They watched the video Peter had stolen from Luntz on the screen in the conference room. Up from a corner in the room they saw Luntz and Stanzler, and the latter describing in detail about the energy coup.

Luntz was less enthusiastic, Peter admitted, but he on the other hand made sure the scene was filmed, and naturally he did not want to incriminate himself.

The kid stood up and stopped the video.

"This is what was on the drive," Neal told the assembled. "Luntz recorded this meeting and kept his mouth shut, even though, we believe, he went on to participate."

"On Saturday," Peter continued, "Stanzler's trying to bring in this man to sweeten the pot." He changed the image on the screen to show an image from East Coast Hydloelectric's web page where the CEO had his photo.

"Chip Wheelock," Jones said. "Senior manager at East Coast Hydroelectric."

"With someone at the power plant able to flip the switch," Peter said, "they'll be able to escalate their plan."

"That means more blackouts," Diana noted.

"Not if we stop them." And he was certain they would. "I've been invited to an event as Neal," he said, and saw the kid smile, "so we can take advantage of this opportunity by slipping a video feed on Stanzler."

"How are we gonna do that?" Neal asked with a frown. Diana knew the answer to that.

"Brooke was able to get Stanzler's suit from the dry cleaner. We installed a camera in place of the lapel button."

Jones produced a suit in a dry cleaner's plastic bag.

"Check this out."

He got the feed from the camera on the screen and Diana smiled and waved for the camera. Peter saw the kid was impressed. In a weird way that made him proud of the FBI.

"Nice."

"Brooke will make sure that Stanzler's wearing that jacket," Peter said. "Jones, Diana, you'll be in the van."

"Always," Jones sighed.

"I like the van," Diana grinned.

"And, as a precaution, I'll be accompanying Elizabeth," his young pet convict said.

"As my wife's husband," Peter added. This was not odd at all. Diana chuckled. He sent Neal a grin.

Peter felt he had had enough of Neal as a federal agent and called Mozzie to help him pick the clothing for the occasion.

"It's a suit party," the funny guy said.

"Yes," Peter agreed, not sure if it was a question.

"So you want to wear a suit without looking like a Suit?"

Peter gave it a thought.

"That summons it up."

"Easy, Suit. Dark suit, but not black. Dark shirt. No tie."

"That's it?"

"That's it, Suit."

"Thanks." But Mozzie had already hung up.

Peter joined the party with a microphone and a hidden earpiece, just like Neal. He kept a reserved distance among the people he mingled with. He saw the kid by Elizabeth's side at the other end of the round hall. God, the kid still stood with his hands on his hips and pushing his chest out.

Stanzler and Brooke joined the party. He walked straight towards Elizabeth, the arranger of the party. Peter tried not to glare.

"I've got Stanzler's camera online," Jones said over his earpiece. "Anything Stanzler sees, we'll see."

Not that he thought that Stanzler would attack either El or Neal, but he found himself sliding closer.

"Neal, have you met Peter and Elizabeth Burke?" Stanzler asked all of a sudden when he came in range.

"Hi. Nice to meet you," the kid said, offering his hand. Peter shook it.

"Nice to meet you."

"This is my lovely wife, Elizabeth." Peter shook her hand, too, and she could barely keep from laughing. How he loved her!

"You married up," he said to Neal, looking into the eyes of the woman he wanted to die with at old age.

"You telling me," the kid answered.

"I could use a drink right now." If he was supposed to be Neal, he could at least take the opportunity to drink on the job.

"Yes, I'll have one, too," the kid agreed.

"Yeah, me too."

A waitress appeared with a tray full of glasses. They grabbed a glass each.

"Thank you."

"Mr. Stanzler," Brooke said by her boss' shoulder. "Mr. Luntz is here."

Peter turned and saw Luntz and the supermodel Mrs. Luntz arrive in the hall. He exchanged a quick look with Neal.

"Want to help me out here for a second?" Stanzler asked and pulled him along by his arm.

"Yeah, you're the boss."

Stanzler stopped by a group of women.

"Ladies having fun?"

Peter saw the Luntz split up in different directions. The ladies smiled and flattered Stanzler, but he seemed totally deaf to their charms.

"Excuse us, ladies." Stanzler moved away from them and in the same direction as Luntz had walked.

"What are we doing?" Peter requested.

"Your assignment."

Peter lingered to get a few steps behind.

"Everyone hear that?" he mumbled. "Showtime."

"Copy that, Peter," Jones returned.

He followed Stanzler down the stairs and passed two glass doors that said 'Stanzler gallery.' It was a long hall filled with display cases from the floor to the ceiling.

Peter hoped that Stanzler had no idea that Neal Caffrey had a huge interest in art because Peter could see no connection between the various items.

"You donated all this?"

