"It's for you."

Neal heard El's words clearly but suddenly struggled to process the meaning of them. His mind all at once felt like jello. He almost asked her to repeat what she had said, but Peter was already at his wife's side in seconds, taking the phone from her hand without question and exiting into the hallway.

Stunned, Neal simply blinked.

El turned to watch Peter leave but remained in the guestroom with Neal, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"Who was it?" Neal asked, finally finding his voice. He shifted over on the bed to sit at its edge, swinging his legs over the side to touch his feet to the floor. He felt his heart pounding. A moment ago, he'd been relieved enough to resolve things with Peter, at least at the moment, and he'd been ready to call it a night. Suddenly, sleep seemed far from attainable. "Was it her?"

"It was a woman," El responded slowly. Not exactly a confirmation. She appeared concerned and continued to look towards the hallway, though Peter was already out of sight.

"So it's got to be her. Right?" Neal started to get up from the bed. He couldn't even hear Peter's voice— where was he taking the call?

Elizabeth turned to face him now as he stood. "Neal, wait." She raised her hand, gesturing for him to pause. "Give him a chance, sweetheart. If this is the call he's been waiting for, we have to give him space."

"Give him space…" Neal echoed with a hint of impatience. He hesitated for a moment. His instinct was to follow Peter, but he soon realized she was right. He needed to actually let the phone call take place. Feeling a bit useless, he collapsed back down on the bed. As he sat, it creaked beneath him. "I hope he knows what he's doing…" He rubbed his hands over his face tiredly.

"This was what he wanted. To talk to her. And she sounded… normal," Elizabeth replied, as though she was trying to convince them both. She sighed, "I have to be honest, Neal; I trust my husband, but I didn't think we'd be getting a call tonight."

"Me neither." Neal uncovered his face and dropped his hands onto his lap. He gave a shrug. "I didn't think we'd ever get a call to be honest."

"That crossed my mind too…" she admitted.

"But I just don't see what happens after this," Neal continued. "What does a phone call do?"

She didn't respond at first. Then she simply stated, "I don't know. We have to trust him."

"I trust Peter," Neal said, making a face. "I do. I just … I don't trust this plan. And I'm not sure how to convince him, but he can't try to do this on his own."

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, looking deep in thought as she slowly walked towards him, crossing the room and distancing herself from the door.

"I mean, he could try to do this on his own," Neal began again. "But I don't see how it works out – not without hurting himself. If not himself personally, then his badge."

"His badge?" She paused, frowning, and then took a seat on the bed beside him.

"She's in WITSEC," Neal replied, glancing over at her. "I can't imagine that there's any sort of tolerance to an agent making contact, or even attempting to make contact, with someone in WITSEC. Never mind everything else he isn't telling them about what happened..."

Elizabeth eyed him thoughtfully, glancing down at his nervously bouncing knee. Restless energy. "Let him have the phone call. Then we'll talk, and see how he wants to handle it."

"And it's WITSEC," Neal continued, stressing the word. "I still don't understand… I mean why would someone jeopardize that…? You've already given up everything once… And after all that, you'd just… Do this?"

"I'm not sure what 'this' is," Elizabeth responded slowly. Her tone was earnest. "It's a phone call, right?"

"It's more than a phone call," Neal insisted. "Phone calls like that don't happen in WITSEC. They just don't."

She frowned. "You seem to know a lot about WITSEC, Neal."

Neal glanced her way at the question, frowning. "No. Not really," he replied a bit defensively.

"You do… Why is that?" she persisted.

"I- I don't," he insisted dismissively. "I just know what anybody would know. I watch TV."

She didn't answer; she merely shrugged, not pushing the subject.

"And Peter especially should know," he persisted. "He should know that it's dangerous to interfere with that kind of stuff…" he trailed off. His mind started to wander, and he forcefully brought it back. "The only thing I do know is that Dean can't hear their conversation at least. Not anymore."

"Thanks to you," she answered, giving him a look.

He scoffed, simply shaking his head. Her statement sounded genuinely sincere, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of just a short while ago when Peter had found him in the backyard. The feeling of being held up against the house. The anger. He stared at his feet, feeling the same sense of anxiety from before creep back to him. That had been, what, fifteen minutes ago? Jesus.

