lean tiredly against an empty desk in the bullpen that was a close enough distance to them, easing some of the weight off his feet.

"I should introduce you to Agnes," Diana was saying. She stood casually, arms crossed over her chest.

Neal nodded like he was fully paying attention. "Who's Agnes?" he asked politely. Peter's back was to him, and he was blocking a clear view of Val, so reading lips was not a possibility. He continued to watch carefully, waiting for their angle to perhaps shift.

"She helped locate you," Diana replied.

"Locate me?" At that comment Neal looked up, frowning at Diana slightly. "What do you mean?"

"She was the one able to trace the call," Diana continued. "So that we could locate you." Then she smirked slightly. "Well, for the most part anyway… Did Peter tell you how he actually knew where the house was?"

Neal shook his head slowly, uncertain whether he had heard this. He couldn't recall. He and Peter hadn't really talked about any of that. That he could remember anyway. "No. I don't think so."

"Probably because he doesn't want it going to your head," Diana said with a small laugh. "Maybe I shouldn't say."

"What?" Neal's brow furrowed. He had no idea where Diana could be going with this.

"Well, apparently you lifted a wallet off of this Messier guy back when you guys first caught up with him at his office?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Sound familiar?"

Neal paused, frowning slightly. "Yes," he admitted. He recalled after the events of the stakeout, tossing the wallet to Peter in his own office and then bolting for safer territory. In the scheme of things, Peter had never really gotten that angry over it, at least relatively speaking.

"Well, Peter happened to think of that when Agnes was only able to narrow your phone call down to a certain geographic radius…" Diana continued. "Turned out, the address on the ID in the wallet was the house. He called Jones, got the address, and… bingo. Minutes later we were in the driveway. I guess sometimes crime does pay. But do not tell Peter I said that to you."

Neal swallowed, frowning a bit. "So if I hadn't stolen that wallet, you wouldn't have found the house," he said slowly, pitch monotonous. Would that have mattered? he thought. He called Peter from the other location shortly thereafter anyway…

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Neal… No. We would have found the house. Trust me. Just maybe not so quickly." She eyed his sullen face and let out a frustrated sigh. "You know, I thought I'd actually get a laugh from you about that, Neal… That's the only reason I mentioned it. Lighten up."

"Lighten up… Well, I guess it's good I escaped on my own then," Neal responded dryly. "Rather than waiting for you guys." He didn't know why he felt the need to make the somewhat resentful comment. He knew it wasn't Diana's fault, any of this, and it didn't do any good.

"Neal…" she started. She rolled her eyes. "Come on."

"Is that why Peter was shopping when I called him?" Neal persisted. He realized he'd never raised that point to Peter, neither in observation or accusation. It hadn't occurred to him until now. He suddenly felt a slight rise in his feeling of cynicism. It wasn't at Peter necessarily, or Diana, who was now simply trying to make light small talk, but at the whole situation.

"Is what why?" Diana asked skeptically. "You do realize the man left the city with nothing but the clothes on his back when your signal got lost, right?" Diana answered, a little defensively. "He's been beating himself up that he wasn't here in the office exactly when you called, but if that bothers you so much, then you can blame me for that. He needed a few things and—"

"Doesn't matter." Neal knew he had to stop where this discussion was going. He shouldn't have started it. Making these comments to Diana was not going to solve anything. It didn't involve her, and he was best suited to be quiet while he figured out his own feelings and next steps.

"Apparently it does," Diana responded cynically. "If your expression says anything."

Neal didn't respond, instead just tightening his expression. It had been silly to allow his walls to come down for this. He didn't want to talk to Diana about these details. About any of it. But before he could say so, his eyes caught Val's office door suddenly closing shut with both Peter and Val behind it. He studied the back of the wooden door as he grew slightly concerned. Closed door discussions were never good.

"What's that about?" he asked warily, glancing from the door back to Diana. He was thankful for the change in subject but now increasingly cautious.

