a/n. Wow, this has been way overdue. My wonderful beta did review this story but i decided to change a few things and the direction that the story was going in and i kinda got a bit OCD on it, (hope i haven't steered too far from your direction). So i want to apologize to all!

Disclaimer- I own nothing ( i'm an underprivileged person=(. )

Neal stared out at the smog filled blue sky line through the high-rise window in the FBI Building. Once they had gotten away from the inquiring FBI agents and back from the Relvar household he had been steered easily into Peter's office. Peter was debriefing Hughes about the situation concerning The Beholder. In the car Neal had insisted Peter be adamant about amnesty concerning his theft of the McNeil painting before he revealed anything about what they had found.

What was the purpose of The Beholder leaving that message? To scare him, let him know that he was being watched. He must have wanted Neal to be the one to find it, to recognise the frame for what it was, a message in a bottle. The whole scene had been orchestrated. The murder of Hanna to involve the FBI, and then by stealing the painting he had involved the White Collar division. This meant that he had planned it all. Hanna was just one piece in his plans, Neal shivered. He dare not think about the consequences of what Hanna's death might mean. What else, and who else would be effected by the time that this mad mans plans had played out. One thing was certain, this would not end quietly, and more people would get hurt. He had to stop it, somehow. He wouldn't let anyone else die just so this "Beholder" could get his kicks off.

Deep in thought, Neal didn't notice Peter walk into the office and address him, and was startled by the sudden presence of a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry" Peter apologised "I didnt mean to scare you."

"No, its fine" Pulling himself out of his reverie, Neal sat down in Peter's chair hands behind his head and put his feet on his desk. "So what's the verdict? Am I still in?"

Peter scowled at Neal's bravo and slapped his feet off of his desk. "You're still in." With a thumb jerk he told Neal to get out of his chair, he complied and Peter sat down with a sigh. This was going to be a long day. "It would be hard to take you off this one. It seems our friend has taken quite a shining to you."

Neal smiled his charming smile, one he didn't feel "Who doesn't?"

"Well in this case I think it's rubbed off on the wrong person. While we were out of the office this was delivered." Peter produced a thin evidence bag and flopped it down onto the table.

Neal swallowed his trepidation and picked up the clear bag. Inside was another slip of paper. Illustrated in the same neat cross hatch style, Neal and Peter were sitting on the balcony at Junes. It showed a fair depiction of the scene. There was breakfast spread out on the table, coffee juices toast and cereals. The mornings paper spread out before Neal on his lap, the detail wasn't precise enough to have a date on the paper, but enough so that Junes shawl was draped over the back of a vacant chair where she had sat earlier on that morning. Depicting from the image, Neal guessed that the drawing was done some time this summer where the weather was warm enough for Neal to be out in his thin dressing gown and no slippers on his feat.

"That's a nice little drawing of us there, though Peter you look a little bigger here, have you lost weight?" asked Neal jovially trying to lighten the meaning of what another picture might mean.

Peter glared but ignored the question "Look at the back"

Neal did so, and saw an inscription there addressed to him. He read aloud "You were once in my sight only to be taken from me by another, but soon I will release you from your internment.' " Neal paused a moment digesting what the note said, fighting off a shiver making its way down his spine. "Ok, that's disconcerting"

That afforded Peter a small smile, it was probably as honest as Neal had been with his feelings all day. "That's an understatement."

"How was it delivered?" asked Neal pushing the image away from him across Peter's desk.

"Courier, the kid that delivered it was oblivious. We're chasing down the trail but I doubt they'll find anything. This guys too attentive, he wouldn't make a mistake that easily."

"I agree." After a short pause Neal asked, "How did Hughe's take the news of my previous endeavours?"

"Better then expected, and amnesty is yours, but I can tell he doesn't like one of his own being a target like this. He wants this one by the books, no repercussions."

"I'm one of his own?" Neal asked Peter, somewhat touched by the concern.

Peter hesitated momentarily "No matter what your past antics Neal, you're part our team now." he said, then he added almost reluctantly, "We look out for our own."

Neal grinned with gratification. He was considered one of them now; it helped a little with how conflicted he was feeling at present, but wondered if Peter might just be saying that to make him feel better.

There was anther bout of silence before Peter asked, "How are you holding up?"

Neal shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm used to dealing with these kinds of people Peter."

Peter blinked at the man's bravo "Sure, you've had your run-ins with tough guys Neal, but this guy is not right in the head. Your not worried at all?"

"It is nothing I can't handle." Neal said too quickly in a desperate gesture of pride, or was it self-defence? Neal wasn't sure, but it was said now. There was not doubt he was restless about the attention he was receiving from The Beholder, but he wasn't about to admit he was scared to a tough guy like Agent Burke, not right now at least.