As if reading his mind, she gently asked, "You guys okay?"

"Huh?" He turned his head and frowned at her.

"You and Peter."

"Well, I'm not in handcuffs, and I'm sitting here," Neal replied sarcastically. "So I guess that's a decent sign, right?"

"Neal…"

Neal let out an exasperated breath. "Well, ten minutes ago I wasn't sure if he was going to tear my head off or put me in prison, so I'd say sitting here unscathed is a bit of a win for the evening, Elizabeth."

"He didn't mean it, Neal... You know that."

"Do I?"

"He didn't mean it," she repeated. "You need me to say it again?"

Neal's brow furrowed. "No, but I think he told me three times in just the last week that it would be easier to just send me back," he replied. "Might have been four. I'm starting to lose count."

"Is it cliché if I tell you to not take it personally?" She offered a small smile. "He thinks highly of you, Neal."

Neal let out a sarcastic laugh. "Right."

"Don't second guess yourself. There's a reason he took your deal."

"There was a reason," Neal answered. "Now it's comp—"

"Don't you dare say 'complicated,'" she interjected, tone chiding. "And there's still a reason," she persisted. "Why else would you even be on this case with him?"

Neal gave her an exasperated look. "That's an easy one, Elizabeth – Because he didn't want to leave me unsupervised while he went out of town."

She smirked at him. "Oh, I doubt that very much, sweetheart. Don't forget we took our vacation right after you guys started working together. Remember?"

"So maybe he trust me even less now," Neal muttered. "And now, here we are. I'm sure he regrets I came along."

"If he does, it's only because you got hurt," she responded gently.

Neal didn't respond. He just shook his head.

She paused, and then just asked, "You okay, Neal?"

Neal just rolled his eyes. The dismissive response was instinctual before he could control it. He tried to put on a more nonchalant facade. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"No, really, Neal… You guys have been through a lot. This isn't what you signed up for. I know for a fact it's not what Peter signed up for. I don't know everything that happened on this case, but like I told you before, if—"

"I read the case files," Neal interjected.

She blinked, pausing her own sentence at the interruption. "Sorry?"

Neal gathered his thoughts. His statement was a bit of a non sequitur but that was also somewhat intentional. Enough about being okay and feelings. While he appreciated Elizabeth's sentiment, that sort of talk wouldn't help Peter, wouldn't help the case. And he was afraid to get into it. "I read the files," he repeated. "And he's justifiably insane."

"Who is insane? Dean?"

Neal nodded, somewhat relieved she had dropped the previous topic. "He's a really dangerous person, Elizabeth. More than I realized. And that's saying a lot after the personal experience I just had with him... And this woman, Samantha – did you know she had a relationship with Dean?"

"She did?" Elizabeth asked in surprise. She frowned. "What kind of relationship? Peter never mentioned that."

"He didn't," Neal agreed. "And when Peter said it was complicated, he was right. It is. Even more complicated than I expected. But in reading what happened before - in the previous case with Samantha – the only thing I know for sure is that we can't do this alone. We're in over our heads. And trust me, I'd actually prefer to do things alone if we could, so I don't make that statement lightly..."

Elizabeth seemed to grow uneasy at the statements. "Let's see what Peter says."

"You know what he will say," Neal replied, a little frustrated. "And I'm wondering if… if maybe I should just tell someone. Like Hughes. Or… or at least Diana. Maybe she can talk some sense into Peter."

Elizabeth studied him, continuing to frown. "Do you think that would be the right thing to do?"

"I don't know what's right," he admitted, feeling a little frustrated. "I know if I do that, Peter will kill me once he finds out," he continued, leg bouncing nervously. "And maybe he will finally follow through with prison. But I feel like all of that's gonna happen anyway if this goes the wrong way with Dean."

Elizabeth nodded as she listened. She didn't respond right away. Her hands were clenched together tightly in her lap.

Neal stared at her hands. He could feel her anxiety just looking at them. He suddenly regretted his words. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that to you though..." he said, suddenly suspicious. "Any of it."