Diana turned to view the office. She shrugged. "That… Well, that could be anything. They haven't exactly been best of friends, if you were to ask me…" she responded slowly. "Professionally cordial, I would say."

"Why?"

Diana shrugged. "Let's chalk it up to… local office politics and some differences in opinion? I don't know."

"Meaning you'd rather not say."

"No, I actually think that says a lot." Diana raised an eyebrow at him. "And I'd rather stay politically correct if you don't mind." She paused. "Ask Peter if you're so curious."

Neal didn't push further. Diana clearly didn't know what the conversation could be about either, and Neal's mind was actively running through potential scenarios despite the fact he didn't want to consider any of them. They all scared him.

"So do you want to meet Agnes?" Diana asked.

Neal shrugged. He knew Diana was trying to be polite, and he was thankful she wasn't backtracking to the other topics, but he really had no interest. "Not really. With the exception of Peter, I tend to avoid those who make a career of tracking down people like me…" he said slowly.

Diana smirked slightly at the response. "Fair enough, Neal. I can understand that. She was a big help though. Despite Peter scaring the hell out of her."

"Sometimes he does that," was all Neal responded. Leaning against the desk was becoming tiring. He pushed himself up to slide back to actually sit on the surface of the desk, allowing his legs to dangle above the ground and give his feet further respite. He was tired of standing. He'd been standing for days.

Diana didn't respond further at first, as she studied Neal briefly. He looked tired, and while all his answers had been responsive and genial enough, the underlying tone was muted, and so was his energy. His comments about their effort to find him, something she brought up in an attempt to be lighthearted, were all somewhat negative. He now shifted in his position on the desk, and the wince on his face was obvious. "You feel okay?" she asked.

"Yes," he responded to her instinctively. His eyes remained on Val's door. He paused and added, "Why?"

She shrugged, glancing down at the way his hands toyed with the empty coffee cup in his hands. "Just asking. You don't look so comfortable."

"I'm fine." He looked dismissive of the question. But a brief moment later he looked at her, as though eye contact might squash the questioning. He attempted a change in topic yet again. "Were any of the paintings at the house?"

"Your paintings?"

"Any paintings."

"Yes," she acknowledged. "They were wrapping them all up as part of evidence… A lot of records too. Did Peter tell you?"

"Not the details," Neal answered slowly. Peter had referenced the house being full of evidence, but Neal hadn't questioned it further.

"Well… If you consider all the supporting substantiating details we've been trying to pinpoint on these guys for the last week," Diana continued. "You basically led us right to it and more. This should be a slam dunk from here."

Slam dunk, Neal repeated in his mind, though he didn't respond. He was watching Val's door again, which was now slowly opening. Peter and Val were emerging, tones hushed as they concluded their conversation.

"That's fine," Peter was saying, nodding to Val. "We can do that." His expression was somewhat subdued. The case files were still tucked under his arm.

"Great. Thanks." Val gave a tight smile. She glanced over to Diana and Neal briefly, her eyes lingering on Neal for a moment, making short-lived eye contact, before she then looked back at Peter. "The local police will be here in about a half hour."

Peter nodded again, and didn't respond further as Val walked way down the hall without another word.

At that moment, Neal suddenly felt time stop, as though the entire world instantaneously froze over. The words rang in his ears, over and over. The local police will be here in a half hour. He felt his vision blur as a cold wave washed over him. He tried to concentrate but immediately all he could think about was the newscast that morning, and what the rest of the story must have covered. He wouldn't know what had been presented nor what evidence they had. But obviously it was something. If the police were coming, then they knew. That's why the door had been closed. That's what they had talked about.

He slowly raised his eyes towards Peter, who had had approached them. He was standing just a couple feet away, and he was saying something to Diana. Neal tried to gauge his expression, and tried to hear his words, but he was having a hard time. Neal couldn't hear them because his ears were buzzing. Peter hadn't actually looked at him. What if he was telling Diana – that this was it. Diana would turn and look at him. They both would. They would stare at him in disappointment and derision.

