Three men… three detailed, artistic drawings… Reynold studied them closely, noting the small scar in the first man's eyebrow, the asymmetric twist of the second man's lips, and the cold cruel light in the third man's eyes. Bureau sketch artists did not put this level of detail in their work. These were the work of a real artist…except a real artist had to be capable of … one more thing about the man that didn't make sense.

If only it were as simple as running them through facial recognition… but 15 years… the computer was working on the scanned images but it was likely to take a while. Reynolds leaned back in his chair stretching his back. A tap on his door brought him back to reality. The young woman in his door wore a stern expression. He had seen her around the building a few times the last few weeks.

"Can I help you, agent…?"

"Berrigan, Diana Berrigan… I understand you are in charge of the protection detail for Mr. Nicholas Collins…" Reynolds sighed. Burke insisted they use that name on the official paperwork, he had no idea why… but given the circumstances he didn't think arguing with the man was a good idea.

"Yes I am."

"I want to be involved."

"I see…?"

"I worked with him in New York. I want to make sure this is handled correctly."

"Burke doesn't think I will do my job?"

"He didn't say anything about it to me… I do want to make sure Nea- Nick is safe… after I break his leg of course." Reynolds nodded, an extra set of hands keeping Caffrey in line and in one piece would be helpful… Volunteers for protection detail weren't easy to come by.

"I suppose that can be arranged. Of course we won't need you until he is cleared to travel. I understand that will be next week at the earliest." He glanced at the clock and startled "if you will excuse me agent Berrigan … I have an appointment." He hurried out the door. Time had gotten away from him and he was late. Emily was waiting.

20 minutes later he pulled up in front of his sister's house. He grinned as the tiny girl burst out the door running to his arms. Three years old and small for her age she was the totality of his world. Thomas waved at his sister in the door, letting her know he had the child.

"Thanks Jen."

"Will you be late again tonight?"

"Should be home in time to get her to bed."

"Ok well have fun."

"See you in an hour." Thomas nodded then turned his attention to his daughter. She was jumping up and down by his leg reaching up to be held. Blue paint smeared across her cheek, red yellow and green staining her little fingers.

"Daddy, daddydaddydaddy…! Guess what auntie Jenny let me do! I painted you a picture." She wrapped her smudged hands around his neck as he scooped her up. She kissed his cheek sweetly her blonde hair falling out of her pigtails into her green gold eyes. He snuggled her close.

"I'll bet its beautiful, sweet heart." he pushed her face out of his neck for a moment "where do you want to have lunch?" She tucked her finger in her mouth while she thought about it. He made a point of having lunch with his baby every Wednesday no matter how busy work kept him. Late nights, and early mornings were the norm for the job but 3 year olds need their daddies… and daddies needed them. He couldn't wait to see her painting. He knew it was beautiful.

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Peter paced his office. They still had no leads on who the sniper was. Finding the window he used hadn't been hard… there was really only one building in range for the 223, that matched the trajectory… he sighed. This kind of investigation wasn't his area of expertise but he needed it to be right now. He needed to find out who pulled that trigger because, that would lead him to the person who gave the order. That would lead to this being over… to his friend being safe.

One kid about 12 years old said he saw an "old man" leaving the room the night of the shooting… but he didn't have much of a description… Taller than the kid and shorter than Jones… white and old… grey hair. That was it. The kid said the man had a bag but that was all he could give them. Even if he had seen more Peter doubted that his mother would have let him talk to them any longer. She seemed to think they were going to shoot her son. Peter's intense face might have had something to do with that concern...

Fear tickled at the back of his mind… it was frightening how these people knew that Neal talked to Peter and Reynolds. There was no way they could have known so quickly… but whoever this was did know. They hadn't come after him in the 15 years he kept his mouth closed but 4 days after he finally talked, he was in the hospital with a hole through both lungs. Yes they knew…Whoever they were. They knew he talked and they knew exactly where to find him and that was…terrifying. It meant they were not common criminals… they had connections inside the system… incredible connections…

The urge to hit something was almost overwhelming. He resisted, settling instead for pacing like a caged tiger. There had to be a clue… the three trigger men were almost negligible as suspects, chances were from Neal's description they didn't have the brains to realize the threat Neal posed to them. No, more than likely it was whoever Kyle Nolen called 15 years ago…

Kyle Nolen…

He was the key…whoever he called had to be one of his clients…

"Jones!"

"Yeah, Peter?"