"What?" she asked. "Why?"

"I'm literally telling you that I'm considering betraying your husband."

"Betrayal? It's not betrayal, Neal," she objected. "Don't be silly."

"In a sense it is. And it's not like you wouldn't tell him that I might do it," Neal continued. "Of course you would tell him. You're his wife. And then he's going to kill me before I even have the chance to decide whether or not to do it."

"Neal," she said his name firmly. He looked up at her and she met his eye. "You can talk to me," she persisted, "and it doesn't mean I'm going to run to Peter and tell him. I'm in this with the both of you. I just want to make sure that we get out of this safely. And if you think Peter—"

"If he thinks Peter what?" came Peter's voice from the doorway.

Neal felt his whole body freeze and go ice cold. His leg stopped bouncing. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, looking at the doorway in alarm. How much of the conversation had Peter heard? Clearly the last sentence – the half of it – but what else? He tried to rationalize the situation – based on the other man's perplexed expression, it didn't seem he'd heard much. Had he heard the full last minute, Neal was pretty sure he'd already be asking for mercy.

"Peter," Elizabeth began. She got to her feet, moving towards him. "Honey, was that her? What did she say?"

Peter entered the room and looked at Neal only briefly before turning to his approaching wife. "Yes. It was her. And she's willing to talk to him," he began. "To Dean."

"Really?" Elizabeth responded. She looked a combination of relieved and surprised.

At the same time, Neal responded, "Why?"

Peter glanced again towards Neal, who remained seated on the bed. "What do you mean – why?" he responded, a bit impatiently.

Neal didn't answer.

"Well, that's good, right?" Elizabeth slowly asked. "Isn't that what you wanted, Peter?"

"Yes, it is," Peter began. "It's a start at least." He had kept his eyes on Neal. He nodded towards him now. "Go ahead, Neal. Say it."

"Say what?" Neal frowned. He still felt uneasy.

"I can tell you want to say something." Peter's tone was suspicious. "Go ahead and say it. We're being open, remember?"

"Open?" Neal echoed.

Peter simply raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Neal pressed his lips together. 'Open,' he repeated again silently in his mind. He had just miraculously resolved a contentious situation with Peter a very short while ago. Was that being open? And did he really want to risk putting himself back in that touch-and-go territory again with his continued skepticism?

At the same time, with Peter's intense gaze, he realized he couldn't just say nothing, so he simply responded, "I'm just wondering why… Why would she want to contact him?" He leaned back onto the bed, resting on his elbows, trying to make it a casual question and not confrontational. "Given her… position?"

Peter's facial expression remained passive. He shrugged in response. "Why? Well, that's her prerogative, Neal. But it certainly makes getting Dean what he wants a little easier if she's willing to cooperate. Right?"

Neal paused. "And what would you have done if she wasn't willing to cooperate?"

"Well… that's a moot point, Neal..."

"And what if she changes her mind?"

Peter shook his head. "And that's a hypothetical one." He sighed.

Neal paused again, frowning. He still didn't understand why Samantha would do it. After all these years under a new identity. After she had successfully rid herself of that past life and any connection to Dean. Dean, who appeared to be a psychopath. Why on earth would she suddenly, at the direction of an out of the blue phone call, decide to contradict all that? Weren't there children involved? "Did you say something to convince her?" he asked.

Peter looked a bit surprised at the question. "What?" he asked.

"Like an ultimatum?" Neal persisted. At Peter's look, he replied, "Peter, you love ultimatums."

"With you, maybe," Peter answered with a bit of exasperation. "No, Neal. There was no ultimatum.I simply explained the situation."

"So you explained how he held us hostage and is now threatening us unless he gets what he wants?"

"Believe it or not, I did actually explain what happened," Peter answered matter-of-factly. He walked towards the bed, eyeing Neal expectantly, as if waiting for the next question.

At Peter's approach, Neal stiffened and moved to sit up a bit straighter, pushing up off his elbows. "Did you remind her what he's done?" he asked. Peter was moving closer but he kept going anyway. "How he threatened her too? Also held her hostage? Nearly killed her?"

