Neal had never returned to the office so quickly.

It didn't even compare to the days he'd been running late, rushing to minimize his tardiness and dreading the inevitable chastisement that was awaiting him.

This was a different type of panic entirely.

Once back in the building lobby, within the security constraints of a federal office, he only felt partially less unease. Out of breath, he continued looking over his shoulder as he waited for the elevator. He had a difficult time standing still.

After the call with Dean had ended, he'd immediately raced the one block back to the office. If there was a gold medal for the fastest one-block sprint, he was certain it would be in his possession.

As he ran, he had also continuously looked back, searching the crowds for clues or a tail. He felt like he could still hear Dean laughing in his ear.

The elevator finally arrived, and he rushed into the car as soon as the threshold allowed, right away pressing the button to close the doors behind him.

Relieved to be the only person in the elevator, he couldn't help but think the machinery was running extra slow today.

"Come on, come on, come…" he urged it, muttering the words under his breath impatiently as he saw the digital numbers go up by each floor they climbed, one by one, painfully slow.

When the doors finally began to open to their floor, he flew out before they were even fully extended, nearly knocking into someone waiting for the elevator. He managed a fleeting apology, not even registering who the person was, as he continued across the hall through the entryway into the bullpen.

It was a blur until he reached Peter's office. The noise of the office was just that – noise.

In Peter's office, he could only spot Elizabeth. His heart sank, and he quickly spun on his heels towards the office of Hughes without any hesitation.

He wasn't even thinking straight when he reached out and simply opened that door, essentially barging in.

It was something he would have never dared to do under normal circumstances. His mind didn't even make that connection until he was already standing in the doorway, exposed.

Hughes was mid statement as the door opened, but he immediately closed his mouth, eyes landing on Neal with an irritable and confounded frown. "Caffrey," he said with a hint of annoyance. "Can we help you?"

Neal stood there, realizing he was still panting a bit, and tried to find the words as his heart pounded in his head.

"Neal," Peter snapped. He had turned in his chair and was giving Neal a frustrated look that was equally perplexed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Neal noticed for the first time that the mood in the room was overwhelmingly solemn. It was an epic inappropriate interruption. Still, in light of the extenuating situation, he didn't pause as he found his words. "Peter," Neal spoke, trying his best to regain his breath and speak steadily. "I really need you right now."

"Right now, Neal?" Peter objected. He cast a quick look towards his own boss, almost apologetic, before turning back to Neal, giving him a look. "Can't you—"

"I can't," Neal interrupted, shaking his head. He was trying to downplay the instinct to simply plead. "It's important." For good measure, he added an emphatic, "Please."

"Caffrey, do you not see that we are in the middle of a discussion here?" Hughes responded dryly, raising his eyebrows. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll have you know that it's a quite serious one at that..."

In normal circumstances, a similar comment from Hughes would have had Neal quickly bowing out of the office with an apology. This time, he held his ground. "Sir, I'm sorry," he replied. "I really need to speak to Peter about something. It's urgent."

"Unbelievable…" Hughes muttered. He gave Peter a somber look. "Go see to your CI's so-called emergency, Peter," he said stiffly. "Maybe teach him some manners when you have the time. We then have a lot to finish discussing when you get back."

Peter paused at first, as if considering an alternative course of action, but then simply pushed back his chair without a word, nodding at his boss. He swiftly moved to exit the room, grabbing Neal roughly by the arm as he did so and taking him with him.

Neal winced but said nothing, moving with Peter out the doorway in reverse, trying not to trip over his own feet.

Peter shut Hughes' door behind him, just shy of slamming it, and then released Neal's arm with look of disdain. "What the hell is the matter with you? What is so urgent?"

Neal rubbed at his arm. He mustered the most sincere look he could. "Listen, Peter—"

"Do I need to teach you manners?"

"No," Neal objected. "I'm sorry for that, but—"

"This better be good," Peter told him as he paced a few feet away, muttering to himself.

"You're not listening," Neal asserted.

"No?" Peter snapped, looking up to glare at him. "How's it feel?" He took a step back to him and pointed a finger at Neal. "You know how that makes me look?"

"Can you let me talk for more than two seconds?" Neal pleaded with a desperate sigh. He realized his heart hadn't stopped pounding in his ears.

"I'll give you three," Peter answered, giving him a glare. "How about that?"

Neal opened his mouth to speak, but then with the worst possible timing, he caught the sight of Jones approaching them from the corner of his eye.

