With a sleepless night behind him, Peter found it difficult to remain focused (or patient) in his boss's office the next morning. Yet he knew if he wanted to keep his job, or at least a version of it, those were two rather important characteristics for him to muster. And quickly. Despite this, his mind was doing him no favors, racing through countless topics and implications that he had no time to consider.

He was also pretty sure that Hughes could see right through his facade directly to his fatigue and desperation, though the man hadn't been blunt enough to mention it yet. Peter wouldn't go so far as to say the man was being polite. Hughes had no issue holding back on a multitude of other criticisms.

In addition, at the moment he also showed no qualms about voicing his current skepticism.

"Peter," Hughes said, saying his name firmly. "I'm not just saying this as your boss, but also your friend. You have to consider the possibility here…"

The possibility that Hughes referred to was one that Peter refused to consider, never mind accept. Not out loud at least. He continued to push back, shaking his head. "Sir, with all due respect –"

"Peter. Please be rational here." After his interruption, Hughes paused and gave Peter a frown. "I'm going to be honest with you here. If this wasn't you, one of my best agents, we wouldn't even be having this conversation… I think you know that."

Clenching his hands into fists on his lap, hidden from the view of his superior that sat across the desk from him, Peter tried to keep himself composed. He knew what it looked like. He truly did. But he also knew that there was more to the story than what met the eye.

"I am being rational," Peter told him. He said it as calmly as he could. "Quite. I've thought about it a lot." In fact, he'd thought about it all night. While not sleeping.

"Maybe you think you're being rational, Peter..."

Peter sighed. Hughes' demeanor earlier in this meeting had been aggravated. He'd started the conversation with a mix of a rant and lecture, barely allowing Peter to speak. When Peter finally did get a word in, Hughes had only become increasingly doubtful and frustrated. He had since allowed the dialogue to evolve into more of a conversation, but it still felt one-sided.

"Sir," Peter continued, again keeping his voice as unagitated as possible, "before you pass judgment on Neal, you've got to consider the extenuating circumstances and what that could mean."

"Oh trust me. I am." Hughes gave him a look. "We're likely thinking about parallel circumstances, Peter. And I know that you want us to consider other theories," he continued, "and believe it or not, I do understand why you feel that way. But at the moment, we need to go off the facts before we waste time and find ourselves in an even more critical situation."

"I am going off of facts," Peter persisted. "That's my point. Let's not make assumptions. It's important to note that there are a lot of missing facts right now."

Hughes sat back in his chair. He was quiet for a moment. Pensive. Then he cleared his throat. "Listen. I think you need some time away from the office, Peter," he said. The words were slow, but emphatic. "This case has clearly taken a toll on you. I should have made that call yesterday— or even the moment you came back in here after the accident. It's clear you need some time to recover."

"Recover?" Peter echoed incredulously. He felt himself tense at the message. This was certainly not the direction he'd expected the conversation to go. He was not about to just take some time off – not while Neal was still out there. "Sir, I have some busted ribs and a lingering headache. I'm fine."

"Fine, Peter?" Hughes challenged. "Fine doesn't begin to explain why you deactivated Caffrey's tracker and gave him your car."

This lecture again… Hadn't they already been through this? And he's not even in my car, Peter thought to himself wryly. "Sir, like I said before—"

"I heard you before. But let me save us the time, Peter," Hughes interjected. "Because time is invaluable here. The tracker? There's no reason to do what you did. Ever. Unless he is with you. You took on this responsibility on behalf of the Bureau. You know how risky these relationships are. I even thought his monitored radius was far too generous, but you convinced me that it was appropriate. Now, look where we are."

"I shouldn't have done it," Peter admitted, wasting no time to take accountability for his actions. Denying it wasn't going to get them anywhere but deeper into a heated argument or a discussion on the handler-informant protocol. "But I also know that something isn't right, Sir…"

"Damn right it's not. Peter, you know how this looks?"

