Cold… he was cold. The thought registered through the fog in his head. The picture of William's mom lying dead on the pier filled his mind. He twisted his hat in trembling hands. All he could think was "How am I going to tell William?"

Neal never cared for death… for dead bodies. Violence turned his stomach just like he was sure it did every decent person in the world. It was worse when he knew the victim… well, in this case he didn't really know her but he had just spoken to the once beautiful woman a few days ago… he had her two year old son in his apartment, right now. Which brought him back to what he was going to tell the toddler. Mozzie's words last night suddenly came to mind "Your girlfriend is a terrorist!" if that was true… he refused to lie to William the way he had been lied to but… he couldn't tell that baby his mommy was a monster… Mozzie had been so agitated by the card…

The memory card!

He never gave it to Peter! The events of the last 24 hours had been so… crazy, insane, gut wrenching… all of the above… he had forgotten the memory card, the memory card he was still carrying in his wallet. The sound of footsteps on icy concrete raised his eyes.

"I know this isn't how you wanted this to end Neal." Peter sat down heavily on the bench beside him. "I'm sorry"

"Yeah me too." His sigh drifted away in the frigid wind. "This makes William essentially an orphan."

"His father is still out there somewhere."

"Yeah and he doesn't want to be found."

"What makes you so sure of that?" The older man's tone was doubtful but Neal just shrugged.

"Mozzie decrypted the memory card." Neal said softly after a moment.

"That's good… what does it have to do with-?"

"I'm not sure it is good…"

"Neal… what's on the card? What does it have to do with William's father?"

"I don't know."

"Neal…" there was a warning in that one word… warning him to be honest.

"I don't" he shrugged "Mozzie told me I was better off not knowing."

"And you expect me to believe you didn't peek?"

"He told me to give it straight to "the suits" and forget it ever existed."

"And that worried you…"

"Worried me? He told me to hand something over to government officials…Coming from Mozzie that doesn't disturb you?"

"Yeah" Peter agreed "just a little bit… yeah it does."

"So here it is." Neal fished the little device out of his wallet. "Do whatever you need to with it." Peter nodded, taking the card from his trembling fingers.

Silence fell… the soft sound of tiny needles of snow swooshing to the ground, coating the city in a layer of creaking, brittle white filled the moment between them.

"Any idea who she was?" Neal finally ventured

"We'll run her picture, prints and DNA through the system hopefully we'll get a hit."

"Mozzie said she was a terrorist…"

"Mozzie also thinks there are Hitler clones in New York."

"True." The young man tried for a smile but it didn't reach his blue eyes "but if it turns out she is… what am I supposed to tell William."

"I don't know" The agent sighed clapping his hand on his friend's shoulder "But you will figure out the right thing."

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She frowned at the two papers in her hand. The first was a copy of a birth certificate for Nicholas Brandon Bennett born March 21 of 1983, listed as infant A in a duel birth. The second paper was a death certificate… also for Nicholas Brandon Bennett. The date was July of 84… no day. 16 months old… Diana sighed, cause of death was listed as abusive brain injury… shaken baby syndrome. She had met James Bennett, knew he was a selfish, unfeeling man. Was it possible he killed his small son, then erased his existence from their lives…? She shook her head. Selfish, yes… brutal temper, absolutely… but that cold… While she could picture Bennet shaking his son in anger, and coolly covering his guilt, she couldn't picture him hiding the body long enough that there was no date on the death certificate. Which left the burning question. What happened to the boy?

She could keep digging but it seemed irrelevant to the current situation… she would only be satisfying her own curiosity. Was it fair to drag Caffrey through the details of his brother's death he probably didn't even remember… for no reason. Obviously Nick was not William's father. On the other hand DNA was not often used for body identification thirty years ago and if there was no date of death it was doubtful the boy could be identified visually… she shrugged. It couldn't hurt to dig a little deeper could it? What harm could there be in requesting a copy of the autopsy report and running a search for news articles? There probably wouldn't be anything enlightening but…

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His feet dragged reluctantly up the stairs… Neal had hesitated at the bottom hoping June was home and she could help him … he didn't want to face William, couldn't bear to face him. That baby upstairs wasn't going to understand… no matter what he said. That poor little guy's world was forever changed and he wasn't even big enough to comprehend …he swallowed. June however did not make an appearance so he started the daunting task of climbing the stairs.

