Neal walked with Jones at the party.

"Undercovers are in position," Jones said over the radio. "Agent Davies is at the south entrance. Agent Westley is..."

"Getting Chad a beer," Neal said, seeing the agent at the bar. Jones sighed and waived for Agent Westley to come over. He had a beer in each hand.

"What are you doing?" Jones asked.

"Chad told me to get him a drink. I'm undercover as his buddy."

"Did he also tell you to double-fist it?" Neal asked.

"No. He said that you need to loosen up." The agent smiled and handed Jones one of the glasses. The man did not take it.

"Come on." Jones steered him around back to the bar. Neal hoped he got the picture.

"Hi, there," a young woman said, coming up to Jones' side. "Chad says you're an FBI agent."

Jones turned to Neal, and they both burst into laughter.

"He's scared of guns," Neal said.

"Yeah," Jones agreed. The young woman lost interest, probably feeling like a fool. The second she left them, Jones' smile left his face. "Okay, it's time to put the fear of God in him."

Neal could not agree more.

"Yeah."

Jones walked up to Chad Stewart and put an arm across his shoulders.

"Hey, Chad."

"I'm not sure how long our cover's gonna last, Peter," Neal said. Peter had heard everything.

"You need to make positive I.D. on our young thief as soon as possible. Stay alert. Who knows what disguise he'll be wearing this time?"

"I'll look for the crooked mustache."

A flaming redhead approached with a bottle and lime.

"Chad says you're into body shots."

So much for the fear of God. If Jones had not succeeded, nothing would.

"I am," he smiled at her.

"Stay on target, Caffrey," he heard Peter in his ear.

"But not tonight. Designated driver. Sorry."

She left, and Neal continued to glance over the assembled.

"I got eyes on a potential Scott."

"Why do you think it's him?" Peter asked.

"He's wearing a suit hoodie."

"I don't even know what that is," Peter sighed. Neal figured it was a hoodie under the suit, more likely. And big headphones. "All right, confirm it's him, then Jones will move in for the arrest."

Neal moved closer. He could hear the music the kid was playing.

"You are in so far over your head, and you have no idea, do you?" he said. The kid glanced at him and pulled off his headphones.

"You say something?"

To Neal's slight annoyance, the kid had blue eyes too.

"No, I was just admiring this bike," he said.

"Sure does look expensive."

"Hundred and twenty grand."

"Damn. Have we met? Uh, I've seen you somewhere."

Neal felt proud that the kid had done his homework, even if he had forgotten where he had seen the face beside him.

"Maybe Chad's party last week?"

"Wasn't there."

"Oh, man, you missed out. They had mermaids. I mean, literally, girls wearing tails and nothing else."

"And all he has for this party is a motorcycle?" the potential thief chuckled. "Poor guy."

"Oh, come on, man. It's a carbon fiber and titanium chassis, 1966 CC engine."

"Top speed of 260 kilometers per hour," a woman with spectacular makeup who joined them said, "and not remotely street legal."

"It's a work of art on two wheels," Neal said.

"Hi. I'm Shannon," the woman said to the kid beside him, ignoring Neal.

"Hey."

"Excuse me," Neal said and left the two. "It's him."

"You're sure?" Peter asked. Jones appeared near him. Neal looked back at the kid and the woman.

"Beautiful girl just gave him her name, and he didn't give one back. There's something suspicious about her."

"The fact that she seemed more interested in him than you?" Peter asked.

"Not that. Not entirely that." He kept watching and… "She just put something in his drink." He rushed up to the kid and pushed the glass out of his hand.

"Excuse me!"

A clumsy try to make it seem like an accident.

"Whoa! What the hell?!"

The woman turned on her heels and hurried away.

"Jones!" Neal called and pointed at the fleeing woman. Jones got the picture and pulled his gun.

"FBI! Everybody down!"

"Lock down the exits," he heard Peter on the radio. "Nobody gets out."

Neal turned as he heard an engine start. Had the kid…? He pushed his way back to the motorcycle. The kid had pulled up his hoodie and put on sunshades, and was on the bike. He pulled the glasses down a little and grinned at Neal.

Then he gassed and drove out through the party and through a window and was gone.

Neal saw a card on the floor.

"A donation has been made in your name. The Organ Donor Group."

Peter watched the interrogation of the woman together with Neal behind the one-way glass.