"I do know how it looks. Trust me I do. But I just have a feeling."

"Trust you? Can I trust you? You trusted him, after all." Hughes paused to shake his head, frustration again increasing. Despite the irritation in his voice, it did seem like he was trying to keep his cool. "Peter, I really think you need to take a few days. What's done is done at this point. I'm going to be asked why I let you stay in the field. And they'd be right to question me. Especially if I let you stay on any longer. Let us focus on tracking him down."

"And who exactly will track him down?" Peter couldn't help but express his skepticism. "You? The Marshals?"

"Peter… You know that you're not the only one with a badge capable of tracking him down..."

"I'm the only one that's caught him."

"And let him go."

It was a low blow. And it hurt. "Sir… I can find him."

"Does it matter whether it's you or them?" Hughes challenged. "If the outcome is that he's going back to prison, Peter, maybe you'd feel better if someone else did it. Then it's nothing personal."

"Back to prison? Again, you're assuming, Sir, that he did this."

"I'm inferring, Peter. You cut his leash. He made his decision. This is where we are now."

Peter shook his head again. "He wasn't about to run. I don't think this was his decision."

"I'm not going in circles with you, Peter. A few days. You need it. Honestly, I think you need more than a few days, but let's start there."

Peter reminded himself to stay level-headed, despite feeling anything but. "This case is centered around me right now, Sir. I can't just take a step back. There's a timeline he's set against seeing Samantha, and if we don't comply—"

"Samantha. Shit." Hughes tone was dry. "That's right. Your little meeting is already set up for today, isn't it..."

The meeting. Not quite little, Peter thought to himself, though he didn't voice it. Hughes was talking again before he could anyway.

"I'm regretting approving this, Peter." Hughes sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking, honestly. This is too risky. I understand he's threatened you, but we've got you and Elizabeth under tight watch."

"Don't forget he was behind the other incidents earlier in this case as well, Sir. It won't just be me he goes after. But he bugged my home. My car. He—"

"You car. Right – and remind me why you expected your CI to handle that, Peter? Why wouldn't you allow us to do our job?"

Peter sighed. He knew once again what it seemed like. He did. And he recalled his own skepticism when Neal had offered that sort of help. But there was no way now to go back to reverse his course of action. And the earlier engagement of Neal and Mozzie… Peter hadn't even given them permission to check his house and deactivate the surveillance. Neal had taken it upon himself to problem solve that, and Peter had nearly throttled him for doing so. But he stopped himself before offering all that to Hughes. Neal acting without permission was the exact opposite of what Peter wanted on his boss's mind at the moment.

"I should have called you," Peter told him instead, bowing his head slightly. What else was there to say? "I agree – it was unprofessional of me to allow Neal to take care of it. Calling it in would have been the right thing to do."

"Yes. You should have."

Peter sighed. He didn't know what else to add. He didn't have a time machine.

"But you didn't call it in," Hughes persisted. "And I can't risk another chance in this case that something else happens without proper Bureau engagement. Peter, it would look best if you chose to just take a little time. It's understandable that you need it. You shouldn't feel otherwise. You should get checked out again. Maybe the medical clearance was too fast, and—"

"Please, Reese," Peter objected, reverting to his superior's first name with a more familiar tone. "I'm fine. You know I am."

Hughes didn't respond. He just leaned back further in his chair, working his jaw. He looked conflicted and agitated.

"Neal didn't run," Peter stated firmly. "I know he didn't. Do you really think he would?"

"Why wouldn't he? He created a perfect moment to run, Peter. You, the one responsible for him, are completely distracted by the current case and your own family's safety. He's able to convince you to turn off his tracker. You do it. You give him a vehicle. He-"

"He's not even in my vehicle!" Peter exclaimed, suddenly allowing his exasperation to get the best of him.

Hughes simply raised his eyebrows. "Peter. You know how it looks."

