Diana started her day earlier than usual at the office, feeling a small churn of anxiety within, silent but insistent, as she took the lead role in coordination across all the agents involved in the current case.

There were a lot of them…

Most of the cases she ran with Peter involved a few agents, and typically they were working together in a common location, or at most a couple of sites. This case was more than a handful of agents, and they were all going to very different locations. Which all required different logistics and modes of travel.

While she enjoyed coordination, and challenges, she couldn't help but feel a sense of concern at the onset of the day that it might be too much to handle for one individual.

While she tried not to focus on that worry, a text came through as she shuffled papers on her desk, trying to get organized for the day. She paused her movement and looked at the screen briefly. It was a text from Jones, which simply read 'coffee?' with a smiley face. She smiled and reached to pick up the phone, quickly typing back 'yes, please. Thx'.

As she put her phone down, she glanced over at the cup of coffee already on her desk, nearly empty. She reached for it and quickly downed the last gulp before then tossing the cup into the wastebasket beside her desk.

She busied herself continuing to get organized for the day and before she knew it, the fresh cup of coffee was within her line of sight, being lowered onto a clean corner of her desk. It was the only clean corner of her desk.

She looked up at her colleague in appreciation. "Thank you."

"Figured you might need it," Jones responded with a chuckle. He held his own cup in his hand. "How's it going so far?" He looked around the nearly empty office. "And how long have you been here?"

"Only an hour…" Diana leaned back in her chair and sighed. "And to answer your first question… Well, other than some of my colleagues thinking that I'm a travel agent or their concierge, not too bad. Most people got off on the right start."

"Most?"

"Danny had a six-thirty flight that he missed…"

"Damn," Jones said, followed by a chuckle. "Well, that doesn't look good. When your one job is to make a flight…"

She shrugged. "He claims the traffic made him miss the gate because there was an accident. Personally? I think he overslept," she replied. "The guy lives in Astoria. Laguardia is a heartbeat away. But he's got tickets to the next one that leaves in…." She glanced at the time on her phone. "Thirty minutes. So he'll be good."

"Okay. What about the others? And what about the boss?"

"The boss…" Diana echoed. She scanned the list she had in front of her of the various itinerary times detailed by agent. "The boss hasn't left the city yet."

"Wow." Jones took a step closer and peered over at the papers on her desk. "You really are kind of a travel agent today."

She glared at him. "That's not funny, Jones."

"It's a lot of detail."

"I know," she said, trying not to sound irked.

"No, seriously, Diana. Why are you –"

"Because," she interjected, not allowing Jones to finish his thought. "If something goes wrong – like with Danny this morning or something more serious – then I'm going to fix it. It's more than just the travel hiccups – If they need a warrant or backup, or anything like that… I've got to know the details of where they are, or where they should be."

"I get it," Jones responded. "I do. That's why Peter has you here instead of out there. It's just…" He waved his hand at the papers. "A lot."

"Yeah," she agreed. "It is. Trust me. I know."

Jones studied her and then nodded to the coffee he'd delivered. "Why do I think this isn't your first cup?"

She slowly smiled. "Ah. Yes. The FBI and their investigative skills."

"Hey, c'mon. It's literally in the name," Jones replied, chuckling again. He paused, gaze becoming a little bit more focused. "You got this though?"

"Yeah. Of course I got this," she answered, rolling her eyes.

"And you'll let me know if you need help?"

"I'll let you know when I need coffee."

He chuckled again. "Fair…" But then he gave her a look. "But I mean it, alright?"

"I'll let you know," she affirmed. "Thanks."

Peter didn't expect their first trip of the case to feel so complicated. But then again, as he'd learned with Neal and would continue to be reminded, this was par for the course.

The first leg of the case involved a remote location. With limited accessibility.

Peter observed their pilot, newly introduced as Ed Donovan, and Neal with a sense of skepticism, edginess, and perplexity.

Of course Neal and the man had hit it off right away. It had taken less than minutes when Neal had shared the fact that he had once piloted a similar helicopter ('How?' Peter's mind demanded to know) to the one that they would be in that day.