Peter stared at him for a moment, expression perplexed, and then slowly took a seat on the bed beside him. "Are you done?"

"No. I read the case files," Neal said stiffly.

"Well... I lived those case files," Peter responded back.

"So then you should know that he's the entire reason she's in protective custody. How is this right?"

"I'm not forcing her to do anything," Peter replied, a bit defensively. "And I'm not putting her in a compromising position. She agreed to speak to him. In fact, she offered to speak to him."

"Offered?" Neal asked incredulously. "But, Peter, why?"

"Hon, I thought Dean wanted an in-person meeting," Elizabeth spoke up slowly, glancing between the two men sitting on the guest bed. "Not just a phone call."

Peter regarded Neal beside him for a moment, before turning his head to his wife. "He does, El," he acknowledged, brow furrowing. "But let's take this one step at a time. Just getting in touch with her tonight was a milestone."

"Yeah, just give it the day, Elizabeth," Neal said sarcastically as he pushed himself up from the bed.

"Hey," Peter objected, reaching for his arm to catch him, but Neal was too quick and already on his feet swiftly creating distance between them. So instead Peter just exhaled and watched Neal cross the room, pacing a bit. He tried to remain patient himself. "Neal, why are you getting so agitated?" he asked. He watched as Neal dramatically shrugged his shoulders, back to him. "You haven't even let me finish telling you what we talked about. And I know you want to hear this part."

Neal took a deep breath as he reached the edge of the room, turning back to face Peter and Elizabeth. He leaned back against the wall behind him, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I'm done. You can finish."

Peter rubbed a hand over his jaw, looking from Neal to his wife tiredly. "So we spoke a bit more. And we also discussed the involvement of the Bureau…" he began. He watched Neal as he said this part, and as he expected, Neal's attention was immediately away from the ceiling and squarely back on him, blue eyes shining. "Thought you might want to hear that," Peter told him gently. Neal's facial expression remained solemn.

"And?" Neal asked.

"We both agreed," Peter continued, "that regardless of what Dean may have said, we would be doing ourselves a disservice if we didn't involve the authorities."

"Really?" Elizabeth began. Again she sounded relieved. She walked back over to sit on the bed beside her husband, taking the space that Neal had vacated.

"Really," Peter responded. "We both think we can do this in a way that allows Dean to think we're operating independently, to hold up that part of the deal at least in pretense. But this way, we have the extra support we need."

"That makes me feel so much better," Elizabeth began. She reached for her husband's hand, gripping it.

Peter squeezed her hand back. "And you?" Peter asked Neal, looking towards his CI.

Neal crossed his arms over his chest, remaining against the wall. He was relieved too, but not yet willing to show it. He shifted his weight slightly. "So why'd you change your mind?"

Peter gave a small smile. "I didn't change my mind, Neal."

"But you did…" Neal objected, brow furrowing. "You said—"

"I said we needed to wait to hear back from her," Peter interjected. "Which I'd wait tonight for before considering whether to bring anyone else in..."

Neal shook his head. "No, you—"

"Yes," Peter replied. "Listen, Neal. If I went to Hughes immediately and discussed this with him, things would have had to take a different turn. Contacting her would be out of the picture— for reasons we all know. I wanted to make sure I had some connection to her turned back on before we jumpstarted things with the Bureau. We are not going to be able to lure Dean out unless we have her involved."

"So if you had told him what was going on, Hughes would have prohibited it?" Neal asked.

"Contacting her?" Peter asked. He shrugged. "Directly or indirectly implied, I'm pretty sure that would have been necessary on his part, given her position. It would have made the phone call I just made a lot less kosher, that's for sure. Now that's done and in the books, and we go from here."

Neal narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Peter asked him, picking up on his dubiousness.

"This is like… out of my playbook," Neal noted.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission…" Neal answered.

"That's... not at all what I'm saying, Neal."

"That's kind of … exactly what you're saying," Neal replied, making a face. "Exactly what you did. How is it not?"