"Yeah. I'd like you to babysit my friend." He continued into the hall and nodded down the ally of cases. "Francis there is not having a very good day."

Peter stared at the man strolling.

"That's my assignment? Babysit Luntz?"

"Yeah. I'll have more for you when I get back."

Stanzler left a baffled Peter with no further comments. Peter looked at Luntz, who did not pay him any attention. So he had a one to one with Luntz. For some reason.

He walked closer. Luntz saw him coming.

"A lot on your mind?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. Listen, I'm glad that Stanzler left us alone for a couple of minutes. I don't know what he told you, but I'm not interested. I mean, this thing... It's gotten way beyond what I ever imagined. You two... you do what you want... But I'm out. Sorry, Wheelock."

Luntz walked passed him towards the doors. 'Wheelock?'

"Wait. Francis." The man stopped and turned. "He told you I was Chip Wheelock?"

"Yeah. Are you not?"

Peter could only think of one reason why Stanzler would do that.

"Excuse me a minute." He hurried towards the double doors. "I know about your energy scheme with Stanzler."

"You what?!"

Peter yanked at the doors. They were locked just as he feared.

"He's planning to double-cross you."

"He... he can't do that," Luntz objected, laughing. "I have leverage over him."

Peter tried the other pair of doors at the end of the gallery. Locked too. How could he have been so blind to this trap?

"Actually, you don't," Peter told him straight to his face. "Stanzler had me break into your estate and steal the video."

"Who the hell are you?"

There was no time to explain.

"Jones," he said to his watch, "we're locked in the Stanzler gallery."

"On it," Jones answered. In the background, Peter heard a cell phone and Jones answering. Then Jones's voice came back: "Guys, another blackout's about to sweep through this sector."

"Diana," Peter said. "Find Elizabeth." He gazed at the lock. Open it could save their lives. He pulled out his set of lockpicks and got to work. It was a normal cylinder, just to keep visitors out when needed.

"Where's the team?" he asked.

"On their way in," he heard in his ear.

"Who you talking to?" Luntz asked.

"The FBI."

"Of course. Perfect."

"Stanzler told you that Wheelock would be here to lure you out."

"Why?"

"My guess? When the power goes out, he can circumvent the security cameras and come back here unnoticed."

"What's the point?" A totally innocent and naive question. Peter sent him a stern gaze, and he got the picture. "Oh, geez. He's gonna kill me."

"If I'm right, he's gonna try to kill us both." And this lock refused to play. "Who's got eyes on Stanzler?"

"All right. I see him," the kid answered. "He's on the far side of the room. I'm on him." Good. But he would still feel a lot safer to be out of this gallery. Peter handed Luntz his cell phone with the light on.

"Hold this. I wasn't trained to do this in the dark." It should not matter, it was all about what he felt with his picks, but right now, that thought did not help much.

"Peter, there's another light in that room," Jones told him. "It's Stanzler. He's got a gun."

Peter turned his head and saw a silhouette at the other end of the gallery. He covered the light in Luntz's hand and took his phone back. He ushered the man away from the door. It was lighter in the corridor outside, and they would be perfect targets.

"We're at the generator," he heard Diana's voice. "It's been disengaged."

"Can you turn it on?" Jones asked.

Peter's focus was on the small flashlight indicating where Stanzler was. If they could keep out of that light and move quietly, they could move to the other end of the gallery and out that way.

Moving in silence on a stone floor is not easy.

Stanzler fired towards the noise, and it was close. He continued to fire. Peter kept Luntz close, and he was quiet as a mouse.

"FBI! Drop it!" Neal's voice called out in the gallery as the lights came back on. Did his pet convict wave a badge? "You're surrounded, Stanzler."

Peter saw Stanzler aim his gun at the kid, and he made a move and swung the man down on the floor in one smooth maneuver, taking his gun at the same time.

He pointed the newly claimed gun at Stanzler.

"Like he said, FBI has you surrounded."

Stanzler stared at him, not getting the picture. Three more agents swarmed into the room. Peter felt he had done his job, leaving the cuffing to the agents. Neal grinned all over his face. Yeah, it felt good.

"You heard me," Luntz said behind him. "I wanted no part of it."

Peter sighed.

"I heard you," he agreed. He put his hand in his pocket, but of course, he had no cuffs there at the moment. He waved at one of the agents. "Cuff this one too."

"But you said you heard me!"

"I did. And I will testify what I heard if needed. But you're still a suspect of being part of this scheme."

Luntz gave up with no further protests.

Peter and Neal left the museum and watched Stanzler and Luntz being led away.

"I didn't know you had moves like that," Neal said.

"I didn't know I authorized a badge."

"Well, I needed one," the kid answered with no sense of knowing how serious the crime he committed was. "I was an FBI agent."

"Was."

