The narrative of the last few days was not a short story. It started with what was originally a highly anticipated helicopter ride and ended with…. well, a nightmare.

Neal retold the details of the experience as thoughtfully and as impartially as he could. It almost felt strange to get to the end of the account, considering it wasn't yet resolved. His version of the story ended with… sitting in Hughes' office in present day.

And then, that was it. Yet that was the purpose of the meeting. Just information. There was nothing else, which in itself was an unusual experience with law enforcement; no judgement, no consequences. Just a conversation. Hughes was true to his word.

It wasn't an interrogation.

In fact, Hughes thanked him for the account when he finished, and that was it.

When Neal left Hughes' office, he admitted to himself that he had a new appreciation for the man. While he still found the overall demeanor and presence of the senior agent to be terrifying, as their conversation evolved, Neal found himself feeling… listened to. Even though it was obviously for purposes of the case, Neal could tell that Hughes was actually attentive.

Neal had kept his account factual. The crash, the aftermath, the attempt for discovery, the run-in with Dean, and everything thereafter. While during the relay of facts he felt an urge to talk about how he felt, at least to be able to share that with someone, he knew that 'someone' was absolutely not Hughes. Knowing that, he objectively kept any hint of emotion absent from the story. Even when he admitted to the physical aspect of the experience, and the injuries inflicted on him, Neal kept a stoic face in the account, like he was talking about someone else, and was thankful that Hughes didn't even blink.

He also didn't acknowledge anything about Dean beyond their actual interaction at the compound. He didn't talk about knowing he was a CI years ago, nor any of the other history. He didn't know whether he'd been legitimately privy to those case files, or whether Peter had looped him in off the record.

His ultimate priority in his statement (it was a statement, right?) was that Peter wasn't called into question for anything that he might not have already shared.

How much to share was a judgment call, considering Peter had only shared his own view earlier that day.

He again reflected on the fact that Hughes' audience had been less intense than originally expected. Hell, he'd even given him a chance to 'start over' when the initial discussion had devolved too quickly.

Neal wasn't sure anyone had offered that to him before. Well, other than Peter in a way, who often backed him against a wall, literally and figuratively, but had essentially given him a fresh start in their overall agreement.

Maybe Hughes was one of the good ones as well.

By the time he was done, Neal was exhausted. He thought he'd been tired before, but the time with Hughes was draining. A quick glance at his watch as he exited the man's office confirmed that roughly forty-five minutes had passed.

He was a bit surprised by the time passed but simply sighed, glad to just have the discussion behind him, hopeful he wouldn't regret any of his statements. He closed the door behind him as he left and moved forward to find Peter.

A quick glance across the bullpen came up short. Neither did he spot Jones or Diana. He continued to walk towards Peter's office and readily found him there.

"Peter," he spoke as he reached the doorway. As Peter looked up from his desk, Neal nodded at the two empty chairs in the room. "Where's Elizabeth?"

"Restroom," Peter replied. He then looked thoughtful, and added, "Which gives us a minute." He dropped the pen that had been in his hand on his desk. "Come in and shut the door. I need to ask you something."

Neal paused for a moment, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. A request to close the door and the phrase 'I need to ask you something' had never resulted in anything positive. He frowned and glanced back towards Hughes' office. "There's no way you spoke to him already. I literally just left his office."

"No…" Peter responded slowly, following Neal's line of sight. "I haven't." He narrowed his eyes a little suspiciously. "Why?"

"No reason." Neal turned back towards Peter as he continued to linger in the doorway. He noted Peter's expression. "That's not what you want to talk about?"

"No…" Peter still looked suspicious. "How did it go?"

"Fine…" Neal replied cautiously. He refrained from mentioning he would prefer to never repeat the experience again, despite his renewed respect for Peter's supervisor. He also considered asking Peter whether he had been recorded as well, but suddenly felt it wasn't the right time to ask.

"Anything I should know?" Peter asked carefully.

"Like what? You were there…" Neal said. "So anything I said, you'd already know..."

Peter paused but then simply answered, "Good." He gestured at one of the empty chairs. "Come take a seat."

