Neal cleared his throat, doing his best to hide his wide, panicked eyes. Nothing good could come of Peter suspecting him in anyway. There were reasons that Neal's world and Peter's world were held far, far away from each other…. Aside from, of course, the fact that Neal's world existed in the exact same city as Peter's.

He paid little to no attention as Peter continued the briefing, walking the entire task force through countless sets of pictures, facts and places to research Sally Jackson.

"The last thing I want to show you is a video… I'm not sure how exactly it was edited, but someone must have been able to…" Peter muttered, almost to himself, as he began to click around on his laptop. "Where did I put that file?" He mumbled, frowning at the screen.

The task force began to glance around the table warily, and Neal saw Jones raise an eyebrow at a man on loan from the cyber crimes unit, easily recognizable by his pocket protector.

"Do you… Do you need some help with that?" The man stuttered out, walking towards Peter somewhat hesitantly. At some other time, Neal might have let out a quiet chuckle at the poor man's terrified face, but it was around 5 AM, and his mother was missing… There was nothing to laugh about.

"I'm fine!" Peter growled at the cyber crime man, who shrank back in fear and then scurried off to a corner of the conference room, obviously very traumatized with his ordeal. At this, Neal could not suppress a slight roll of his eyes. It wasn't like Peter was Medusa, or a draken… There were much worse and scarier things out there than middle aged FBI agents with computer skills that were next to none. "I found it!" Said FBI agent cried triumphantly, opening up the file on his computer, and pointing to the screen that sat on the opposite wall of the conference room. "This is the museum, the night of the break in."

Neal observed as the tape began, showing a black and white view of The Poker Player. It was, indeed, a grotesque piece, and his lips were automatically pulled down into a frown as he beheld it. For a few moments, there was nothing happening on screen. The only thing showing that yes, time was indeed passing, was the small time monitor in the bottom left corner of the screen. 02:58:34… 02:59:45… 03:00:58… 03:01:27…

He began drumming his fingers against his thighs irritably, unable to suppress the twitchy feeling inside of him that demanded for him to do something. This was a waste of time, just watching the video… He needed to go, to find whoever did this, and to make them wish they had never been born.

Then, suddenly, there was a movement on screen. Not so much a movement, as a gathering of shadows. They seemed to be pulled from every corner of the room, swirling into one large mass before collapsing leaving…nothing? He frowned. For a second, he had been almost positive that he had known who had committed the crime, but now… Then, suddenly, the same shadows gathered around the sculpture. They began to swirl chaotically, drowning the statue in their depths, and when they finally submerged it, they suddenly disappeared, once again leaving nothing in their wake. Except for… what was that?

"What's that thing left on the stand?" Jones asked, squinting his eyes at the screen to help him discern the mystery object.

"It's a sticky note!" Peter said faux cheerfully.

"A sticky note?" Neal asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow in an effortless manner. It was a mannerism that he had picked up from his mother.

Instead of spending more time explaining just what the sticky note said, Peter instead spent a few more seconds at the laptop before the video disappeared off the screen and a yellow, generic sticky note appeared.

Hey, Seaweed Brain. Your mom's missing (just in case you didn't know).

Consider this your alarm.

PS: GO YANKEES!

It was in frightfully messy handwriting, and it took everyone in the conference room about a minute to read it. It took Neal longer, as he had to take a moment to close his eyes and breathe after reading the first line… (It had been a while since he had been called by that nickname). Also, his dyslexia did not fare too well when paired with such messy handwriting (obviously written by a fellow dyslexic person).

"So, Seaweed Brain. That's got to be a code-name for Sally's son…" Diana mused. "Does she have a son?"

"She does indeed. You might remember him from about a decade or so back. Percy Jackson, the New York kid who was so troubled he kidnapped his mother, and went running across the United States shooting and blowing things up." Peter narrated cheerfully.

Neal could hardly contain a wince.

"Wait, wasn't that kid actually kidnapped, and was trying to escape from his kidnapper the whole time?" An agent whose name Neal had not yet caught spoke, and Neal wondered if sending the man flowers would be a little too over the top.