Before Peter could respond, Elizabeth cut in. "Isn't it just as questionable to include Samantha from here on out, Peter?" she asked. "The fact remains that you called her. I have to agree with Neal's skepticism here..."

"Technically yes. But she's going to make the contact herself," Peter replied. "She actually suggested it. It's going to turn into a bit of a Catch-22."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth frowned. "You already made contact with her."

"The Bureau hasn't though. And she's going to be calling in to make that connection," he explained. "In the morning." He glanced at his watch. "I mean, the real morning."

"So you'll lie to them?" Neal asked. "About calling her?"

"No," Peter answered. "Not planning on lying at all." He studied Neal and gave a small shake of his head. "Neal… You're just going to continue to be the skeptic here, aren't you? You know what - that's fine. Skepticize away." As Elizabeth yawned beside him, he didn't wait for Neal to answer and continued, "We have a plan. Let's try to get some sleep, and tomorrow first thing we'll—"

"Is 'skepticize' even a word?" Neal asked.

Peter just took a deep breath. He let it out with forced patience and smiled wryly, "Neal, it's probably not. Want me to go get a dictionary? Or do you want to criticize anything else first?"

"It's just, you're making things up as you go," Neal persisted, agitated. "Even words."

Peter muttered something under his breath, shaking his head.

Elizabeth slipped her hand out of her husband's clasp and patted his leg. "Alright, honey. I think that's a sign. Let's give Neal his room back and get you a couple more hours of sleep." She pushed herself up from the bed. "Come on. Let's go."

Peter glanced again at his watch as he also stood up. "As always, you're right, El."

She merely made a face herself. "Just trying to prevent another war tonight," she murmured.

Neal remained stationary in his spot against the wall. He watched the two of them as they approached him to get to the door.

"Good night, Neal," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Again."

He nodded to her as she left the room.

He was then left standing eye to eye with his handler. "Peter," he stated, voice tentative.

Peter gave him a look, but said nothing. He then just reached out and squeezed his shoulder, briefly but firmly, before he also left the room.

Neal sighed and shut the door behind them. He then walked back over to the bed and collapsed on it face down, willing himself to another attempt of sleep.

When Diana arrived at the office the next day, she noticed two things.

The first was that Elizabeth Burke was there again. After preparing a mug of coffee from the break room, Diana had gone by Peter's office to see if he was in yet. While he wasn't at his desk, she could see that Elizabeth was seated in the office, as though waiting for him. It was a similar scene to the day before.

It was unusual that she was here. Diana chalked up the day before as a result of the unique circumstances. Peter had been through a lot, and while he'd received a mostly clean bill of health, it was not surprising that his wife was still concerned. Now, here again, Diana couldn't help but frown.

She walked up to her boss's office and rapped her knuckles against the doorway. Elizabeth turned in her chair, first a little alarmed, but then smiled. "Oh, hi, Diana."

"Good morning," Diana greeted warmly. "Sorry if I startled you. Just wanted to see if you needed anything."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Elizabeth responded. "Thank you though."

Diana nodded. "Of course." She gestured toward Peter's empty desk. "Where's the boss?" she asked.

"He's with his boss," Elizabeth responded, giving a tight smile. "They still have a lot to catch up on, I imagine."

Diana cupped her hands around her coffee mug as she glanced in the direction of Hughes' office. "Oh, I'm sure they do…" she commented. She turned back to Elizabeth. "He doing okay? Peter?"

Elizabeth offered a small smile again. "I think so," she replied. "I mean, physically he's a bit banged up. His ribs especially. Headaches seem a bit better today than yesterday. But I think there's more on his mind, if you know what I mean."

"I do," Diana answered slowly. "And I'm just wondering how I can help." She paused. "I mean, the current case, it can wait, you know? Until he's ready. I just… I don't know how all this happened."

"How all what happened?"

"Oh, well, you know… Peter's accident. Some of the other incidents with other agents…" Diana trailed off. Then she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to drone on."

"No, no," Elizabeth objected. She frowned. "I know exactly what you mean."

"I'll be around," Diana replied. "Once he's back, if he needs anything he can just let me know. And you too; the offer still stands."

"Thank you."

