Sorry for taking forever to update. I kinda got side-tracked by a REALLY good story (A Sky High fanfic called War and Peace. Check it out on my profile if you're interested.) Then I just wasn't in a white-collary mood (but I got over it. Yay!) After THAT school started and I'm sorry to say that I forgot about this story, but here it is (after a kindly worded PMs from randomchick51 reminding me that I do, in fact, have a story in desperate need of updating.)

Peter silently wondered if his 'caretakers' would stop him from beating his head against the wall. Probably not, they wouldn't want to stop potential entertainment. They're looking a bit bored. Peter briefly wondered if he could use that to his advantage. Of course, as soon as he tried anything they'd be on high alert, ruining any chance he had on escaping after that. If he tried anything, he'd have to coordinate with the rest of the agents. Fat chance of that working though. He could try and get Jones' and Lauren's attention, but Peter doubted that he could pass for subtle in a room full of conmen. The gunmen didn't look like the smartest bunch of criminals around, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Dallas taught him that. Dallas…now there was a messy situation—almost as bad as Frankfort.

After four minutes of trying to reminiscence about the old days, Peter concluded that it worked better with another person. The federal agent sighed as his thoughts inevitably turned to the elephant in the room—or at least the elephant in his head—Neal.

He could not believe how well Neal played the FBI, played him, all this time. He thought he could read Neal. It turned out that all he could read was the façade under Neal's charming exterior that lead Peter to believe that he was reading real emotion. It sounded complicated, but Neal was a conman. He hid his emotions for a living. Peter shook his head angrily as his blood began to boil when he remembered all the conversations they had. Neal probably got a kick out of helping out with his personal live—gave him more leverage to use when the time came.

Peter's mouth went dry as sudden realization hit him. Dear God…Elizabeth. His heart began to beat faster as different scenarios ran through his head. El gagged and tied to a chair, a jagged cut emphasizing her pale face, salty tears streaming down her face as she tried to scream through the duct tape. Peter shuddered. Being thrown into a van, a sniper target on her, Neal cocking a gun…the agent shook his head. No, no, no, Neal did not do violence. At least, that's what Neal always told him. Besides, Neal wouldn't go there…would he? Peter was beginning to doubt everything he thought he knew about the blue-eyed conman. Neal doesn't like guns. He wouldn't hurt a person he knows you care for, directly or indirectly. You know this, a voice in his head scolded. Peter would call that voice stupid if it managed not to sound like El.

"I can't believe we're stuck like this," Agent Clark stated, talking quietly to Peter.

Peter glanced at the newbie, wondering briefly why he was talking to him. You did agree with him in the bathroom, the El voice pointed out. Peter gave a microscopic grimace. He still shouldn't have brought Kate into that. There was a line and Peter crossed it. More like gallop across it, the Elizabeth voice said snidely. His Elizabeth voice was apparently in need of an attitude adjustment.

"We're FBI," Agent Clark continued, undeterred by the lack of reaction from his higher up. "We shouldn't get into situations like this."

Peter made a noncommittal noise.

"We should've known that Neal was bad news. It was stupid for the FBI to ever make a deal with him," Clark said with such venom, Peter had to wonder if Clark knew he was talking to the leading advocate in taking Neal into FBI custody. Peter was thinking no. "He was eager enough to show his true colors when the time came, wasn't he?"

Peter frowned at Agent Clark's statement. How exactly was Neal eager to show his 'true colors'? Neal didn't go on an evil monologue or smile like he just pulled a successful con when he rounded the corner to find the federal agents hostages. He was, or at least seemed, just as shocked as the rest of them. Neal never revealed his true colors during the 'find and take all possible hostages' situation either, which made a certain amount of sense. Neal didn't know which way that the con was currently going so he hid his true intentions, until Badeni hugged him. Peter could've groaned out loud, but managed to stop himself. Why did Badeni have to hug Neal? It made absolutely no sense and it made his 'Neal-is-evil-and-betrayed-you-theory' that much more unlikely. All the Crazy Austrian accomplished was a loss of a valuable double agent among the hostages and the chance to have Neal continue to leak classified FBI information after this whole mess was sorted.