"Can you pull a list of Kyle Nolen's clients?"

"How far back?"

"From the day he passed the bar… I want to know who he called. Who he might call again, and who might have the pull for something like this."

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"Are you supposed to be up?" Jason Thomson eyed him nervously

"Have to be on my feet before they'll let me leave." Neal smiled tightly at the young agent. Almost 2 weeks and it was the first time he had seen the kid since before… and Jason seemed almost obsessively concerned with his health. Peter probably tore him apart for being in the shower. Speaking of showers… he eyed the bathroom door ruefully. Now that he was sitting on the edge of the bed the walk across the room seemed dauntingly long. "It's just a shower" he said aloud… "And I'm cleared for it.' He eyed the covered IV port.

"Do you need help?" Jason fidgeted shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I can do it." Neal's soft answer sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself than the kid. He had waved the nurse off the same way a few minutes ago but he was still sitting on the edge of the bed working up the courage to actually do it, but he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible so… he stood up cautiously and walked slowly across the floor, grabbing the bathroom door to steady himself…the sudden movement sent a sharp pang through his side. He flinched then opened the door.

The hot water felt wonderful, he sat under it, almost dozing until Jason called nervously through the door. "You ok?'

"Yeah" he startled. Then forced himself to stand up and dry off. Clean pajamas made him feel almost human. Almost… he studied his reflection… his eyes were shockingly blue against too pale skin. He was thin…skinny really, he probably should try to eat more. He inspected the visible wound at the base of his ribs…definitely ugly he decided. His right arm hung limp at his side… the pins and needles were fading and he had more real feeling in the limb since they repaired his shoulder blade, but it still refused to obey his commands and pleas to move. He sighed and slid the sling back on…it looked better that way at least.

Another tap on the door "I'm ok Jason. Don't worry so much" he forced a smile and pulled his eyes away from his arm. "Don't dwell on it." he told himself. "Don't think about it …" he opened the door and slowly made his way back to the bed. Leaning back into the pillow he grinned at the young agent.

"Can I ask a favor Jason?"

"I guess…"

"Just sit right there and don't move." The man gave him a questioning look but remained still, while Neal awkwardly propped the sketch pad against his knees and picked up the pencil with his left hand. When he was finished he stared at the drawing… it was terrible… but Jason was almost recognizable. He sighed. Who was he kidding …it was barely better than a stick figure. Time, he reminded himself as he closed his eyes already drifting… It takes time to learn something new.

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Peter glanced at Neal, dozing in the passenger seat of the car…Driving to Washington the day after he was released from the hospital was pushing things, but Reynolds picked up a suspect… a man matching one of Neal's drawings. They could only hold him so long without a positive ID. He offered to send a photo lineup but it would carry more weight if Neal could finger him in person. Reynolds sounded shocked when Neal agreed to make the trip. Peter had tried his best to talk him out of it but here they were 100 miles into the 226 mile trip.

Frankly he was concerned how his friend was holding up. He was still disturbingly pale, he trembled with exhaustion just getting into the car and the stubborn set of his jaw spoke loudly of the pain he was still in. All of that worried Peter but not as much as the faint blue tint of Neal's lips… the doctor told them it would take a long time for his lungs to fully heal, and that his heart had been under a lot of stress to keep up with getting the necessary oxygen to his body with a reduced supply. Now only 3 weeks after the injury he was traveling. He was supposed to take it easy until his lungs had healed. He should be resting. He glanced at his friend's sleeping form and sighed… well technically…

"Everything ok, Peter?" Jones asked. "You want me to drive for a while?" Until they handed Neal over to Reynolds he remained under their protection…which meant 3 agents traveled with him. Thomson sat silently in the back seat. He requested the assignment. Peter knew the kid felt guilty… "He should feel guilty…" if Neal hadn't called Peter he would have died alone before the kid got out of the shower.

"No I'm ok…" not entirely true… he caught the knowing look from his lead investigator.

"I don't like just handing him over to DC either boss," Jones said "but it is their case."

"I know. Reynolds is a good agent… I read his file," Peter frowned "he doesn't like him at all though. I wish he had gotten past the arrest profile… he's be shocked how much they have in common."

"I give it a week and Nea-Nick will have him charmed."