"Well, yes, but that story just never…" Peter paused. "It never clicked right with me."

"Where's the kid now? He's got to be out of college by now… Is he working?" Jones asked, flipping through Sally Jackson's file as he spoke.

Peter snapped his fingers. "That's the thing. Percy Jackson disappeared a few months after his sixteenth birthday, about nine years ago. No one's seen him since."

Diana frowned. "So, he's still alive? If this message is addressed to him…"

"Then it would make sense for him to be alive, yes."

"You mean, we don't have to just find Sally, we have to find her son too?" Jones asked incredulously. "He's been missing for nine years!"

"We'll just have to do our best then. Now, Frank, I wanted you to take a look at the video and see how someone could have hacked into the feed and edited it. Neal, I want you to talk to your underground contacts, see if any of them know anything about this. The rest of us will split up into teams to look for Sally Jackson, and the sculpture."

"Wait, Peter. What about the last line?" Diana asked, pointing to the 'Yankees' line.

"Well, that could mean one of two things… One, the thief is out of state and this is his first time visiting the Big Apple, or two, it's a code." Agent Burke summarized, glaring slightly at the post it.

"A code for what?" Neal asked, heart about to burst out of his chest even though he knew that Peter had no possible way of figuring out what it stood for…

"No clue. That's your job, remember?" Peter asked, as he sat back down at the table and leaned back over his laptop. All was still for a moment, before he looked back up. "What are you all waiting for? Go!"

Neal stood up quickly, as did the rest of the agents as they all headed towards the door in one massive, caffeine-fueled and sleep-deprived herd. None of them noticed the sudden ringing that came from Peter's cell… Other than Peter, that is.

"Wait, Neal!" Peter called to him as he attempted to make his escape.

"Yes, Peter?"

"Do you have any idea who might be behind this?" Peter asked him, leaning back in his chair some and staring at his phone as though it might hold some answer to life.

"Some, but no, not really. Why?"

"Because there's a guy on the phone taking responsibility for the theft. He wants to talk to you."

Neal took the phone hesitantly and was about to put it up to his ear when Peter set it on the table and put it on speaker, at the same time, pressing a button on the side of the phone that recorded the conversation.

"Hello?"

"Hi… Neal." An instantly recognizable voice spoke from the speaker, and it was all Neal could do to not laugh at the horrible insanity of it all.

"It seems you know my name. Can I ask what to call you?"

The next time the voice spoke it was not in English. He could instantly recognize the fluidness of the Ancient Greek, and it was like music to his ears, food to a starving man, sight to a blind one, and water to a dry, dry desert after a drought... After all the years of not hearing the cadence, the language seemed precious. "You know what to call me, Perseus." The voice chucked.

Debating between the pros and cons, Neal decided to go for it and answer… It was his mother on the line, after all. "Hey, Death Breath… Care to tell me why you're calling Agent Peter Burke's cell phone instead of just IMing me?" A glance at said agent revealed that he looked absolutely stupefied by the change in language.

"Considering the fact that you were probably just in a room with a bunch of FBI agents, I figured an IM was out of the question. Go back to your apartment. I'll meet up with you there."

He raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know where my apartment is?"

"Someone had to keep Rachel company."

"She prophesized my apartment?"

"No… Her father's one of the most powerful men in New York. You honestly think she doesn't have the resources to find you? Then again, there's a reason you have the nickname that you do." Then, in English, he spoke again. "An hour. Don't be late. Catch you later, Cuz."

Then the line went dead, and Neal was left alone in the conference room with a very confused and not very happy FBI Agent.

"And just who was that?" Peter fumed.

"That was…" Neal searched for a lie before deciding to just go for the truth. "That was my cousin."

Any expression that might have been on Peter's face was instantly replaced with shock. "Cousin? You have a cousin? And what language were you speaking?"

Neal laughed bitterly. "Oh, I have a ton of them. This one's just one of my closest. And it was a made up language we created when we were kids."

"And he stole Sally Jackson's piece?"

"I don't think so," Neal lied, "but I think he might know who did, and I'm set to meet with him in an hour, so we'll see."