Peter mulled over different scenarios in his head, but what did he gain? Nothing, his El voice said, he ignored her. Badeni could've hugged Neal knowing full well that Neal would become untrusted by the agents, but that Peter would believe that Neal was actually innocent and somehow convince the rest of the federal agents that Neal was actually on their side just to have Neal double cross them at the end. There. Peter smiled smugly. He figured it out. It seemed complicated. Something Neal might pull, except—Peter hated excepts—there were too many loose variables for Neal's taste. That Peter knew for certain. The plan was sounding less and less like Caffrey the more Peter thought about it.

His theory seemed a bit weak though. More than a little weak, it had an almost…desperate feel to it. Not desperate! Peter argued with himself, which might possibly mean that he went insane. Oh well, he always knew that Neal would push him over the edge someday. I'm simply being…thorough…logical…damn it. He still believed that Neal was innocent. Stupid small voice. Peter felt his imaginary Elizabeth glower at him. He refrained from apologizing.

The office door slamming open snapped Peter out of his thoughts and stopped Agent Clark mid-word. Apparently he was still talking. Who knew? A ticked off gunmen stormed through. The computer hacker glanced at him curiously while Boomer walked over to the angry gunmen with a slight frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" Boomer murmured, but his voice carried over the now silent FBI office.

The out of breath gunmen glared at Boomer before hissing his response. Peter strained to hear more—he actually noticed that all the federal agents were trying to eavesdrop on the henchmen's conversation without giving the impression that they were eavesdropping, most were failing—but only managed to catch a few words: "escape" and "Jamie" and then something about a burger.

Peter frowned when he saw Boomer's expression lighten and then immediately turn blank, but Peter might've just been imagining things. It's hard to read a face when the majority of it is covered with black cloth.

Boomer quickly gestured for a couple more henchmen to follow him as he briskly walked out of the room. Well, that was cryptic. Peter frowned as he glanced over to Jones and Lauren. They both shrugged in response. His gaze shifted back to the double doors that the gunmen left through, wondering if whatever got them riled up had anything to do with Neal…and if it was necessarily a good thing if it did.

~O~

Hank had to restrain himself from breaking into a run, which was much harder than he anticipated. He had no idea how bad it was, that's what scared him. All he knew was that Neal was attempting to escape and he needed to find him before Badeni did. Travis and the other henchmen were liabilities, but Hank was sure he could come up with an arrangement that would suit all parties if—when—the time came to it.

Damn it, why did Neal have to try and escape without asking for help? He could've easily coordinated something with him or Tommy, but Neal probably didn't want to ask for their help for fear of Badeni's wrath on them. He must not have figured out that Badeni was planning on getting rid of him and Tommy one way or the other. Funny, Hank thought Neal would've caught that, but he was in the middle of a very stressful situation—hell, they all were—so Hank was willing to forgive Neal for that. Hell, he would forgive Neal for that stunt he pulled in Rome—not Alex though—if Hank found him before Badeni. Of course, he'd have to scold Neal for his stubborn stupidity, but maybe after he got Neal to safety it would be the appropriate time for a lecture.

"How long did you say you left him?" Hank asked Travis.

"I left to look for this 'Jimmy Burger' and left him with Jamie. I came back a couple minutes later to find Jamie on the ground and the window platform heading down."

Hank briefly wondered if Neal was on the platform. Probably not. Neal might have poor impulse control and a die-hard romantic, but he was steadfastly loyal to his friends. Unfortunately, Neal's ungrateful keeper earned Neal's loyalty so he probably wanted to see if he could possibly help the situation. Hank sighed. If he was right, he'd have to add another lecture for Neal about impulse control and trusting the right people.

"Hank!" a voice cried in surprise. "Where are you going?"

For the love of all that's holy.

"Neal escaped," Travis answered, as they paused, much to Hank's distaste. "We're going to get him."

Hank glanced at Don's shocked face before his gaze wondered to the clock behind Don's head. 1:03. They better get moving. "Don, either join us or move," Hank said curtly, pushing Don aside.

Don blinked after Hank before falling in step beside him.

"You know," Don started, "I really don't see—"

A shot covered up whatever Don was saying.