Neal exhaled a deep breath, and then slowly moved into the office. He pulled the door closed behind him.

Peter watched him as he lowered himself into the nearest chair. "Tell me something, Neal," he began. "Jones gave you the coordinates." He paused. "Who'd you send them to?"

Neal paused. He then rested his elbows on the armrest of the chair, trying to appear casual. That was the question? "Huh?"

"Huh?" Peter echoed. "Just tell me. He gave you the coordinates, and..."

"And?"

"You're dumb as a fox, Neal. Answer the question."

"Who'd I give the coordinates to?" Neal repeated the inquiry. He made a face. "I took a picture and gave them to myself."

"Yourself." Peter's tone was skeptical.

"Yeah." Neal frowned and shook his head. "Why are you—"

"Yourself, and then who else? Mozzie?"

Neal again paused. "Peter… Why are you—"

"Just answer the question, Neal," Peter interjected. He studied his CI's stubborn expression. "Or would you rather I just look at your phone myself?"

"My phone is my property," Neal told him. "And what are you trying to get at, Peter? Why's it matter?"

"Oh, it matters."

Neal didn't answer at first. Just stared back with deep blue eyes. Then he asked suspiciously, "What did Jones say?"

"Neal, if you answer me with another question, so help me…Now did you send the information to Mozzie or not?"

Still without directly answering, Neal started with a defense. "He's only going to look up the location. He's not going to do anything else."

Peter exhaled a frustrated breath. "So you did. Jesus, Neal. Didn't we just talk about this last night?"

Neal shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Peter, I said I wouldn't do anything without you. And I'm not. And I won't."

"You are. Sending him case information is doing something, Neal," Peter said stiffly. "I already told you I don't want him him involved."

Neal gave him an exasperated look. "Come on, Peter. He's already involved."

"Only because you already didn't listen to me," Peter responded in frustration.

"He's helping."

"Neal. Just like I told Diana and Jones, and I thought you already knew… We have to be very careful with how we handle this case. If there's any missteps..."

"I know, Peter," Neal objected with an annoyed tone. "And Mozzie knows too."

"Well, thank God Mozzie knows," Peter said with exaggerated sarcasm. He paused, eyeing Neal with slight frustration. Neal simply sat there with a brooding expression. "Did you send him anything else?"

"What?" Initially surprised by the question, Neal then rolled his eyes. "No," he replied stiffly. "I didn't."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Neal replied. "What else is there?" He paused and then added in exasperation, "Besides, why would Jones even tell you that anyway?"

Peter just raised his eyebrows. "Why shouldn't he?"

"What are we, in nursery school? Tattling on each other?"

Peter pursed his lips. "Neal, do you remember what you signed when we agreed to this arrangement?"

Neal made a face. "What's that got to do with anything?" He watched cautiously as Peter got up from his desk and felt himself involuntarily stiffen. "What are you doing?"

"Did you read it?" Peter asked. He walked over to the corner of the room, to a filing cabinet by the window. "Or were you so eager to lose the orange jumpsuit that you just signed the dotted line?"

"Of course I read it," Neal responded defensively.

"Did you?"

Neal's brow furrowed. "Peter…" he protested.

The door opened behind them and Elizabeth reentered the office, closing the door quietly behind her. She looked from Neal over to Peter, immediately sensing the tension in the room. She noted both their expressions and her husband's focus on the filing cabinet. "What are you looking for, Peter?" she asked carefully

"Neal's employment agreement," Peter responded as he rifled through the open filing cabinet drawer.

"Okay… Why..?" she slowly asked as she returned to the seat beside Neal. She gave Neal a questioning look as she lowered herself into the chair.

"Great question," Neal said theatrically. "Why." He watched Peter finally extract a folder from the cabinet. With more exasperation, he then added, "Peter, is this really necessary?"

Peter turned around, folder in hand and a determined look on his face. From the folder, he pulled out a multi-page document. Moving back behind his desk towards his chair, he dropped the now empty folder on the desktop as he took a step forward to extend the document itself over his desk to Neal. "Well, if you'd read this, Neal—"

"I did."