"I'm coming with you." Peter said instantly, grabbing his suit jacket and instantly preparing to leave the conference room.

"Oh, no you're not. I'm not dangerous, but the same doesn't go for my cousin."

"All the more reason for you not to go alone."

"My cousin will not cooperate if I don't go alone, and he'll know if I'm not alone."

"At least take a wire!"

"There's no reason to, we'll be speaking our made-up language the whole time like we usually do." Neal lied before fixing Peter in a firm stare. "I'm not backing down on this. He's my cousin, I'm not going to see him arrested just because you were too afraid to let me go alone."

"He's dangerous, you said so yourself!"

"Not to me. I'm the closest thing he has to a sibling since his sister died. There's no way he's going to hurt me." Behind his back, Neal snapped his fingers, and tried to remember the last lesson Chiron had taught him.

Peter sighed. "Fine. But report back right after you finish meeting with him."

"Sir, yes sir!" Neal mock-saluted and ran out the door quickly before Peter could break through the fog that had suddenly encased his better judgment. He basically sprinted all the way back to June's house, where he scurried up all the necessary stairs and found himself in his apartment with almost fifteen minutes to spare.

"Did you really just let Caffrey go without any supervision?" Jones asked, leaning in the doorway of the conference room.

Peter snorted. "I was actually tempted to for a moment for some reason… But then I managed to slip a bug into his pocket."

Jones grinned. "Smart."

"Oh my gods, this cannot go well." Neal muttered to himself. "There's absolutely no way for this to go well."

"I think that's a rather opinionated statement." A voice from behind Neal said and he turned and faced his cousin.

"Nico, it's good to see you."

"Hey, Neal." The dark haired teenager grinned and Neal began to study him. The boy looked eighteen, but could probably pass for twenty if he really wanted to. His black hair was shaggy, but not long, and his dark eyes held the same type of madness/genius that Neal had seen years ago in the boy's father. He wore black, and a skull ring shimmered on his right hand. Nico had a grin on his face, obviously pleased with something.

"About the Neal thing…" He began.

Nico held up a hand and grinned. "So, you changed your name. Big whoop. My dad does it all the time… I mean, that whole Greece –slash- Rome thing? He didn't exactly come out of it with his identity completely intact."

Neal nodded, relieved.

"Still though," Nico continued, "It's a bit weird calling you Neal… I mean, what made you pick that out in the first place?"

"Well, at first it was Nathan Wright, then Nick Halden, and now Neal Caffrey."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "What's with all the N names?"

Neal could feel his face becoming more closed off, and he shrugged.

"Come on, Cuz. You've got to give me more than that. If I'm going to help you…" DiAngelo trailed off as he plopped down on Neal's couch.

"You're going to help me either way and you know it."

A chuckle came from the previously-serious teenager. He certainly wasn't like what Neal remembered… "Yeah, I am. But only because that blue cake? It was amazing."

Neal grinned at the memories before quickly sobering up. "Annabeth liked names that started with the letter N… We were talking about naming our kids Nick, Neal, Nathan, or something along those lines."

Nico nodded slowly and thoughtfully, sighing. "Dude, I'm sorry, but learning that, I can't keep calling you Neal. I really can't."

"Yeah, it's… fine. Just… Do what you must."

"Sounds good, Kelp Head."

"Oh, shut it, Death Breath."

"Fine." Nico sobered up.

Ne- Percy sighed. "Do you have any leads on her?"

"Not yet, but our favorite cousin is on it."

"Thalia? You got Thalia to help?"

"Thalia likes blue cake too!"

Percy laughed for a moment. "If only Grover was here, it would feel just like the old times… Except for..."

"Except for Annabeth. It's… really shaken you up, hasn't it?"

"My girlfriend died, Nico. The one girl I've ever loved died. So forgive me if I'm a little bitter!"

"It wasn't your fault."

"See, I would believe that, but she drowned. She drowned, Nico. And I couldn't even find her body!" Percy spat out, grabbing a bottle of wine and drinking straight from it in a completely out of character manner. It was unsophisticated, and not something Neal Caffrey would do in a million years, but it was something Percy Jackson would do, and that was all that really mattered.