Hank didn't hesitate. He took off running. This wasn't part of the plan. There was supposed to be no killings, no gunshots. That could only mean that Badeni's temper got the better of him. Shit. Echoing boots on tile told Hank that the others weren't far behind. It was Neal, Hank just knew it. He could feel his heart beat down in his stomach as blood rushed to his head. He really hoped his gut feeling was wrong. That Badeni didn't actually shoot someone Hank cared about.

Hank spun around the corner and skidded to a halt at the scene in front of him. Brief relief flowed through Hank as he saw Neal with no extra holes in his body. Saying that Hank was shocked to find Neal pounding Badeni with his fist would be an understatement. Was that blood? Hank froze as he felt people brush past him. Neal was shouting and swearing at Badeni, but Hank's brain refused to process the words. Everything was happening too fast. Badeni's fist collided with Neal's face. Don and Travis jerked Neal off Badeni. Hank watched as Badeni delicately wiped off the blood on his face as he turned to face Neal. He punched him in the kidney. Hank felt anger narrow his vision. Hank had to give Neal credit though. He didn't utter a sound. Badeni's eyes narrowed as he taunted Neal. Hank blinked.

Badeni's fist struck one jab at Neal. Hank watched in horror as Neal fell to the ground, making no attempt to catch himself. Badeni gave a satisfactory smirk as he turned and said something to Don.

Hank finally snapped out of it and ran over to Neal's crumpled form. He still hadn't moved. He yanked Neal's arm up and closed his hand around it. Relief flooded through Hank. There was a pulse. He wiped some blood away from Neal's eye comfortingly. His small smile froze as his eyes connected to the sticky blood that was lying around Neal. It was too much to be just from Neal's injuries. Facial injuries bleed a lot, but this…Hank was almost afraid as he lifted his eyes away from Neal. Horror greeted him. He managed not to hurl, but only just. Tommy…Hank felt numb as he shifted over to Tommy's stiff form. Tommy…he registered Neal's bloody jacket over the still bleeding shoulder. Tommy…his brain refused to cooperate as he reached two fingers to check for Tommy's pulse. Hands yanked him back.

"Hank!" a voice hissed in his ear. "Don't be mental!"

Tommy…his brain finally connected the shoulder wound and Badeni's smug smile together. It demanded blood. Hank gave Don a glare that could level mountains. Don let go of him instantly, with an unfamiliar glint of fear in the back of his eyes. Hank turned sharply to Badeni, blood pounding in his ears. His fingers twitched. He wanted to tear Badeni limb from limb and he still felt like that wasn't enough.

"Badeni," Hank said softly, "what happened?"

"Neal escaped. I thought it vould be best to discourage him from ever doing that again and causing us to become even more behind schedule," Badeni said, the picture of nonchalance.

Hank's hands clenched into fists. "And what about Tommy?"

"A very unfortunate casualty," Badeni said with a careless shrug. Hank tensed, preparing to lash out at that stupid, smug Austrian. Hands rested casually on his shoulders, restraining him. Hank silently cursed those idiotic, loyal henchmen Badeni seemed to have an endless supply of.

"I believe you have to go watch over the hostages," Badeni said, not bothering to make it sound like a question. Hank briefly nodded, calculating the odds of him escaping the henchman's grasp and throttling Badeni to death. Not good enough for Hank's liking, but he wasn't sure if that meant that he wouldn't still do it. The hands prodded Hank to get a move on. "Oh and Hank?" Badeni's calling voice caused them to falter. "Don't think that I'll forget this."

Hank looked back at Badeni. "I won't forget this either." Hank gave a toothy smile. Badeni's eyes widen slightly in surprise at Hank's obvious show of defiance. The hands steered him through the door.

"So, what happens now?" Don asked uncertainly when he thought Hank was out of hearing. Hank smirked, wondering the same thing. Hank chose the harder path. He had made it clear to a Badeni that there would be consequences to his actions. Tommy would be revenged. Neal would be freed. Steve could finally go back to Canada and to Tina. Hank smiled, not knowing the last time he felt so light hearted.

~O~

Mozzie paced around Neal's room, dissecting the information Alex gave him. "So, what you're saying is that Badeni has been here for about a week."

Alex nodded. "Just enough time for him to case the headquarters."

Mozzie grunted, his mind already far away.