Olivia looked up, slightly frazzled when he stepped into his apartment.

"Oh good, Mr. Caffrey maybe you can convince this little hurricane to take a nap?"

"Yeah…" he looked at the small boy currently dancing wildly to the cartoon music spilling from the TV, singing along as loud as he could. "I'll take care of him for a while." He watched the maid walk away then drawing a shaky breath he sat down on the couch and drew the toddler into his lap. Neal felt hot tears fill his eyes but he blinked them back and decided to wait until the show ended to destroy the child's world. Instead he cuddled the warm little body against his chest and rocked him gently.

As the credits came on he switched the television off and looked at William,

"I need to talk to you, buddy… about your mommy." He forced the words past the growing lump of guilt "I know I promised you my friend would bring her back…" the child nodded smiling brightly. "But something came up Will… and your mommy can't come back."

"Why not… when she can?" Bright blue eyes looked up at him earnestly and Neal choked on that guilt in his throat.

"Will buddy… What I mean is…"his fluid tongue was suddenly lead… "She can't come back…ever… some bad men…hurt her… and she's … she's dead." The child stared at him in horror. He didn't really understand dead but… he understood his friend said he was never going to see his mommy again. The tears came rapidly and Neal held him close as he wailed.

"MOMMY! I WANT MY MOMMY!" Neal closed his eyes running his fingers through the soft baby curls and cooed gentle words that meant nothing. Trying not to sob himself… he felt tears escape and slide down his cheeks… He failed… he lied to a child… one more line he swore he wouldn't cross.

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Peter lifted his head as the young agent dropped the report on his desk. He acknowledged the girl with a quick nod before picking up the folder with a sigh, he wasn't optimistic for any new information. Twenty four hours since the police department fished the young woman out of the river and her identity was still a mystery.

Or maybe it wasn't. Her picture… alive and vibrant stared up at him from the file. Amelia Woodbridge was an agent with MI5. His throat caught. This was bad. Very bad. His eyes scanned over the papers England sent over… by all appearances an upstanding and courageous agent…Which meant, whatever was on that card was probably…

His hand dropped to his phone unconsciously, dialing the number for the IT department without thought.

"This is Burke, I brought in a memory card yesterday, have you got anything off it yet?"

"Yeah actually we have… someone added an encryption key after the fact."

"Great." He breathed a sigh of relief "Can you give me a summary of what was on it?"

"Hold on I'll transfer you to the agent in charge of that job."

"Ok thanks." He drummed his fingers on his desk anxiously while he waited. Haversham thought Amelia was a terrorist… but if she was a legitimate agent that meant that…she was trying to keep whatever it held out of the wrong hands… the implications of that were disturbing. Of course that was assuming the little guy hadn't exaggerated the situation.

"Agent Burke?" the young slightly nasally voice broke Peter from his thoughts "This is agent Yates… you wanted to talk about that card you sent down?"

"Yes I did? I was hoping for a brief summary of the content."

"Well I'm still going through the information but as far as I can tell at this point... it seems to be a little outside White Collar's jurisdiction." The kid's tone was grim.

"What does that mean?" his stomach clenched

"At the moment it appears to be plans to shut down the power grids in the US, Canada and Western Europe… indefinitely."

"The power grids?" that would leave the nations extremely vulnerable

"There is more to the plan but I haven't sifted through it all yet" the youthful voice continued "but this is big… really big and ugly. They are planning to use dirty bombs on the power substations. Definitely not White Collar territory… I'm not even sure it's FBI territory."