"Caffrey," the other man greeted as he reached them, holding up his arm. In his hand he held the infamous anklet tracker. A replacement device. "I've been looking for you." He smirked. "I've got a little gift from the Marshals."

Neal groaned, feeling exasperated.

"Is that what this is about?" Peter began irritably. He began to look more incensed, eyes blazing. "Because if it is, Neal—"

"No," Neal quickly objected. "It's not. It's just…" He steadied his voice and turned towards Jones. "Hey, can we do this later? I'm not going anywhere."

Jones shrugged. "It takes no time to slap it on, Neal. But if you guys are in the middle of something…"

'Middle of something'... quite the euphemism, Neal thought to himself wryly.

"Just give it to me," Peter answered gruffly. He extended his hand towards Jones, palm up. "I'll take care of it."

Jones took the few steps towards him and dropped the device in his manager's hand. He then scrutinized him a bit. "You okay, Boss?"

"Peachy," Peter muttered. "Thank you." He jerked his head towards Neal. "You. Come with me."

Neal stood there silently as he watched Peter stalk off towards his office.

Jones whistled, raising his eyebrows. He gave Neal a look. "Geez, Caffrey. What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing," Neal answered.

"You sure? He's sure riled up..."

"Whatever…" Neal simply shook his head and walked off to follow Peter, ignoring the laugh of Jones that he heard as he left the other man behind.

As he entered his handler's office, he eyed Peter standing at the side of his desk, stating something to his wife in a manner that could only be described as disgruntled. Elizabeth was saying something back softly. Neal debated whether the conversation was about his lack of manners or the discussion he'd interrupted. Or both.

He hesitated but then audibly cleared his throat.

They both abruptly turned to look at him as he stood in the doorway.

One of the looks was biting. The other looked sympathetic. Neal avoided eye contact with them both. "Peter…" he began. "I'm sorry, but it's important."

Peter pointed to the empty chair next to Elizabeth, anklet in his hand. "Sit, Neal," he said irritably. "Tell me whatever the hell it is that's so important while I get you back on the grid. The clock is ticking."

Neal felt a jolt of something in his chest. That's what Dean had said. Tick tock.

"Dean just called me," Neal blurted out, remaining in the doorway. There was no other way to divulge the information. Peter wasn't giving him any other chance to get it out there. "While I was outside."

"What?" Peter answered. His anger was masked by confusion. His hand holding the anklet dropped to his side as he shook his head. "Neal, what the hell are you talking about? Outside where?"

"Just now." Neal spoke slowly and solemnly. He braced his hand against the frame of the doorway, as if he needed that to anchor himself. "I went to get coffee, and he called me while I was out there."

Peter's expression went from annoyed to confused and then back to annoyed again. He was shaking his head. "You… You left the building," he said. It wasn't clear whether it was a statement or a question.

"For five minutes," Neal began. "He's watching us, Peter."

"Get in here," Peter said sharply, "and shut the door."

Neal hesitated.

"Now," Peter persisted, raising his voice.

Neal edged himself into the office the bare minimum amount of inches to slowly close the door behind him. "He said there's forty-two hours left," he spoke as he moved, eyes flitting cautiously to Peter for just a second before focusing on the door as he continued, pulling it the rest of the way shut. "He knows we cut off his network from the house. He also says he's listening in other ways now." He then turned to view his handler and paused, unable to decipher Peter's darkening expression. "He knew where I was, Peter."

"Why would you go outside?" Peter asked icily.

"Do you care that I was outside, or do you care that he called?" Neal replied, a slight edge to his voice. Why wasn't Peter focusing on the crux of his statement? On Dean?

"I care about both, Neal," Peter retorted angrily. "What if he was out there?"

"I'm pretty sure he was," Neal answered curtly. "Pretty sure as in I know that he was. He described where I was."

"Jesus Christ, Neal," Peter muttered angrily. He slammed his fist down on his desk. It was the hand holding the anklet. "What's the matter with you?"

"Peter," Elizabeth objected. "Calm down. Let him talk."

"If you break that," Neal told him, nodding at the device, "then it'll be number four in a week, Peter."

Peter sent him a testy look.

Neal swallowed. Peter's silence was unnerving him. "Now you're supposed to say something about how you won't actually need a replacement, since you're going to send me back to prison," he said cautiously. He leaned back against the door uneasily. "Right?"

Peter still said nothing.

"Peter…" Neal said uncertainly. "Will you just say something?"

Peter shook his head and pointed to the empty chair again. "Will you just sit?"