That repeated statement. Over and over again. It burned. It was hard to counter. Because it was the truth. This is how it looked.

And he had to admit, deep down, that he had a small itch of trepidation himself. Fear that he was emotionally blinded by Neal and maybe too presumptuous with the assertion that he was innocent. Because Neal wasn't always an innocent man. And he had run many times before. Others would remind him of that fact.

Neal was very good at running.

But maybe not this time.

Peter just knew there was something else going on.

And if he didn't believe that, how would anyone else even consider it to be a possibility? So he remained adamant, even though he knew what he was risking.

"You just spoke to him," Peter began, softening his tone. He gave his boss an earnest look. "You took his statement." Peter could hear and see his boss's exasperated sigh, but he continued. "You mean to tell me that you think that person you talked to – that he just turned his back on us and ran?"

"He's a con artist, Peter."

Peter exhaled in frustration, shaking his head. "You can't just define him by that."

"Why not? It's what he does," Hughes persisted. "The only thing that's changed is that he's somehow got you wrapped around his finger and—"

"Don't be ridiculous." Peter rolled his eyes.

"Am I wrong? Then why'd you turn off his tracker?" Hughes challenged. "Why'd you give him free reign? How am I supposed to explain that, Peter? He has a tracker for a reason!"

Peter didn't have an answer to that.

"When I spoke to him," Hughs continued, "he expressed some concern over your health."

"What?" Peter blinked at that comment, brow furrowing. "What do you mean, my health?"

Hughes paused, studying Peter for a moment. "Your health in the sense that… Well, that you were injured. That you'd lost consciousness after hitting your head. He seemed concerned. He denied any hint that you were unable to do your job, Peter, but now I'm starting to question it."

Peter frowned at first, a bit taken back by the insight into the conversation that Neal and Hughes had had… He was surprised by it. And uncomfortable. He tried to be dismissive. "That's absurd. I'm clearly fine."

"It's not so clear, Peter. And… Well, quite frankly, it looks better for the paperwork if you're not," Hughes continued, frowning. "I can't believe I'm even saying that, but otherwise how the hell do I even begin to explain or document why one of my agents would do something like this?"

"You can document whatever you need to, Sir." Peter knew his impatience was only going to trigger Hughes further, but he couldn't help it. He also knew Hughes was just making the statement figuratively but paperwork was the last thing on Peter's mind right now.

"You realize that we are going to have to document that you set him out there, untracked? Exactly the opposite of what his contract requires? That's what the formal documentation is going to say."

"Sir…"

"Peter. This is serious."

"What's more serious right now, and the most important thing, is that we find Dean and we find Neal."

"This is your career, Peter."

Peter swallowed. He didn't respond right away, simply looking across the desk at his boss. "The sooner we find him," he told him after a long, uninterrupted pause, "and explain what happened with real facts, the easier your paperwork's going to be."

Hughes raised his eyebrows, as though a bit skeptical. "Well, despite your insistence that you're the only one that can track him, this time we know where he is based on the tracker being back on. The one smart thing you did," he replied. "We just need to make the call to move in on it, rather than simply watching. And I think we're closing in on that time, Peter. It doesn't look like he's stopping. And he hasn't contacted you."

"Jones thinks the tracker was compromised."

Hughes frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"I thought they would have reported it to you. Based on the distress signal it sent, mostly like it's been severed."

"Jesus…" Hughes muttered. He looked irritated, shaking his head. "Still want to claim he's not run, Peter?"

"It doesn't mean he's acting on his own…" Peter persisted. "So let's move in," he added. "Make the call. We know where the tracker is now regardless. That's the first step. I can be the one to—"

"No." Hughes' initial reaction was abrupt. "And you know why."