"— then you'd realize," Peter continued through the interruption, "that in signing it you agreed to all the terms of your employment, one of which was not sharing federal property with unauthorized parties."

Neal worked his jaw and simply stared at his handler's extended arm and the stack of papers. He made no move to accept the document. "Sharing federal property…" he echoed.

"Take it," Peter directed. He extended the papers further another inch.

"No," Neal refused, shaking his head. "You're being ridiculous."

"Peter, do we really have time for this?" Elizabeth began. She directed a disapproving look toward her husband.

"We do," Peter told her before then shooting a reproachful glance Neal's way, "since it seems Neal has no issues with taking details from this case and sharing it with his buddy." He paused, extending the papers another inch. "Take it, Neal."

"No," Neal repeated firmly.

With that, Peter simply slapped the unaccepted document down on the desk in front of Neal before sitting back down in his own chair. "See? There's my issue, Neal."

"Your issue? Peter…" Neal objected. "You're off base here."

"Neal, it's like working for a bank and giving away a client's information," Peter persisted. "Don't you not understand that?"

"No, I don't. And that's a terrible analogy," Neal answered with frustration.

"Oh, is it? You think so?"

"Yes. First of all, I'm not monetizing off of this, so equating location coordinates to insider trading is completely absurd. Second, it's not federal information, Peter – it's my information. It's where I was."

"Where we were," Peter corrected. "While on a case. In a location that is very sensitive right now, Neal."

Neal just shook his head dismissively. "Nope. Not going there, Peter. Can we not do this?"

"And right now," Peter continued, "I was going to fill you in on some other updates to the case, but at the moment I'm wondering if I should really even take the risk." He watched Neal's expression as he spoke. "We hired one CI, Neal. You. Not Mozzie."

"Mozzie's not a risk."

Peter sighed and then simply pressed his lips together..

Neal worked his jaw. "Isn't the whole value of a CI the fact that we have access to people and activities that you otherwise don't?" he contested. "How can I help you if you don't let me? Mozzie's trying to help, Peter."

"Do it without disclosing case information, Neal. You already brought Mozzie in, against my wishes, but you don't have to share any more information with him. Not when that's the equivalent of potential stepping on a landmine."

"What about Elizabeth?" Neal challenged. "Is she an authorized party? You've shared everything about the case with her." He then turned towards Elizabeth and said, "No offense, Elizabeth… I'm sorry."

She held up her hands in response, shaking her head, wanting to stay out of the discussion. "No comment," she stated.

"If you want me to do my job," Neal persisted, turning his attention back to his handler, "then I have to be able to talk to people. I have to talk to Mozzie. And I'm not even trying to hide it from you."

"Jones said you refused to disclose who you sent the information to. That's not hiding it?"

Neal let out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes. "Great. Jones said."

"Yes, Jones said," Peter persisted. "And about that, Neal. You better understand that my team is an extension of me. You treat them with the same respect that you treat me."

"Please, Peter," Neal began facetiously, "do tell me what else Jones has told you about me."

"Cut the crap, Neal. It's not personal. It's simply the rules."

Neal sighed. "Peter, it's hard to keep track of the rules here when it seems to come down to everything I do is wrong."

"No. Rules are simple, Neal."

"Yeah. Like don't talk to Mozzie," Neal responded sarcastically.

"Neal, I'm the federal agent," Peter said stiffly. "I decide who the authorized parties are. And for this case, I've already told you multiple times. The list is limited."

"The list," Neal repeated sarcastically. "Fine." Neal picked up the ignored document in front of him and tossed it back over to Peter's side of the desk. "Consider this received again and acknowledged. I'll go back to my desk now so you can talk about the case with your authorized party." He pushed back his chair and then rose from it, starting to move towards the closed door.

"Neal," Peter began warningly. "Stop it."

"No, I hear you loud and clear, Peter," Neal answered as he reached the door. "Message delivered."

"Neal," Elizabeth interjected, speaking firmly. She cast a more severe look to Peter to quiet him when she saw him start to open his mouth. It worked. She then turned back to Neal. "Neal, come on back and sit down."

