Author's note: I'm very sorry for the delay in this chapter. I didn't expect it to take this long, but for many reasons (including Ida hitting us here in Brooklyn!) I've had very limited time these last few weeks. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me this far, especially those who have taken the time to leave feedback. It's immensely appreciated.

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Jones frowned at the sudden, simultaneous appearance of both Caffrey and Diana at his desk.

Their coordinated arrival caught him off guard, and while he heard the words Diana spoke, he barely registered them.

Now they were both looking at him rather expectantly.

"Sorry, you need what?" he asked.

"The coordinates," Diana said firmly.

"The coordinates..." Jones echoed slowly, as though trying to decipher what she meant. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. "For…?"

"The coordinates I asked you for yesterday," Neal replied. He sounded slightly frustrated.

"I know which ones you mean..." Jones answered, feeling puzzled. He studied Neal, eyeing the bruise on his temple and the overall exhaustion on his face. He hadn't noticed the bruise earlier when he approached him and Peter with the new anklet. "But what about those coordinates? I looked 'em up, and then I compared them back to where the search and rescue team picked you guys up… They weren't far from there. Is that what you needed to know?"

"No. We need to look them up again," Neal answered.

"What do you mean, no? Why do you need to look it up again?" Jones felt even more at a loss. "You disagree with where you guys were located?" He smirked.

"Can you just pull them up, Jones?" Diana replied. As he turned his head to give her a perplexed look, she added, "Come on. Just do it, will you?"

With a furrowed brow, Jones looked from her to Neal and then back again with confusion. "Is there something I need to know?" he asked. "I feel like I'm missing something."

"Something else is there," Diana replied matter-of-factly, "and we want to use the coordinates to find out what."

"Something else? Like what?" As he asked the question, Jones reached for his keyboard. He quickly logged in to unlock the computer screen that upon his idleness had defaulted to a screensaver. It wasn't that he was opposed to looking up something for them – he just wasn't sure what he was looking for. "Last I heard, there was a whole lot of nothing there. It's the middle of no where."

"Well, let's find out what's actually there." After she spoke, Diana walked a few feet away to retrieve a chair from a nearby empty workstation and dragged it over to place it beside Jones' desk. She gestured to Neal to take a seat as she stepped away to grab another chair for herself.

Jones focused on his monitor, but out of the corner of his eye, he watched Neal lower himself into the newly acquired chair. "So what am I looking for, Caffrey?" he asked. Meanwhile, he pulled up the recently minimized browser on his computer, where he still had the coordinates listed.

"That depends," Neal began. "Let me see what you have so far."

"Not much," Jones replied with a slight shrug. "Here," he spoke as he brought up an aerial view of the coordinates. He maximized his screen and then reached to physically turn the monitor to be in a better vantage point for his inquiring colleagues. He gestured at the screen. "See? A whole lot of nothing..."

Neal leaned forward, eyeing the computer screen carefully, scanning the image, which simply showed a treetop view of endless foliage. It was impossible to even see beyond the top of the trees, never mind anything else. Not that he expected to see anything else, considering the bunker was not even visible from forest floor level.

"If there was a structure there," Neal began, "could you see another view? I don't need aerial images. I need something that shows more how… how the land is registered."

"There was a structure there?" Jones began, genuinely surprised. He gave Neal a puzzled look. "Gerry didn't mention that… In fact, he specifically said there was nothing."

"Gerry wasn't there."

"He was," Jones corrected. He raised his eyebrows. "He's the one that found you guys. Haven't you seen his report?"

"He wouldn't have seen it," Neal replied, tone more insistent. "But what do you mean… There's a report? Of what— when they found us?"

"There's a report for everything," Jones told him. He watched Neal open his mouth to speak and cut him off. "And no, I'm not giving it to you. Ask Peter if you want to see it."

"Ask Peter…" Neal echoed.

"Yes, ask Peter."

"You guys certainly love your confidential paperwork…" Neal commented sarcastically.