Diana gave a smile and left Elizabeth there. She then walked closer towards the direction of Hughes' office. She had no intention of interrupting or even getting close enough to be noticed; she simply wanted to try to gauge the mood inside the office.

She could only catch a glimpse from her current angle. The back of Peter's head and his posture gave her no indication of anything. She was afraid to look too closely at Hughes, but his current demeanor seemed indifferent and not unlike his typical disposition.

She sighed.

That's when she noticed the second thing.

Neal.

She had noticed his absence from his own desk when she initially walked onto the office floor, but she hadn't thought too much of it.

She now found him sitting a handful of feet away, in a chair that looked like it had been borrowed from a conference room. He was also evidently focused on Hughes' office. At least, his chair was angled that way, but he was far enough away that it was almost hard to notice him.

She took a long sip of her coffee and then walked towards him.

Neal either didn't notice or didn't choose to turn his attention at first, but when she got close enough and cleared her throat, he finally turned his head and looked up at her.

"Caffrey," she greeted. "Good morning."

He leaned back in the chair, stretching out his legs, pushing the heels of his shoes out into the carpeted floor. "Diana," he said.

"You look tired," she told him.

He rolled his eyes, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. "Gee, thanks, Diana..."

"Sorry," she said with a chuckle. "I don't mean it negatively. Just an observation."

"Well, observation noted… I'm not sure I've entirely caught up on sleep yet…" he started.

"You want a coffee?" She gestured to her mug. "Fresh pot in the break room."

He wrinkled his nose a bit. "Ah, the break room coffee. No thanks. But I think I will have to go grab some coffee somewhere in a minute or so."

"Suit yourself." She paused. "By the way, how's Peter doing? He looked pretty exhausted yesterday as well."

"He's okay," Neal said vaguely.

She nodded towards Hughes office. "You waiting on him?"

He shrugged. "Sort of. He's been in there a while…"

She frowned. "You know what it's about?"

Neal shrugged a second time, eyes flitting back towards Hughes' office.

She raised her eyebrows. "You do something?"

"Me?" Neal responded in surprise. He turned his gaze back to Diana, blue eyes flashing. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, you've parked yourself in an optimal place," she answered slowly. "You don't normally camp out here. It's like you're trying to measure whatever situation is going on in there."

"Well, it's definitely not about me," Neal answered, shaking his head. "For once, I can be sure about that."

"Then what is it?" she asked. "Is it the case?"

Neal's brow furrowed further. He feigned a perplexed look, reaching up to scratch his head. "How would I know?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Caffrey, don't hit me with your hypothetical falsehoods. What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing…"

"Bullshit, buddy. It seems like a whole lot of something," she answered. "Is there something going on that I should know about?" She glanced back towards Hughes' office before returning her attention to Neal. "I've felt like there's been something more going on. Even before you guys came back. But now—"

"Yes," Neal acknowledged quickly. He let out a breath it seemed he didn't know he'd been holding. He straightened his legs and shifted to the edge of his seat. "There is."

"What?" she began, startled. She'd been prepared to tease him until he maybe gave her some sort of indication of what might be going on. She didn't expect this quick forfeit of the conversation. This was not like Neal at all.

"There is something," Neal repeated. "But let Peter bring you into it. I'm sure he will once he gets through with Hughes."

"Shit," she answered, faltering a bit. She gave him a concerned look. "Really?"

Neal just looked at her.

"Is that why Elizabeth is here?" Diana persisted.

Neal sighed. "Let him tell you," he persisted. "Please."

"I was actually hoping you'd say it was nothing," Diana replied slowly. "Is it serious?" She watched his expression. "Why can't you tell me?"

"I could," he acknowledged. "But I'd rather Peter told you."

"Okay…"

"It's ironic, Diana. Because I was actually going to tell you today..." Neal began, getting to his feet. "But now I don't have to." He looked back towards the closed doors of Hughes office. "You know, they are taking a while, so maybe I will go get that coffee…"

"Now you don't have to?" Diana echoed. She shook her head. "Caffrey, you're not making any sense."