He couldn't stand to see that. So instead he looked around. Left and right. There was the entrance they had come through. There was also an emergency exit down to the far right. And Val had gone down to the other side of the floor to the left. Maybe there was another entrance down there.

He could still potentially find a way out.

Is that what he wanted? To just leave? He told himself, yes, because once the police were here, that was it. There was no going back. And he refused to go down like that. Not before he could explain himself to Peter.

But if he left like that, he wasn't allowing himself to explain to Peter. He was creating more to explain, or taking the opportunity away altogether.

Why wasn't Peter saying anything now? That was driving Neal a bit crazy. If he knew, wouldn't he react? Or was he purposefully not, to avoid him panicking? Were they going to play it cool until backup was here? Peter had never needed backup before…

He found himself clenching his hands, a nervous exertion of energy. His one hand crushed the empty coffee cup that was in his grip, and he looked down at it in slight surprise, having forgotten he was even still holding it.

"Neal," Peter spoke.

Neal looked up, the voice cutting through his reverie. The tone was too calm. Peter's face was too stoic. "Why are the police coming?" Neal asked him, schooling his own expression and tone to be similarly composed but unable to withhold the question. It fell off his tongue before he could even reconsider.

"They just need to talk to me…" Peter answered slowly. "You don't have to worry about that. But speaking of talking, Neal—"

"I need to go to the bathroom," Neal interjected abruptly. Speaking of talking was not a phrase he wanted finished and it was the first interruption he could think of.

Now both Peter and Diana's eyes were on him. Self-conscious, he slowly slid off the desk to his feet, standing by them cautiously. He wanted to ask which bathroom was closest to the exit. But that would be too suspect. Instead he simply asked, "Where is it?"

Peter regarded him briefly, as though considering saying something else first, but then nodded his head towards the far wall behind them. "Go down that hall on the far side of this room. To the right and then the door will be on your left."

Neal nodded. As he turned away, ready to disappear even if briefly, he froze again at Peter's voice.

"Neal. You sure you're okay?" The voice was a mix of concern and curiosity.

Neal turned back slowly, channeling forcefully all the calm he could, and gave both Peter and Diana a 'look' that was followed by an eye roll. "Yes. Can you please both stop asking me that?"

With that he walked away.

Peter dropped the case files he'd had tucked under his arm onto the desk Neal had just vacated with a sigh. They fell onto the surface with a thud. "He's not okay," he said to no one in particular once Neal was across the room and out of hearing distance.

Diana, being the only one present, simply nodded, responding whether the comment had been rhetorical or not. "He's acting a bit strange."

Peter glanced at her before returning his eyes to the retreating figure of his CI. "What were you guys talking about?"

She shrugged. "Not much. A little about the process to find him… But he just seems… distracted." She paused. "A little negative. I don't know. I mean, you shared a room with him all night. How was he?"

"Not okay…" Peter simply said again, tone cryptic.

"You think something else happened while he was in that basement?" Diana asked with a frown.

Peter ran a hand over his jaw, eyes focused on the entrance to the hall Neal had just disappeared down. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But I need to find out."

Neal did find and enter the bathroom first, at least keeping true to that statement and his initial excuse to step away. He tossed the empty, abused coffee cup into the trashcan by the door once inside, and then did a quick check to confirm the stalls were empty. Next he paced a little bit across the tile floor, running his hands through his hair. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed his concern that he looked guilty, and he tried to straighten his features.

Get it together, Caffrey, he told himself. He found his pulse was pounding, and he could feel it in his extremities. He particularly felt it in his shoulder, where the wound beneath the bandage was throbbing.

He suddenly felt surrounded. He felt like Mozzie must at any time he came close to the office in New York. Neal was surrounded by Federally-owned walls and there were other law enforcement agents on the way. He unexpectedly was reminded of how he felt the first time he'd been really caught, and knew it was all over. That was proceeded by a trial and then the rest was history. But that time when he got caught, really caught, even though he'd known it was over, he didn't really realize at the time what that actually meant. Not until the real sentencing happened. And then it really was like walls had slammed down around him, figuratively and then eventually literally.