"Feel free to tell Peter that as well. Let me know his reaction."

Neal's brow furrowed slightly, but then he focused back on the computer screen. "Do you have another view that would show topography? Like where there might be a natural cave?"

"A cave," Jones repeated skeptically. He glanced over at Diana, who was just now also getting situated into a chair placed beside Neal. Her eyes were focused on the computer screen, looking at the picture for the first time.

"A cave," Neal affirmed. He leaned forward in his chair, squinting at the screen again more closely. "And can I get the actual coordinates too?"

"You're looking at the actual coordinates."

"Right. I mean written down." Neal gave Jones a look. "I appreciate this fascinating image that avid arborists might enjoy, but the actual coordinates themselves would be great."

Jone sighed, bristling just slightly at the sarcasm and orders from Neal. He reminded himself to be patient as he lifted his hands from the keyboard. He shifted away from his computer, turning in his chair to face Neal. "Could you tell me what exactly it is you're looking for, Neal? Might help a bit."

Neal leaned back into his own chair with a corresponding sigh himself. "I told you. Land registration. Topography or elevation. And the coordinates."

"Right… And why, exactly?"

"Just—"

"According to Neal," Diana interjected, glancing only briefly over at the source of her information before continuing to focus on Jones, "there's an underground facility somewhere near these coordinates."

"An underground facility…" Jones echoed. "Are you for real?"

"Diana," Neal objected. His tone was apprehensive.

"What?" she asked. She turned and noticed the trepidation on the CI's face. "What, Neal?" she persisted. She crossed one leg over the other as she exhaled, shaking her head at him. "I thought you wanted to get more information on this. Jones isn't going to be able to help you blindly based on cryptic comments."

Neal gave Diana a pointed look. "Peter said to tell you. Not to tell the entire Bureau."

"Hey," Jones objected, making a face. "Do I look like the whole Bureau to you?"

Neal shifted his gaze back to Jones only briefly with an unamused expression. "Diana…" he said cautiously.

"It's fine," Diana insisted. "Trust me. It's Jones." She paused and then added, "Also, I'll take full responsibility for bringing him into the fold. Okay?"

Neal looked uncertain for a moment but then slowly gave in, slumping his shoulders tiredly. "Fine," he replied, emphasizing the word. "Jones… Now that you're in the loop…. Is there a way to see where there might be any old fallout shelters?" he asked. "Are they registered?"

"Whoa," Jones began, shaking his head. He let out a brief but exasperated chuckle. "Hold up. I'm no where near 'in the loop' yet." He smirked a bit. "Are you guys playing me? If you are, it's definitely way too early for this."

"No," Diana responded, frowning. "Jones, this is completely serious. I know the questions sound random, but they're not."

"Really?" he persisted. He tilted his head, giving her a skeptical look. "Let me back up and summarize. Caves? Underground facilities… And now a fallout shelter? Peter confirmed all of this?"

"I haven't spoken to Peter yet," she admitted.

Jones scoffed and then rolled his eyes. "Diana…"

"Okay, so that fallout shelter part I'm not sure about," she began, glancing over at Neal with a frown. "You didn't mention that before, Neal…"

"So?" Neal responded. "That's what the underground structure used to be."

She didn't answer.

"This sure sounds a bit different than Gerry's report," Jones stated warily.

"Why would I lie?" Neal retorted, looking affronted.

"We didn't say you were," Diana answered carefully.

"You've made a career of lying," Jones told him bluntly, taking a different approach. "Why wouldn't you lie?"

Neal worked his jaw. "I have no reason to make up anything about what happened while we were there. Peter will tell you the same thing. And I know it was once a fall out shelter, because you could see it on the walls," he persisted stiffly. "I know that symbol. Anyone does."

"Alright," Jones repeated, still sounding a bit skeptical. "So you guys were inside somewhere. Underground…"

Neal tiredly rubbed his hands over his face. Then he dropped his hands to his lap. "Yes. Like I said," he began, "there was a structure there... It was located underground, which is why Gerry," he gave Jones a sharp look, "wouldn't have seen it. Someone lives there, or spends time there, and that's where Peter and I were."

