(Chapter 3)

Neal did not like D.C. from the get go. It wasn't the city he disliked so much but the company he was forced to keep. Kramer had eyes on him at all times, a new anklet issued to him with an explanation in no uncertain terms that he was a tool and nothing more. He was told to do as the agent asked and any agent working with him and not begrudge them anything. That request was what made Neal do his best NOT to keep his promise but soon was his undoing.

The first week of his new assignment he discovered early what happened if he tried to leave a room without proper supervision. Kramer told him to ask for a certain folder but Neal didn't want to drag the task out, hoping for some reward, as he left the office he was in to retrieve it. Promptly alarms went off and two agents including the one that had left him alone initially showed up, guns at the ready as the consultant held up his hands, folder evident. Both men seemed uncertain what to do until Kramer showed, glancing between the three and finally getting things under control as he walked over to him.

"Neal... you need to remember your place here. If you need something, there are phones to call people."

The man's voice was just barely holding off on yelling at him as Neal nodded back. He wasn't used to having to "wait" for everything. Sometimes he had found ways around doing work himself while with Peter but that was just him practicing his social engineering skills. Here in D.C. he had no one to talk to, the agents leaving him to his tasks once he was situation in the room per Kramer's orders. If he was found lacking in things, Kramer told him to page someone (the phones were inside lines only) but he found that less than informative if he was to work here and manipulate things to his favor. Apparently that was what the senior agent was trying to prevent.

"I could be done with this task in 5 minutes if I could just walk around, sir."

He barely added the last bit, his use of it obviously less than sincere as Kramer narrowed his eyes at him.

"Never the less... do as your told! Agent Chavsky, stay with him if he needs something."

The agent in question nodded reluctantly, green eyes glancing over at Neal with an almost annoyed air. They had been told to keep him at bay and yet he was supposedly valuable to their boss. That's what Neal suspected if anything as he continued to try his own ways of doing things.

That first week was a bust, by Friday Neal was already doing things Kramer's way or at least trying to. It was hard getting anything done with a new agent by his side daily. The man refused to let him get to know anyone but he tried despite himself. Neal was social animal but the agents were aware of his past as a confidence man and thief and did their best to steer clear of him when they could. It made him feel lonely if not a pariah of sorts. Even Diana and Jones had tried to make friends with him to some degree despite their initial distrust but here, Kramer wanted to isolate him to the fullest. It wasn't going to make his job any easier or his abilities work much to the agent's needs.

Each day Neal waited while he was swiped out of the many offices he passed through within the D.C. Bureau, several dozen cards used to do so by different people. He tried to keep track but they all looked the same to him even with his memory. It seemed an impossible task as he tried to take the cards and escape the following Monday. He managed to get six cards total but half of them didn't go to the doors he needed and he ended up in a supply closet hiding from Kramer until they had figured out where he was. That had been one of his worse days, the cabin fever getting to him and the lack of interaction. He was happy for the first of only a few letters he would receive while away from his true friends and family back in New York.

Dear Neal,

I hope you're doing well. I just finished a fantastic event at the MoMA you would have found fun. I took Peter with me but he didn't enjoy it half as much as I imagine you would have. (Don't tell him I told you that!)

Peter sends his greetings. He told me what happened at the airport. I think it's cute. He's never done that before and I think he never will again. Consider yourself lucky. He really does miss you.

I've enclosed some pictures and a small care package. Hopefully Kramer will let you have both. Peter made it sound as if he might isolate you completely but no one could humanely do that to another person, I think. Not even Kramer.

Write back soon!

Love,

Elizabeth

He was happy to hear from his friends, eyes tearing up some as he looked at the inserted photos of the event. He had to laugh some seeing Peter in a tux and looking like he was wishing he was somewhere else but seeing the agent still smiling because he was with Elizabeth. They were happiest together and one of the best things that had happened to him. Maybe if he asked Kramer would allow them to visit. He could only hope as he opened the small box with the letter and saw some of Elizabeth's famous brownies, some things from June's recipe box and something he least suspected from Mozzie. Neal gave a deep sigh, holding onto the letter, pictures and box hoping it would be enough to help keep him sane as he took in the emotions he felt from the contents of the box and tried to imagine his friends there with him. It was all he could do at the moment.