"Moz?" Alex asked with a hint of uncertainty. He paused in his pacing to glance back at Alex. "What happened between Badeni and Neal?" Moz blinked. Alex stared back at him levelly, not showing any sign of her underlying tension. Mozzie sighed as he sat down heavily across from Alex.

"It's a long story…"

"Mozzie—"

He held up a hand, quieting Alex.

"It all started once you left."

"Of course it did…" Alex muttered.

"Are you going to interrupt me the entire time?" Mozzie snapped.

"Sorry."

"Good."

"…So are you going to continue or—"

"Funny. It's almost like we just agreed on you not interrupting me anymore."

"We never agreed to that! I said that I was sorry."

"Not genuinely."

Alex sighed impatiently. "Mozzie, you say that like you do."

"I don't see your point."

"Stop stalling."

"I wasn't stalling. I felt the need to point out the improbability…" Mozzie faltered under Alex's glare. He held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Fine, fine, no more stalling."

"You said that it happened after I left Austria," Alex prompted, leaning back in her chair and propping her feet on the table. Moz glanced at her boots and then at the clean table and forcibly turned his attention back to her.

"So you know how Badeni and Neal work together right?"

"You mean with great difficulty?"

"Well, Neal decided that he was going to leave Badeni and go back to France—"

"Where Kate was."

Mozzie nodded. "Badeni was understandably ticked off by that—his "protégé" leaving? Badeni couldn't handle that—so he convinced Neal that they should go off with a bang. So they managed to plan one final heist. The Greenburg's vase set."—Alex whistled—"As usual Badeni's and Neal's different moral code got in the way. Badeni proposed a brilliant way to get into the museum through the front door. There was a high chance that the guards would have to be killed, but Badeni didn't mind, of course. He deemed it a necessary risk. Neal didn't. So Neal proposed his usual nonviolent approach and Badeni countered with Neal being too 'squeamish to get the job done.' It soon turned into a full blown argument."

"So Neal betrayed Badeni out of spite?"

"He's done things for less, but no. At the last minute, the other Greenburg vase was moved to an alternate location so Neal went after that one with Tommy, Steve, and Hank."

"How'd that go?"

"Fine," Mozzie said with a dismissive hand wave, "but before Neal left, Badeni talked to him privately about staying…permanently. Predictably, Neal said no."

"Just no?"

"No, saying 'just no' wouldn't really make sense in the situation—"

"Mozzie," Alex said exasperatedly, "you know what I mean."

"Of course he just said no! Neal isn't an idiot. He may not like Badeni's work ethics, but he isn't stupid enough to get on his bad side."

Alex held up hands in the worldwide gesture of 'whoa.' "I just figured that Badeni would offer Neal the chance to be partners or something. He was quite fond of him."

"Oh he did…Neal was just going to be…less in charge than Badeni was."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Badeni was always full of it."

"You're telling me. He has an ego the size of Manhattan, but the brains and balls to back it up."

Alex snorted.

"So, Neal politely declined—" Mozzie began again.

"And Badeni suddenly had the urge to kill Neal the next time he saw him? Unlikely."

"You know how Badeni is. He can read emotion from a rock."

"True," Alex said somewhat reluctantly. "Torturing people physically just isn't enough for him. He has to do it mentally too." She finished with a snarl that made Mozzie raise an eyebrow at her before continuing.

"So, also predictably, Badeni got a tad offended when he got the gist of Neal's true feelings when it came to working with him."

"Did Neal know?"

"That the sadistic, temperamental criminal he was working with suddenly had feelings towards him that showed in a not very positive light? …Yeah."

"So what did Neal do?" Alex asked with a slight frown. His impulse control was almost nonexistent. There was a high possibility that Neal did something on a whim that directly caused today's problem.

"Probably what you would do—act natural."

Alex grunted in reply.

"Neal soon made plans to get the Greensburg vase and leave Badeni as soon as he possibly could."

"Well, that plan obviously worked."

Mozzie stared at her.

"That was sarcasm."

He blinked. "Sarcasm is a refuge for a shallow mind."

"If that's what makes you feel better for not getting the use of it, then sure," Alex smiled sweetly at him.

Mozzie rolled his eyes. "What happened to 'no interruptions'?"