He just gave her another look, shaking his head. Before she could say anything else, then he was walking away. Quickly walking away.

Puzzled, she watched him head down the stairs into the bullpen.

Neal felt a combination of nerves, agitation, tiredness, and confusion leaving the office floor.

In the elevator ride down to the street level, he kept his eyes closed. He didn't bother to open them until the elevator chimed and the doors opened to the lobby.

When he reached the sidewalk outside and finally took a deep breath of outdoor air, he expected to feel a sense of calm. Or something. He didn't.

Instead a moment later, it struck him with a sense of fear as his eyes darted over the crowds on the sidewalk that he probably shouldn't have even left the building.

What if Dean was out here somewhere?

Peter hadn't explicitly told him to stay in the building, but he realized it was one of those things that went without saying. If Peter wouldn't let him go home unattended, wouldn't let Elizabeth stay at home, well then he sure as well wasn't going to encourage any frivolous independent coffee runs.

He didn't even have an anklet on.

He suddenly felt like a child that had broken a sworn rule. He looked behind him towards the doors of the building, feeling his pulse race.

Screw that, he then thought to himself. The coffee shop was literally a block away, and if Dean was watching and lurking somewhere in these crowds, then so be it. Let him watch. And let Peter see a stupid tracker wasn't the end all be all. He wasn't going to run.

Besides, he was confident he'd be back before Peter even noticed he was gone anyway. Before he maybe was even done speaking with Hughes. He had a lot to tell the senior officer after all. It was likely to take a while.

When he got to the coffee shop, the line to the counter to order was longer than usual, even for the morning. He overheard one of the cashiers apologizing that there was a single credit card machine working.

He sighed impatiently. He looked around the room, from the line of people, to the espresso machines behind the counters, to the display of coffee beans, back to the large glass windows that exposed them to the street.

Come on, come on… he urged the line.

Then, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He felt a sense of dread as he reached for it. Was it possible Peter had already noticed he had left the floor?

When he pulled the phone out and looked at its screen, he felt his blood run cold.

Unidentified caller.

It could be the Bureau, he told himself. If Peter called from another number… It's possible it would show the Bureau line as protected. Though one time he had done that, and it had shown as all zeroes. Not unidentified.

Conflicted and feeling uneasy, he brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello..." he said nonchalantly.

"Hello, CI," came the voice on the other line.

Neal didn't need to ask who it was. It was Dean. He quickly looked around the coffee shop, scanning the faces of the people around him. He then turned towards the window.

Coffee had been a terrible idea.

"Which one of you did it?" Dean continued, voice raspy.

"Did what?" Neal asked. He felt his voice wavering. He couldn't help it.

"Cut me off," Dean responded. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? The Burkes are quiet in the morning, but not that quiet. And not when you're there, pretty boy."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Neal answered. He started to edge his way towards the exit of the coffee shop. Caffeine was going to have to wait. In fact, the sludge from the break room might even have to make do.

"Sure you do," Dean responded. "It was you, wasn't it? Peter wouldn't have it in him to do it."

"Do what?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, Neal… You may look it, but that's far from the case, and we both know it…" Dean continued. "That took balls though. Taking down my network. How did you find it?"

"What network?" Neal asked. Shit, he was thinking. What was he supposed to say? If he was back in the office they could have been tracing this already.

"Oh, you're starting to really piss me off…" Dean answered, tone darkening.

"What do you wa—"

"You know what I want," Dean interjected, voice snapping. "And just because you cut me off in one way, it doesn't mean I'm not already listening in another way. My rules still apply. Remind Peter you're down to forty-two hours."

Neal pushed through the swinging door of the coffee shop, back out onto the street. The noise of the street buzzed around him.

"No coffee, Neal?" Dean asked over the phone line. "What a shame. You walked all the way over here. And I know that they're known for their macchiatos… Are you sure?"

Neal froze for a moment. His eyes again scanned the sidewalk, the street, the buildings nearby. His heart was pounding.

Laughter came over the line for a moment. It was sinister and raised the hair on Neal's arms in a chill.

The laughter stopped. "Forty-two hours," Dean snapped. "Tick tock, CI."