More time passed in Kramer's presence and D.C. At least in New York, Peter had allowed him to roam a 2 mile radius at times if not more if they were doing cases. Phillip Kramer felt he owned Neal like a tool in his belt and treated him as such. The con was given his own place with two unwelcomed roommates in the form of agents (two new ones each day) who watched him 24 / 7. The front door and bedroom both had key-cards like the offices so he was trapped like a rat in a trap unable to leave for any reason. He could just imagine if there was a fire and he tried to escape the flames. Maybe it would be a justified end if he just let himself burn. His thoughts started turning darker the more he was caged up by the D.C. Crimes agent, his hope eking out like blood from a wound. Would he survive his stint here without going insane? Neal wasn't sure after the first month passed. He started to tick off the time on the wall in the bathroom like he had in prison, counting off as if he were in Rikers. It felt just as isolated and equally confining.

()()()

Eight Months Later...

Neal leaned over the desk, his eyes blurring from reading the brief. It wasn't mortgage fraud but it was still dull. He had never liked paper work or case files in general but he had put up with it so long as he could remain working with Peter and the White Collar department. They were his friends and colleagues and he would do anything to stay with them. This unfortunately wasn't the New York office of the Bureau but DC. Neal glanced up from the dull brief, something about a missing Monet, his tired eyes glancing out at the beautiful picturesque view of the District of Columbia. The Washington Monument rose up stark and tall above the city, the Potomac spreading out before him towards the narrow edifice. Under any other circumstances he may have found the view breathtaking but since he saw it everyday and couldn't do anything but look, his heart was beginning to view the monument as a symbol of his captivity.

His eyes continued to stare at the tower, mind remembering buildings in another city towering up along a certain sky line when he heard a cough and turned to see a man in a standard issue FBI Brook Bros suit of gray. The man, Agent Jabakowski, stared at him with coal brown eyes, Neal nodding back despite himself as he wrote something quickly on a pad next to the brief, pushed the sheet into the folder and handed it over to the agent. The man shook his head, pointing at the door without a word. This was different from his usual routine he'd become accustomed to, Neal rising to his feet as he took the folder and notepad with him under his arm and stopped short of the door. He watched the man swipe a card through a slide by the door, a normal door at that with no obvious lock. If he had wanted to he could technically walk out but other circumstances kept him at bay which he had been trained reluctantly to obey. Neal waited patiently, mind wandering as the light on the swipe turned green and he glanced down to see his anklet beep in answer. The agent motioned for him to go out into the hallway, gun obvious under his jacket as they left the room with no words.

The DC offices were no less dis-interesting as the New York ones but at least he had a reason for missing the other offices. Here drab nameless agents (he knew their last names only) led him around from one room to another, swiping cards to release his anklet from one space to another. Kramer had not taken a chance Neal would make friends giving him any opportunity other than he already had to run. He was stuck with Kramer like a rat in a maze, shuttled by different agents between rooms with various key-cards. Each key-card was different so he would technically have to steal two dozen or more cards and know which one went with which door if he wanted to try his hand at escaping. They all looked the same so that despite how good his memory was, it would be nearly impossible to handle that many key-cards to escape much less run across the hall to hide in a new room. Neal had tried it once and failed only to be punished by Kramer who refused him all contact he had before with anyone from his past. He didn't try that again.

He sighed inwardly, dragging his feet along with the agent without really looking where they were going. He'd been in DC close to a year already and the monotony and dread of waking up in this place every morning was dampening his spirits beyond repair. He was becoming a mindless drone, a slave to the man as Mozzie might put it but it was for a good reason. Kramer had told him from the get go that if he ever chose to run, Peter's job would be on the line and he knew the agent would do it as he recalled that night with the tablet and the surveillance footage. He wanted nothing to do with ruining his friend's career so he had stopped fighting after a while. Peter was all the incentive Neal needed to behave when he started to think about what ifs. Still his mind wandered back to the fact he would rather be in New York with his old partner and friend, sharing Italian Roast on June's terrace or drinking wine with Mozzie. He thought about long friendly chat with Elizabeth about art and movies and dinners with Sara. Everything had been perfect if only for a short time...

"Hey!"

The man didn't yell so much as speak firmly to get his attention. Neal looked up to see that he had ever so slightly walked passed the man, the yellow light on his anklet blinking up at him to indicate he was about to set off an alarm. He paused, stepped back and it returned to green as the man nodded at him almost sympathetically. Kramer no longer forgave him his "trespasses" as the good book said and Neal nor the agent didn't want to be on the man's bad side.