And besides, Peter wasn't good at emotions.

Peter nodded with a frown wanting to pry deeper, but respected the Neal's apparent need not to discuss the situation. Besides, Caffrey had proven repeatedly he could take care of his self with a surprising sufficiency.

Peter raised his hands and rubbed his fingertips into his eyes. "We have to compile a time line of the two aspects of the Beholders MO." Raising his head, he rested his chin on steepled fingers. "You research the past four years larcenies that could fit into his persona, I want to see if there are any connections between the art works that have been stolen to the murders that the FBI have been tracking, see if we cant find a clue of who this guy is. Im going to get this evidence to forensic, see if they can get anything."

Peter stood and looked at his watch, it was 1:42pm, time to order lunch. "Im going to get some coffee too." Neal raised his hand, one finger pointing.

One for me too.

When Peter went by Neal's desk later that day, he found four empty mugs of coffee and two empty sandwich wrappers on his table, along with tuffs of paper pulled from folders splayed anywhere there was space. Surprised by his unusual unkemptness, Peter had to suppress a comment. "How are you progressing?" he said instead.

"Here's what I could find on possible thefts in the New York area that could be our guy." Neal said handing Peter a heavy set tanned folder. "I looked at pieces that weren't recovered or were similar to the McNeil painting but without a clear understanding of his art motivation I don't think there's much more I can add."

Peter nodded, "Alright, ill give these a look over and see what agents Huntington and Durk can add to them." he turned to leave but was stopped by a small tug at his elbow sleeve.

"Have a look at this." Neal gestured towards his screen. Peter leaned over his shoulder and watched the young man pull up a widow. "This is the transcript of the McNeil painting from the owner before the Revlars. The painting was bought for near enough $24,000, but compare that to Clive Relvars transcript-" he said producing a piece of paper

"It's nearly half that." said Peter, "So what, a flux in the market?"

Neal pursed his lips together "Not likely, more like the previous owner wanted it badly enough to pay out that kind of money, no questions asked. But that's not what I wanted you to see." Neal pointed to the name of the person who sold the painting to Clive Relvar.

"Take a look at the name on the invoice"

"Del Horbethe" Peter looked up at Neal, questioning in his eyes.

Neal taped the screen where the name was written "It's an anagram."

Peter read the name again, an anagram, for what? Then he saw it. "Del Horbethe is an anagram for The Beholder." Peter thought aloud, a smile creeping across his face. Trust Neal to have spotted that, he felt pride begin to bloom in his chest.

"And take a look at this." Neal pulled up a window. On the top of the page was the heading for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Homicide Division.

"Did you get clearance to look at these files?" the pride Peter was feeling abruptly disintegrated.

"You didn't see that." Peter groaned at Neal but said nothing further. Mentioning Neal's activities in the FBI database would only give Peter a bigger headache then he already had "I thought about what you said earlier on today. About this being an acceleration in The Beholders M.O?"

"What about it?"

"Well, I was looking at where he might have committed his first theft so we could cross reference thefts from the same time as the first murder, like you said to do, and see how he had accelerated to combining the two. But then I saw his case file."

"What did you find?"

"Well, that's the interesting part. I mean, I don't know much about homicide, but don't serial killers establish a pattern on their original crime and then repeat it. Over and, over again as part of their damaged psychology?"

"Yeh, that's how the criminal indulges in his or her fantasies in order to satisfy their urge."

"Right. So, I looked at the first crime report, and then cross referenced it with the second, third and so on."

"Get on with it Neal." Barked Peter, impatient at the young man's long-winded explanation.

"Im getting there. So I looked at the crime reports and found some inconsistency's. In the first report, it stated that the first victim, Susana Wolford, was mutilated and sexually assaulted before her death. The second reported crime was Catharine Strangford, she was also mutilated but there were no signs of any sexual assault. The profiler on the case said there were no signs of sexual abuse because the first victim was somehow intimately related to the killer. But," Neal stressed the word with a pointed finger "later on in the investigation, three more bodies were found and identified as The Beholder's victims, but post-mortem put their deaths before the abduction of Catharine Strangford or Susana Wolford. Now only one of these bodies showed signs of sexual assault, but this time it was with a foreign object, and the victim was male. What is even more unusual is the fact that in the first half dozen or so murders, the M.O of the killing's changes. Its like he doesn't care how he kills them, just that he does so to get the FBI's attention. The only thing that is consistent is the eye burn mark that he puts on each of them "

"Ok, that is strange. It could be that we have two guys here. One committing the sexual assaults while the other invents a new scenario how to kill them each time, just as long as he places his mark?"