"Gerry—"

"Gerry wasn't there," Neal said stiffly. "I'm not saying his report is wrong, Jones. It's just materially incomplete. Can we stop talking about Gerry? We had already left this structure before he located us."

"Fine. I get it," Jone replied. "So who is this someone?"

Neal paused. Uncertainty flashed over his face.

Jones frowned at Neal's lack of response. He then continued, "You said you guys were there, and that someone lives there– was there someone else there with you?"

Neal worked his jaw. "Yes."

Jones cast a look towards Diana, frown deepening.

"I just found out…" she told him, shrugging with a bit of a powerless expression as she offered the statement. "And I haven't talked to Peter yet. He's been catching up with Hughes."

"None of this leaves this desk," Neal said firmly. As they both turned to look at him, he emphasized the words. "None of it. There's a reason it wasn't mentioned yesterday."

"Okay…" Jones began. He still looked a little uneasy regarding the new information, but his fingers inched back over to his keyboard. "Alright, man. Let me see what I can find. We can definitely look up property registration."

"And can you write down the coordinates?" Neal asked.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Of course." Jones leaned over to reach for the pad of paper and pen that sat at the edge of his desk. He then cross-referenced the computer screen, squinting slightly, to jot down the digits that made up the coordinates. After he wrote the final number, he slid the paper over towards Neal. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Neal replied.

Jones watched as Neal immediately pulled out his phone, using it to take a quick photo of the piece of paper. His fingers then moved rapidly to attach it to a text message.

"Who are you sending that to?" Jones asked, a little suspiciously.

"Someone," Neal answered cryptically.

"Care to say who?"

Neal looked up from his phone. "Not really."

Jones sighed. He considered saying something further, but Neal's focus had already returned to his texting. Without Peter around, he wasn't sure Neal was going to listen to him anyway. He sent a look Diana's way.

"Let's see what else you can find, Jones," Diana suggested.

"Sure," Jones agreed. He focused back on the computer. "Let's check this location out."

Peter's head was spinning when he finally finished his additional discussion with Hughes.

Things weren't exactly going to plan… not that he'd entirely known what the full plan was to begin with. His approach to date was more... concepts. At best, it was fragmented components of what could develop into a plan with a little more effort and coordination. He'd been a bit further away from a robust end-to-end roadmap of how to handle the situation than he cared to admit.

But for better or worse, these fragmented components that he'd provoked were now happening.

Samantha had connected with the Bureau, which was of course completely unexpected to everyone but Peter. While Peter had facilitated this contact, he did feel conflicted about it. On one hand, he felt a relief that Samantha had followed through on her commitment; however, at the same time, Peter felt terrible that she was even involved to begin with, despite her core prominence in the Bureau's history with Dean. He had no intention of compromising her, and couldn't help but think he could have chosen to leave her out of it, even though that would have put him further in danger himself.

Sure, Dean had demanded to have contact with her, but why should she be subjected to that? Couldn't they have come up with an alternative arrangement? Even a fabricated facade for Dean that implied he was going to get what he wanted, while leaving her out entirely?

Could they have?

It was too late now to leave her out completely, now that she had revealed herself, but maybe it wasn't too late to consider alternative next steps.

Yet it also wasn't lost on Peter that he had merely informed her of the situation. He hadn't made any demands. He never said she had to do anything. He had just laid out the facts. She'd been appreciative of the call. And she had decided to become involved on her own accord. She wasn't forced. She offered. She said she wanted to help.

Those facts didn't allow Peter to feel less conflicted. And he also realized during all of this that Neal was right – she was living a new life now… To compromise that… Neal, out of all of them, was the one considering the human element.

And now, more perplexing, was the twist that Samantha's contact with the Bureau unleashed a certain number of new "demands" as Hughes phrased it. Samantha's demands.