"You need to tell us everything," Diana told the woman. They heard it through the speakers. "We're gonna find who hired you eventually. But if you help us now, we can make a deal."

"What do we know about her?" the kid asked.

"She's been a suspect in some heists and robberies. Attempted murder's a new one, though."

"So I'm guessing it wasn't Splenda that she sprinkled in Scott's drink."

"Potassium cyanide."

"He would have been dead in minutes."

Peter nodded to this.

"You did the right thing interfering, even if Robin Hoodie got away. You saved the kid's life."

"I didn't buy the ring," the woman said to Diana in the interrogation room. "It's a little Gothic for my taste, but I never refuse jewelry."

"Now, let me guess," Diana said. "You didn't know there was poison inside."

"Oops."

"How's she connected to him?" Neal wondered.

"This might have something to do with it." Peter opened the file on the table. "Found it in her purse. One of the people Scott robbed had a security camera. He didn't see it."

It was a photo of their man Scott aka Robin Hoodie, as he pulled off his wig and showed his face.

"That's another reason I don't like disguises," was the kid's comment to that.

Peter had also wondered about Neal's dislike for them.

"Too easy to get comfortable?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm," the kid agreed. "It also explains how our girl found him."

Peter considered this. Their suspect must have stolen from the wrong people. Someone wanted him dead for it. That complicated things.

"So, I guess they took measures into their own hands," he mumbled.

"Yeah."

"We'll run that photo through, see which item he stole while wearing this wig." The kid was still holding the photo of the other kid. "What do you think of him?"

"He's a kid having the time of his life. He's impulsive, arrogant, and has no idea how deeply in over his head he is." Neal looked at him, but Peter did not dare to say what he was thinking. The kid got it anyway. "Okay, fine. He bears a cursory resemblance to me."

"Think can we bring him back from the dark side?"

"It's hard to do."

"I wonder what would've happened if I'd have caught you earlier." Peter had sometimes blamed himself for not getting Neal faster when it was still time. His pet convict now looked at him.

"It wouldn't have made a difference, Peter." It was not what he had expected at all. "The con is a rush," Neal explained. "It's an addiction. And you need to hit rock bottom before you can change."

"When did you hit bottom?"

"I never said I did."

Peter stared. Of all that had happened in Neal's life, Peter thought that… Yes, what had he thought? That if he had the treasure and was still here, that he had left a life of crime behind him and now wanted nothing but to serve his time and live as a lawful citizen?

The kid has been so dedicated to his job at the FBI that he had almost forgotten how he had been certain that Neal stole the treasure on the sub. Was that just an act?

There was a vain hope that the kid just joked with him, not just caring to tell. He had not said he hit bottom, but neither had he said that he did not have.

"Neal," Peter started. "Can you honestly say you haven't changed since we started working together?"

Neal returned the photo.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, Peter."

And by that, he left.

"What do you think of him?" Peter asked.

Neal kept his eyes on the kid in the photo.

"He's a kid having the time of his life," he said. "He's impulsive, arrogant, and has no idea how deeply in over his head he is." He saw Peter's face. To his credit, he did not say it, but Neal had a pretty clear guess of what Peter had thought Neal had been when he was chasing him. "Okay, fine. He bears a cursory resemblance to me."

Though, as far as he knew, no one had hired an assassin to kill him yet.

"Think can we bring him back from the dark side?" Peter asked. So typical for an FBI agent to see it as a dark side. Killing people was a dark side.

"It's hard to do."

"I wonder what would've happened if I'd have caught you earlier."

Neal saw himself getting cuffed by Peter that first time when they met at the bank. What kind of person was he then?

"It wouldn't have made a difference, Peter. The con is a rush. It's an addiction." He had never thought much about that before. "And you need to hit rock bottom before you can change." At least, that was what counted for people addicted, from what he had heard.

"When did you hit bottom?" Peter asked.

"I never said I did."

Peter had said he missed the challenge of chasing him. He missed the challenge of being chased. He missed that life badly sometimes. A life with the treasure would not give it back to him. It would only give him another life.

"Neal," Peter said. "Can you honestly say you haven't changed since we started working together?"

Peter had such high hopes for him. But he was a con-man. Nothing could ever change that. He loved to work with Peter, but things were more complex than that.

He returned the photo.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, Peter."