This time there was no denial. He knew what being locked up felt like. He knew what it really meant to have your wings clipped. As much as Mozzie claimed his current arrangement was one of servitude, it was different. It still had a sense of being unfettered. It was different than being on the inside. Far different. He knew what it felt like when there was time left to serve, and when time got added, and then the unknown.

He was then met by a wave of nausea.

He wasn't sure what caused it. Perhaps it was the horrible, bitter coffee that Diana had provided, the last of which he'd swallowed down ill-advisedly on an empty stomach. Or perhaps it was the thoughts that were tormenting him, including the horrible scenario analysis that was currently running through his mind, reminding him of a choose-your-own-adventure book that only had bad endings and the pages were torn out one you progressed, not allowing you to go back and start over.

The nausea built and he tried to swallow it back, but couldn't. He found himself rushing into one of the stalls and dropping to his knees before he lost the contents of his stomach. In heaving, disgusted with himself, his ribs screamed in excruciating pain as his stomach and chest rose in and out in spasms. He suddenly had a flashback to the basement, and the last time he'd been sick like this, alone and reflecting on the dark room and solitude in captivity.

For a moment he was lost again in that darkness, the filthy burn of bile in the back of his throat.

Eventually the heaving subsided, but the pain didn't, and he sat back on his heels with deep, gasping breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. He had a bitter taste in his mouth, and he knew he had to pull himself together. The whole purpose of today, in being here, had just been to make a statement. That was it. To talk about the last three days, and to provide evidence to close the case.

But now? Now that police were going to be involved? He'd known this was a possibility. Had slightly been in denial though fearful of it.

Neal started to think strategically. He'd been willing to offer information about his time at the house. It would help the case. But he now started to wonder if he should hold that information hostage in case it meant leverage in negotiating the terms against everything else he had done. Negotiating deals could be a very advantageous option.

He mulled that over only for seconds before realizing it wouldn't work. He knew it wouldn't. Diana had just said the case was now a 'slam dunk', simply from what they had found at the house.

He then grew suspicious. Then why did they even need his statement? They didn't. They actually had what they needed already. If the house was such a goldmine, his statement was superfluous. Maybe this was a trick.

Would Peter trick him? No, he told himself. No. He wouldn't. He hoped not.

He slowly rose, breathing normalized, and ran his hands over his face. He wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to rid himself of the taste of sickness. He reached to flush the toilet, averting his eyes from its contents, and backed out of the stall, the door of which he'd never closed. He felt thankful no one had entered the bathroom.

He walked out across the tiles again, feeling the buzz of anxiety mixed with residual nausea and pain as he approached the sink. He glanced at himself in the mirror and grimaced at the sight of reddened eyes and flushed complexion. Quickly he turned on the faucet and tried to remedy that, splashing water on his face, and then cupping his hands to bring water to his lips. He rinsed out his mouth, spitting, and then looked at his reflection again. He closed his eyes shut, willing the redness to lessen.

As his eyes were closed, he visualized the exits he had scanned the floor for just a minutes before.

In his mind, he clearly had a few options. He could deny the realm of possibility that any suspicion would be raised against him, and continue with the plan to just give a statement on what had taken place at the house. This was risky. And possibly a trap, since they clearly didn't need his statement to make leeway on the case anyway.

He could leave the building now. To go where, he wasn't sure. But he could easily leave the bathroom, turn down a hall, and find an exit. This would put him back into a similar circumstance to that of the gas station, with little resources other than the cell phone in his pocket, currently with a dead battery, and no plan in sight.

No, Neal, he told himself. Running isn't always the option.

His other alternative was the same from before: to tell Peter everything before he found out himself. But he was afraid he might already know, or would become too angry. This was also risky.

He decided to test the possibilities of option two. He wasn't sure he wanted to pursue it, as his mind told him it was a bad idea and he knew from his dreams that the option of being on the lam had negative consequences. But none of the alternatives were seeming too desirable at this point, and the least he could do was test if this was even an option.