"I thought that as a possibility too, but the case file put together by the esteemed FBI agents we were so fortunate to have met this morning have put a dossier together profiling only one perpetrator. Their reasoning that there is only one signature on these murders and there aren't enough sexual afflictions to implicate another 'perp'. Ergo one killer." Neal said exasperated.

"Are there any connections with the victims?"

Neal stretched back in his chair, his spine popping like bubble wrap. "No connection in their life styles matches with any regularity. They lived in different social areas, leisure habits varied, none of any of their professions were the same, and their appearances range the whole human genome!"

Peter looked over at his composed accomplice, considering how to delicately verbalise his next question. "Have you considered why The Beholder would choose to target you?"

Neal hesitated. He had considered it, and there were a number of reasons why someone like The Beholder might concentrate on someone like Neal, and none that he liked. "Well. It could be possible he went to take the painting and realised that it was not the original. Found out that I had forged it and targeted me because of that." he said this with a small amount of hope, that if Peter considered this scenario it might make it true, making all other possibilities fictitious.

"The time frame of him committing the murder and creating the drawings of you doesn't match up for that though." Peter saw his partner stiffen at the reminder of the two drawings already received. He tried to lighten the subject. "How come you're researching into these murders anyway? I thought that wasn't your 'area of expertise.'" Grate job, thought Peter to himself.

Neal considered Peter, "It gives me something to keep my mind busy."

"Any luck with that?"

"Wrong subject matter."

Peter nodded, what Neal needed was a good nights sleep. "Come on. That's enough for one night, i'll give you a lift home."

Neal wavered in his seat for a moment, "I think i'll stay here for a bit longer, finish up on this research and get a cab home."

Peter frowned at the conman, he hated doing research and being stuck behind a desk, Peter sighed. "Neal, there's nothing to worry about. I've arranged for a unit to be posted outside all night. Nothing is going to get in or out without one of my agents seeing it. Come on, grab your jacket, I'm taking you home." Peter said, leaning forward and turning off the computer screen on his desk.

Reluctantly Neal complied, as he got up he made sure his body language described fully how he felt about Peter's orders.

They didn't say much on their journey home. Neal had fiddled with the radio, only to have it turned off WQXR by Peter. When they pulled up in front of June's house, it was nearly a quarter past elleven, and both men's eyes were starting to stick together with sleep. Neal noticed the surveillance car parked opposite and gave them a wave. Only one waved back, the other stuffed a sandwich into his face. Probably devilled ham, thought Neal.

"I'll swing by in the morning and pick you up." Peter said, as Neal made no approach to exit the vehicle. Neal just nodded at the comment, but still made no move to get out. "Is something bothering you Neal?" it was a stupid question, he knew it as soon as it had left his lips. Peter really wasn't good at this.

"June's not home."

"She's not?"

Neal shook his head. "I called her earlier today, told her what had happened and that it would probably be best if she didn't stay at the house for a while, just to be safe." Neal didn't want to go into that house. He cursed The Beholder silently. He had taken probably one of the safest places that Neal had experienced in a long while and turned it into another prison. He hated him for that. He hated himself for being afraid of some stupid pictures to the point he didn't feel safe in his own home. He had grown up a long time ago and was no longer afraid of the boogieman in the closet.

He wouldn't let The Beholder scare him.

He sucked in a huge breath and shoved open the car door. "Night, Peter." he called over his shoulder, slamming the door behind him.

Peter stared after the man as he walked up the front steps and into the house. Neal hadn't wanted to go into that building alone. Peter could tell by the comment he had made about June being away. He had been about to ask Neal if he had wanted to stay with him and Elizabeth tonight, reluctantly so, but none the less offer him a place where he might have felt safe for the night.

He heaved a sigh, he really wasn't good at offering emotional support. Point him at a bad guy that needed taking down and he could act without hesitation, but emotions, they got confusing. Say the wrong thing and you'd know about it. At least Neal was a guy; he could look after himself.

Peter sighed again and indicated the car to pull out. Before he drove off, he pulled up near the surveillance unit and scrolled down his window. The agent with a sandwich did the same and grunted a greeting filled with food in his mouth. Peter told each of them, very slowly so they both understood the seriousness of his words, that if anything happened to Neal, even so much as a scratch, he would personally make them suffer for the rest of their lives. Sandwich-face gulped down his mouthful in one, stiff swallow, and mumbled a 'yes-sir, understood, sir'.

Peter nodded, satisfied, and then started his journey home. He hoped Neal would be all right for the night. He would offer the man to come and stay at his place tomorrow if he still seemed uncomfortable. He nodded, approving of his own logic and absolving him self of some of his own guilt at leaving Caffrey alone for the night.