Neal hesitated, hand on the door handle. He cast a look back only very briefly at his handler and then directed his attention entirely to his handler's wife. "Elizabeth, I'm not sure that's a good idea for me right now."

"Sit," she coaxed, more gently.

He sighed. "Then that," he nodded towards the employee agreement on Peter's desk, "needs to go away."

"Peter," she said, turning to her husband. "He's right. Put that document away. Come on. We don't have time for that."

Peter pressed his lips together. "El," he began. He eyed the document on his desk. "Honestly, he needs to understand."

"Whatever he's told Mozzie," she persisted, "is not what this document is trying to prevent." She gave him a firmer look. "Put it away, Peter."

Peter gave her a look back. He then eyed Neal, who stood there expressionless, simply waiting. Peter looked indecisive, but then nonetheless reached for the empty folder he'd dropped on his desk earlier. "Fine," he said as he then took the document itself and slid it back into the folder. "But only for now. This is coming back another day when this is all over."

"Another day," Elizabeth agreed though with obvious dismissiveness. She turned back to Neal, who remained at the door. "Neal," she said. "See?"

Neal dropped his hand from the door handle but raised his eyebrows in continued doubtfulness. "Not really. If I'm going to help with this case, then I'm going to need Moz." His eyes flitted again to his handler briefly and then back to Elizabeth. "Peter has to accept that."

As Peter scoffed, Elizabeth nodded. "Of course he will," she stated. "How else can you do your job?" She turned in her chair to put her attention back on her husband. "Right, Peter?"

"I will?" Peter echoed. He shook his head. "Hon…" he started reluctantly. "We have to be careful here."

"Clearly they're being careful. He's asking you." When he continued to look uncertain, she added, "Peter, even I know that Mozzie has helped before."

"I know," Peter admitted. "But this case is different. If anyone is detected by Dean, who knows what he'll do?"

"Mozzie knows that..." Neal replied gently from the door. His hand again gripped the door handle.

"They know and they're trying to help," Elizabeth told her husband. "You need to be more open." As Peter mouthed the word 'open' back to her with a small shake of his head, she then turned her head back towards Neal. "And, you," she began. "Neal, you need stop taking fight or flight so literally. You're not going anywhere, so please let go of the door."

Neal didn't respond except for a frown, but his hand dropped to his side.

"Now," she began, continuing to address him, "if I were you, I'd take a seat, because I think Peter was just about to tell us something else about the case." She turned back to Peter and raised her eyebrows. "Right, Honey?"

Peter sighed, watching them both. Neal was slowly easing away from the door, back to his chair.

"What would you guys do without me?" Elizabeth asked with an exaggerated tone of exasperation.

"I'd do what I always do," Peter said brusquely. "Let him go sulk at his desk for a while and then tell him to get back to work."

"Hey," Neal objected as he sat down. "You're the one questioning my employment agreement."

"No. I'm questioning your understanding of your employment agreement," Peter responded stiffly.

"Employment," Neal echoed. "Besides, why is it even called that? You've been very clear that I'm not an employee."

"Consultant," Peter agreed. "And that's just semantics, Neal."

"Just semantics?" Neal replied. "Well, the distinction has seemed pretty important to you on more than one occasion..."

"Enough," Elizabeth replied firmly. "Peter," she persisted. She gave him a look, as though implying he should take charge.

Peter gave her a look right back. "Do you see what I put up with?" He gestured towards Neal.

"Actually, I see what you're encouraging," she responded back, raising her eyebrows.

Peter settled his eyes back on Neal as the other man leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his middle with a brooding expression. "Fine. Let's get back to the case," Peter told him, casting a side glance towards his wife. "Hughes filled me in on Samantha's call to the Bureau… That's what I wanted to bring you up to speed on."

Neal nodded slowly, with slight exaggeration. "So I'm back on the list?" he asked.

Peter gave him a look. "You were alw– it was Mozzie— ugh, never mind. Neal, I thought we were moving on. You really still going?"

Neal gave a small forced smirk which then immediately faded as he then gestured to Peter to proceed. "Sorry."

