A few hours later, Elizabeth was relieved to be back in her own home.

She reflected that 'relieved' was perhaps a slightly ironic depiction, considering everything else that was going on. It wasn't like they could simply just relax once they returned home. Quite the opposite. Coming home didn't solve anything in the case itself. But she felt for the physical and mental well-being of both Peter and Neal, it was the right next step in this journey.

Fortunately, it had only taken a slight bit of coaxing back at the office to convince Peter that he was actually more tired than he cared to admit. While he denied it at first, adamant that there would be 'plenty of time to sleep when all this was over,' she saw right through it and merely pushed harder, knowing he didn't have the energy to argue with her.

It was obvious to her on a regular day when Peter was tired, and his current fatigue was far beyond average. When she asked when he had last slept, he became defensive, but it was obviously wearing on him. There was also a heightened sense of irritability that was easily triggered, not only with Neal but with herself as well. Even more obvious was that his thought processes were becoming more and more cumbersome. He was starting to trip over his own words. He could try to downplay it, and others might not have noticed, but it was futile to deny it with her. She knew him too well.

Besides, what good was he going to be for the case as an exhausted zombie? At some point his body was going to be in conflict with his mind, and both sides would lose.

If his biggest next step was waiting for a phone call, couldn't they do that at home?

"Fine," Peter had finally responded after she continued to challenge him, only a slight edge of bitterness to his tone. Then as if it was his assertion and not what she had just said, he added, "We can do just as much from home as the office anyway, if you think that would be better."

It would be better, she assured him. At the same time, she struggled with understanding what there was to 'do'. She was getting increasingly worried about his sole reliance on this potential long-shot of a voicemail, a message that risked not even getting to the intended recipient in time, to get Peter anything he needed to ensure their safety.

Still, he was stubbornly set on this short-term plan, and therefore if the only options were to stay at the office or go, it would be better to rest and reassess at home.

As though planned and on cue, right as Peter begrudgingly agreed, they were then informed that Peter's car had been transported back to the city and was in the Bureau parking garage next to the office.

"Perfect," she told him. She then quickly added that she would drive. "And I'm telling you that I will – not offering," she persisted. To her surprise, he didn't fight her on that.

"That's fine," he replied, somewhat dismissively. "We'll go when Neal gets back with the files."

When Neal did return to Peter's office with a stack of case files in hand shortly thereafter, he also immediately showed obvious relief at the news upon that they would go home. Elizabeth felt even further validated by his reaction that she was pushing for the right decision despite her husband's initial uncertainty.

"But…." Neal began soon after the decision, "… can we maybe stop somewhere on the way?" he asked. He looked expectedly between the two of them, who both remained seated.

"No," Peter replied edgily.

Per usual, 'no' was not a word that registered with Neal. "Just a quick detour?" he qualified the ask.

"No," Peter emphasized the word more. "I don't like the word detour."

"Where do you need to go, Neal?" Elizabeth asked.

"Careful with that question," Peter responded. "He often confuses 'needing' something with 'wanting' something..."

She rolled her eyes at her husband.

Neal then sank into the chair beside Elizabeth, pile of case files on his lap. Looking tired but trying with all his might to be compelling, he immediately pleaded for a quick stop at his own place. "It won't take long," he promised.

"That's not on the way," Peter told him.

Neal ignored the objection and persisted in his appeal. He needed clothes, he told them, and a toothbrush, and more importantly he wanted to make sure that June was okay. If they were at risk, maybe some of their closest friends were too. "Please," he added at the end of his ramble.

Elizabeth listened to him, hearing the coaxing in his voice. She sympathized.

But before she could voice her support, Peter immediately argued against the proposition. "We don't have time for that," was his excuse. "Besides," he pointed out, "You have plenty of my clothes to borrow, and why can't you check on June with a phone call? What's wrong with that?"

A lot was wrong with it, according to Neal, aghast at the question. He looked at Peter like he was a brute for his suggestion. "And your clothes don't even fit me right."

"You'll live," Peter responded. "How many times do I have to remind you this is the FBI and not a fashion show. What you're wearing right now fits you."

