"That isn't any way to address your father," Sorivelli continued pleasantly. "Tell me, do you enjoy working for the feds?"

"You aren't my father," Neal snapped. "My father is dead, as is my mother. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"It's a little early in our reunion to start accusing me of murder, isn't it? After all, the Feds did write that off as a horrible accident until they realized you were missing. They were still looking for one Neal Sorivelli, the last time I checked."

"My name was never Sorivelli," Neal growled. "I always was, and always will be, a Caffrey."

Sorivelli tsked. "No, no son. You know as well as I do what name is written on your birth certificate. It's definitely not Caffrey."

Neal ground his teeth and fought to keep his voice reasonable. "It's not Sorivelli either, and that's what counts to me."

"Are you sure about that?" Sorivelli asked, his voice taking on a bored tone. "But I think that's enough of the idle chat. What are the Feds currently working on?"

"What do you want, Sorivelli?" Neal snapped. "You walked out of my life after killing my mom, and whenever you showed up after that bad things happened. People I cared about got hurt. Just get to what you want."

Sorivelli chuckled, though the sound was humorless. "You always were a bright boy, Neal. You know as well as anyone that I get what I want and those who get in my way get-"

"What the hell do you want?" Neal interrupted.

Sorivelli's tone turned icy. "I thought you learned long ago to humor me, boy."

"I'm not a boy anymore, no more than I'm still under your thumb. Cut to the chase already!"

"How naive. You must still be a boy then, maybe of six years old like when I met you, hmm? Because you've wandered back under my thumb. Now tell me, what are your handlers working on?"

"They aren't my handlers," Neal snarled. "And yeah, maybe we did get your case. And yeah, we're going to see your smug face after you're behind bars. There is no way we're going to drop this case. Not after what you've put me through."

"Get the Feds off my back," Sorivelli returned coldly. "And then, maybe we'll be able to negotiate the certain, ah, return of one of them."

Neal paled. "What? Who did you kill?"

"Not kill," Sorivelli corrected. "Yet, that is. Drop the case and get them to forget they ever had it, and then we can talk."

Neal's threats and protests fell on the deaf ears of the phone line. Sorivelli had already hung up.

Neal knew they didn't have much time before Sorivelli got impatient. His eyes desperately roamed the room. Sorivelli would strike close to home. Peter was there, Jones was at his desk, Hughes was watching the proceedings... but Diana was nowhere to be found.

Neal ran to the stairs, ignoring the stares he attracted. He nimbly climbed them, two steps at a time. He threw Peter's door open and burst into the room. "Peter, call Diana!"

Peter looked up from the papers still spread in front of him. "What?"

"Just do it!" Neal snapped. "Call her, or give me her number and I will!"

Peter reached for his phone. "Neal..."

"Just do it!" Neal repeated.

Peter hit a button; obviously, he had her on speed dial. Neal counted the seconds. One ring... two...

"Yeah, it's me. Neal told me to call you. You're heading home? No, that's not necessary. You don't need to come back here." Peter gave Neal a rather pointed look. He nodded and said, "Okay, I'll see you Monday- Diana?" His eyes widened and he set the phone down on his desk, hitting the speaker button.

Neal heard the sounds of a scuffle, and both men winced as a gun went off. Then:

"Shit, boss, did you know that she was on the phone?" Neal's heart missed a beat as Sorivelli answered, "No, but that's fine." There was a rustle on the other end and then Sorivelli continued, "Neal, I warned you. You know that I'm a man who follows through on my threats. Get the Feds off my back, and you can have your friend back."

The line went dead and Peter started swearing.

"Caffrey, explain," he said tersely, getting up to pace the room after pointing to a chair.

Neal sat. "That was Sorivelli," he said softly, looking at his hands. "He kidnapped Diana, and you heard what he said." Neal risked a glance at Peter; the agent was obviously rather pissed off. "We have to drop the case, or she's as good as dead."

Peter shook his head. "No. I'm not going to drop this case just because that bastard kidnapped one of my agents. We're going to get her back, and then we're going to catch him."