Peter gave him a small eye roll but then moved into his planned discussion, determined to stay on the topic of the case only from this point onwards.

Carefully, he began to divulge what he and Hughes had discussed. As he did so, he silently noted to himself as he spoke that Neal's earlier sullenness dissipated, replaced instead by a pensive but attentive look. Meanwhile, Elizabeth continued to look concerned, frowning slightly as Peter continued to talk.

Despite their minutes ago discussion on trust, he made a conscious decision to relay as much as he could to the both of them.

Both were quiet until he finished.

Elizabeth spoke first. "Do you still trust her?" she asked. "Samantha?"

Peter sighed. "Hughes asked me the same thing…" he said wryly.

"And?"

"I'm usually a good judge of character," Peter began, briefly glancing at Neal. "But I haven't seen her in years. Back then, yes, I trusted her. Even when she developed this unfortunate relationship with Dean, before he showed his true colors. She was always sincere. She always worked with us."

"But that was then," Elizabeth replied.

"Right," Peter agreed. "I know. Now I … I don't know who she is… I mean, if you think about it, her name's not even Samantha anymore. She's been living another life, and I don't know that person."

"It does seem suspect…" Elizabeth said slowly. "Why would she bring up that artwork?"

"Why not?" Neal suddenly responded. "What other opportunity did she have to bring it up?"

Peter frowned.

Neal continued, "Well, she hasn't had contact with this department since back then. Right?"

Elizabeth simply shrugged, looking thoughtful. "Maybe. It just seems a little strange to me, that's all… To bring it up now."

"But the art's been in her family," Neal persisted. "Why wouldn't she want it back?"

"Well, don't forget it's very possibly that it didn't belong to them, Neal…" Peter responded.

"Well, possession is –"

"No. It's not," Peter replied, cutting him off before he could finish his statement. "Not in this scenario. As you know."

"Well, I for one can understand why she would want it back," Neal answered. "I read the case file. I saw the inventory of what they had. I'd want it back too."

"Of course you would," Peter responded with an eye roll.

"Her husband died over those paintings, Peter," Neal replied.

"You don't have to remind me," Peter answered stiffly. "I worked that case, remember?"

Neal paused. He shifted his posture in his chair. "So you don't want to give it back to her, right?"

"Not that we don't want to," Peter said slowly. "It's not that simple. Ideally we would give it back to her. But the origin has never been established so it's all basically been… in limbo."

"Did she say she wouldn't help without getting it back?" Elizabeth asked.

"Apparently she implied so much…" Peter answered, frowning at the question. He sighed. "What's frustrating to me… She never even mentioned the paintings to me when we spoke on the phone."

"Maybe she didn't think about it until later," she mused.

"Or maybe she didn't want to address it with me…? I really don't know."

"Are you going to ask her about it?"

"I don't know."

"I mean… Why is it surprising she would ask?" Neal answered. "She thinks it's hers and you're asking her for something… Well, quid pro quo, right?"

"You don't negotiate with the federal government, Neal," Peter said dryly.

"Why not? I did." The edges of Neal's lips curled upwards into an impish smirk. "Worked well for me."

"Did it?" Peter shot back. "You're a fine line away from getting back in that orange jumpsuit."

Neal retained the smirk. "Are you sure? Because I have an idea."

"An idea… Does it include Mozzie?"

Neal rolled his eyes. "No."

"Okay." Peter paused and then nodded, "Fine. Then I'm willing to hear it."

"Well, why not give her what she thinks she wants?"

"That's your idea?" Peter responded.

"If you'd let me finish," Neal objected. As Peter simply sighed, he continued, "Notice I said what she thinks she wants."

"Meaning…" Peter prodded.

"Meaning we provide a very convincing replica. Of at least one of the pieces."

"A replica… From where, Neal?" Peter asked suspicously.

"Let's just say I'll let you choose which one we want to replicate."

"You want to forge it."

Neal smiled and nodded.

Peter glanced at his wife, who simply shrugged, and then back to Neal.

"Come on," Neal said.