Neal narrowed his eyes. "Peter…"

Sensing an escalation of emotion between the two overtired and cranky men, Elizabeth intervened, holding a hand up to interrupt Neal before he could incense his handler any further.

She kept her response to them rational: Since she was the one driving, she didn't mind the detour. She also felt it would be good for Neal to check on June in person. More importantly, she didn't want a fight over it. She felt like Neal could be in and out of his home in no time, a claim that Neal eagerly nodded at.

Peter said nothing, working his jaw, clearly irritated.

Beside her, Neal gloated a bit. "I think you should listen to your wife, Peter," he said with a small smirk.

"Neal…" Elizabeth warned, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

Peter just pushed back his chair grumpily, getting to his feet.

At the movement, Neal froze for a moment, smirk vanishing. But Peter actually ignored him and focused on his wife. "We'll leave in ten. Let me see if Diana has my phone up and running yet."

With that, he moved around his desk and exited the office without another word.

"Neal," Elizabeth began, turning towards the other man.

"Hm," Neal answered after a giant yawn, leaning back in his chair. His hands gripped the heap of folders in front of him as they started to slip.

"You know the expression 'don't poke the bear'?" she asked, frowning at him.

He simply smiled.

She shook her head at him reprovingly.

"Peter's the bear," Neal stated. He now smiled with teeth.

"Watch it," she told him, but squeezed his arm again fondly.

And so the detour took place. It also took a little longer than Neal or Elizabeth had intended, as June had fretted over Neal's appearance, immediately becoming concerned and overprotective. Since when was White Collar investigations so dangerous, she wanted to know? This was the second injury this week, she reminded. Elizabeth sympathized with the concern and was once again reminded how lucky they were that Neal lived in June's home.

Finally Neal was able to convince June that he was really, truly fine so he could pack a bag. He easily provided her a brief and vague cover story of needing to put in some extra time with Peter to attend to the case, hence needing to stay with the Burkes... June looked a bit disapproving at the idea, a look she directed primarily to Peter.

"He's safe with me," Peter had assured her while Neal disappeared to get what he needed.

"Safe?" she asked. "Look at him."

"He's fine."

"Is he?"

"Yes. I'll make sure of it," Peter stated.

June didn't outright disagree but continued to look worried. She then said nothing else beyond cordial departing gestures as they exited, following them worriedly to the door as they left her home.

Then, finally, they arrived back in Brooklyn.

Home.

Elizabeth now looked down at her watch. She estimated it was roughly four hours from when they had originally arrived at the office. While she preferred to be at home on one hand, it also weighed on her that Peter had mentioned not feeling comfortable speaking freely here... In case someone was listening. That unnerved her.

Were they really being watched?

She could tell Peter was increasingly nervous as well, despite his fatigue and unwillingness to admit it. After all, a lot was riding on a phone call… Perhaps too much.

Now she watched her husband as he hovered over the couch to remove the mound of case files from Neal's sleep laden arms.

Despite a well intended set-up to read through the infamous first case with Dean, Neal had only lasted a few minutes and never made it past the first page before slowly sinking into the couch cushions and falling asleep, slumped over with his head tilted back. His arms curled around the heap of papers like it was some ill-fitted pillow.

"Is he serious?" Peter had asked in exasperation when he first saw him, coming back into their living room with what was perhaps his fifth cup of coffee that day.

"Serious?" Elizabeth echoed. She had watched first hand Neal's descent into well-needed sleep and had purposefully said nothing to prevent it. "He seems quite serious," she replied wryly. "Need I remind you that you're running on just fumes yourself, Mr. Burke? In case you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, but it's daylight," Peter replied, gesturing towards the window. "How can you sleep during the daylight? And there's work to do." It was then he put his coffee down and went to re-collect his case files, moving to extract the documents from Neal's sleeping grasp. Neal barely stirred except to shift deeper into the couch.

With a sigh, Peter slipped the last file gently out from under Neal's arm. There was a loose piece of paper on top, which Peter held in his hand for a moment, looking at it carefully.

His next action was a very fleeting movement where he laid his hand briefly on Neal's head, a simple but rare hint of affection. It was purposefully easy to miss.