He reopened his eyes, staring once more at the reflection in the mirror. You can do this, he told himself. Just a test.

Resolved in his decision, he made his way for the bathroom door.

He exited into the hallway easily, looking left and right slowly. He initially focused on where he had walked from, the direction that would lead him back to Peter and Diana. They were likely waiting for him, even talking about him. Was Peter telling Diana everything he knew? About the police and what had been uncovered?

The exits he had spotted before all involved walking back in that direction and potentially being spotted.

He looked down the hall in the other direction. The hall continued, and he was fairly certain there would be another exit on that side. But this was a Federal building. Any entrance that wasn't the main one likely would have an alarm on it, for use in emergencies only.

He looked back towards his first option, and towards the other end of the hall, which would lead back to the main entrance of the building they had come from. That was likely the only option, despite that it would require him to risk being seen.

He started to walk that direction, taking a deep breath, which simply caused more strain against his bruised ribs. He looked out of the corner of his eye across the room as he came back up against its perimeter, looking slyly towards the side of the bullpen Peter and Diana had been. While not allowing himself to turn his head, he could make out their figures in the same place as before, still in conversation.

Pushing his luck, he kept walking, with deliberate and swift steps, silent across the carpet despite all the noise in his head.

He only made it ten feet down that hallway, not even a fifth of the way to the entrance, when his luck ran out.

"Where you are going?" came Peter's voice.

Neal paused mid-step, hearing the voice from surprisingly close behind him and picking up on the slight impatience this time in Peter's tone. Neal kept his back to him for a moment, thinking, and then he slowly turned, ensuring his features were composed and relaxed. He hoped his eyes were less red. "I need air," he explained with a shrug, as though it were an obvious explanation.

Peter had been mid-conversation with Diana, attention still partially focused on the end of the room where Neal had turned down the hall, when he'd caught sight of the younger man coming back. He'd expected Neal to simply return to them, and hadn't even paused in his discussion with Diana, but found himself quickly frowning when Neal never even turned to regard them, simply walking straight past as though focused on something else.

With that he broke off his conversation with Diana, telling her to give him a minute, and ignoring her confused look, quickly moved to jog in the direction of his CI.

When he called out to ask where he was going, Peter couldn't help but notice how Neal froze more as though in surprise of being seen, almost like he felt 'caught', rather than simply turning and registering the question. When he did turn around, after what seemed like hesitation, his expression was clearly trying to convey casual and relaxed. Peter saw through it immediately. Past the forced nonchalance on his face, he could pick up the hint of a frown and the reddened eyes were hard to miss. His hair looked slightly wet as well.

The rationale of needing 'air,' voiced so glibly like there was nothing to it, was also not something Neal would say. So Peter studied him, feeling slightly skeptical and moreso suspicious. "Air, Neal?"

"Fresh air," Neal supplied. "I was just going to step outside."

Peter shook his head. "You can't just walk outside, Neal," he told him, while trying to figure out what might possibly be going on in Neal's head. Was it something about the case? Being here?

"Why not?" Neal tried to play it cool.

"Because you know you can't." Peter felt a little frustrated. "You don't have ID to come back inside," he explained, before Neal could object, like that was an adequate reason why he couldn't leave the building. "You came in with us."

Neal seemed to consider this. "I never got my wallet back," was all he responded instead. "Do they have it?"

Peter raised his eyebrows. "The wallet you had only contained Willy's information, Neal. You keen to turn into him again?"

Peter meant the comment in slight jest, but the look on Neal's face made it clear he didn't take it that way. While his expression remained muted, it was as though all the color suddenly drained from his face. He looked slightly like a deer in headlights. Peter's concern heightened, and took a step closer to him. "Hey. What's wrong? You want to sit down, Neal?"

Neal responded with a defensive shake of his head, and then took a cautious step back. "No," he responded. "I'm fine."

