Even from a floor below, Neal could see the grim faces and tense shoulders. So many agents were crammed into the glass walled office, and he couldn't help but think that they made themselves a perfect target. If Sorivelli sent someone to kill as many people as possible, he would target the bureau, and the twenty-first floor would be the first person his man would go. That wasn't Sorivelli's style, but if he had sent a torture tape, things had already turned unpredictable.

Neal and Peter climbed the stairs quickly, side by side. Peter threw open the door and shoved Neal inside. Before the door managed to swing shut, Peter was already demanding to see the tape, to know what had happened to his agent.

Neal sat down in one of the open chairs near the end of the table. No one seemed to notice his clothes, or lack thereof. A usually mortifying situation (well, at least Peter had let him put pants on) paled in comparison to the horror Diana currently lived in. Solemnly, someone Neal didn't recognize – presumably one of the agents from Missing Persons – hit the play button.

The video started out innocently enough, if one could consider Diana bound and gagged, tied to a chair and slumped slightly forward 'innocent.' Her eyes were closed and dried blood covered one side of her face. She looked like she was unconscious, but after a few seconds she lifted her head and glared defiantly at the camera.

Sorivelli stepped into view. A blank white mask obscured his face, but Neal recognized the arrogant stride and the large knife he held in one hand. "Neal, you seem to have forgotten why you need to listen to me the first time I ask."

Neal gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles white.

"I think we should cut right to the chase: I know everything about you, and I know that your Feds won't like one of their own to be cut up. Do you believe me, Neal, when I say I'm dangerous? Do you remember what I did to your dear deceased mother, may she rest in peace?"

Neal knew what was coming next, but he couldn't look away. Sorivelli's words were straight from the con's worst nightmares.

The knife flashed in the dim light as Sorivelli raised it dramatically. He drew it across Diana's arm, slowly and decisively. Blood welled up in the cut, and Neal was sure that Sorivelli's mouth had twisted into a sadistic smirk behind the mask.

The knife came down again and again, sometimes stabbing and sometimes slicing. Neal tried to remember to breathe, but the air caught in his throat. He needed to move, to look away, but his eyes remained glued to the screen.

"Stop." The word was quiet but firm, Peter's voice shaking with barely restrained emotion. His hand rested on Neal's shoulder, applying a reassuring amount of pressure. The video paused and the screen flickered off.

"I – I need to leave…" Neal pushed himself out of the chair and fled the room, lightly descending the stairs and easily navigating the twists and turns of the building. He turned into the first restroom he came to and leaned against the sink, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down. His heart pounded in his chest as if it were trying to escape.

When he could finally bring himself to look up, his reflection stared back, the blood drained from the familiar face. His skin still had a green tint, but his ragged breaths were beginning to even out and he didn't feel quite as nauseated.

Neal saw the door open in the mirror and started to spin around, only to find Peter entering the room. The consultant turned back to the sink and splashed water on his face, trying to convince himself it was okay. Neal might have been good at lying to other people, but he had never managed to convince himself of a lie in such a short amount of time, and this wasn't any different. He knew that Diana would be dead by the next morning if he couldn't convince the bureau to back off.

"Neal…" Peter started.

Neal kept his eyes firmly fixed on his hands, willing them to stop trembling like a stubborn leaf in winter winds. After swallowing, he managed a halfway decent, "Peter."

"You knew what was going to be on that tape, didn't you? You knew what he did to her, and that we couldn't stop it." The words were almost unbelieving, but Neal suspected that nothing would surprise Peter when it came to some of the more unsavory aspects of Neal's past.

"She's still alive," Neal whispered. "He's giving me time to get the FBI to back off."

"We can't—"

"Do you want her back?" The words came out harsher than Neal intended, and he half turned to Peter, trying to judge his partner's reaction.

"Neal, there has to be another way. We can get her back."

"Yes, Peter. If they call off the investigation, if I give myself up to Sorivelli…" If I give up on all hope, and everything for me here, Neal finished in his head.

"You wouldn't!"

"To get Diana back, I would." Neal glanced up at the mirror again. It was a better alternative to meeting Peter's disapproving glare. Peter had that 'I'm not going to let you do that' look in everything from the way his jaw was set to the concern that managed to shine through the death glare.

"You try and I'll cuff you to me until we catch this bastard."

Neal tried to give Peter a flippant grin, but it came out more like a grimace. "Kinky."

"Don't, Caffrey," the agent warned. "You know it would be for your own good."

"But it would kill Diana, literally." Neal shook his head.

"We'll get her back and keep you safe," Peter swore. "I promise. And until then, you're going to help us catch Sorivelli."

Neal laughed bitterly, the sound depressed and slightly maniacal. "Yeah, sure. Because it's not like I haven't tried to get him out of my life before now."

"You didn't have FBI resources then," Peter insisted stubbornly. "We can catch him, just like every other petty criminal."

Neal didn't bother to correct Peter. Sorivelli was anything but petty, and they both knew it. A strained silence stretched between them. Overhead, a dying fluorescent light flickered.

"They really need to fix that light," Neal said softly.

"Don't change the subject. We're going to catch him and get Diana back."

Neal turned away from the mirror and locked eyes with Peter. "You keep on believing that, and maybe you'll get through the next couple days."

Without another word he shoved past his friend and started towards the stairs.

Kind of short chapter, and I might be drawing this out unnecessarily, but this needs to be finished. I'm not sure how many chapters are left, but it's almost certainly more than the three to four I predicted earlier. Hopefully if I update frequently this won't die again. :) Also, thanks for putting this on story alert and favoriting it. It's good to know that you enjoy it. :)