Peter could only assume, but he was pretty sure he did know of his superior's reasons. But he also knew why it made sense if he was the one involved. "I've already apprehended him more than once, Sir. He's not going to be armed. It's better that I'm there, because he'll talk to me. And if he's under duress..." Then what. Peter wasn't sure. This was a nightmare. "If he is, then we'll confirm he's not acting on his own accord."

"Focus on your WITSEC meeting," Hughes told him. "Let me focus on Neal with the Marshals."

"Sir."

"Peter. I'm a hairline away from asking you for your badge and gun."

Peter didn't respond. His whole body tensed further.

As though sensing his reaction, Hughes continued, slightly softer. "Peter, you said it yourself. You're being targeted here. If this Dean character is watching you, and you deviate from the timeline he's set, then we're only complicating things further. And if by some chance, what you said about Neal not acting on his own– well that's even more of a reason. You can't be in two places at once."

Peter sighed, though he still didn't respond.

"Speaking of timeline," Hughes persisted. He glanced at his wristwatch. "I suggest you get in the right headspace for that meeting, Peter. Whenever it is. That's a delicate enough situation as it is."

Peter studied his boss. "I know it's delicate," he agreed, voice slightly sarcastic on the adjective, "but I thought you were supportive of the meeting. Are you not anymore?"

"I'm not sure I would've truly characterized my approval of the meeting as supportive," Hughes responded slowly.

"Sir, isn't that a bit… counterintuitive?"

Hughes sighed and simply shook his head. "Peter, what other options do we have? This situation has us over a barrel right now. I have my own agents being targeted, and a suspect that's invisible. If you can figure out a way to get him thinking he's getting what he wants so that we can just apprehend him and put an end to this, then I'll take whatever meetings we need to in order to get there. I just wish it didn't need to include someone in protective custody."

"I agree, Sir, but she did technically offer to come in on her own accord."

"Offer. Technically," Hughes echoed. "Well, yes and no, Peter. Let's try not get into the details of how she was technically contacted. It's not like she called us first."

Peter was silent at that remark.

"Talk to her," Hughes allowed, waving his hand, almost dismissively, "and come up with a plan. It better be a damn good one. And then plan to take your few days." After he spoke the words, Hughes paused before adding with a little bit of a softer tone, "Let me know how it goes." Then he gestured towards his door, a silent dismissal. "Shut the door on your way out."

Peter got up, not trusting his own voice, and turned towards the door.

As Peter returned to his own office, it was with a string of mumbled curses under his breath.

With a frown, Elizabeth turned in her chair to view her husband's arrival, slightly startled at his abrupt reappearance and the emotion it seemingly accompanied. "You alright?"

Peter gave her a look as he pulled his own door shut behind him. "No," he admitted.

He moved further into his office, taking the seat beside Elizabeth where Neal would usually sit. He thought about that for a moment, placing his hands on the armrests, over the wooden frame that Neal had leaned his arms against just the day before. "He doesn't trust him."

She frowned. "Dean? Well, of course n—"

"No," he interjected. "Neal."

"Neal?"

"Neal," Peter repeated. He stared across his own desk, past his empty chair, to the window. "He's convinced that he ran. That it was the perfect opportunity."

She listened, but didn't respond.

"He went so far as to remind me that he's a con artist," Peter added, rolling his eyes.

She sighed gently. "Well, I'm sure he's just considering all options, Hon. That's what he's supposed to do."

"All options? By assuming he ran?"

"No, by considering if he ran," she corrected. "If," she repeated the word, emphasizing it. "I'm sure that's what he's doing and that the possibility Neal didn't is also on his mind. He has to consider both. Peter, you even said it yourself on the way over here."

"No. I didn't."

"Honey…"

"No, I said he better not have run," Peter responded, tone defensive. "There's a difference."

"Is there?"

Peter grunted, turning his head to give her a look. "He didn't, El. He wouldn't have." He took a long pause. "Right?"

"I can't answer that," she admitted. She added, "I want to think that he wouldn't."