Peter studied him. "Okay. I've had just a second to think about it, but it's not a terrible idea," he admitted.

Neal nodded and smiled. "And completely irrelevant, but I think it'll be ironic that the FBI commissions a forgery from me."

"What?" Peter narrowed his eyes. "Not helpful, Neal."

Neal chuckled. "Sorry." He paused and then slowly added, "But if you have decided to be more rational right now, then there is one thing I do think we should enlist Moz's help for…"

Peter sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Fine, Neal. Let me hear it…"

Mozzie stood on the Burke's front steps feeling strangely conspicuous. He was technically invited to be here, but nonetheless felt uneasy and unwelcome as though he had shown up on his own accord.

After ringing the doorbell in normal fashion, he immediately felt like a target on the Brooklyn stoop. He glanced left, right, and behind him as he impatiently waited for someone to answer the door. The street was eerily quiet, a distant siren the only audible sound. Still, he felt exposed and uncomfortable.

The door finally opened after only a moment of waiting, although the passage of time felt much longer.

To Mozzie's chagrin, it was Peter who answered the door. Not Neal.

"Hello, Suit," Mozzie greeted Peter. While his tone was nonchalant, even slightly curt, he felt his heart rate quicken. Had Neal really so easily convinced him to come here? In truth, he was worried about his friend, particularly given Neal's recent experiences, and had more quickly agreed to come here than he likely would have otherwise.

"Mozzie..." Peter replied, equally brusque. He stepped aside in a quiet gesture to allow the other man into his home.

Mozzie stepped into the house automatically, eager to get off the front stoop, yet couldn't help but feel like he shouldn't have come. That he wasn't wanted here. Peter's gruff demeanor was a bit typical, but still...

Here he was. Entering the house. In the lion's den.

Where the hell was Neal?

Peter closed the door behind them, immediately double locking it. As he turned around, he then nodded towards the bottle of wine in Mozzie's hands.

"Wine?" Peter asked. "Did Neal make you think like this was a social event or something?"

Before Mozzie could respond, Elizabeth appeared from around the corner. "I'll gladly take that," she said, giving him a smile. "Thank you."

"Hello, Mrs. Suit," Mozzie replied as he allowed the bottle to be taken from his hands. He turned back to Peter as she walked away. "Neal told me we should act natural," he told him. "I figured the wine," he gestured towards its departure, "would help the image."

"Of course..." Peter slowly replied. "Act natural."

"Since you're being watched." Mozzie wasn't sure why he added that part. Obviously the Burkes were well aware of their own situation, especially Peter.

"Well, from what I know of you, I'm actually surprised you're even here under the present circumstances," Peter responded carefully.

"Me too," Mozzie answered dryly. He glanced over at the empty living room. "Where's Neal?"

"Kitchen," Peter replied.

"Kitchen."

"Yes. Apparently he enjoys doing dishes."

Mozzie coughed out a laugh and then smirked. "Yeah, right."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Go see for yourself."

"More like he prefers anything that opposes idle hands," Mozzie responded wryly, though he took the invitation to walk further into the house. He could sense Peter following, though he didn't turn to confirm. "Nice place you have here."

"Does it look different with the lights on?"

Hidden from Peter, Mozzie's smirk grew wider at the comment. But he carefully masked it as he turned back to see whether the Suit was offering the sarcastic comment in jest or criticism. It was actually hard to determine. Peter's face was an impasse. Neal did claim the man had a sense of humor, but in his limited own experience Mozzie couldn't be certain.

Before he could respond, Peter added, "Actually, I suppose I should thank you for ringing the bell this time..."

"For the record," Mozzie answered, maintaining a sincere expression, "the last time I was here, I was granted access to the property. I did not break in, and the door was opened before ringing a bell was even possible..."

Neal emerged from the kitchen before Peter could answer. He eyed them both with a look of trepidation, approaching slowly as he dried his hands off onto his pants. He gave both of the men a pointed look as he tried to read the room. "Moz..." he greeted carefully.

"Neal..." replied the other man, a little testily. He took a step closer to his friend and then hissed, "Remind me why am I here…?"