"He's just so…" he glanced at Neal again…he hadn't stirred. "Defenseless right now and Reynolds, while he will do what he feels is his responsibility… he's not likely to go out of his way …"

"How would you feel if I stayed on in DC for a few days? I understand Diana has already joined the protection detail… if I were there to help her…"

"I would appreciate that' he met Jones' eyes in the mirror "but it's too much to ask."

"I don't want to lose him again either."

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Waiting had never been his strength… He could do it, and look patient but the urge to pace or tap his fingers or…well anything besides just sit still was always there. It was worse today… he was nervous Neal conceded. He hadn't laid eyes on this man since he was 18 and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to face him. The sooner they got this over the better. His feet itched to pace but that would take entirely too much effort, in fact, just breathing almost felt like to much effort at the moment. 4 and a half hours in the car had sapped his strength until he had no choice but to allow himself to be helped from the car to the office. Embarrassing really. At least he was left alone now, spared the worried looks Peter and Jones had shot over his head on the way in.

A small face peeked out of an office. Neal grinned at her, offered a wave when she smiled back shyly. The rest of a little girl with blonde pigtails and a pink jumper slipped into view clutching a doll. Not more than 2 or 3 years old. He wondered what she was doing alone in an FBI building.

"It's ok." He almost whispered not wanting to frighten the child "I won't hurt you." She inched closer one small finger finding her mouth. "Is your Mommy here?" Solemn eyes of the most peculiar green gold color regarded his and the little head shook. "Your daddy?" a nod "where is he?" that won him a shrug. "I like your baby… bet you are a good mommy."

"Not her mommy" the little one found her voice. "M'her auntie"

"Oh … where's her mommy?"

"She went away… bad men make her go away."

"Oh" Neal regarded the little one for a moment "so you take care of her...? What's her name?"

"Molly…" she grinned "Daddy says my mommy's name is Molly too. What's your name?"

"Nick… what about you, auntie? Do you have a name?"

"Emmly"

"Is someone supposed to be watching you Emily?" he glanced around no one seemed to be missing a small girl. A Bureau office seemed like a dangerous place for her to be wandering around alone, she must have snuck away from someone. Her grin widened conspiratorially as she nodded.

"Robewt's posed to… he works for my daddy… but sometimes he's got to many papers and he forgets… it's easy to splore then." Her face fell a little, her soft heart jabbing just a bit. "Daddy gets mad at him when that happens."

"Oh you're a little escape artist, are you?" she giggled

"You hurt our arm, huh?" she pointed at the sling.

"I did."

"Does it still hurt?"

"A little bit."

"You want to hold Molly? She makes me feel better when I get owies."

"Why thank you Emily." He said with exaggerated gratitude... Emily giggled again. "Hello Molly… Yes I like your aunt Emily too… she takes really good care of you doesn't she?"

"I let her paint every day."

"You like to paint?"

"Uh huh… and draw too."

"Me too" his eyes darkened a bit but his smile didn't slip.

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Reynold stepped out of the meeting. Briefing the protection detail on the handling of the man waiting outside, took longer than he expected because the people from New York kept interrupting… it wasn't just Burke, he found out, they were all fiercely protective of Caffrey… and defensive about what he was.

He looked around the office to find the man…Suddenly his blood ran cold. Caffrey sat at a desk as if he belonged there smiling brilliantly… at Emily. Reynolds' whole being recoiled …his baby girl, his world was sitting on THAT MAN's right knee as they both giggled over the paper on the desk. Fury replaced fear in a heartbeat.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" he dropped his voice when Emily looked up, fright in her eyes. "I'm sorry sweet heart… come to daddy." She happily hopped off of Caffrey's knee and ran to him. He hugged her his glare never leaving the man at the desk. He didn't rise, just sat there with one hand raised as if waving Reynolds away.

"How dare you?" Reynolds hissed "My daughter? If you think…"Reynolds sat his baby gently on the floor.

"We were just drawing… she got away from her babysitter…I thought…" he crossed the space in 3 strides grabbing Caffrey by the shirt and hauling him up to his feet.

"Let me be very clear…If you touch her again, or speak to her or even look at her… I promise…" he was satisfied to see a hint of fear in the man's eyes "I swear you will regret it." Reynolds released his hold and waited for a response. Caffrey didn't say a word, just sank quietly back into the chair, eyes on the floor. The silence stretched on for a moment that felt like an eternity. Reynolds began to regret letting his response get physical. That was crossing a line and the manwas injured. He sighed but the anger remained. "He crossed the line first" his mind stubbornly whispered "bringing my daughter into this"