This was the unexpected piece that Peter was now grappling with and determining how to handle. Samantha hadn't just called to offer herself as a facilitator or instrument to get Dean to reveal himself – she had called with a specific interest. She acknowledged Dean, but also wanted to know how to reclaim certain pieces of art from her family's estate that had for years been frozen in time – seized for investigation, and held indefinitely until original origins were established.

It was the art that had started the original case, years ago, leading to her husband's demise and her ultimate placement into Witness Protection.

"She doesn't want to help you," Hughes stated towards the end of their discussion, matter-of-factly and with a tone of vexation. "She wants money, Peter. Lots of it. And notice I didn't say that it's her money. I followed up – We never established that any of this artwork was in its rightful owner's hands… That part of the case has been ongoing for years."

Peter felt blindsided. Exhausted, he found himself fumbling to provide an alternative explanation. "I'm sure the artwork is sentimental. It was in her family for years," he told his boss. "She's a good person."

"Is she?" Hughes challenged. "Good is subjective, Peter."

Peter paused in his response and reminded himself to stay tactical. "Sir, what did you tell her regarding next steps?"

"I told her we would be in touch... Peter, I need to consider a few things," Hughes told him brusquely. "If we involve her, at least to get Dean to a specific location at a specific time, that may be 'easy,' but we might also be opening up more risk for both her the Bureau…"

"I know," Peter agreed. "I'm wondering if there is some other way."

"There might have to be, Peter. But you know what I don't like? I don't like when strings are attached. And Samantha wants to attach a goddamn lot of strings. And forget that for a minute, but the whole suggestion to use someone who is currently protected in a federal program as a pawn in a case like this…? No one's going to like that small detail. Not one bit."

"Sir, I know. And I understand." Peter took a deep breath. "But we need to get Dean some way or another, and quickly," he persisted. "Until that happens, my wife, my family— we're at risk. You know that. He's already hurt my other agents. He won't stop. He's dangerous, unpredictable, and extensively resourced."

"And yet we once employed him." Hughes' tone was bitter. "Probably entitled him to whole lot more resources and training. We seem to be great judges of character." He shook his head and then added, "I'm sorry, Peter. That's not directed at you."

"I know, Sir." Peter also couldn't blame his boss for his anger, which in the broad scheme of things had remained relatively muted. Additionally, so far the anger was generalized. He felt fortunate it wasn't specifically aimed at him for the decisions he'd made so far.

"Obviously you and Elizabeth's safety is of upmost priority," Hughes continued. His tone was sincere. "While ensuring your safety, we also have to be careful how we proceed so that we get him quickly."

"I agree," Peter acknowledged. "We also need to make sure anything we have against Dean can actually stick…"

"Exactly," Hughes answered. "Let's not lose the forest for the trees here." He paused for a moment, and then simply cursed. "I've got to admit; this is not what I expected to be dealing with today."

"Sir, I—"

"Don't." Hughes raised his hand to cut him off. "Let's not go there. Not yet."

The rest of the conversation maintained a similar tone as they discussed potential approaches and speculated on the potential outcomes and risks.

By the time he left Hughes' office, he was feeling exhausted and further conflicted. It was a terrible combination.

His mind was jumbled with thoughts. Hughes still seemed willing to possibly engage with Samantha, but he also was fully transparent of his skepticism around her intentions.

As a first stop from Hughes' office, Peter initially checked in on his wife. While he found her again in his office, this time she was behind closed doors, appearing to be on a phone call. He watched her for a moment, somber. He regretted that these events, essentially his job, had disrupted her routine.

After a moment of watching her, she didn't notice him, and he decided not to interrupt.

His eyes then scanned the bullpen floor, where he readily located his team. The three of them – Diana, Jones, and Neal – were crowded around Jones' desk, viewing something on his computer. Peter slowly started to head in that direction, keeping his eye on them.