"That wasn't an interruption! It was more like side commentary…"

Mozzie sighed and rubbed his temples."Neal's plan worked up to the point where he walked in on one of Badeni's 'lessons.' "

Alex felt her face grow pale. "Shit."

"You're telling me," Mozzie agreed softly before dropping his voice to a whisper. "It was a girl."

Alex looked sharply up at Mozzie. "I thought that Badeni had some code or something? I thought that girls and kids were off limits."

"He was drunk, angry and he took it out on the girl that Neal conned to get a look at the layout of the museum," Mozzie hesitated before adding, "The girl that Neal was slightly fond of."

Alex closed her eyes. "How old was she?"

"About 16, turning 17 in a few months," Moz answered. "He helped her get through relationship trouble. An amusing story actually, not that Neal will tell it now." His gaze shifted to the fruit bowl between them. "She ended up dying from internal bleeding. There was nothing Neal could do."

A silence fell over the room. Mozzie turned his gaze back to a shell-shocked Alex. Yeah, that's pretty much what he thought too the first time he found out. Of course, Neal had went into gruesome detail the first time he drunkenly told Mozzie, with all the purpled skin and fresh blood dripping to the floor and busted in ribs…Moz suppressed a shudder. He couldn't tell Alex now. It was all just too much. Alex slammed her hand on the table, causing Mozzie to jump. "What the hell is Badeni's problem? Why is he always so…so…!"

"Mental? Violent? Like a child when he doesn't get his way?"

"A deranged child on steroids," Alex muttered under her breath.

"Neal did his first violent act while he was at Austria," Mozzie said, almost conversationally. "He hit Badeni with a crowbar."

"I would've murdered the bastard."

"Neal didn't have time. Stacy was dying. The henchmen were coming. So, Neal called an ambulance and tried to stop her bleeding, but her ribs were apparently poking into an artery. Neal didn't have any hope in saving her."

"How bad was she?"

Mozzie glared at Alex. Why did she have to ask the question that he couldn't—wouldn't—answer? "Badeni was with her for two hours. How do you think she was?" Luckily, Alex didn't answer.

Mozzie picked some imaginary lint off his sleeve. "She died in Neal's arms."

"Shit," Alex breathed, almost automatically.

"Neal went on automatic after that—cut himself off from the world. He dragged Badeni's body in a closet and threw a hoodie over his bloody shirt. He sauntered out of the room all smiles, asking the henchmen if they were practicing for a marathon or if they could help him reload Greenburg's vases into the van, there had been a change in plan. They, of course, helped him. Neal told them that Badeni should be back in an hour or so and left without a backwards glance. Badeni busted the closet door down about an hour later and scared the henchmen witless, asking where Neal was and the rest—as they say—is history."

"Shit," Alex said again, this time with more feeling. Mozzie started nodding in agreement as Alex took out her phone and started dialing.

"What are you doing?" Mozzie asked, as he attempted to grab her phone. She moved.

"Calling Tommy," Alex answered, unperturbed.

Mozzie let his protests die in his throat as he saw pure determination in her eye. "Put it on speaker."

Alex obliged.

They listened in tense silence as the phone rang…and rang…and rang. Finally it went to voice mail. Alex slapped the phone shut angrily.

Mozzie and Alex shared a look. "Hank?" Mozzie suggested.

Alex shrugged as she dialed his number.

They waited three long seconds later until a slightly irritated voice said, "What?"

"Hey! Great to see you too!" Alex greeted in an overly enthusiastic voice.

"It's great to hear from you, Alex, but I'm in the middle of something so maybe you could call back—"

"You do realize that I know what you're doing."

Hank gave an irritated sigh. "Do you need something?"

"No," Alex began sarcastically. "I just thought that I'd call you, knowing full well that you're busy, just to see how you're doing."

"Alex…"

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course—"

"More than Badeni, I mean," Alex clarified.

"…How can you even ask that?"

"Quite easily, actually."

"You know I do."

"Good…"Alex said."So, um, have you seen Neal recently?" She decided to ignore Mozzie mouthing 'subtle.' Now who was being sarcastic?

"…I have…"

"Is he okay?" Alex asked, hating the concern that managed to leak in her voice.

"He's…been better."

"How bad is it?"