Peter frowned at him. "You sure? You don't look like you're feeling too well." Something wasn't right. Whether it was related to the night before or something else, Peter didn't know. That morning Neal had said very little, uncharacteristically more focused on the television at the hotel than the actual present, and this behavior was continuing to point to him being preoccupied with something. Or maybe in pain? He considered that for a moment. After all, the kid had been shot and his torso looked like he'd participated in a weeklong fight club. Could it be that? Before he could ask, Neal spoke again.

"Peter," he started slowly, voice still casual though there was a hint of something there, slight tentativeness. "When you said before that we might go home today, you meant home home, right?"

Peter's frown deepened. What the hell sort of question was that? But Neal was looking at him carefully, as though ready to evaluate whatever the answer might be. "Neal, what other home would I mean?" he replied simply.

"Okay. Well is that still the case?"

"Yes, it's still the case. Why wouldn't it be?" Peter responded, brow furrowing. Maybe Neal just wanted to go home, Peter told himself. Maybe he was concerned about the case dragging on here. He watched Neal take another slow step away, puzzled by that cautious move away from him, and without waiting for a response, he continued a little impatiently. "Like I told you before, I can't guarantee it, Neal. But I want to go home as much as you do, trust me."

"And you wouldn't just say that if you knew something else was going to happen, right?"

Peter couldn't help but feel a bit exasperated. Where were these questions coming from? One trip to the bathroom and now Neal looked like he was having second thoughts even being in the building. "What else is going to happen, Neal?" He watched the younger man carefully as he didn't respond. "Neal," he repeated his name sternly, trying to keep his voice more concerned than aggravated. "Ten minutes ago I told Val we were going to go ahead with a statement from the last few days, and now you're making me regret I even brought you here. What's the matter?" He watched Neal take another step backwards, and then slightly rolled his eyes. "Neal, why are you backing away? If you take another step away from me, I swear to God…" He shook his head. "What's with all the questions?"

Neal then stood still, but looked as though it was taking self-restraint to do so. "I'm just making sure I know what's going to happen," he said slowly.

Peter continued to eye Neal carefully, unsure of what to make of the cryptic discussion. "Jason's not here," he told him. "You won't see him."

"I know," Neal acknowledged.

So it wasn't that, Peter thought to himself slowly. He took a few steps forward to approach the younger man, erasing the small distance Neal had not so subtly created. Then he sighed. "Tell me what you want me to explain," he requested patiently. He was suddenly reminded of when Neal was more inexperienced in this role. While nothing close to naïve, he'd been more tentative in a federal setting surrounded by suits, and had often accumulated lists of questions, silently saved until finally asked what was on his mind, all while trying to follow a course of activities and protocol that Peter soon realized he took for granted.

Neal was quiet at the question.

"What else can I explain?" Peter asked again, raising his eyebrows.

"Nothing," Neal responded, tone a bit uncertain. He met Peter's eye briefly but then looked down the hallway. "That's okay."

"You sure?"

Neal nodded.

Peter was pretty certain his demeanor had to do with something else that was bothering him. The something that would explain last night, this morning, the quietness, the distraction… "You're thinking of something, Neal," he stated factually. "Did something else happen that you don't want to talk about?"

"At the house?" Neal asked slowly.

"At the house, with Jason, or anywhere," Peter persisted. If he were home, this is where he'd pull Neal into his office, or somewhere, and sit him down. Neal's behavior was begging to be questioned. But they weren't home, and this wasn't their terrain. He had no where private to do this. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about last night? Look, if something happened—"

"Hey, Boss," came the interruption from Diana at that moment as she found them in the hall, her expression looking insistent.

Peter gave her a slightly exasperated look without meaning too, and then glanced back at Neal. "What is it, Diana?"

"Sorry to interrupt," she started, looking between the two men, seemingly sensing the tension, before focusing back on Peter. "But the officers that Val mentioned? They just arrived, and they've got something that you're going to want to hear."

"They arrived?" Neal asked in incredulity, voicing rising. "How?" He looked perplexed. "Is there another entrance?"

Peter and Diana both observed him questionably, and he noticeably quieted.

"Where are they?" Peter asked Diana.