As Neal briefly made that statement, ending it with a bright, nonchalant smile and only a quick glance Peter's way, as though discretely searching for a reaction, Peter found himself frowning. What else was in Neal's repertoire that he didn't know about? What the hell else?

When had he piloted? When had he learned to pilot?

Maybe it was a lie. Maybe this was Neal's bonding tactic to get close to the pilot. A core instinct of his to secure an ally.

But as the discussion continued, Neal seemed too knowledgeable for it just to be a lie…

Then again… Neal was a researcher. Neal could have spent the last evening brushing up on these details…

Peter observed with a feeling of unease. He couldn't find an opportunity to get a word in edgewise as Ed and Neal continued to happily converse.

When Neal made the follow-up statement that the helicopter made a 'great getaway option' and Ed chuckled, Peter's frown deepened. This time Neal didn't glance his way.

"Well, despite your expertise," the pilot responded, smiling at Neal, "I promise it doesn't take long, but I am still going to need to give you agents a brief safety overview as part of our standard procedure."

"He's not an agent," Peter responded dryly. These were his first words since introductions. Neal immediately gave him a look, which while reactive still seemed veiled. There seemed to be a subtle indication of offense at the comment, but Peter ignored the hurt feelings and kept his focus on the pilot.

"Well, agent and guest then," Ed responded with a laugh, not missing a beat. "Let me taking you through some of the safety features of the cabin, and we can then get you on your way. Follow me over here please…"

As Ed walked away, Peter stepped forward towards Neal, closing their gap. "When the hell did you pilot a helicopter?" he hissed.

"Is that not in the file you have on me?" Neal responded.

Before he could temper his reaction, Peter reached out and took Neal by the arm, pulling him a few inches closer. "Neal," he persisted. "Did you make it up?"

"Why would I make it up?" Neal responded, frowning.

"Then when?"

"Which time?" Neal shot back with a smirk, tugging his arm free of the older man's hold. "Not my fault your file's incomplete, Peter."

Peter's brow furrowed. He didn't know whether to frown or glare. "Trust me. You're going to fill in some of those gaps."

"Sure. We can talk about it."

Peter immediately riled at the response, despite it potentially being all genuine and not cheeky. "Neal…"

Neal disregarded the comment, moving on as he stated, "You don't have to always point out I'm not an agent, Peter."

"No?" Peter replied, raising his eyebrows. "I don't?"

"No," Neal replied dryly. "You don't."

"Well, it makes it easier to avoid you impersonating one if I just say it upfront," Peter responded. "No temptation."

"Peter," Neal responded, forehead creasing in a frown. "Ouch." He gave him a look. "That's harsh."

"That's facts. Prove I don't need to clarify next time."

"Facts? I made no statements about being an agent, Peter."

"You don't mind the broad assumptions being made by you being here on behalf of the Bureau though, do you?"

"Well, that's just a technicality…" Neal's lips started to curve upward. "I can't control people's interpretations."

"You can." Peter smirked and pushed him away gently in the direction Ed had walked. "And so can I. Get over it."

Diana found the morning moving quickly, and was thankful for the extra caffeine that Jones had provided, which in a half hour was nearly completely consumed.

Several of the agents had reached out to her already that morning. Mostly they were checking in, confirming statuses of their flights or other transportation. Most wouldn't be arriving at their destinations until the middle of the day, and she was anxious to get to that point in the process so that actual feedback from the locations their suspect had provided would start to come in. That would be a welcome change of pace from confirming travel reservations…

Not only that, but she was hopeful with this they would be able to get what they needed to close out this case.

She expected it to be a straightforward case closure due to all the information that had flooded in on leads.

She didn't expect the complications that would soon arrive.

It wasn't until mid-morning that she received her first strange phone call. It was one of the agents, and they called her in confusion.

"There's nothing here, Diana," came the man's voice over the line after she picked up.

"What do you mean, nothing?" she asked. She quickly rustled through her papers to find the details on that location.

"I mean, it's nothing. It's an empty lot. The guy I spoke to said the building was demolished ten years ago and never rebuilt."