"I didn't come here to make you go to therapy." Nico said finally, after Percy had guzzled down a fourth of the wine bottle. "I came here to talk about the incident which happened last night."

"You mean you-" Percy didn't have a chance to finish as the door was suddenly burst open.

"Freeze! FBI!" Peter shouted as he entered the room, gun drawn.

Percy saw Nico sigh deeply. "Please tell me you didn't just rely on goodwill."

"No, I used the…er… The Force." Percy answered after stealing a glance at Peter, who was still pointing his gun at Nico.

"And how long has it been since you used the Force last?"

Percy raised an eyebrow. "I don't see how that matters."

"It's been over five years, hasn't it." Nico stated, rolling his eyes.

"Allegedly." He answered cockily, flashing a grin at his cousin.

"Enough!" Peter yelled, still pointing his gun at Nico. "Neal, is this your cousin? He's so young! I thought you said he was dangerous!"

Nico gaped at Peter, and for a moment, Percy though he was going to summon his mumbo-jumbo army of undead soldiers and slaughter the FBI agent… But the moment passed. The dark haired teen instead shook off his shock and grinned at Percy. "Aww… You said I was dangerous? I'm so touched."

"I don't quite see how a teenager can be dangerous, Neal. Care to explain?" Peter asked nonchalantly, nevertheless, he was still pointing the gun at Nico.

"It's a long story." Percy-Who-Is-Actually-Neal stalled.

"No, no. It's a pretty quick one. See, I was born."

"And then…?" Peter asked.

"There's no 'and then'. I was born instantly scary." He boasted.

Percy/Neal snorted.

"Oh, do you have a problem with something I said, dearest cousin?"

"I seem to remember a…trading card game?" Neal/Percy hinted, flashing a grin at his cousin.

"You remember nothing. Is that clear?" The Son of Hades suddenly threatened, his eyes seeming to turn coal black.

"Crystal."

Peter groaned. "I've had enough of your games. You, you're under arrest for the kidnapping of Sally Jackson and the theft of the piece the Poker Player."

"Are you serious?" Nico asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter suddenly lunged forward with handcuffs, but Nico was too fast. His skills were honed by years of killing and defeating horrid mythical monsters, and so he easily jumped out of the way. Peter was left floundering at the sudden speed the teenager had moved with.

"Gotta say, Neal. I expected Big Bad FBI Agent to have more skills than that."

"Oh, will you stop resisting arrest and just get in the hand-cuffs already, Death Breath?" A new voice asked from the still-open doorway, and Percy grinned as he caught sight of a fifteen year old dark haired girl in a silver parka and jeans.

"Pine-Cone Face, so nice of you to join us." Nico muttered sarcastically while holding his hands out for Peter to cuff them.

Agent Burke, too smart to look a gift horse in the mouth quickly did so, and began reciting the teenager's rights. All the while though, he was staring at the girl. "And who is this?" He finally asked when he was done giving the spiel to Nico.

"Meet Thalia, my other cousin." Neal/Percy smiled before going in to hug the girl. "You're still allowed hugs, right?" He asked quietly as the girl accepted the embrace.

"Only from those I want hugs from." She mumbled back while squeezing him tighter. "We missed you, Kelp Head."

"Yeah, I missed you guys too, Pine-Cone Face."

"How many cousins do you have?" Peter asked finally, while leading Nico out the door.

Percy/Neal frowned and looked at Thalia. "Not sure. How many?"

"Must be a couple hundred by now…"

Peter was suddenly nearly sprinting out of the room, perhaps scared that the rest of the cousins would show up soon.

AN: So... Remember how I said this would only be about three or four chapters? Turns out I lied. See, I started outlining where I want this story to go, and I'm currently on chapter 4, and it hasn't even gotten to the climax yet. Seems like this little fic will be about five or six... Anyways, I appreciate all the reviews and alerts, it's pretty great to know that there are people out there actually enjoying what I'm writing.

If you have anything that's confusing you and you want cleared up, or something you want to happen, please review. Feedback is always appreciated.

-Marie