"Wait in here."

Neal nodded as the man slid his card and the answering beep from his anklet told them he was clear to enter the room. Once he was inside and the room had beeped it was armed, the man exited leaving the door open without any obvious fear of Neal's running. The con stood there at the entrance and stared outside into the hallway, his blue eyes almost rebellious looking as he started to move his anklet laden leg towards the threshold watching the light blink yellow then...

This was stupid! He moved back without completing the task. He hadn't tried to get past security for some months now. He had attempted to run several times without exiting the building and had always been found. Neal suspected the Bureau of having cameras in every room even the closets if not GPS specific to him in the building. He had few doubts it was true, Mozzie's old paranoia rubbing off on him the longer he stayed. Kramer was always a step ahead of him trying to escape so he had stopped his attempts and given up.

Neal glanced around the room, one he hadn't been in before. It looked to be a small conference room, dry erase boards on three walls, a projector stuck to the ceiling above and a large table in the middle that reminded him of the one in the painting of the last supper if it had been Formica. Neal made a slow circuit of the room which was maybe 10 x 8 x 20 at best as he noticed a stack of large square and oblong cloth covered boards in one corner. He barely glanced back before removing the covering from one of the larger items, a slight gasp escaping his lips as he saw what was beneath.

"Beautiful... isn't it?"

Neal spun around quickly, nearly dropping the item and almost knocking two more over as he found Kramer standing behind him in the doorway. The man was smiling that cold unreadable smile he remembered all too well from when he had first met him. It was looking a hyena in the eye before it attacked he thought as the man stepped into the room as if he owned the place. It took a moment for him to get his tongue back and his courage. The longer he stayed in the agent's grasp, the more he felt his talents and general well-being wasting away. Kramer may think he was doing Neal good keeping him cooped up and unable to do wrong but it was like locking a phoenix up in a cage. Eventually a caged animal attacks or it dies. He'd tried the former once and now... maybe he would just waste away. Would anyone care?

"It is... too bad it's a forgery. Why am I here, Phillip?"

As much as the man had control over him, he still tried to bring some of his own rebellion to the picture. He might not be able to make friends or get to know the nameless people who were leading him around day by day but he knew Kramer. The man stiffened every time he said his name which inwardly made the con smile.

"That's why you are here. I'm sure in your 'travels' you met other forgers like yourself. As you well know, the signature of each one is different in style and feeling. You are going to figure out WHO made these so we can bring them to justice."

Neal blinked back at the man, his eyes trying to read more into what he said before he looked back at the one picture he had before him. It was a Waterhouse depicting three Victorian dressed women in light colored dresses around a small pond. The style did not look like anyone he had worked with or met but he was apparently going to have to try to figure out who had done these. With Peter he could have gone out and scoured the streets, talked to Mozzie and had his friend's contacts get back with them. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to get any background on who did this when he was confined to the building.

"Are they all by the same person or different individuals? I'll need all the necessary tools and supplies..."

He was interrupted as the man nodded, hand up as if to squelch his words.

"All coming. I know what you need, Neal. I also understand you will have to talk to people on the street. I have someone I want you to meet who will help you in that area."

This sounded less than comforting, the tone on the last part making him wonder just who he was going to meet up with. Kramer seemed to read his mind, an almost gleeful gleam in his eyes to think he was besting the con. Neal imagined his fist meeting with those eyes if not that chin but he smiled back as naturally as he could. It was almost painful as he felt his facade fading away.

()()()

The end of the day couldn't come fast enough. Kramer had Neal on a very strict routine, one he had finally started to ingrain in his psyche as he slipped off his shoes at 10 PM in the evening after a nearly 14 hour day of working. He did get the occasional break but Kramer liked to be sure that he wasn't comfortable so he spread them out and made them short. He was fed well, given plenty of time to rest but working 6 to 10 wasn't his idea of equal opportunity practices for employees. It was only himself and Kramer past 6 PM most nights. Other agents left for home, a few he saw every day giving him an almost sympathetic glance but nothing more as they left him. Kramer's power reigned supreme and it was obvious as much as these people might want to help him, they wouldn't for fear of the agent's wrath. He had only seen it day one. An agent named Paulson was a little too friendly with him.

