Hey Anyone Who Stuck Around For This Oh My Goodness You Patient People I Love You All! Lol, I said I wouldn't write during the semester cus it takes up my time and I do this when I have 2 assessments due! Procastinationnnnnnn. I had fun though! So I hope you enjoy, it super cheesy (as always) with a little angst a little fluff - but lots more of those to come in later chapters.

Chapter 7

Peter and Neal walked through the corridors towards the main exit of the house. With White out of hearing range, Neal leant towards to Peter.

"I think our host may have a resume very similar to my own", Neal whispered.

Peter shot Neal a stern look, demanding silence on the matter. But the glint of excitement that flashed over his face took the weight out of the expression.

Peter was as intrigued by this development as Neal was.

The two rounded the corner, about to exit as a girl, entered the room.

Neal suddenly stopped walking.

The cons faced morphed into something resembling panic before quickly reshuffling itself into the hardened, expressionless persona that Peter had come to recognise as a mask. The glimpse of Neal's shifting expression left a worried impression on Peter.

With a pang of concern he followed Neal's fixed eye-line to girl who just entered the room. She had dark hair and pale skin. Everything about her appeared relatively unremarkable. Peter looked on in confusion as Neal's intense gaze with the girl broke and the con continued to walk as if the exchange had never occurred.

Burke started after Neal. He turned to talk to the young women but found she has exited the way she had come. The agent quickened his step to catch up with Neal as he followed him out of the house. He said his thanks to White and rushed after his young charge.

Neal was leading, causally, against the FBI car.

"Who was that?" Peter asked, pointed as always.

"Who?" Neal replied, posture open and innocent. Peter had known Neal too long to be fooled by his outward appearance. Neal stood stiffly, about the only thing in movement was his eyes. They flickered between the building and the road, clearly uncomfortable with the situation they were in. He wanted to leave. Now.

Peter's eyes narrowed, but the panic that has flashed though over Neal's face was fresh in his memory. He was inclined to obligate Neal's unspoken request and get the heck out of there.

The two got into the car and Agent Burke started the engine.

Neal quipped about Peter never letting him drive. Peter said something about forged licenses not being considered kosher by the FBI, or any other government agency in the history of ever.

Burke glanced at Neal. He was casually humming as he looked out the window. No resemblance of the unsettling encounter remained. Could he have imagined it? No. Peter was getting old, but not that old. His wit was still intact. Glancing at Neal he briefly considered letting it slide, but then he remembered the wallet incident. If there was something going on with this kid - he needed to know.

"Who was that girl back at White's house?" Peter, again, ventured into the twisted game that is trying to extract an answer from Neal Caffrey.

"What girl?" Neal replied, absently as he continued to stare out the window.

"The one in the hallway" Peter replied.

"How would I know?" Neal shrugged.

Peter rolled his eyes. Sometimes he forgot, that despite everything else, Neal Caffrey was still a teenager.

"It seemed like you knew her."

"Did it?" Neal asked.

Peter resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. Sometimes Neal's tendency to answer questions with yet more questions drove him insane.

He didn't trust Neal, not yet. But he didn't know how he was going to find out what he needed to know if the kid kept dancing conversational circles around him. It struck him, as Peter glanced at the kid, that maybe Neal didn't trust him yet either. Of course Neal wouldn't talk to him. The kid spent half his life running from the FEDs. Maybe Peter's direct, pragmatic approach wouldn't work so well in this case. Maybe to elicited trust, he would have to give some of his own.

This time Peter really did sigh. Elizabeth was so much better at thing kind of thing. He looked towards Neal and let concern bleed through his voice.

"Are you okay?"

Neal looked across in surprise. He paused, his intense gaze on Peter as he studied his face.

"Yeah," he answered sincerely and with a slight smile. "I'm good."

Peter nodded and refocused on driving. Answers could come later, for now, good would do.

"Wait a second. So you're saying you think that Mr White reported his own forgery paintings stolen?" Diana asked, sceptically.

"That's the current theory," Neal leant against the hallway rail, hands folded.

"But wouldn't it risk him being found out?"