Reluctantly, Neal moved forward. At least Elizabeth was a witness. He moved around the chair and sank into it. Then without being told, he lifted his leg to rest his foot against the desk in front of him, elevating the ankle to be within Peter's reach.

Peter shifted closer to him. "No. The other one," he told him stiffly.

"This one's fine now," Neal told him. He looked up at Peter and had a flashback to when the man had refused this ankle the day after the visit to urgent care. That was days ago. It felt like months. "I'm—"

"We don't have time for this, Neal," Peter cut him off. "Just give me the other one." His tone remained rigid.

Neal sighed. Without arguing, he compliantly dropped that foot to the floor and raised the other one.

"Tell me what else he said to you," Peter directed. He leaned forward as he spoke, pulling up Neal's pant-leg to expose his ankle.

Neal watched the familiar motions, frowning. Peter was none too gentle as he clamped the tracker over his ankle unapologetically. "Forty-two hours," Neal said, repeating Dean's words as he grimaced at Peter's movement. "That he knows we cut off his access to the house, but he's listening somehow in another way. And it seemed he could see me. That he knew where I was." He winced as the anklet abruptly tightened. "Peter," he hissed in objection. He reached forward for the strap himself himself. It was so tight he couldn't even slide a finger beneath it. He gave his handler a look.

"Why'd you go outside?" Peter asked again in a montone. Without another word, he started to loosen the anklet.

"Habit," Neal answered honestly. He watched the movement of Peter's hands. Was he really going to focus on the fact he left the office? Wasn't that just an insignificant detail? "I didn't even get the coffee, Peter." Did that matter?

"You have to be smarter," Peter told him stiffly. His voice was stern. He tugged at the strap of the anklet. "Is that good?"

Neal's fingers tested the strap himself briefly. "Okay," he replied morosely.

Peter proceeded with locking the device. The small monitor on it glowed green in compliance. Then he pulled down the pant-leg and stepped back, moving around his desk to take a seat at his own chair. He looked tired.

Neal slowly let his leg slide to the floor. He moved his ankle around, feeling the return of the anklet. "What do we do, Peter?" he asked.

"I need to finish my conversation with Hughes," Peter began with a sigh.

"What about Dean?"

"He's trying to intimidate us," Peter responded. He gave Neal a pointed look. "And you make it easy, when you step out where you're not supposed to."

Neal made a face.

"Peter, we all have to step outside at some point," Elizabeth said slowly.

"I know," Peter admitted.

Neal cleared his throat. "How's it going with Hughes?"

Peter worked his jaw. "Not well."

Neal frowned.

"Peter," Elizabeth continued. "It makes me nervous that he's watching us. If he could see Neal…"

Peter regarded his wife with a sympathetic exhale and then turned back to his CI. "What did he say, Neal?" Peter persisted. "Not in general – Exactly. How did you know he was actually watching?"

"Well, he knew I was in the coffee shop," Neal responded.

"GPS would tell him that too. Could he be tracking your phone rather than actually watching?"

Neal shook his head, brow furrowing. "No. He knew the moment I walked out of the store onto the street. He's definitely watching."

"How are you certain?" Peter responded in frustration. "He could estimate that from GPS."

"Because he commented that I was leaving without coffee," Neal responded, giving his handler a direct look. "Which is something he would only know if he could see me."

Peter took a deep breath and exhaled. "You just had to go out…" he muttered.

"Well, now you know he's there, Peter," Neal objected. Peter didn't look at all persuaded that the new information was useful.

"Okay, listen. I need to get back to Hughes…" Peter muttered. He started to get up from his chair. "You both need to just sit tight."

"How is he listening in new ways?" Elizabeth asked, frowning. "Isn't that what you said, Neal?"

"He's probably bluffing," Peter answered with a sigh.

"Are you sure?" She frowned at him.

Peter looked thoughtful. "Neal. You want something to do? You want to ask your buddy to check?"

"To check? Like, your house?" Neal asked.

Peter looked reluctant but slowly nodded. "Since you've already involved Mozzie, why not." As he watched Neal's face, he added, "And I don't mean now. I mean later. Together."

"What about your car?" Neal asked.

"What about it?"

"Well, it was at that lot for a while when we were gone…" Neal started. "He probably knew that. Right?"

Peter paused and then rubbed his hands over his face. "Sure. Sure, check the car."

"Can I have your keys?"

Peter gave him a skeptical look. "No. Neal, I told you. Not now."

Neal shrugged. "Fine. I have to call Mozzie anyway."