"Thank you" he felt cold as he disconnected the call. An MI5 agent, a memory card with extremely dangerous plans… people who had proven they would kill to get it. He felt like they were trapped in a cheap spy novel… and of course Neal was right in the middle of it. Suddenly a bad feeling spiked through the agent. She gave the card to Neal. She was taken right outside his home… if the men who killed her back tracked…

Grabbing his phone he dialed his friend's number … it rang… once, twice, three times… on the sixth ring the call went to voice mail. The vague unease grew exponentially through concern into fear. Remembering far too vividly Amelia Woodbridge's broken body, he dialed again… directly to voicemail this time. The fear sliced through his heart like an icy knife when his phone rang in his hand. Peter recognized the number of the Marshal's tracking center and he knew with twisted certainty what they would tell him.

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He wasn't certain what it was that tipped him off, but there was something… a small sound, the creak of a floorboard, a vase shattering maybe, but whatever it was drew him from his lunch to the door of his apartment. Voices… soft, calm and cold enough to send shivers up Neal's spine, filtered up the stairway .With a quick glance at the tiny sleeping form on his bed, Neal stepped out into the hallway. He frowned, with the exception of Olivia, the maid, the house was supposed to be empty, so who were the men downstairs?

Halfway down the stairs he caught a glimpse of Olivia, cuffed and gagged while three men discreetly searched the room. It only took a moment to recognize the large man who kidnapped William's mother. A fraction of a second later, the man looked up and noticed the slim form on the stairs…There was nowhere to hide, Neal swallowed the fear that rose thick and hot in his throat as the man snarled at him.

"Scott! Of course she gave it to you." The man chuckled unpleasantly. "I don't suppose you will hand it over civilly?" Neal took a slow breath before he answered trying to embody the persona of the man they clearly thought he was. It would be easier to play the role, he thought if he knew anything at all about the man…

"I have no idea what you are talking about." He flinched inwardly as the man lunged at him, grabbing and pulling him roughly down the stairs. Neal bounced off the railing painfully, the newel post bruising his abdomen but he maintained his feet. Though his stomach throbbed painfully as he struggled to catch his breath, he projected outward calm. His hand found his phone in his pocket… with a small smile he tapped the screen discreetly, as he grinned at the man. "Have we met? You look very familiar…"

The man scowled "Give it to me."

"Maybe if you told me what you are looking for…" the man cocked the gun and briefly pointed it in Neal's direction before shifting it to Olivia's head.

"Give me the memory card or your partner here dies."

"My partner?" Neal forced disparaging laugh "You think she is my partner? I hate to discourage your attempt at thought… but she is just the maid." He hoped his disinterest would protect her.

"So you don't care if I shoot her?"

"Well I would prefer you didn't… after all someone has to clean up this place and good help is hard to find, but if you must…" the shrug that followed was possibly the hardest thing Neal had ever done. He stood stock still as the mountain of humanity fingered the trigger casually… finally the man chuckled again, like gravel in a garbage disposal, Neal thought, as the gun rose back toward him.

"Where is the card?" impatience tinged the voice now.

"Even if I knew what you wanted, I would have hidden it somewhere you will never find it."

"You will come with me." The man snapped, bringing his enormous pistol to bare on the center of Neal's chest.

"I don't think so. I regret that I am otherwise engaged…" Neal backed away until he felt the other two men move into his space behind him. Their grip on his arms suddenly bruisingly tight. He swallowed, fighting as hard fingers searched his body.

"He's not carrying" the voice growled in his ear. The big man tisked reproachfully

"It's my own home," Neal snapped "of course I'm not." The man holding him shoved him violently to the floor, kicking him hard in the temple as he fell… the world swam out of focus. The voices a low hum just beyond the grasp of his reeling mind. A familiar ring filtered through the haze. He felt hands on his body but he couldn't determine what they were doing. There was a crack of something striking the floor near his head. Vaguely he heard someone's voice break through the fog…

"Look what we found upstairs…" harsh laughter followed that. Someone gripped his forearm tightly, suddenly his body felt alarmingly cold and distant. Everything fell away into silence.