"It's likely he knew he was going to get caught," Peter answered, fingers tapping on hand rail as he talked. "If Neal could recognise his art as forgeries then others could too. Instead of risking selling the paintings, he destroyed them." Peter smirked. "I bet that resulted in a hell of an insurgence claim."

"So how are we gonna catch him?"

Neal peeled away from the conversation as he realised his input wasn't necessary. Catching criminals was Burke's domain, not his. His thoughts instantly shot back to the hallway girl. He knew her. He knew her well. She was Hannah: Keller's daughter.

Hannah had appeared out of know where in a ghost-like. Waiting, following – that's what Hannah's good at. Her hair was loose, unlike her once open expression which had tightened into one of stone. Any residue of emotion she had felt towards Neal in the past, dissipated. Neal's heart tightened at the memory. Her cold eyes had locked onto his and he had fought the urge to look behind him, to check he was safe. He had grown too used to feeling safe. Safe in this home. Safe in this job. It had thrown him off his game. It made him weak.

Keller knew where he was. He knew what case he was working on, who Peter was. Hannah didn't have to say anything for the message to be communicated loud and clear; remember who you really work for.

Damn.

Despite jail and tracking anklet's, restrictions on freedom and bloody paper work – Neal was having fun.

He was… happy.

He never thought that two parents and an exciting job would have that effect on him. They're not your family. He reminded himself. And it's not a job, it's your prison sentence, remember. You're trapped here. So why, for the first time in his life, did he feel free?

A hand on his shoulder brought Neal back to the present.

"Good work kid," Peter smiled before he walked into his office.

Neal smiled back. He wondered what Peter would think when he realised he was plotting to steal from the FBI behind his back.

Neal fortified himself. This isn't your life.

Looking out through the glass Neal saw the 'underling' Lee walk towards the coffee machine. Now's as good a time as any.

The young con walked down the stairs, picking up a couple empty mugs as he went. Glancing up at the offices he saw that Peter was engrossed in paperwork. Sometimes these glass walls worked in your favour. The coffee machine was in a breakroom - one of the only fully walled, doored good old fashioned private rooms in the FBI quarters, besides the bathroom that is.

Neal lingered outside the coffee-room door, listening to Lee's footsteps. As he heard them nearing the door Neal shifted the empty mugs into his left hand, leaving his right hand free. He opened the door, walked forward and – straight into Lee.

A collision ensued.

Lee's mug flew from his hands and was caught, by the prepared free hand of Caffrey. Hot coffee splattered over Neal's shirt.

"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry!" Spluttered Lee as Neal sharply inhaled. The just boiled drink stung his skin.

Neal let out of grunt of pain. Which was far too easy to fake; good cons are close to the truth.

"Are you okay? Oh no, umm, let me help you with that," Lee offered, pulling Neal towards the sink. He reached for a cold, damp cloth and placed it over Neal's chest.

"Thank you," Neal smiled gratefully. He let out a breath, "I'm okay."

"I'm sorry! I didn't see you coming," Lee explained.

Neal waved a dismissive hand through the air, "I didn't see you either. Could've happened to any of us. I'm fine, really."

Lee breathed a sigh of relief.

Neal held up the empty mug's he picked on the way down. "Coffee duty too?" he asked.

Lee smiled, "You'd think after a year working here you'd think I've have some more interest jobs."

A smile cracked over Neal's face, "tell that to the stack of files in Agent Burke's office that he pushes on to me. The only more boring thing they could have me doing is filing evidence."

"Evidence duty isn't all that bad, at least you'd be doing something productive."

Neal switched on the coffee machine, "Did they have you stationed all the way out there?"

"You mean the official lock up? Naa, I worked basement evidence."

"I didn't know there was one," Neal tagged on the end, hoping for a lead.

"Yeah, it's just for this precincts cases so it's not that big. But we work white collar so every now and then something interesting will crop up. Man, you wouldn't believe the stuff they have down there."

Neal grinned, "Try me."

Thank You for reading this! It makes me so happy that there are some people who actually like this xxx so THANKS! TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT - reviews are my sun and stars