"So call him first." Peter moved around his desk and towards his office door. "Just do me a favor, Neal – stay in the building, and don't interrupt Hughes and me again. Got it?"

Peter gave him a long look but didn't wait for a response before leaving.

Neal watched Peter depart, sighing. The man shut the door behind him as he exited, leaving Elizabeth and Neal alone in the office.

Neal reached down to rub at his calf. The familiar anklet was feeling unfamiliar. He suddenly had mixed feelings about the discussion that had just taken place. Had he done the right thing? Telling Peter about the call so urgently? He couldn't tell.

He straightened and shifted in his seat to turn towards Elizabeth. "Was I supposed to tell him about this in front of Hughes?" he asked. "I don't know where they are in their conversation yet."

"I know..." Elizabeth acknowledged slowly.

"Should I have waited?" Neal persisted. "I mean, I didn't know how long he'd be in there… It seemed urgent. Right?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "I don't know, Neal. I really don't know."

Neal sighed, briefly puffing out his cheeks. Her answer sounded distracted. He didn't push. Meanwhile, he didn't feel any better, but he supposed she felt just about the same.

"I'm going to get some coffee from the break-room," he began, pushing back his chair to get up. "Do you want anything?"

"Sure. You can get me some too," she responded.

"It's not very good," he told her bluntly.

That elicited a smile from her. "To be honest, I wasn't expecting it to be," she responded.

"I can make you tea instead," he offered.

She scrutinized him for a moment and then simply nodded. "Sure. Tea sounds good. Thank you, Neal."

He nodded. "Of course." Deep down he was simply relieved to have something to do.

Hughes looked up upon hearing the solid knock at his door. He could see Peter through the glass walls. "Come in…" he responded, loud enough to be heard from outside the glass confines of his office. He discarded the pen in his hand and pushed the paperwork in front of him a few inches away.

Peter walked in and closed the door behind him, offering a remorseful look. "I'm very sorry for that interruption. It won't happen again."

Hughes regarded Peter with a solemn stare. "Everything good with your CI, Peter?" The question was posed somewhat skeptically.

"He's fine," Peter responded with an awkward but dismissive hand gesture. "I apologize, Sir. He's got no pause button…. Or self-restraint." He made a face. "He's learning."

Hughes expression was cynical. "Was it actually important?"

Peter hesitated for a moment, looking conflicted, but then simply nodded. "Well, let's just say I can understand why he interrupted."

Hughes briefly frowned. "Anything I should know about?"

Peter paused. "Uh… Well, it's certainly not more important than our current conversation," he finally answered. He averted his eyes as he moved to reclaim his chair, noticeably wincing as he lowered himself to sit.

Hughes watched him and frowned. "Are you sure you're okay, Peter?"

"I'm fine," Peter answered, brushing off the concern. "It's just these goddamn ribs. Every time I move. But there's nothing you can do about it apparently – just have to let them heal on their own time."

"You taking anything?"

"What, like pain medicine?" Peter shook his head. "No."

"Peter," Hughes began, giving him a disapproving look. "I've busted a rib or two in my time as well. It hurts like a bitch. Trust me, if you've got something prescribed, there's a reason. Take it."

"I'll consider it, Sir," Peter answered.

Hughes nodded, and then cleared his throat. "Back to our previous conversation…"

Peter exhaled, nodding solemnly. "Look, I'll say it again, Sir. I know I should have come forward with everything yesterday. To be honest with you, the entire past day feels like a blur."

"Yes, you should have," Hughes responded, rather bluntly. "Peter, it puts into question the entire case. Whether what we've been investigating is simply a red herring."

"I agree," Peter responded. "Clearly it has been. By someone that knows us too well."

"How is that even possible, Peter? Remind me, how did you even come about this case?"

With a sigh, Peter shook his head. "The usual process, Sir… A case had been submitted. It came through our department. We took it. We had information that led to a suspect. That suspect –"

"Well, I know all that, Peter," Hughes interjected impatiently. "My point is, how the hell does this happen?" He gestured with his hand, as though 'this' could be illustrated.

To that, Peter didn't have an answer. He only had a name. "It routes back to Dean, Sir. Clearly he knows the alleged suspect. The one who gave us these so-called leads."

"Isn't it wonderful that through our CI program we've actually empowered someone to so craftily manipulate our own system and agents…" Hughes answered sardonically.

Peter felt a bit defensive at the comment. "Dean's always been very resourceful, Sir. He had, or has, an extensive network. That was specifically why he was brought in as a CI."