Under normal circumstances, he'd feel proud that they were all working together. He'd be pleased to see Neal integrating with the team. This time, it wasn't that he wasn't pleased; it was more that he felt a sense of nervousness around what they were working on. He was still quite cautious that they were involving the Bureau directly against Dean's wishes, and his biggest focus was ensuring they didn't somehow trigger Dean prematurely.

He knew without a doubt that Neal was already very aware of that fact. He also trusted both Diana and Jones immensely and knew he could count on their discretion; however, there was no saying what Dean would do if he discovered that his first demand had been ignored. Even a hint of that could mean a dire outcome.

As he neared Jones' desk, Peter tried to make out what was on the computer screen that had them all so focused. He squinted but couldn't make out the image.

They were speaking in hushed tones. None of them noticed his arrival.

As he neared in his approach, coming up behind the chairs Neal and Diana sat in side-by-side, he cleared his throat and asked, "What are you guys looking at?"

They all seemed surprised by his arrival, which in turn caught him off-guard. While Diana hissed a, "Holy shit, Peter," he was most startled by the way Neal jumped in his chair. He'd never spooked Neal that way before.

And now, Neal was glaring at him.

"We're looking into some of the details of where you guys were located when Gerry found you," Jones explained. "Neal has been filling us in a bit." He paused and then gave his boss a skeptical look. "Sounds like your adventures yesterday were even more… adventurous than we realized."

"Not sure I would call it an adventure," Peter responded dryly. He walked around to stand beside Jones' desk, taking another look at the computer screen. "Also, what exactly are you looking into and how? We need to be careful. I don't know if Neal told you, but there needs to be significant discretion looking into this stuff, or—"

"I told them," Neal interrupted, still looking annoyed.

"He did tell us," Diana started, casting an appeasing look Neal's way. "We get it. But, Peter, we really need to talk about this," she stated. Her expression was one of concern. "I knew something was going on with this case. I knew all the … the incidents – that they were too convenient to just be coincidence. But… how? How does this happen?"

Peter simply shook his head. "Diana, I don't know. And I don't know if we have time to figure out the how at this point, versus just dealing with it."

"But the suspect I spoke to again yesterday," she persisted. "What he said, or implied… It's all connected to what happened to you guys."

"I know. And I'm sorry about that, Diana," Peter replied. "It wasn't right to have you go back in there with him. Not without the right context. That wasn't fair to you, and I should have told you to wait."

"No, Boss, I get it," she replied, shaking her head. "I truly understand – he told you that you'd be putting your family at risk if you told any of us. I would've done the same thing. Any of us would've."

"What changed?" Jones asked. "I mean, between today and yesterday? Why do we now know? The threat is still there."

Peter paused at the question. While it was a good one, he had internalized his processing of those decisions and had a hard time articulating the reason. It involved explaining the last twenty-four hours in detail.

Rather than directly answering, Peter glanced over at Neal. Whereas Jones and Diana had their full attention on Peter, he found Neal instead looking down, like he was studying his hands. "How much did Neal tell you?" he asked his agents.

"Enough," Neal said before either Jones or Diana could reply. His tone was monotonous, and he now played with the button at the edge of his shirt sleeve distractedly. He then added sarcastically, "They know more than good old Gerry."

"Enough? Well, that answer is somewhat subjective, Neal," Peter replied. "Don't you think?"

Now Neal looked up. He frowned.

"You ready to retell it?" Peter asked, now that he had Neal's eye contact.

As expected, Neal's expression shifted from nonchalant to quizzical. "What do you mean by that?" he asked carefully. He briefly glanced over at Diana and Jones. "I already—"

"Not them," Peter replied. "Hughes is ready to speak to you."

Neal hesitated and then slowly answered, "Now?"

"Now," Peter affirmed with a nod.

Neal didn't answer. Nor did he make any effort to get up.

Peter studied him and noted that Neal was beginning to look a little… flighty. "Come here for a minute," he told him. He started to step away, targeting a distance that was at least out of earshot of his agents, several feet away in the direction of Neal's own desk.