"Was." It was something final about it. Neals's chest fell back, and his hands returned to his pockets. Peter's hands did the opposite.

"You enjoyed being me," he said and could hardly hide a smile.

"I admit there's a certain allure to your profession. How about you?"

Peter considered.

"Being Neal Caffrey has its charms."

"Ignoring convention? Embracing your ideas?"

"Yeah. And I do look good in black."

"You do."

But he also had to steal other people's property and lie.

"I have a feeling I had to work a lot harder fitting into your world than you did fitting into mine."

Neal disagreed.

"I don't know about that."

Yeah, he might be right about that. Walking the thin and narrow for a person like Neal Caffrey was not easy.

"Good work," he said, patting him on the shoulder as he pick-pocketed his ID back. To his joy, the kid did not seem to notice. He opened it and watched his own photo replaced by Neal's, but it was such a simple and obvious job that he could hardly be called a crime. Peter smiled. Neal was far from stupid.

"Hey." El sneaked up behind him, putting her arm around him.

"Hi. Got the generator back on."

"I couldn't leave you in the dark," she said, putting her hand in her purse and then returning his wedding band. "Welcome home, agent Burke."

He put it back on the finger where it belonged.

"It's good to be home, Mrs. Burke."

Then he leaned over and kissed her.

"Tell your staff they get $100 each if they don't spill anything," Stanzler told Elizabeth. "They get fired if they do."

Neal put a dashing smile on his face.

"El said you knew how to motivate your employees."

Stanzler did not bother to comment. He glanced at the giant ice bear on the main table.

"That's the smallest 8-foot bear I've ever seen in my life."

"I've got Stanzler's camera online," he heard Jones in his ear. "Anything Stanzler sees, we'll see." How did Peter do to not seem to listen? He could keep a straight face in many situations, but having two people talking at once independently of each other was annoying.

"Neal, have you met Peter and Elizabeth Burke?" For a second, Neal was confused, but then he remembered the beautiful and kind woman beside him.

"Hi. Nice to meet you," he said, a smile on, offering his hand to Peter, who shook it.

"Nice to meet you."

"This is my lovely wife, Elizabeth."

"You married up." Peter looked at his wife with so much love that Neal was worried it would make Stanzler suspicious.

"Telling me," he mumbled to get some form of reply.

"I could use a drink right now," Peter huffed and looked the other way.

"Yes, I'll have one, too," Neal agreed.

"Yeah, me too," Elizabeth said, and there they stood getting drinks as one happy family when they were supposed not to know each other. Brooke knew, but she did not know it all, and he was not sure how much of an actress she was.

"Mr. Stanzler," she said. "Mr. Luntz is here."

He and Peter both turned, though neither of them should have any interest. Neal started to hate this.

"Want to help me out here for a second?" Stanzler said and pulled Peter away towards a group of pretty ladies.

"So this is undercover work, huh?" Elizabeth said when she watched her husband mingle with them.

"I'm sure Peter's hating every second of it."

"And you? How does it feel to be an FBI agent?"

How did he feel about it? Was Peter this nervous about others all the time, afraid that they might spoil the operation?

"Still trying it on."

The Luntzs had split up, and Neal saw Stanzler move again.

"What are we doing?" he heard Peter's voice.

"Your assignment."

"Everyone hear that? Showtime."

"Copy that, Peter," Jones said.

Neal could not keep the focus on the vague noise in his ear. He wanted to follow. El took his arm and gave it a hug.

"He can handle it." She smiled at him. "And your job is to keep me safe."

"Yeah," he agreed. Still, he had never met a more capable woman than Elizabeth Burke. What could he do to save her? Wave a false badge? Attack someone with a giant bear in ice?

"Jones, we're locked in the Stanzler gallery," Peter said in his ear.

"Peter's in trouble," he mumbled.

"Did he call for your help?"

"No."

"Then stay put," she said, calm as ever. "There's a whole team here."

"Diana, find Elizabeth."

"Peter said—"

"Elizabeth," Diana popped up by their side. "Backup generator?" She was sure straight to the point.

"Uh, downstairs," Elizabeth said.

"Let's get down there."

"Okay." Elizabeth walked ahead of Diana.

"Where's the team?" Peter asked.

"On their way in," Jones replied. Neal looked around. If they were on the way, they were either lost or kept an extremely low profile.

"Who's got eyes on Stanzler?" Peter wanted to know. Neal looked around.

"All right. I see him. He's on the far side of the room. I'm on him."

Neal was walking across the hall when the lights went out, and an alarm started.

"Ladies and gentlemen, due to the blackout, this museum is now in lockdown."

Neal pulled his badge out of his pocket and flashed it to everyone assembled.