It was during his second month with D.C. Art Crimes, Neal had come to work ill, his bright eyes burning with fever. Kramer had insisted he come to the Bureau regardless of health so he had no choice as he was forcibly escorted by three agents. His face burned as if he were next to a volcano while his body felt like he had that part sitting in a snow drift in Alaska if not the Arctic circle. He had collapsed to the floor in the hallway between moves when Eric Paulson happened to pass by and moved to help him. It was the last time he knew another agent's first name or saw Eric again. He'd heard some low whispers about the man along with some sympathetic phrasings about himself but it had been a brief conversation, Kramer keeping things in order as he liked them.

The memory made him feel sick but he pushed the nausea aside to change from work to night clothes and slip into bed. The lamp by his bed gave the room a soft glow he could still read by. He listened for the sound of the agents outside that were watching him. Kramer kept guards on him 24 / 7 like he was a prize show horse he didn't want anyone to steal. Neal sighed, glancing towards the one window he did have. It was reinforced glass so the view wasn't perfectly clear but he could see enough of the sky and city to feel like a fish trapped in a bowl with the ocean just outside. He imagined the view from June's and the inside of his old rooms. She had been one of the people fighting to release him during the beginning. They had a long chat on the phone, one of the last times he talked to her but he had told her not to get involved. Kramer could hurt people if he wanted and the last thing Neal would allow was someone to hurt his friends. June understood but had made it clear she would find a way to free him. Mozzie had not been around for obvious reasons but had texted before hand to say he was looking for a way out of the situation by other means.

It was shortly after that he was moved to D.C. his last contact with Peter at the airport. He never heard from Mozzie except for the item in El's care package: A burner phone. Neal's correspondences had been kept to a minimum with only a few letters here and there. El and June wrote him once or twice a week then it became once a month, the con guessing that Kramer was withholding his mail. Sara tried to call him on his burner phone but Kramer took it from him to Neal's dismay. That had been near the middle of month 2 and it was understandable Neal wouldn't be in his right mind. He had been isolated and confined, his anger welling up finally to a roaring flame. It was a day he had gotten close to hitting the agent. He chased Phillip from the office forgetting or not caring about the alarms he was setting off. Security was on him before he got close enough to lay a finger on the man, his voice screaming at the man like a crazy person. He managed to nothing more than tear the left sleeve of Kramer's jacket, one more thing that had cost him what little sanity he had. They'd placed him in a holding cell for a day or two, Neal feeling more and more like a trapped animal as he screamed and yelled to be let go without relief. Nobody wanted to deal with him so he had no food or water until he had exhausted himself at Kramer's word and taken to his apartment to rest and clean up for another two days. He could see the pity in their eyes, nameless agents wanting to help but helpless not to for fear they'd be fired. He was finally broken despite his hope for Peter to help. Peter couldn't help him and Neal could only stay in Hell and know he was helping his friend. The Devil had him and he had him good.

He moved his gaze from the window, putting his book away and turning off the light. The soft glow from the city lights was more than enough security in the darkness but it didn't take away all of his fears. He heard a cell ringing outside and someone speaking low but urgently.

I'm sorry but this is a secure line.

No. You cannot talk to Mr. Caffrey.

I will pass the information on to him once Kramer has approved.

It sounded like the call had ended, the sound of someone moving across the floor pacing.

Geesh! I know Kramer doesn't want this guy to run but this is bullshit!

There was silence as the first voice that had spoken on the phone with whomever now spoke to the other agent. There was a corresponding sigh.

He seems like a good guy to me. Moody but I would be too if I had someone following me 24 / 7. I'm still looking to transfer to Chicago if I get half a chance. Kramer is getting too weird for me. What about you?

The second man sounded pretty sympathetic as the first man answered back.

Houston. I can't wait to get away from this crap! Kramer gets results and this Caffrey guy is helping him do it but to what end? I heard... and you didn't hear it from me... He stole him from his own protegee!

Neal sat up and listened to the conversation as much as he could until their voices died down and he heard the first man sounding uncertain about something.

Tell him. He can't do anything without the key-cards. We can't call Kramer this late about a phone call. He'll transfer us to Siberia faster than you can say "art theft!"

He heard the men coming closer to his room as he tried to decide what he should do. Should he act awake or asleep? He rolled over onto his side and pulled the blankets over his head before the door opened and he watched through the corner of his eye two shadows appear.

