A/N: So... I obviously left this for a while... The good news is this is now complete so you will not have to worry about waiting more than a few days. I've also gone back and edited the first two chapters a bit, though there are probably still notable style differences. I still haven't seen past this episode so, please, no spoilers - and congrats to the many of you who figured out what was going on ;)

Anyway, I'll be moving somewhere around August 1st so I'm planning to have it all posted by then. Please enjoy!


Diana arrived just in time to lead the EMTs up the stairs to Neal's apartment, comforting June as they both moved out of the way.

It only took a few minutes for them to assess his condition, carefully transfer him to a board, and carry him out to the ambulance. Agent Berrigan had a moment's uncertainty – the marshals wouldn't appreciate that no one was keeping an eye on the CI, but there were more important things to be done.

"June, did you see where James went?"

"I didn't watch him long, but he was walking toward downtown when I saw him." She spotted something on the floor, just outside the pool of blood. "His phone... he seemed concerned about his phone – said Peter needed it?"

Pulling on a glove, Diana slipped the red-smudged device into an evidence bag and manipulated the screen through the plastic. Nothing unexpected in phone history or notes, but there was a recording. Hardly daring to hope, the agent pressed "play".

She held her breath as the sounds of argument and confrontation came out, ending just after June's arrival. Closing the app, she emailed the sound file to several addresses as she called Jones on her own phone to update him.

"You get our boss back - I'll take care of Bennett." Diana hung up and turned to June. "There will be agents here soon; will you be alright?"

"I'll just clean up and go to the hospital; you make sure that man regrets ever showing his face here."

Diana nodded and rushed out the door.


Peter sat in the back of a car with Callaway's lackeys on either side while the woman herself argued with Jones outside. He found himself inventing possible escape strategies and blamed the impulse on Neal's anklet – it must have passed on some of it's usual wearer's restlessness.

Things could never just go according to plan. At least Neal hadn't been the one found with Pratt; there would have been no coming back from that. He snorted.

There might not be a way out for me, either. Sorry about dinner, El.

One of his guards shifted but both remained silent, avoiding his gaze.

Street noise broke his musings as Callaway wrenched open the door and stuck her hand in front of him.

"Key," she demanded.

"Pardon?"

"The key to the anklet."

Peter handed it over. It wasn't a big deal, he always had a spare, but he couldn't imagine why she wanted it now.

"James Bennett has confessed to shooting Pratt, but I'm still not convinced you're entirely innocent in this. You're going to be wearing that until everything is straightened out."

A pointless gesture with questionable legality.

"You've caught him?"

Callaway hesitated, clearly unwilling to share details.

"No. Agent Berrigan has submitted a recording of his confession."

"Diana? How-"

The door slammed, cutting off his question. Callaway reappeared in the driver's seat soon afterward but ignored him for the rest of the drive to the Bureau.

...

Peter brooded in his seat as Callaway started the briefing; Agents Jones and Berrigan were absent.

"James Bennett," a picture of the man from his "assault" on Pratt flashed up on screen, "has been recorded confessing to the murder of Senator Pratt. He was last seen leaving the residence of one June Ellington."

The familiar building joined James' photo. Peter had a bad feeling about this.

"Agents Berrigan and Jones are searching the area with their teams as we speak and we have a BOLO posted. We will be joining the efforts. Use extreme caution; he has already shot two men today – we don't want to make it three."

"Two?" He couldn't help interrupting; it was a wonder he'd even managed to stay in his seat with the way his gut was twisting.

"Mr. Caffrey was injured in his attempt to convince his father to turn himself in."

The dispassionate way she said that made him want to strangle her.

"How badly is he hurt?"

"Caffrey is none of your concern right now, Burke, and do keep in mind that – as you currently do not have a badge or gun – you are little more than a civilian. You are only here because of your knowledge of Bennett and his plans."

"I don't know anything about his plans." His jaw was starting to hurt from being clenched.

"Then you can spend this time in an interrogation room."

"But I do know a bit about him." He willed himself to relax, trying to put Neal out of his mind for the moment. "He's been on the run for a long time, but he doesn't have a lot of class or technique. He probably doesn't know he was recorded. Has any other evidence been recovered from June's?"

"Records linking both Bennett and Senator Pratt to illicit activities." She clicked a remote and scans of the papers replaced James and the apartment.

"Then he's back on the run. If we lock down the city he won't be able to get out, he simply doesn't have the skills or finesse. He'd probably go to ground in some hole in the wall. We can catch him if we move fast enough."

Callaway considered him for a moment, then nodded.

"Roberts, Emerson – you two take your teams and support Berrigan and Jones. The rest of you are with me."

Peter made to follow.

"You're staying here." Callaway shut him in the conference room and locked the door. Another pointless gesture.

"Could I at least get some coffee?" He called after her retreating form, receiving no reaction.

Then he was alone.

Alone and worried.