"To help," Neal responded. "Remember?" He then turned to his handler. "Peter," he began.

"Neal…" Peter responded.

"Mozzie's here. Can you give him your car keys?"

Peter scoffed. "Neal..." he said again, this time with a hint of reproach.

Neal ignored the resistance. "Then I can show him where you're parked."

Peter looked unconvinced. "You think I'm just going to give you my car?"

"No," Neal responded with an emphatic look. "Peter. C'mon. We talked about this."

"I'm having second thoughts."

"We need to check the car," Neal persisted. He let out an exasperated breath. "It's how he might be listening to us. And to do that, Mozzie's going to need the keys."

Mozzie cleared his throat. "Uh, once again for the record, I'm here as a favor. I have no actual desire to have any connection to a federal vehicle or even to place a single fingerprint on the—"

"Mozzie," Neal interjected.

Mozzie met his stare with an equally stubborn one. "Neal."

"We need to check the car," Neal insisted. "Peter agrees."

Mozzie sighed. He gave Neal a skeptical look.

"It's the only other way he could have been listening," Neal persisted.

"If he's listening," Peter pointed out. "We have no proof that he is, Neal. He could just be bluffing."

"Or he's not bluffing. In fact, I was wondering if maybe we should even check the house again?" Neal asked.

"It's actually not a bad idea," Mozzie replied thoughtfully, lowering his voice a bit as he took a moment to look around the room. "I wasn't able to be as thorough as I typically would have been… Given the… uh, circumstances."

Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Peter?" Neal asked.

"The circumstances," Peter echoed slowly.

Neal shrugged. "We did what we could…"

"You know what, Neal," Peter began, throwing his hands up, "go ahead and do it." He moved away from them, towards his couch. "Check the house again."

"I'm asking you this time, Peter," Neal reminded.

"Thanks for the courtesy," Peter answered dryly.

Mozzie moved a step closer to Neal and whispered, "He's not happy."

"No..." Neal affirmed slowly. He watched his handler with a frown as the man descended into his couch.

"Did you do something?"

"Me?" Neal replied. He cast Mozzie a defensive look. "No." He paused. "He's stressed."

"Stressed. Right. Well, I don't need someone else's stress," Mozzie answered. He then added, "He knows you asked me to come here, right?"

"Yes," Neal answered. "Of course."

"Are you sure? He sure doesn't seem thrilled."

"Yes, Moz. I'm sure."

Mozzie simply made a face and shrugged. "Interesting dynamic," he mused.

Neal sighed.

Elizabeth stepped back into the room then, a now uncorked bottle of wine in one hand. In her other hand, she held two empty wine glasses by their stems. She moved in the direction of the couch. "I'm having a glass of wine," she stated. "Anyone else interested, feel free to join me."

"Hon…" Peter objected from the couch. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Elizabeth gave her husband a look before she set the bottle on the coffee table. Beside it she placed the two glasses. "Yes, I'm sure. This will only help." She reached for the bottle and began to generously pour into one of the glasses. "Or at least, how could it hurt?"

Peter didn't respond, eyeing her pour skeptically.

Elizabeth took the now liberally full glass in her hand and moved over to take a seat on the couch beside Peter. She glanced his way before taking a sip of the wine. "Trust me. I need this."

"I like her," Mozzie whispered to Neal.

Neal smirked a bit.

"But what's the actual plan, Neal?" Mozzie continued, keeping his voice hushed. "Do you guys even realize you have a car parked halfway down the street watching you right now?"

"What?" Neal turned his head, giving Mozzie an alarmed look. "Mozzie," he said sharply. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I'm saying something now."

"Peter," Neal spoke up, raising his voice. He looked towards the couch, where Peter was actually reaching for Elizabeth's glass. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Peter asked. He looked up towards Neal but took a long sip of the wine before handing the glass back to his wife. "That's pretty good," he admitted.

Neal watched them and replied, "Mozzie says there's a car on your block that's watching us right now."

Peter's brow furrowed slightly. He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then his eyes shifted from his CI over to his friend. "How could you tell?" he asked slowly, tone slightly suspicious.