"Neal has cracked ribs and too many bruises. Inside and out. Alexandra…"

Alex scrunched her nose at the use of her full name.

"…Badeni shot Tommy."

She gasped as she shot a look at Mozzie. He looked equally shocked.

"Is it fatal?" Alex asked a little hysterically. Not Tommy. Please not Tommy. Tommy might act tough or be cynical when he was angry, which happened a lot around Badeni now that she thought about it, but he was about as harmless as a puppy—a Rottweiler puppy, but a puppy all the same.

"I don't know." The frustration in his voice was evident. "I had to leave before I could check."

Alex swore.

"He got shot in an artery…"

Alex bit her lip trying not to freak out and just concentrating on breathing in and out. Why did Badeni have to shoot him through an artery? Why couldn't that little hunk of metal have passed harmlessly through muscle? Or, better yet, miss him completely?

"Are you alright?"

"Peachy," Alex managed to get out, pleased that her panicky worry was safely hidden.

"Mhmm…" Damn. Apparently she didn't hide it well enough.

"So Neal is okay?" Alex clarified.

"Well, Badeni is making him forge a statue and is trying to turn the Feds against him and Neal probably thinks that he's responsible for Tommy's—"

"Yeah," Alex agreed hurriedly, but she hoped it just passed off as knowing.

"He turned the Feds against him?" Mozzie muttered. "I should've known that the Suit couldn't be trusted."

"Hello, Moz or is it Dante? I can never remember."

"Haversham, actually," Mozzie corrected stiffly.

Alex refrained from rolling her eyes.

"But, to answer your question, Badeni has turned some of the agents against him."

"What about the Suit?" Mozzie questioned suspiciously.

"He's…undecided."

"Figures."

"So what's your time frame?" Alex asked, deciding to ignore the Bureau's hypocrisy and Mozzie's accurate paranoia for the moment.

"We'll be leaving New York at 6:30 and catching a plane to Europe. Of course, if Steve continues to have computer troubles, than it might take longer."

"Steve is having computer troubles?" Mozzie asked, genuinely surprised. Yeah, Alex could relate. Steve was probably one of the best hackers Alex ever had the pleasure working with and if he was having problems…

"Not really sure what's wrong, but Badeni breathing down his neck isn't helping the slightest."

"Okay, well thanks," Alex said, unsubtly trying to end the conversation. She refused to even glance Mozzie's direction in case he was doing another of those very non-sarcastic 'subtle' things again.

"Hold on, what are you going to do?"

"We're…going to bust Neal out."

"How?"

Alex scowled at his slightly patronizing tone, but glanced over at Mozzie, who shrugged. They hadn't really gotten that far.

"We're actually going to observe the Headquarters and see the best point of entrance." She smirked to herself. That ought to satisfy him.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Alex snapped. "And if we can't think of one we can always send me up there to talk to Badeni—since I'm his fence and have a probable reason to be up there. Does that satisfy you?"

"You sound just like your mother when you get angry."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Bye, Dad."

"Have fun. Oh, and Alexandra? Don't do anything stupid."

Alex's retort got cut short by the dial tone. She glared at her phone before looking back at Mozzie. "So, any inspiration?"

"We need to get down there, now. Find Neal before things get even more out of control."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I meant like a way to actually do that."

"They probably went in through the vents, so that's an out."

Alex groaned. "We probably should've asked Dad how they got in."

" 'Having regrets just takes your time away'—Leif Garrett."

Alex just looked at him." 'I don't care'—Alex Hunter."

Mozzie scowled at her before his face lightened up. "What if," Mozzie said as inspiration struck, "we pull a Mary Lue?"

"That…might actually work," Alex grinned at Mozzie before frowning, "but we still need to be inside."

"I have a theory."

"I love theories."

"Let's go," Mozzie said as he threw car keys at Alex.

She caught them reflexively. "Mozzie? Where did you get these?"

"I didn't steal them," Moz said irritably.

"They just fell into your pockets then?"

"It's called borrowing. You should try it some time."

"You mean how we borrowed Steve Witler's Nigeria?

Mozzie glowered at her. "No, as in asking the owner of the said object and the owner saying 'yes.' "

"Sure."

"The clock is ticking."

"Fine, let's go in your 'borrowed' car."

"It's June's!"

"I'm sure."