"That's strange…" she commented as she pulled up the page on that address. "And you're at this address?" She read the address from the page out loud.

"Yup. That's the one."

"Are you sure?"

The man on the line scoffed. "Am I sure?" he echoed sarcastically. "Yeah, I'm damn sure. There's nothing here. Maybe the guy misstated the address but there's absolutely nothing here."

"Well, take a look around anyway," she replied.

"What?"

"There could still be a reason he used that address. It might not be wrong."

"Are you saying you want me to walk around an empty lot?" the man replied sarcastically.

"If Peter was the one on the line, you know he'd be telling you to do the same damn thing," she replied, a little curtly. "So do it. A lead is a lead."

"A lead is a lead. Sure thing," the man responded, sarcasm still obvious. "I guess I'll get my steps in today…"

"Call back with any updates," she said stiffly.

With that, she hung up the phone, a little frustrated, and simply stared at the page in front of her. On it was details of the address, which described the location as a convenience store. There were no dates referenced that she could see, and she started to wonder if perhaps there'd been a clerical error of some kind….

"So, Neal… Given your relevant experience… You want to sit up here with me?" Ed offered as he finalized his checklist before they left. "Can always use a good co-pilot."

Neal eyed the offered front seat through the window of the helicopter in front of them and then smiled as he started to nod. It was as though his reaction was magnetic. "Really? Thanks, Ed. That would be—"

"Not necessary," Peter interjected.

Two pairs of eyes turned towards him.

Peter remained adamant. "Not. Necessary," he repeated. "In other words, No. I don't think that's a good idea." He hadn't said a word as Ed and Neal had continued to be buddy-buddy during the course of reviewing the safety features and procedures of the aircraft. The two had acted like they'd known each other for years, exchanging comments on experiences and advice. Peter had patiently remained quiet, standing close-by on the sidelines. But this time he felt the need to step in.

Still, Ed and Neal continued to stare at Peter like he had two heads or was simply an intruder.

"We have the case to discuss, among other things," Peter replied, keeping his voice firm though the expressions that were in front of him made him feel uncomfortable. He was the authority here, he reminded himself. "Neal, I didn't bring you with me to play copilot."

Neal smirked, cocking his head slightly to the side as he made eye contact with Peter, though remaining silent.

"Up to you guys," Ed responded with a shrug as he walked around to the other side of the helicopter. "Passenger seat's available."

"Appreciate it," Peter replied. "But he'll sit in the back with me."

"Buzzkill…" Neal muttered under his breath, though he didn't directly look at Peter.

"This isn't a joyride, Neal," Peter responded, tone equally low so that only his CI could hear.

"I know it's not," Neal responded, now looking up with a roll of his eyes. "But you could lighten up a little bit, Peter. You realize it's not forbidden to enjoy work. Or to sit up front."

Peter simply stared at him. He then replied, "I do enjoy work."

"Sure…"

"I do, Neal."

Neal tilted his head, scrutinizing Peter and getting nothing from the serious expression that peered back at him. "You can sit up front, if that's what this is about," he said.

Peter forced a laugh. "Trust me, it's not."

"I really don't mind." The teasing nature of the insistence was obvious despite Neal's deadpan face.

"No," Peter responded, shaking his head with a smirk. "We'll both sit in the back. Where we're supposed to sit."

"Supposed to?" Neal echoed. "Is there a federal protocol that I'm not aware of?"

"You want to learn protocol? I have several books I could give you."

Neal paused for a moment, reflecting on the response. "I can't tell if that's a threat or a considerate offer," he said slowly, tone thoughtful. "But whatever it is, I have a feeling that no where in those books does it say you can't copilot a helicopter. Or that it anywhere dictates seating arrangements. "

"Well, until you confirm, Neal, I think it's better to play it safe," Peter replied with a hint of sarcasm.

Neal smiled. "Sure. But I'm usually right."

Peter chuckled. "Right or not…. Yeah… How about this… Just do what I ask you to do."

Neal laughed. "Okay, Peter."

"Okay," Peter echoed. "I like that answer. But let's just ensure the rest of the day you pay attention."

"Sure."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Neal, let's just do this."