"FBI! Everyone stay where you are! Remain calm!" Hopefully, he did something good. But Stanzler was nowhere to be found. He ran in the direction of where he had seen him last and was met by a barred gate.

"Oh, come on!" He flashed his badge for a security guard. "Can you open this?"

"Uh, hold on… I need to tell the main control. What's the number of that gate?"

"Number?"

"Yeah, there should be a little plate with the number…"

They both stared at the gate and its frame. Neal did not see any number.

"Peter," Jones said, "Stanzler's making his move. He's out of the atrium, but I can't tell his location."

A team of FBI agents reached Neal.

"Peter's in the Stanzler gallery. We need to get a key. Let's go."

"Yes, sir."

"Hurry up." They listened to him, and they all ran towards the main control. It did not take long, but now gunshots reached Neal's ear. He raised his speed and found the glass doors to Stanzler gallery.

Just as he turned the key, the lights were turned back on, revealing Stanzler with a gun in his hand.

"FBI! Drop it!" Stanzler pointed his gun at him when all he had was a badge. "You're surrounded, Stanzler."

Peter dived out at Stanzler from the side, and in one smooth move, the bad guy was on the floor, and Peter had his gun.

"Like he said... FBI has you surrounded," Peter said.

Wow, that's a real FBI agent, Neal thought and felt proud to be a little part of that.

"I didn't know you had moves like that," he told Peter later outside when they watched Stanzler and Luntz being led away.

"I didn't know I authorized a badge." He sounded surprisingly serious, his handler.

"Well, I needed one," Neal shrugged. "I was an FBI agent."

"Was," Peter repeated with emphasis.

"Was."

Neal jammed his hands in his pockets. It felt good.

"You enjoyed being me."

"I admit there's a certain allure to your profession," Neal admitted. "How about you?"

"Being Neal Caffrey has its charms."

"Ignoring convention? Embracing your idea?"

"Yeah. And I do look good in black."

"You do," Neal agreed.

"I have a feeling I had to work a lot harder fitting into your world than you did fitting into mine," Peter said.

"I don't know about that." Neal was quite certain he did not want that kind of responsibility Peter had ever. And Peter, well, he could be taught how to pick a lock and do a break-in.

They both chuckled.

"Good work," Peter said and patted him on the shoulder.

It was time to go home. When he looked back, he saw Peter and Elizabeth embrace. That was a part of Peter's kind of life that he missed. To be able to have a home and a family.

He knew where he had to spend the night. And he was pretty sure how to make it more pleasant.

When he saw Sara working in the archive, he felt like he was watching his version of Elizabeth. She was not the woman who would settle, perhaps, but she was brave, independent, and beautiful.

She smiled when she saw him. He produced a duck from behind his back. She laughed.

"Oh! Thank you. I was starving." She pulled at the aluminum foil, getting it was food inside. "Mozzie's in the other room looking at microfiche. How was your night?"

"Oh, the usual." He leaned at the table fixed to the wall.

"Yeah? What'd you get me? Oh, I love gourmet finger food. Is that—" The light went out. They stood together in the vague lights from the street outside.

"Guess the blackout finally caught up to this grid."

"Mozzie gave me a lantern." She pointed beside him.

"Let me get out of your way here."

She leaned over and turned it on.

"Sorry."

When she rose, they were so close together. To his surprise, she looked at him that way. That way you get when you want to be close but are not sure if the other wants it. She made a move closer but did not get all the way. He pulled her close and kissed her.

Her response was immediate. She puts her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He felt with his hands up along her thighs and lifted her up, placing her on the shelf along the bookcases.

They kissed and began to pull at each other's clothes. He felt his tie come loose and the buttons of his shirt open. He helped her. They kissed even more.

Then the lights turned back on.

It was as if she became embarrassed.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

He smiled at her and gave her another kiss. Her hands returned to his torso.

"Uh, Sara?" Mozzie's voice. "I got some..." He stared at them being half-naked. "Uh... Hi, Neal."

"What do you got?" Sara asked, getting her clothes back on. Moz looked the other way.

"Uh… the… um… urgency transcends the awkwardness." He marched up to them with his laptop and a file. "I found Gerhard Wagner." Sara grabbed the file, and Neal looked over her shoulder. "Every characteristic matches... Height, eye color, facial structure. You missed a button."

"Registered with immigration under the name Michael Hunter," Neal read.

"Let's go find him," Sara suggested.

"Oh, we can't," Moz said, grabbing his laptop and showing them. "He died here in New York. The obit says he has one surviving family member. A granddaughter."

Neal read the text. He understood why Moz sounded so strained. 'Alexandra Hunter'.

"Alex Hunter." Mozzie nodded to this. He had noted the same thing.

"Who's Alex Hunter?" Sara asked. Her eyes went between the two of them when none of them answered.

"I thought I knew," Neal mumbled.