"Alex—"

"The clock is ticking, Mozzie." Alex tapped her imaginary watch for effect.

Mozzie stomped out of the room, muttering something about 'girls' and 'bipolar.' Alex followed him with a small smile on her face. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

~O~

Director Reese Hughes paced in the empty interrogation room, long past trying to glare a hole through the mirror. He had been there for the past hour and a half and absolutely nothing happened. The Austrian's henchmen dropped Hughes off and left with uncreative, vague threats and heavy implication that he was going to have a "personal chat" with the head honcho himself at some point in the near future. At first Hughes tried to think constructively, he hadn't been director for ten years for nothing, but the Bureau made these interrogation rooms so that people could not easily escape them. Sadly, that included seasoned FBI agents.

Hughes ran a hand through what was left of his hair and wondered how his agents were holding up. Peter had still seemed somewhat dazed over Caffrey's betrayal when Hughes left, which was understandable, but, hopefully, Peter had pulled his act together. He was the closest thing the agents had to an authority figure and the majority of the agents would listen to him simply because of his reputation. There wasn't any time for him to mellow in his thoughts when he should be planning an escape, a distraction, something to get them out of this situation.

Before this whole mess started, Peter trusted Neal to an extent and Hughes was willing to put faith in Peter's trust in the conman. His less experienced agents didn't seem to hold the same sentiment, but Hughes didn't think for one second that a brotherly hug convicted Caffrey of being a backstabbing conman. Besides, Caffrey was a valuable asset to the FBI and worked surprisingly well with Peter. If anyone could figure out a way to trick the Austrian and his henchmen it would have to be Burke and Caffrey.

Peter's worrisome, unhealthy trust in the conman, that had worried the higher ups from the start, would actually come in useful. Peter was stubborn. If he put his mind to anything, Hughes was positive that he would eventually accomplish—a loud gunshot shattered his thoughts and everything went still for a nanosecond. Hughes didn't flinch, didn't swear, didn't attempt any frantic, but fruitless, escape. His gaze simply flickered over to the door for a brief moment before casually strolling back to his chair and calmly sitting down, giving the appearance of control. He hoped it was successful because inside he was screaming. The killings had begun and he could do nothing. All he could do was hope and pray. Hughes had never felt more useless.

~O~

Steve wiped his sweaty brow as his eyes lingered on the door that Hank disappeared through just a moment ago. He wasn't entirely sure what that was about. He just knew that Neal apparently sent Travis on a wild goose chase looking for a Jimmy Burger. Why Neal picked the name Jimmy Burger was beyond him. Didn't even sound like a real name, but it was unlike Neal to be thinking at least five steps ahead so Steve was willing to bet that 'Jimmy Burger' meant something to someone…just not him.

Steve spared one final glance at the nervous FBI agents. Not so much nervous as…wondering how the events would pane out. Of course, he would too if he was in their shoes—a cryptic meeting ending with one of their hostage holders running out of the room, who wouldn't be curious about that?

He turned his attention back to the laptop. He really needed to actually work on his job or Badeni might start to get suspicious. Steve could only use the excuse that "there are problems getting past the laptop's security" so much. The laptop's security was a bit advanced for that particular model, but he figured out how to get past it in about the first five minutes of the job. Honestly, if the Feds were stupid enough to put a laptop full of the original criminal record of their employer in the same place as the hard copy, they should've at least given it a decent security system with a fighting chance against one of the world's best hackers. Steve smirked at his own modesty. He could practically hear the sarcastic, teasing remarks Tommy or Neal would give him if he was stupid enough to say that out loud within their hearing. Steve felt himself deflate a little at the thought of what Neal was going through. He could only hope that his stalling was somehow helping.

He shook his head as he began typing on the keyboard, ignoring the now familiar prickle of someone watching him. He was just being paranoid. Of course, someone would be watching him. He was in a room filled with hostile FBI agents. Steve just wished that he could stop picturing evil, revenge-seeking FBI agents in dark corners, waiting to jump out at him. Or those creepy Chinese dolls with porcelain smiles, waiting for the opportunity to stab him in the back as soon as his gaze wondered away. Steve shuddered. Why would anyone want those things anyway? They're just…creepy. Tommy can say all he wants. Steve knows their true intentions.