Peter was then taking a calculated step back, focused on straightening up the folders he'd taken from Neal, matching up their edges before putting them on the coffee table.

"The work will still be here when he wakes up," Elizabeth reminded softly. "When you wake up as well…"

"Mm-hmm," Peter responded distractedly.

She eyed the heap of papers, particularly the loose page on top. She squinted at it. "Is that a drawing?"

Peter glanced at it again. "Yeah." He then leaned forward, taking a folder from beneath and layering it on top of the loose page, as though to hide it from view.

"Of what?" she asked. "Is that part of the old file?"

"Uh… Not exactly," Peter said. He turned towards her and slightly shrugged. "Just something Neal was sketching a little earlier."

Elizabeth eyed him critically. "Just something…"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

Peter pursed his lips, looking towards the papers and then up at his wife. "Actually, it's a… uh, a portrait."

She raised her eyebrows. "Case related?"

"Dean," Peter mouthed the word, as though not wanting to speak the name out loud. He then spoke more audibly, "It's actually pretty good…"

Elizabeth immediately frowned. She understood the unspoken name immediately. "Why?"

"Why not? While it's on his mind," he answered.

"So you asked him to do it?"

Peter shrugged. "Kind of. I mean, he was drawing some of the other stuff from the last couple days," he replied. "I figured he might as well help us with a current drawing of something more relevant."

"What was he drawing? What other stuff?"

"I don't know. There was a guy that didn't make it. He was sketching him."

Elizabeth's stomach turned. "Peter. Do you hear yourself?"

He took a deep breath. "Maybe he finds it therapeutic."

She shook her head. "So you asked him to draw more? That doesn't sound like a good idea, Peter."

"Why not?"

"Someone who just held you hostage, and is now threatening you," she said, lowering her voice to a strained whisper. "And you want him to visualize that on paper for you? Does that seem healthy?"

"I think he might have a photographic memory," Peter replied.

She gave him an incredulous look. "So?"

"So he's thinking about it anyway. Vividly. I'm not forcing him."

"Peter…"

"Well, I think maybe he does. Judging by a few things I've seen in the last few months, including today, and it would explain a lot of things. I don't think a drawing something is asking much of him, El… And he probably prefers it to half the other stuff I ask him to do."

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Peter… Are you kidding me?"

"Forget it," he replied. He glanced briefly towards Neal. "You want me to wake him so he can tell you it's not a big deal?"

"No. If you wake him, it's only so he'll go upstairs to a proper bed. And I suggest you go lay down as well."

"Lay down? No," Peter replied, shaking his head. "I can't."

"Why not?" she asked. "Are you just going to keep guzzling down coffee then?"

As if reminded of the caffeine boost, he reached down to reclaim his coffee cup from the table. "Anything on your phone yet?"

She sighed. Her phone sat on the same table, near where Peter's mug had sat. She had checked several times to confirm it was charged and that the volume was on. "No."

Peter just shook his head.

"And that's your whole plan?" Elizabeth asked.

"She's always called back…" he stated. "Always."

"Yeah, but you said that was years ago."

Peter sighed yet again. "I know," he admitted. He looked irritated at the thought. A few feet from him, Neal stirred, making a subtle noise under his breath and stretching out his legs. Peter observed him.

"You know, I'm not even sure what your plan is, Peter," she admitted. "If you get that call, I'm not sure what's next. And if you don't get that call… Well, I'm even less sure what the plan is to be honest."

He didn't answer.

"You have no clue, do you?" she replied with a sigh. "Hon, that's what –"

"She knows him better than I do," Peter interjected, a little stiffly. "Like I said, give it the day. If I don't hear from her, then we'll go from there."

Elizabeth looked unconvinced. "Then you'll bring in Reese?" she suggested.

"Maybe," he replied noncommittally. Peter looked apt to move on from the topic. He turned his attention towards Neal again, considering him instead. "Maybe he should go upstairs," he said softly.

"Maybe you should too," she told him.

Peter frowned, this time choosing to simply not respond rather than object. But finally he said, "Maybe." Then he took a few steps back towards the couch and leaned down towards Neal, reaching to shake his shoulder. "Neal," he said.