"Caffrey... You awake?"

Neal didn't move at first, the two men whispering among themselves.

Voice 1: He's asleep but this is important.

Voice 2: Nothing he can do whether or not you tell him.

Voice 1: True...

They closed the door and the room was once again bathed in cool light from the window. Neal sat up once he knew he was alone and wondered who had called. It must have been someone he knew. Why would they call now when they knew Kramer would just hang up? His mind came up with all kinds of scenarios before he heard them talking again.

He needs to know, Jack! Caffrey... they were close and she sounded so upset. You didn't hear what I heard.

There was a pause as footsteps paced the room outside and finally stopped.

Kramer won't let him go. He keeps him isolated for a reason. What was the call about that has you so worried, Stan?

Neal quietly got out of bed and moved closer to the door. He pushed his ear against the cool wooden frame and waited for them to continue.

Agent Burke... he was shot. That was his wife. She wanted Caffrey to see him.

Neal slid quietly to the floor, ear still planted against the door as he tried not to think about what he'd heard.

Agent Burke... he was shot.

Peter...

His mind was a mess of rapid broken thoughts, his eyes not seeing anything but the last time Peter had been there to help him on the plane to DC. The agent had looked professional but for the watery gleam in his eyes. There was honest emotion in those brown eyes and genuine concern. The man had kissed him like a brother. Peter didn't do that sort of thing and neither did Neal. They had saved each other more than enough times to have evened out the score and throw the card away. Peter had moved away from him, hands still holding onto both shoulders firmly but gently as he whispered:

Call me if you need anything.

Peter had whispered but they hadn't realized the scope to which Kramer would go to separate Neal from everyone and everything he cared for. A tear rolled down his cheek in memory but a flush there he could only feel made him realize just how much anger he still held towards his new keeper.

He had to get out of here. Damn going to prison for life! He had to see how Peter was. This was more important than any so called promise he made to Kramer. He had been planning an escape despite his apparent docility. Now was his chance to try again, out of practice as he was. Mozzie would laugh at him but he still had a backup. Something even Kramer had never figured out he had. He got up and walked over to his night bag he had from the trip over and opened it up, pulling at the lining of the bottom. A false bottom. He retrieved the item and started thinking through his plan.

This apartment was small enough they only had two key-cards for the bedroom (which had an attached bath) and the outside door. The rest of the building was open. He would just have to make a run for it outside and cut the anklet. Kramer wasn't going to keep him from seeing his friend. Now he realized El must have been on the other end of that call. How had she known about this number? So many thoughts ran through his head as he planned his escape, eyes closing to sleep the last few hours he would have in captivity.

()()()

Eight Months Ago...

It had been very hard after seeing Neal off for Peter to want to go to work. He liked his job at the Bureau but something was missing now, a certain someone to keep him occupied and grounded. Well, maybe not grounded but without Caffrey he had been nothing but a workaholic at best and now he felt he couldn't even afford to do that, his mind always thinking about what ifs and maybes. True to his word, Peter Burke continued to look into loopholes and strategies to get his friend and former partner back but most of his efforts were met with Reese calling him in and telling him to lay off. Much as his boss felt the con had been railroaded into working with Kramer, he was getting complaints from D.C. about his inquiries.

It was a good month after the fact that Peter wrote his first letter to the con. Elizabeth had been in charge of letter writing up until then, his heart unable to phrase what he wanted to without tearing up the paper and getting frustrated. There was no reply back, Peter wondering if Neal didn't want to talk to him or his wife as their letters seemed to be ignored. Something felt wrong though, his gut telling him so as he made a formal phone call to Kramer. His former mentor wouldn't even give them a time they could go visit, excuses that they were busy. Peter didn't believe it, requesting Hughes help him to get an appointment with his former C.I. but pressure from D.C. and some high level friends of his so called friend put and end to his attempts. If Phillip had meant to isolate Neal from his former friends and family, he was doing an excellent job of it. This only made Peter more determined, El letting him know Mozzie was working on his own means to an end. That didn't sound good but at this rate he almost wished his friend had run rather than stayed when he'd warded him off. He'd have been free despite any justification Peter had before of keeping the con on anklet. Now the young man was basically a prisoner with no sense of his own freedom or security he guessed if his few inside reports were correct. He needed an IN!