Neal's hesitation was obvious. He let out a sigh. But then he pushed himself up from the chair and followed his handler the handful of feet away, not bothering to look back at Jones or Diana.

Peter waited until Neal reached him and then simply said, "You knew he wanted to talk to you. What's the matter?"

"But why right now?" Neal asked him.

"Well, when did you expect?" Peter responded.

Neal shrugged. "Never?"

"Neal, this is important. And this includes what you have to say about it." He watched as Neal simply frowned. He added, "You're going to talk to him, and you can tell him anything you need to."

"Need? Peter, I don't need —"

"Neal," Peter warned. "Don't start being literal now. You know what I mean. And, yes, you actually do need to talk to him."

Neal made a face, eyes darting in the direction of Hughes' office, but he didn't immediately verbalize a response.

"When you get back," Peter continued slowly, "I'll fill you in on a few other things..."

"A few things like what?" Neal asked, interest piqued. He focused back on Peter and tilted his head slightly, offering a small smile. "Maybe we should talk about those things first."

"Nice try," Peter repeated. "I'll tell you after." He glanced back towards his other agents, who were now focused back on the computer once again. Jones was typing something while Diana watched. He frowned slightly. "In the meantime, let me make sure Diana and Jones understand the necessity for discreetness here."

"I told them already," Neal responded, a little defensively.

"I know," Peter replied, turning back to him. "But given the importance, I'm going to tell them again." With that he took a step forward to take Neal by the arm, gently turning him to face the direction of Hughes' office, and gave him a mild push. "Go."

The walk towards Hughes' office felt like a walk to the plank. With each step, Neal reminded himself that the sooner he spoke to the senior agent, the quicker the entire experience would be over with and he could return to Peter to find out whatever new information he'd just hinted at.

He repeated this in his mind as he raised his arm to knock on the man's door. The knock was careful, as though an official, courteous knock would make up for his earlier transgression of bursting into the office to get to Peter. He remembered the look on Hughes' fact in that moment and briefly grimaced.

Through the glass walls, Hughes was quick to gesture him to come into the office.

As he reached for the door handle, Neal enabled a cool, nonchalant appearance but only the facade came with ease. He couldn't suppress the increasing anxiety he felt. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly feeling so afraid of the senior agent; after all, it wasn't like he had done anything wrong. This time at least.

He realized it was the first time he was actually having a conversation with the man without the accompaniment of Peter. He was pretty sure Hughes wouldn't actually do anything to him without consulting with Peter, even if he outranked him, but not having Peter at his side made him feel vulnerable nonetheless.

He also realized he'd regrettably missed an opportunity moments before; he had actually intended to ask Peter if he had any tips for dealing with his boss. Somehow, it slipped his mind to ask.

Neal reminded himself that he was actually pretty damn good at 'winging it.' What advice was Peter really going to give him? Probably he would facetiously tell him to knock first, which he'd already managed on his own. What other coaching was there?

"Hello, Sir," he greeted with a bright smile as he entered the office. He then wondered if the smile was too much and started to drop it almost as quickly as he flashed it.

Hughes regarded him with a cold, discerning stare that Neal assured himself was status-quo for the older man and nothing customized for him. "Take a seat, Caffrey."

Neal shut the door behind him, acknowledging it was too late to turn back now, and moved further into the office to claim the seat previously occupied by his handler. "Peter said you wanted to chat," he spoke. He maintained a more reasonable smile.

"Yes," Hughes began slowly. "Given everything going on, I felt it would be a good idea." He leaned back in his chair, seemingly taking a moment to study Neal. "And also, considering we realize now that the events of the last day or so have been a bit more… complicated than we originally believed."

"Complicated is a good way to put it," Neal agreed. He noticed a slightly deeper furrowing of Hughes' brow at that response and frowned himself, reconsidering his words.

"How long have you worked for us, Neal?"

Neal briefly pressed his lips together. Weren't they supposed to be talking about the last twenty-four hours? Not his CV? "A few months," he replied carefully.