Peter was expecting a groggy reaction and a slow awakening. He was not expecting the way Neal actually did react, immediately becoming alert with defensive hands raising as if in an act of protection, sitting upright.

"No!" Neal spoke as though in instinct.

"Hey," Peter objected, stepping back and frowning when for a moment it appeared Neal was looking at him, or maybe through him, with a lack of recognition. "Neal, you okay?"

After a very brief pause, Neal's hands dropped, as though realizing his wakened state was secure. He didn't say anything, simply leaned back into the couch again.

"You okay?" Peter repeated.

"Yeah." Neal cleared his throat. "I just thought you were someone else," he told him.

"Who?" Peter asked.

Before Neal could consider an answer, Peter's phone went off. Peter fumbled to get it, reaching into one pocket and then the other before withdrawing the older model device that had been resurrected.

"Burke," he answered. He felt both Elizabeth and Neal's eyes on him.

"Boss," came Diana's voice over the line. "You have a minute?"

"Of course," Peter responded. He moved to sit on the couch beside Neal. "What's up?" He could sense something behind Diana's tone despite only brief words.

"I spoke to the original suspect again," she began. "Just like we talked about."

"Oh yeah?" he replied. "How did that go?" He watched Neal's leg beside him, bouncing with what seemed to be nervous energy in a nonstop, silent rhythm. He considered reaching out to put his hand on his knee to see if he'd stop. Distracted, he resisted.

"Peter, it was really strange," she replied, her voice a bit troubled.

"Strange in what way?"

"You know what he told me?" She paused only briefly after the rhetorical question. "He told me to talk to you."

"To me?" Peter replied. He glanced up at Elizabeth. She had a frown on her face. "What do you mean?"

"I started with just some basic questions," she explained. "Recapped in general the information he'd given us so far… And then started to ask him whether or not there was anything else he wanted to tell us."

"Okay…"

"Then he asked me to confirm the date," she continued. "Today's date. And when I did, he had this weird look on his face. And he said, 'Talk to Peter Burke. He knows what to do next.'"

Peter frowned, not responding. He eyed Neal's restless leg movement beside him, feeling his own unease heighten.

"What does he mean by that, Peter?" Diana continued. "Talk to you?"

"That's all he said?" he asked.

"More or less," she responded. "He asked me if anything had happened, and of course I didn't tell him any of that. He made some comment about it being in your hands, Peter…"

"He sounds a bit delusional," Peter responded. He tried to sound dismissive, though his own heart-rate was picking up a bit with nervousness. This time he reached over to squeeze Neal's knee. However, in response Neal didn't just quiet; he instead pushed himself up from the couch, walking a few feet away.

"Delusional," she echoed. "That's it? That's your response? You don't think there's anything else odd going on around here?"

"We both knew it was a long shot that he would have more to tell us," Peter noted.

"Maybe you should speak to him, Peter."

Peter paused, a little taken back by the suggestion. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Let me think about that, and maybe we can set up something for tomorrow."

"Alright," Diana responded. She sounded quite uncertain.

"Keep me posted on anything else you hear," Peter noted. "Thanks for the call."

"Of course."

With that, the phone call ended.

Peter turned to meet his wife's concerned, curious stare. A few feet behind her, Neal stood, his back to them.

"What was that, Peter?" Elizabeth asked.

He slowly shook his head. "Nothing… Diana spoke to the original subject on the case again today… And, not surprisingly, she didn't get much more out of him."

"Did he say something about you?"

"About me?" he questioned. He noted, not for the first time, that his wife was very observant with keen intuition.

"Or about what happened?" she persisted.

"No," Peter replied. The response was borderline untrue, considering he was answering only the second question and not the first. He added, "He didn't reference what happened."

She narrowed her eyes slightly but didn't say anything else.

"Neal," Peter spoke. It was the only segue he could think of. And he acknowledged it wasn't the first time he'd used Neal as a deviation tonight.

Neal turned around, a subtle frown on his face. Before Peter could say anything further, he stated, "I think I'm going to go upstairs."

"Yeah," Peter replied. "Probably a good idea."

"You too," Elizabeth replied. "Peter."

"Soon," he acknowledged.