More time passed and it was nearly 8 months since the young man's incarceration with Kramer. Peter didn't stop thinking about his friend but he knew they had few choices left the more time passed. He still had no idea what it was that his mentor had on the young man to make him stay. There had to be some damning evidence if he could only find it.

"Boss..."

Peter glanced up from his desk, Diana looking down at him worriedly as she sat in the chair Caffrey used to sit in. He blinked back at her curious about her visit.

"The case. Jones is wired up and ready. It's a shame we couldn't use..."

She stopped herself, biting her lip most uncharacteristically. He understood the lapse, all of them knowing this was a case for Caffrey. He would have been at ease with it but they only had Jones and himself to pull it off as he nodded, standing up and slipping into a nice silk blazer. This was the first big undercover case in a while and without their former colleague and consultant, they had to do it with the resources and people available. Diana's cheeks flushed slightly but he patted her on the arm.

"I miss him too but we have a job to do. Come on."

()()()

Elizabeth sat at home, several samples of cakes and pastries before her for a soiree she was planning for a local charity. It had been one of the many events she gained through knowing Neal...

She sighed, trying not to think of the young man as her heart broke at the loss of their friend. Peter was still taking it harder than anyone she thought, her husband unable to cope with the loss of his partner and yet... dealing the best he knew how with too much work. He was coming home for dinners and lunches as he could but it was evident as the months went on without Neal Caffrey around that her husband was spending more time entrenched at work. Today was no exception, 5 PM rolling around and Peter phoned he would be late. They had an important case they were trying to break but he hadn't shared the details of it. In the past she had sometimes gotten Mozzie to tell if Neal wouldn't but she had neither of them now to talk to. Mozz had vanished when Neal had but June spoke of the little guy visiting off and on. Maybe Peter and herself were no longer welcome in his world, blamed for the loss of Neal and his evident seclusion by Kramer in D.C. She knew Peter had done all he could and still was to get Neal back but had been stonewalled despite his efforts.

El didn't want to think about it but her letters had not been returned after the first month and her thoughts were that Kramer was the one keeping the young man isolated from those he cared for. How could someone who had taught her very own husband to be fair and civil be such an evil, mean spirited soul? Her mind had mulled over the fact that no matter how much Neal had not deserved what happened to him, former criminal or not, there was nothing either of them could do for the young man. Neal was lost to them and no one understood why he had agreed to go so willingly in the end. Peter suspected some blackmail considering all that he had told her of Kramer's plans but they had no proof and his attempts to find any were shut down. For now, they held back on any obvious digging to free their friend and did their best to live from day to day. It was all they could do until something feasible came along to bring Neal back to them.

()()()

"Peter... stay with me. Come on boss!"

Jones was panicked, his voice hitched up a notch in fear as he sat on the ground of the warehouse and gazed down at his wounded friend. Peter gave a low groan, eyes rolled back as a large red stain covered the silk blazer he had put on only hours before. Something had gone terribly wrong in the operation, the agent getting shot and Jones luckily killing the man who had done it. Diana and crew showed up and grabbed the rest but despite the victory, it might be more of a loss as a man's life was held in the balance. Someone had figured out who they were, Peter reacting as they pulled out a gun on his second. Peter had done the only thing possible, pulling out his own weapon and pushing Jones aside. It had been fast and quick, Clinton saved as the shot took him out instead.

"Peter... he's not responding. I NEED A BUS HERE STAT!"

She was screaming now, Jones holding Peter as he kept pressure on the wound to keep any more blood from leaving. If Caffrey had been here...

It was on everyone's mind that this would have gone smoother. They were experts on criminals but Neal had been good at undercover work. The best in fact. He should have been here instead of Peter and all would have been perfect. If only...

"Jones?"

He stood up despite the shock of what had happened. The EMTs had taken Peter to an ambulance and started towards the hospital as he tried not to look down at his bloodied hands and jacket. Diana gently grasped his arm and he glanced up at her with woeful eyes.

"He'll be ok."

The agent could only hope so as he followed his colleague to their sedan and Diana let him in on the passenger side. Elizabeth... they had to call her.

"Have you called his wife yet?"

oOoOoOo

Author's Note: Lots of stuff to cram into this episode and tie it up with the short I had in my Menagerie drabble. I rearranged a few things, added some stuff and hopefully you like. Thanks for reading and another chapter will be up soon.