Peter frowned, shaking his head slightly. "I heard him on the phone, El. He was on his way back. I know he was. He's conned me before, but… Not like this. This wasn't that. Why would he have even picked up, if that's what he planned to do?"

"In the back of your mind," she continued, "you have that small question though." She studied him as she said it, watching his expression change. "And it doesn't mean you don't trust him. You just don't know what happened."

"If he ran, it's over for both of us," Peter responded dryly. He gripped his fingers over the armrest. "The worst part is I can't even focus on this right now. I have the meeting with Samantha coming up. I have to give some sort of semblance of control here."

"You will."

He just sighed. "Somehow."

She reached over and placed her hand on his forearm, squeezing it tightly. "You will," she repeated.

Peter sat alone in the conference room, anticipating his one-on-one meeting with Samantha. He found himself feeling anxious as he waited for her, fidgeting with the half full, lukewarm cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

He couldn't even pinpoint the root cause of the anxiety. There were too many contributors.

Hughes was right. This was unorthodox. He was potentially putting a protected witness, someone who had been out of sight and out of harms way for years, back into the spotlight. Back into danger.

And his excuse?

She had offered.

Had she really though? Like Hughes said, he had been the one to contact her after all. After all these years.

Yet she had called back. It was her choice whether or not to do that. Whether or not to even keep that line of communication open.

There seemed to be no other way. Not matter how he pressed himself to think outside the box for some other solution, he couldn't find one, other than letting a dangerous situation drag on and tempting the fate of Dean's timeline.

They were having no luck tracking Dean down otherwise. Though they continued to look and had plans to send a team out to the site of the crash, at the moment the coordinates in the woods had brought no authoritative signs of any records or sign of construction, either above or below ground. Beyond that, they had no other physical location for Dean, and little other traces out there, despite their extensive records on him. He had not maintained any reliable contact information.

Meanwhile, he was out there wielding his power over them. Threatening them. He ostensibly appeared to have the upper hand.

It was one of the rare, unusual times that Peter felt helpless despite his badge and training.

A badge that seemed close to being taken away…

The thought made him sick.

And then, before he knew it, he had to clear his mind.

She had arrived.

When she entered the room, escorted by another agent, Peter immediately got to his feet, pushing all his mind's reveries aside.

It was like flashing back a decade in time.

"Samantha," he spoke, walking towards her. The escorting agent nodded to him before bowing out of the room quietly and shutting the door behind him.

She smiled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before outstretching her hand. "Peter. It's been a long time. It's nice to see you again."

"It may have been a long time, but you really haven't changed a bit," Peter told her, returning the smile as he reached her. He took her hand and squeezed it in a familiar handshake.

"Oh, haven't I?" she responded with a hint of sarcasm. "You're too kind, Peter. And look at you. You seem to be doing quite well." She gestured towards the rest of the office outside the conference room. "You seem to be a pretty big deal around here now."

He made an exaggerated face, shaking his head briefly. "What can I say… Just focused on the greater good," he responded. He took a step aside out of her way and waved his hand towards the chairs at the table. "Please, take a seat. I appreciate you accepting the meeting, Samantha. I never thought we'd meet like this."

"Or meet again?" she replied, raising her eyebrows. She moved towards the table and slowly selected a chair, pulling it out and taking a seat. "Trust me – I know. My future took a different path back then, that's for sure."

"But things are going well?" he asked. He tilted his head, giving her a curious look as he walked around the table to take a seat across from her. "You're okay? How about the kids?" He paused. "Three right?… Jacob, Lilian…. And… Geez, I'm sorry. I can't remember your third. I apologize."

"Oh please don't apologize. I'm impressed. You have a good memory," she responded. "The third you're thinking of is Wally. But I have a fourth now too. Sofia."

"Wow, four," Peter responded, raising his eyebrows. "Congrats."

"Thank you." She smiled. "What about you, Peter? Any kids?"

Peter paused, and then just shook his head. "No.."