"They're gathering in the conference room," Diana continued. "I told Val I'd let you know."

Peter nodded. "We'll be right there."

She nodded and then left them, walking out of the hall back towards the other side of the room.

Peter turned back to Neal, trying to collect his thoughts and return back to the statement he'd been about to make before. About what could have happened. He'd been about to make some sort of rationale statement, to get Neal to focus and to—

"I can wait out here," Neal suggested, speaking first. "You go ahead."

"Neal…" Peter shook his head slowly. "No. You can sit next to me in the conference room."

"I don't need to."

"It's about the case, Neal," Peter interjected, frowning at him and the uncertainty on his face. Until going undercover on this case, Neal had been thirsty for more details pertaining to it. What was with the distancing now? "Don't you want to hear what they have to say?"

Neal hesitated. "Yes, Peter, but…"

"But what?" Peter persisted. "What is it? You're part of this case, Neal." He wanted no semblance of anything but Neal being part of the case. Neal sitting any of it out, whether he wanted to or not being a different story, could give Val or her team an impression that Neal wasn't equally allowed access to information, and that couldn't be further from the truth. If it appeared that way before they spoke to him, it could set the wrong precedent.

"Fine," Neal responded, though seemingly reluctant. "I'm part of the case, but you don't really need my statement anymore, Peter. After this."

Peter's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?" Here was this cryptic verbiage again, where clearly Neal was processing something and speaking only to the parts he needed verbal confirmation on.

"I mean my part is done. Right? Diana said they found everything they needed in the house. Records and anything else to nail them. She called it a slam dunk. So after this, if I talk—"

"Neal. Look. Let's do this after," Peter interrupted, a little impatiently. "I don't know what this is, but you're part of the case. Period." He paused. "I know there's something you haven't told me, and if this is about that—"

"Peter, come on…." Neal said his name with a sudden sly smile. "There's years of things I haven't told you."

Peter stepped closer and put his hands on Neal's forearms. "Stop." He noticed the unspoken wince and loosened his hand on the side of the injured shoulder. "Look, you and I both know that there's something from this case specifically that you haven't told me, is that right?" He waited, eyes locking with the deep blue orbs inches from him, and finally got a nod in response. "Why?"

Neal hesitated. He looked down at the hands on his arms. "Peter…"

"I thought we were past keeping things from each other, Neal," Peter said insistently. "We've got this case in a great place. What is it?"

Neal nodded his head towards the other room. "Don't you think they're waiting for you, Peter?" he asked.

"And they can wait," Peter responded firmly. "Is it something to do with you and Jason, Neal?"

"No." Neal shook his head gently.

"Something that happened with Jason?" Peter felt maybe hypothesizing would spark some sort of admittance. "You can tell me if it is."

"No, Peter," Neal replied adamantly.

"Something that happened before this case?"

"No," Neal insisted.

"Then what?" Peter asked in exasperation. "Neal, I can't just play twenty questions with you. I didn't push you last night, but I can't keep doing this. If something happened, then you need to tell me."

Neal wriggled his arms away from the hold, which Peter easily released, and stepped away. "I want to tell you," he admitted earnestly.

"Then tell me." Peter paused, searching the younger man's face. "Did you do something?" he asked doubtfully. He felt Neal was acting cagey, like he was hiding something, but he couldn't figure out why. This was like the evening before all over again. But what could it be? The last three days had been completely in the line of duty, and had led to them nabbing Messier and Jason. What could he possibly be hiding?

He was surprised when Neal suddenly nodded. He frowned. "What, Neal? What'd you do?" At Neal's increasingly hesitant look, he glanced in the direction towards where Diana had walked a few minutes ago. He knew they were probably waiting for them in the conference room. "Listen – let's see what they have to say and then you and I are going to talk."

"But I should tell you before they do," Neal responded. His eyes also looked towards the other end of the room.

"They?" Peter echoed. "Who's they?"

"The police," Neal responded slowly. "I'm not sure if they know, but if they do… then I should tell you now."