"A few months," Hughes repeated.

"Yes." Neal couldn't decipher Hughes' reaction. Did he think it felt longer? Shorter?

Hughes nodded. "In that few months, I'd imagine this past week has been somewhat unusual."

What was the right answer to that? Neal wasn't sure. "I don't think any of us expected the case to take this turn," he replied slowly. Then he paused, debating whether to add any further context. It hadn't technically been a question. Maybe he shouldn't have responded.

He suddenly wondered if the man knew how many tracking anklets he had been through in the last week.

"And what is 'this' turn, exactly?" Hughes asked. He now leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on his desk. His expression was unchanged and impressively hard to read. "That's what I'd like to know. Tell me in your words what happened."

That one was definitely a question. Except it felt like a trick question. Neal suddenly wished once again he'd gotten a chance to speak more with Peter before coming into this conversation. "I think Peter probably explained most of what happened…" he began slowly. "We were only separated once while we were there. And that was… brief." In the moment, it hadn't felt brief, but Neal cautioned himself not to reflect on that moment. Not now.

"That's not what I asked you."

Neal paused. "Well, I'm sure that Peter—"

"I'm not asking for Peter's view," Hughes interjected.

Neal watched as the older man shook his head at him. He pressed his lips together.

"Caffrey," Hughes spoke, raising his eyebrows as he said his name. He rested his palms flat against his desk. "You and I don't talk often."

Ever, Neal corrected silently, though he kept the thought to himself. Instead, he simply nodded. "No," he agreed. "We don't."

Hughes sighed and continued, "Right. I asked you to stop by now because I wanted to take the time to speak to you directly. I'm not asking you to give me Peter's point-of-view. I want yours. I know Peter has a lot on his mind."

"Peter's been really concerned about everyone's safety," Neal replied. "He probably told you about the threats that were made. That's why Elizabeth is here. So when he didn't mention the details of what happened yesterday, it's because of that." Was it yesterday? Or two days ago? He was losing track. When they first crashed, he'd been so careful to track time. He'd then lost the ability.

Hughes paused, head tilting just ever so slightly to the side as he worked his jaw. He then cleared his throat. "So Peter told you he'd be withholding information from us yesterday?"

"Withholding information? What? No," Neal answered, a little too quickly. He tried to brush it off, shaking his head. "No," he repeated.

"No?" Hughes looked a bit suspicious.

Neal felt his heart start to race slightly. "He didn't tell me that," he stated. That was a lie. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a posture that was less uncomfortable. He felt stiff. "I wasn't in the conversation that you had yesterday or today, so I'm not entirely sure what he said. Or didn't say." That was sort of true.

"You just said that he didn't mention something about the details yesterday…" Hughes replied. "Why would you say that? How did you know?"

"I just…" Neal shook his head. "I was speculating. Since, you know, I myself have just been processing what happened over the last twenty-four hours and…" He trailed off as he forced an innocent expression and tried to play dumb. "Was something left out?"

Hughes looked a bit skeptical. "Well, he said a lot more today…" he admitted wryly.

"Well, he hadn't slept much yesterday. At all, actually."

Hughes didn't respond. His expression was a bit cynical.

"And he hit his head pretty hard," Neal continued, "when we initially crashed. I don't know if he told you that, or if he even remembers that part, but he was out of it – like unconscious – for a little while." He paused, waiting for a reaction. There wasn't one. He admired the poker face, but also feared it. "Did he mention that?"

"No. He didn't. But are you suggesting he was incapacitated?"

"Incapacitated? Yesterday?"

"Or at any point," Hughes replied, tone slightly impatient. "Are you suggesting that because of sleep deprivation or a concussion, or some other reason, that Peter—"

"No," Neal objected forcefully. "No, I didn't say that."

"Do not interrupt me," Hughes admonished. "Let me ask my question."