"Really?" she responded, tone slightly surprised. "I would have guessed otherwise."

He gave a small smile. "Us too." He paused again. "It's uh… Well, it's something that can be slightly harder to plan than you originally expect."

She nodded. "I get it. I'm sorry."

He shook his head dismissively. "Anyway, you're here," he said. "And again, I'm sorry to ask you to come in like this," Peter began. "It's just a really unusual situation we're in now. I can't say I ever expected to cross paths with Dean again, but here we are." He watched her expression, but she was now stoic. "But I also want to make sure that you know this is entirely up to you, Samantha. I admire your willingness to have a conversations about it— to offer to help. But if at any moment you want to back out, that's completely your prerogative. This is all up to you."

"I know, Peter," she said, nodding at his words. "But I do really want to help. And I've actually been meaning to contact the Bureau for a while now. I've been thinking a lot about things, and maybe we can help each other."

He eyed her, following the words. "Help each other."

"I mean, if it's possible," she replied. "I just thought, you know, the timing and everything was kind of ironic. Since I've been meaning to reach out and all."

He paused, pursing his lips just for a moment. Then he asked, "Is this about the artwork?"

She sighed, bowing her head. "I know it might sound strange."

"It's just… You didn't mention that to me," he replied. "When we first spoke."

"I know. But when I got your message… I wasn't really thinking then," she explained. "When I returned your call- I mean, Peter, honestly, I wasn't expecting to speak to you. Not in a million years. Not about him."

"I know…"

"But I've been thinking about this for a long time, Peter," she continued. "These paintings belonged to us. My father. And we're coming up on the anniversary of Niall's death. He loved this artwork."

Peter took a deep breath. "I'm probably not the best one to get into the details with you, Sam. But you know what the issue was."

"I do," she acknowledged. "But, Peter, it's been years. What then – they belong to you guys?"

"No…" he replied. "It's not like that. They're just being held."

"Held indefinitely?" she asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Sam. I really don't know the process. I can find out."

"And all over a piece of paper," she mused. Her tone wasn't unkind. It was more questioning. "I mean I guess it all just seems like such a technicality to me. Who keeps the certificates for things like that?"

"Most people," he replied, leaning back in his seat uncomfortably. "Sam, you know that. Especially for pieces like that. This was pretty complicated. There were some controversial accusations about the origins."

She paused, slowly folding her hands in her lap. "Well, we won't solve it here. I'd like to at least arrange seeing the art again, Peter. Is that possible? It's very sentimental to me."

Peter paused. "We can probably arrange that," he answered.

"That would be very appreciated," she answered. Letting out a soft breath, she then changed subjects. "So the reason you called me… What you said about Dean? You said he wants to see me, or...?"

"He's made some demands on the Bureau. Seeing you was part of his ultimatum."

"Seeing me," she repeated.

"Unfortunately, Sam. I'm sorry."

"Right," she said. She made a face. "And if it doesn't happen…?"

"Well, it seems he's arranged a personal vendetta until it does," Peter replied. "And ultimately, we need to put an end to this and apprehend him. But to do that… We need to find him. Which is proving fairly tough without the part of the puzzle that includes you."

She nodded, looking slightly apprehensive.

"But it doesn't have to be you, exactly," Peter continued slowly.

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there are ways… I mean, it can be more like an illusion. My goal is to keep you safe, but to get close enough to him to get him apprehended. He just has to think it's you."

"I still don't get it. What do you mean, it doesn't have to be me?" she asked, frowning.

"We have ways," he explained.

"To deceive him.

"To describe it simplistically," he replied. "Yes."

"So why do you need me here at all?"

"Well, we need you to make the illusion," he began, giving her a small, almost apologetic smile.

She studied him, considering that. "Tell me more…"

Peter nodded. And this is where Hughes' advice came in – make it a damn good plan. "Well, here's what I was thinking…"

To be continued