Neal rose to his feet. "Peter, you don't understand! You can't do anything but do what he wants; otherwise he'll kill Diana without a second thought and then go after El!"

Peter gave him a poisonous glare. "How do you know this?" he asked his voice deceptively calm.

Neal started tugging at the hem of his jacket. "It's kind of a long story. We don't have time."

"Damn it, Caffrey, Sorivelli just kidnapped one of my agents and you won't tell me why because it's 'kind of a long story'? Let's put it this way: tell me the kind of long story or I send you back to prison!"

Neal sighed. "I'll give you the condensed version. My mom was, er, involved with him for several years."

Peter frowned. "How did it end?"

"He killed her when I was fifteen," he whispered. "He killed her, then left town and framed me for the murder. I ended up leaving and... The next couple of years were interesting. Let's just say that Sorivelli has a knack for showing up when I'm finally doing something right." He gave his jacket a violent jerk. "And when he shows up, he always kills someone close to me."

Peter frowned, intrigued by the little bit of information from Neal's past, the past that the younger man usually kept so well hidden. This was all new to him, as he hadn't been able to find anything on the con before his eighteenth birthday.

The silence stretched between them for several minutes. Peter opened and then closed his mouth several times as if searching for something to say. Neal continued to fiddle with the hem of his jacket. Both men jumped when Neal's phone went off.

Neal answered it after checking the caller ID. "Moz?"

"Who else would it be?"

Neal shook his head. "I'll explain later. Hang on." He stood up and slipped out of the room, ignoring Peter's scowl that followed him out. When he was safely out of earshot of the agent he said, "Sorivelli made his move."

"So soon?" Moz sounded surprised, making Neal roll his eyes.

"Yeah. He has Diana, and he said he would kill her if we don't drop the case."

There was a pause. "Well, I don't know what you could do. If you drop the case..."

"He'll kill her anyway, and then Peter would kill me a couple times. Slowly." Neal glanced behind him. Through the glass of the office walls he could see Peter, and the agent looked about ready to rip his throat out regardless of where Diana was."

"Hmm... You have an interesting dilemma, my friend. Of course, you could always just run. It'd get Sorivelli away."

Neal shook his head again. "No. I'm not going to leave unless it's our last option. Do you think you could...?"

"I'll ask around. Someone's bound to have seen what happened and where she went. I'll call you back when I find out."

Neal risked another glance at Peter and started wondering if he could legitimately turn tail and run while claiming insanity. Under the circumstances, maybe... "Thanks, Moz. Hopefully Peter doesn't kill me before you can call back."

"Good luck with the Suit. I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks," Neal repeated.

"I want this bastard in jail as much as you do," Moz assured him before hanging up.

Neal stared at his phone remorsefully, wondering who he could call to postpone going back to face an extremely irate Peter Burke. He ruefully decided that the answer to making another phone call in general would be a no- the more time he gave Peter to glare at him, the more cranky the agent was going to get.

Neal slowly spun around and walked back to the glass walled office. He threw a curious glance at the clock and scowled when it only said twelve. He couldn't find a way to get out of facing Peter.

He shuffled into the living room, the heavy key in his pocket making him drag his feet. If he was lucky, she wouldn't make him empty his pockets. If she did… well, maybe Moz would clean out his room before she could decide to kill him again.

Neal slowly raised his eyes. His breath caught in his throat. His mother was sitting on the couch, her face grim. That wasn't what made him pause. The thing that was out of order in this scenario was the man sitting next to her. He had oily black hair that was obviously the result of a horrible dye job. Mousy roots showed for about two inches, and Neal realized that this man obviously hadn't had a haircut for a while, and his hair hung just short enough that he couldn't brush it behind his ears of pull it back. His eyes were black, and his skin unnaturally pale.

"Neal," His mom said softly, "This is my new boyfriend, Ewan Sorivelli."

Neal's eyes widened. Was she crazy? He forced a gracious smile onto his face and extended a hand. "Hello."

Sorivelli gave an evil smile. "Nice to meet you. I can't help but wonder how long we'll be seeing each other."

Neal forced a shudder back. "I'm sure we'll all be perfectly happy with the arrangements."