Peter felt something twist in his gut. The words didn't make sense, but Neal said them in a heartfelt way that made him wonder. "Neal, what are you talking about? If I knew it wasn't impossible, I'd swear you're still under the influence of something from the hospital."

"I'm not."

"I know. But are you okay?" Neal didn't respond, and Peter shook his head. "Okay. Come on. Let's go to the conference room and then we'll talk."

"Wait. Listen." Neal took a deep breath. "Before I called you," he started slowly. "I almost didn't." He paused, taking another breath. "When I got out of the woods, after leaving the house, I'd been running a while, and what I started to do next… That's what I want to tell you."

Peter just stared at him incredulously. Neal had allegedly run four miles from the house to where he had been found. The phone call had been surreal, as was finally seeing him in person. All of that felt like distant memory. What the hell else was he alluding to? The gun? Peter knew he'd had a gun. Is this what it was about? Had he forgotten him taking it from him?

"First, I went to the gas station," Neal started. "There was a woman there. With her kids. I didn't have any money."

Peter listened distractedly, wondering where all of this was going. "Neal, I don't know where you're going with this, but we can talk about it after we hear what the police have to say."

"No, just let me finish." Neal shook his head persistently. "Just listen. I feel worse about what happened afterwards," Neal continued. He began to ramble slightly, tone getting a little faster as though just trying to get the words out. "After that, there was a car. And it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I don't know exactly where I thought I'd go from there, but it just seemed like the only option at the time." He shook his head again. "But then I changed my mind. It's interesting that when I dream about it, I didn't change my mind, and that's where—"

"Dream?" Peter interrupted the rambling, which was confusing him, and repeated the word. "Is this what you were dreaming about last night?" Now it was starting to make sense. At the hospital Neal had started to have some sort of dreams, and that had persisted into the evening before. Enough to wake him up a few times in some sort of night terror. Is that what was bothering him? Whatever had happened in the dream? "Neal, it's fine. That's all a dream. That's not real."

Neal frowned and looked a little surprised. "What? No, it is. It is real. Peter, I'm trying to tell you what happened."

"I get it," Peter responded. He reached out and put a hand on Neal's good shoulder, squeezing lightly. He glanced again towards the other room. "We've got to hear what the police have to say, Neal. We've kept them waiting. Then we'll talk about this. We can even talk about it before you talk to them."

Neal looked a little startled. "Before I talk to who?"

"The statement we talked about." Peter used the grip he had on his shoulder to pull Neal gently towards him, frowning at the concerned look on his face. "Calm down. Whatever it is, it's just a dream, Neal. Don't worry about it."

"But it's not just a dream, Peter," Neal insisted.

"Neal, enough…" Peter persisted, starting to steer him towards the other room. He shifted his arm, moving his hand to the small of his back and keeping close enough to ensure they kept walking in the right direction, towards the conference room at the other end of the floor. He could feel the rigidity in Neal's frame, particularly as they moved further across the floor. He was becoming more resistant to moving in that direction.

Finally, he paused, stopping and turning to face the younger man. "What is it, Neal?" he asked pointedly, a little exasperatedly. "The police? Val? You haven't even met her. And we already clarified that Jason isn't here."

"It's not that," Neal objected.

"Then what?" Peter asked impatiently. "What are you afraid of?"

Neal eyed him for a moment, unblinking, and then sputtered out, "You."

"What? Me?" Peter repeated incredulously, raising his eyebrows. "Why me?"

"Because it isn't a dream," Neal persisted. "You're going to realize that."

Peter took a deep breath and then just rolled his eyes. "Neal…"

Neal opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, they both spotted Diana walking towards them again.

"Everyone's gathered and they're going to give the update," Diana said as she approached, looking at them slightly expectantly. "You guys ready?"

Peter nodded, giving Neal a quick once over, and stating, "Yes," for the both of him. He gently took Neal by the arm and tugged gently. "Let's go," he said in a low tone. "You and I will talk after." He ignored the deep sigh he heard Neal exhale.