Mozzie stood uncomfortably beside Neal. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's fairly obvious," he stated. He wondered yet again why he was there.

"How obvious?" Peter persisted.

Mozzie shrugged. "What can I say? Maybe I have a sense for these things. To me, it was obvious."

Peter let out a sigh. "Dammit," he muttered. He looked towards El.

Analyzing his response and body language, Neal grew wary of his handler. "Wait – You knew about it?" he asked incredulously. "That someone is watching us?"

"They're Bureau assigned, Neal…" Peter responded dryly, turning his head towards his CI. "Look, it's Hughes' idea."

"Hughes. Great. Well, if Moz can spot them, who's to say that Dean can't?" Neal replied. "Isn't that the one rule that he set?"

"It is…" Peter agreed. "But I'm pretty sure we'd have heard something from him by now if he knew…" he continued. He tilted his head, giving the other a sincere look. "Trust me, Neal. They're very discreet. I wouldn't have agreed to it otherwise."

Neal didn't look convinced. "I guess we have different definitions of discreet if Mozzie picked up on it immediately."

"Neal…" Peter sighed and gave him a skeptical look. "Pretty sure Mozzie assumes he's being watched at all times regardless of that being true."

Neal gave Peter an offended look before he glanced sideways towards his friend.

"It's true," Mozzie admitted in a whisper to Neal.

Neal gave him slight eye roll before turning his attention back to the couch. "Still, it's quite the paradigm shift, Peter," he stated with a hint of criticism.

"Oh yeah?" Peter raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

Neal worked his jaw. "Well, I mean, to go from not telling the Bureau anything to having a detail outside your house the next day," he persisted, slightly disgruntled. "It's a little extreme, Peter."

"Extreme?" Peter responded. "Versus what? Is there a playbook I should be leveraging, Neal?"

"I'm just saying."

"This coming from the conman who is literally now working for the feds?"

Neal's expression conveyed disappointment. "Really, Peter?"

Mozzie again leaned towards Neal. "He has a point," he whispered.

Neal shot his friend a look.

Mozzie shrugged back.

Neal turned his attention back to the couch once again. "Well, I'm pretty sure if there was a playbook," he replied, "it would suggest you give your car keys to whoever is willing to check it for unauthorized surveillance. Don't you think?"

Peter narrowed his eyes. "You just want to get out of this house, don't you?"

"Well, while that's not untrue," Neal admitted, "it's also needed. And we talked about this only a few hours ago, Peter."

From beside him, Elizabeth elbowed her husband gently in the side. "Peter," she chided. "I'd rather they check. And that's what we agreed."

Peter acknowledged his wife's vote, taking a deep breath. He eyed the duo in front of him on the other side of the room for a moment. It was something about their pairing that made him uneasy, though he couldn't deny that their suggestions were coming from the right place.

"Fine, Neal," he began, leaning back further into his couch. "My keys are—"

"Oh, I already have them," Neal interjected, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the car keys in question. "I was just making sure you were on board."

Peter's posture stiffened. He eyed his keys dangling from Neal's hands. "Neal…" he warned.

Neal offered him a quick smile, and then he turned towards Mozzie. "Alright, let's go."

Mozzie glanced from Neal over to the couch and then back to Neal again. He offered no verbal response, but then readily began to walk back towards the front door. Neal followed.

Elizabeth merely raised her eyebrows and brought the wine glass to her lips as her husband turned his head to give her a disbelieving look.

"You see that?" he asked her. As he finished the question, the front door had already opened and closed. "You call that good intentions?"

"Oh, Honey..." she answered, giving him a look.

"Oh, no. Don't defend him, El," he objected, frowning at her. "Part of me thinks I should follow them."

"And what?" she challenged.

"And what do you think? He stole my keys, El."

"Well, he was being proactive... You were going to give them to him anyway."

"Was I? Are you serious?"

"Here." She extended the wine glass to him once again. "Have another sip. It'll calm you down."

"El, he stole my keys."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "He also did the dishes, Peter. Can we call that a wash?"

Peter simply sighed, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."