Neal nodded to his mother and caught a flash of panic in her eyes. He couldn't be sure though, because it was gone in less than a heartbeat. He turned and walked out of the room, the key still weighty in his pocket. He had no clue what his mom saw in that creep but he knew better than to question…

Peter kept him discussing possibilities as to where Diana could be until well into the evening. When Peter finally let him get away he left the building as fast as he possibly could. The air was comfortable but he forced himself to hurry along until he could get a cab to June's.

He paid the driver and got out. He was so caught up in his thoughts about how he could get Diana back that he didn't notice the cars until he was roughly stopped at the door. "You can't go in here," the man said.

Neal took in the familiar uniform of the NYPD and started to reach for the fake FBI badge he still had(a thing like that you just didn't throw away- who knows when you'll need to impersonate one Peter Burke again?) when June called, "Let him in."

The man stepped away with a certain amount of reluctance and Neal slipped through the door.

The house, usually so neat, was trashed. Furniture was upended and vases broken on the floor. Paintings had been pulled from the walls. Neal's eyes widened as he took in the amount of damage.

When he saw June he shook his head. "June, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault..."

She lightly rested a hand on his shoulder. "Neal dear, there's no way this is your fault." She gave a little laugh. "Besides, this can all be fixed. Nothing of any value was broken." She winked. "The secret is to not leave the valuable things out where a thief can get at them."

Neal almost laughed. "Until you let one of them live with you."

She shrugged. "Neal, this isn't the worst part. This is nothing compared to your room."

Neal winced. "Let me see." He let her lead the way up the stairs.

When he stepped into his room, it didn't seem so bad at first. It was a sea of uniforms, sure, but...

Then he saw everything else. Everything was beyond repair, to put it nicely. The bed was slashed open, the couch hacked apart. Books lay scattered around the room, looking like they had been hosed down. Bookshelves were smashed and shards of glass were everywhere. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Neal turned away. "June, I'm sorry this happened. Its connected to a case we got today, I'm sure of it. I can't stay here anymore. It'll put you at too much risk."

June laughed. "Nonsense. Like I said, nothing of value was broken down there. We can fix it all. We'll sort through this mess and get your things straightened up. Was there anything valuable in here that you're worried about?"

Neal looked around. There were some first edition signed books and various other things, but the items he couldn't live without had been hidden in other buildings. He slowly shook his head.

"No, there wasn't anything in here that I couldn't live without. June, I really have to go. I seriously can't stay here anymore. It puts you in danger. They know where you live! I'll find somewhere else to stay."

She shook her head, something in her eyes hardening. "Neal, you are perfectly fine where you're at. I have more than one guest room. It isn't like I haven't gone through this before. Byron had a knack for irritating people, and they tended to get revenge in one way or the other. Now come."

Neal didn't have the energy needed to argue so he followed as she led him to another room, this one painted a soft teal. She pointed to the bed. "Get some sleep. We'll figure out what to do tomorrow. Luckily your clothes were in the wash when this happened, so I don't think you lost anything there."

Neal shrugged. "Well, I didn't lose any of my favorites."

"Moz was here earlier, and he left with what I'm fairly certain was all of your shirts that weren't being washed."

Neal felt his mouth curve into a grin despite everything. "He probably did. It was wise of him to take precautions like that."

June nodded. "Get some sleep. I'll have your clothes that remain here brought up."

"Thanks June. I'm sorry this happened."

"That's enough dear," she kindly reprimanded. "Bed, now."

Neal smiled to himself as she turned and walked out the door.

While lying in bed he decided that if Peter ever wanted him to come to work on a Saturday again he would be four states away before the hour was up.

Needless to say, this was not turning out to be one of his better weekends.

Sorry if there's anything screwy in this chapter- things just aren't working for me involving technology this week. I'm going to warn that updates might get a little sketchy from here on out b/c my computer is experiencing massive technological issues and freezing whenever it decides it doesn't like whatever I'm doing. So yeah. Review please! ) Also, if anyone knows some programs or methods to help with computer performance, please, do let me know. Otherwise I might end up yelling myself hoarse at this machine.