"I'm sorry." Neal dug his nails into his palms as he clenched his hands. Peter was going to kill him if this conversation continued down this path. How was it already so far off the rails? They hadn't even mentioned Dean once. They hadn't discussed anything that had actually happened. And worse, it was Neal who had led the conversation here.

Hughes exhaled. "Based on what you just stated, are you trying to defend Peter's actions in some way? Why?"

"I'm not," Neal replied. "What actions?"

"Well, it seems like you're offering medical excuses for something, Caffrey," Hughes persisted. "When my question wasn't even about Peter to begin with."

"I'm not. I'm not a doctor," Neal answered. "I'm not suggesting anything." Had he really just called Peter's capabilities into question? He clenched his hands tighter. "Peter's fine. Didn't the doctor say so?" He glanced behind him, out past the office walls, trying to see if he could find Peter in the bullpen from this vantage point. He couldn't. He turned back to face Hughes, trying to steady his foot that had started to tap the floor. "I thought he got a clean bill of health yesterday."

Hughes was silent for a moment, but then he suddenly sighed and leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He let a beat pass before he stated, "Neal… You do realize this isn't an interrogation, right?"

Neal swallowed. It wasn't? What was it then? "I know," he lied.

"It's a conversation," Hughes stated, as though the clarification was needed.

"Of course," Neal answered, though his mind was screaming otherwise. He never wanted to have this conversation again.

Hughes studied him for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he asked, "Caffrey… Do you want to start over?"

Neal frowned. He hesitated for a moment, almost like he had imagined the question. But the look on Hughes' face, while persistently solemn, seemed sincere. "That's an option?"

"Usually not, Caffrey." Hughes raised his eyebrows. "And I don't offer it often, but I think it might be warranted here. Am I right?"

Neal forced a small smile as well as a nod. "Yes."

"So let's do that."

Neal felt cautious yet at the same time, he also felt some of the tenseness leave his shoulders. He slowly unclenched his hands, feeling a sting where his nails had cut into his palm. "You want me to leave and come back?" He gestured behind him at the door.

Hughes actually chuckled, lips curving upwards just slightly. "No. No, that's not necessary. We don't need to rewind that far…" Hughes slowly replied. He was still watching him carefully. "And let me reiterate that this isn't an interrogation, Neal. If it was, you wouldn't be in my office."

Neal nodded. "I understand." Maybe it was good they weren't rewinding back that far. He might not come back.

"I'm not looking for anyone's defense here," Hughes continued. "I am just looking for facts about what happened. Let's keep this conversation focused only on that. What Peter did or didn't disclose, or when he disclosed it – that's not what this conversation is about, and I don't want your conjecture. That's something I'll deal with separately."

Neal nodded. "Right."

Hughes sighed. "My only goal here is making sure I have all the facts, so that we can find this Dean bastard and put an end to this case for good. So no one else gets hurt. You understand?"

Neal swallowed and then nodded once again. "Yes. I do."

"Alright. So clean slate now. I'm looking for you to tell me in your own words what happened when the two of you were out in the field." Hughes paused. "And I'm looking for everything relevant. Not just what you think is relevant."

Neal nodded again. "Okay."

"Good. So let's start over then. Do you mind if I record you?" Hughes unfolded his arms and reached across his desk.

Silent, Neal eyes followed Hughes hands, his gaze settling on a small recording device. It was a loaded question. Neal knew that he couldn't exactly object. He wondered whether Peter's conversation had been recorded. He considered asking, but couldn't find the words to voice the question. He'd ask Peter later.

"It's standard practice," Hughes told him, as though sensing his thought process. He held the device in his hand, awaiting a response.

Neal hesitated for only a brief moment longer, feeling no other alternative. "That's fine," he replied. "I consent."

"Good. Now go ahead," Hughes continued. His fingers pressed down a button on the device, and he set it between them on the desk.

Neal sighed, and then took a deep breath. He started to speak. "I think you know we took a helicopter there… I'll start with that…"

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TBU - I promise the next one won't take as long!