"Which backfired tremendously, based on your brief depiction of his stint with us."

"Yes," Peter admitted. "Which is why he was locked up again. For a longer period of time. Until now."

"And now… He's doing all this for what end…? A woman? You mentioned his only demand revolves around her?" Hughes seemed to think of this with pure disdain. "I find that hard to believe."

Peter nodded slowly. He wanted to mention that it was remarkable what certain people would do for what they thought was love. His mind reflected on Neal and Kate for a moment, but then he dismissed the thought. He wanted no comparisons between the current and former CI.

"Well, she's untouchable," Hughes replied. "And you indicated you don't want a full pursuit of Dean. It's not making any sense to me, Peter. I think we need to do a full review of what we do know, and locate Dean as soon as possible. In the meantime, all other aspects of the case are off."

"I have a feeling she's not as untouchable as we think," Peter said slowly.

Hughes narrowed his eyes. "Well, what's that mean, Peter? And did you hear what I said about the rest of the case?"

"I did. And I fully agree, Sir."

Hughs scrutinized him. "Listen, Peter. I don't usually question your judgment... And I'm going to chalk up yesterday to the fact you were running on fumes, and, according to the medical report, suffering from a concussion among other things…" He saw Peter start to open his mouth and held up his hand. "Before you say another world, like you're fine, I'd be really careful, Peter."

"Sir—"

"Being held captive after an intentional crash is a hell of a lot different than being stranded after an accident," Hughes persisted, tone stiff. "I hope you realize that."

"Of course."

"So once again, I am considering your lapse of memory yesterday when you came into the office and omitted that part of the report to me as strictly due to your mental capacity after this event…"

"Right," Peter said slowly.

"Neal's as well."

"Neal's?"

"How's his mental capacity?"

Peter frowned.

"I'm going to need a statement from Neal as well," Hughes said, before Peter could respond. "Today."

"Sir?"

Hughes raised his eyebrows. "He was there with you," he replied. "This is serious, Peter. We need a full report. From all parties involved. I assume he'll be honest?"

Peter paused, brow furrowing slightly. He then responded, "Of course."

"So I need it today if he's able."

"Sure…" Peter agreed slowly. "Yeah, that's fine."

"And I'm putting a detail on your house, Peter." Immediately picking up on his agent's reservations towards the idea, he continued, "I know you have Elizabeth here because you're concerned for her safety. I also know you think it could cause undue harm if we're involved. But you know that we need to be, Peter. We'll work together on the plan, but I need to make sure you're all safe."

"They need to be invisible," Peter answered. "Especially right now. If he thinks for a moment anyone is involved—"

"I get it, Peter. Their speciality is to be invisible, and you know it," Hughes answered. "The original suspect… Diana was speaking to him yesterday, isn't that right?"

"She did," Peter affirmed. He thought back to the comments from Diana. Her confusion regarding the suspect's words – how he told her to ask Agent Burke what was next.

He owed her the truth as well...

"Well, I want you both to get on him again. She clearly didn't have the appropriate context when she spoke to him." Hughes sounded annoyed by the fact. "I understand we're holding him on several counts. Well, I think we'll be able to add to that now. Maybe bring in a polygraph. I don't care what his lawyer says. Does he have a lawyer?"

"I assume so." Peter felt his mind spinning a bit. "But I'll confirm, and we'll talk to him again. I'll connect with Diana right away."

Hughes nodded.

Peter listened as his senior officer continued to speak. He was clearly unhappy with the current scenario, and addressing ways in which he thought they could immediately influence things to get back in control and back on course.

Peter nodded and agreed with Hughes as the man went on. He knew he was in uncertain territory. He and Hughes normally saw eye to eye and worked closely together. Having had the man out of the loop, even briefly, on such critical events as the last couple days, clearly posed a challenge.

The last he needed was for Hughes to doubt him. Doubt his principles or intentions. The important thing was that everything was fully disclosed now.

Almost everything.

He considered saying something else when the phone on Hughes' desk began to ring.

Hughes scrutinized and then frowned at the caller ID. "I need to take this," he said, frowning. He looked up at Peter. "We'll catch up more later, Peter."

"Of course." Peter pushed back his chair, pushing himself up to stand.

Hughes reached for the phone receiver, lifting it to his ear. "This is Hughes," he spoke into the mouthpiece.

Peter moved towards the door, exiting the room before he could hear another part of the conversation.

He sighed, feeling absolutely exhausted, and slowly returned to his office, the list of things on his mind growing longer.