His fingers hovered over the laptop, briefly wondering if he could possibly get away with playing four games simultaneously without getting caught when a shot rang through the building. He bolted up, somehow managing to knock his coffee out of the cup and onto his shirt in the process. Thoughts rapidly fired all at once. He found himself thankful that his shirt was black and that the coffee stain wouldn't show. Wondering if he would ever get use to guns firing and bombs exploding that seemed to come from working with Badeni—he was thinking no. Desperately hoping that Badeni or a henchman was just proving a point. Steve deliberately avoided all thoughts of a lifeless corpse staring blankly up at him.

Steve glanced worriedly at the double doors that Hank left through. Relax, Matthews, Steve chanted to himself. Think about this logically. Badeni wouldn't shoot Hank or Tommy. They're too valuable for this operation. But Neal… his fingers froze over the keyboard before he forced himself to breathe again. Neal was fine. He was more valuable to the operation than both Hank and Tommy combined. Badeni probably wanted to psychologically torture the hostages with the gunshot. Make them worry that they'll be next. That if Badeni shot one of his own henchmen, what would stop him from shooting a hostage. The works. Problem was that it was working on him too.

~O~

Lauren wished she could get up and pace, but their 'caretakers' were against the FBI agents doing anything other than sitting quietly. The stress of this whole…mess was really getting to her. Having guns pointed at her and being thrown on the floor like a piece of trash was apparently a pet peeve of hers. Who knew? Of course, Neal's betrayal was a bit more shocking than Lauren would've liked. Despite all her barriers, Neal still managed to sneak by and fill in the annoying-brother-that-you-can't-help-but-care-for role in her life. Lauren sighed, but then he ended up being criminal after all. Well, that experiment certainly failed.

She studied Peter with her peripheral vision. He still had that frown. Lauren was beginning to wonder if it was permanent. She shifted her gaze to the rest of the agents. Worn out faces were looking back at her. A few of the agents studied the henchmen vigilantly on the off chance that they could find an opening to use to their advantage, but Lauren gave up on that a while ago. The henchmen seemed thick, but apparently they had enough experience with hostages to know the best way to guard them. Meaning: no openings. Besides, she already had an accurate description of them in the back of her mind. The masks were concealing yes, but they couldn't exactly able to hide their size, weight, or the tracker Lauren slipped on one of them while she was being manhandled. Thank God that the Tech Department picked this morning to show her the different types of trackers they made for a certain conman while he worked undercover.

"What do you think that was about?" a soft voice murmured next to Lauren's ear.

She glanced back at Jones and gave an unhelpful shrug. How was she suppose to know was caused their hostage takers to disappear after one came running in—not much for subtleties that one—complaining about being duped by Jimmy Burger or something along the lines of that.

"I'm hoping for a problem," Jones continued. "A problem that'll cause all operations to come to a halt…or, better yet, a problem where someone saw them and reported them to the authorities."

"Jones, don't be so naïve," Lauren snapped, even though she was restraining an affectionate smile from flickering across her face.

Jones looked at her knowingly, adding to her theory that he could see right through her. Of course, he had been working at the White Collar Unit for quite some time now and Lauren doubted that she was the hardest person he ever had to read. "It's called optimism."

Lauren grunted.

Jones smirked.

A gunshot echoed through the office.

Lauren blinked.

The hacker spilt coffee on himself.

Jones jerked his head up.

Anxious whispers emerged from the agents.

"What happened?"

"Holy shit."

"Christ, were next!"

"Don't be such an—"

"Always knew it was going to end this way."

"No chance—"

"—idiot."

"Do you think there's a chance that one of the henchmen shot themselves in the foot?" Agent Clark asked a little whimsically.

Agent Clark shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the agents' disbelieving stares. "What?"

Lauren snorted at Clark as a nervous laughter swept through the agents.

She glanced over at Peter and let her eyes linger over his suddenly stiff posture. She was still studying him when his head turned and their eyes connected. Lauren quickly looked away, confused by the barely concealed panic and fear dancing around in his eyes…and guilt? Determination? She didn't ask. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know, but suddenly she felt an unexpected wave of hope rise in her.

Well, that almost ended on a happy note. Who woulda thunk it?

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