If Agent Elliot was put out to get a call on his cell on a Saturday, it didn't show in his greeting. From what Peter had gathered from the time they had worked together, Elliot was a dedicated agent who spent more time on the job than not, so maybe he was working.

"Agent Burke," the man said. "What can I do for you?"

Peter had a long list, but he thought it best to ease into it. Elizabeth had given him an idea. White Collar couldn't launch an investigation into the disappearance of an artist: they had no ties to the man. However, Agent Elliot and the DEA did have ties, albeit highly confidential ones, to Nathan Clay. And the DEA had access to the same resources White Collar did.

"Has any of your people heard any rumblings from the Cordero Family?"

There was a slight pause. "The Cordero family is pretty much defunct at this junction," Elliot informed. "Why? Have you got wind of something?"

"No, but..." he hesitated. "...well..." Once he did this, it was done, and the chips would have to fall where they did. If he could find Neal without tanking his life as Nathan Clay, that would be great. But in the end, the most important part was to find him. Elliot knew who Nathan Clay was, or at least who he had been, but he had never called him on it and had kept that detail out of all records.

Might as well get right to it. He needed this man's help. "I have a problem, Agent Elliot," He admitted. "Nathan Clay is missing."

"What do you mean, missing?" The agent asked sharply. "I talked to him three days ago."

"What about?"

"A Monet that turned up in a warehouse. He was going to come to verify it for me next week. How long has he been gone?"

"He hasn't been seen since Thursday afternoon," Peter told him. "No one sounded the alarm until he didn't show up for an event last night."

"Any sign of foul play?"

"Not that I've been able to determine so far, but he's gone, his phone is off, and no one has heard from him."

"He asked me about the Corderos, too," he recalled thoughtfully. "Didn't make a big thing of it. Just said there were some odd occurrences at the gallery. He said he was going to talk to you about it, too. Did he?"

"No," Peter was tired of answering that question. Every time it was asked he was left feeling excluded and irritated. He wasn't only irritated; he was tired. He hadn't been able to sleep, was running on coffee, and instead of coming to him with a problem, his best friend had gone to Mozzie and then Agent Elliot. Mozzie, he could understand. But Agent Elliot? Oh yeah, he hadn't wanted a whole thing until after the showing.

Three days ago was after the incident with his car. "Did he tell you his car was vandalized?"

"No," Elliot revealed. "When did that happen?"

"Last Friday night. Down on Howard's beach."

"That's a good neighborhood, but as you know, Agent Burke," he said. "crime knows no bounds. Are you sure it was personal? Could have been a random act of delinquent behavior."

"They slashed his tires and painted traitor, turncoat, and sell-out on his car."

"Damn," Elliot breathed on the other end of the line. "Sounds personal."

"Yep," Peter agreed. "And the Cordero family is just one of a long list of people who might have a reason to go after him."

"Him or Neal Caffrey?"

"Does it matter?"

"Indeed it does not. But it has to make a missing person investigation...complicated. How is the FBI approaching it?" When Peter didn't answer, Elliot continued. "They aren't, are they?"

"You know I can't officially investigate this. White Collar doesn't investigate missing artists," Peter pointed out. "And looking for an ex-CI would be...well, even more complicated."

"Is the NYPD on it?"

"Not yet. Again, that could-"

"Complicate things." The man let out a sigh. "Why is he so opposed to just dropping this duel persona? Caffrey's slate is clean, is it not?"

Peter had asked the same thing himself, but he knew there was a lot more to it than that. Neal Caffrey, as Neal had put it, had never been free a day in his life. How had he described it that night in the Burke guest room?

From the time I became Neal Caffrey, I've been playing roles, roles that suited an ever-changing cast of supporting characters. I've been whoever I was needed, or expected, to be. There were times when I wanted more than that, wanted a life that was really mine...

Nathan Clay represented freedom, freedom to be who he wanted to be, to make his own choices. It was, finally, a life that was really his.

"Yes," Peter affirmed. "But he's built a new life for himself, and that's the life he wants. Not the one he left behind."

Peter couldn't tell via a phone line what Elliot thought of that. He sensed, though, a bit of understanding.

Elliot brought the conversation back on topic. "So you are just poking around unofficially at this point," he said. "Found anything useful?"

."Not much," Peter admitted. "Just that he disappeared Thursday afternoon, probably between his gallery and a Garage on According to the gallery manager, he left there to go to pick up his car. He never arrived; his car is still there. I don't know what happened," frustration and desperation crept into his voice. "I can't dump his phone or check the CCTV feeds or anything without an authorized investigation. Which I can't open."

Peter waited for the span of several seconds.

"But I can?" There it was, the real reason behind his call. And he was pretty sure Elliott knew it.

"Nathan Clay is your consultant, and he helped close a major case for you," he reminded the agent. "He did voice some concern to you, didn't he?"

"He did," Elliott agreed.

"And now he's missing; You have cause to look into it; I do not."

Again there was a pause. "How soon can you get down here?"

Elation swept over him, but he strove to keep his voice unaffected.

"Down where?"

"My office," he replied, confirming Peter's sense of the man. He needed a life outside the job but right now, Peter was glad he didn't have one. "And bring what you have. We will go from there."

Peter was on his feet and on the way upstairs before the call ended.

"What did he say?" Elizabeth called from behind him. "Is he going to help you find Neal?"

Peter glanced down from the stairs. "No, he's going to help me find Nathan Clay." He grinned. "Thanks for that, by the way."

She beamed back up at him. "You are very welcome," she replied. "Now go find Neal and bring him home."

"You mean Nathan?" he teased.

"Either one will do."