"So, I'm going in, right?"

Peter gave Neal an incredulous look. "You must be joking. Jones knew you, even as Caffrey. I'll bet he knows you're working for the FBI, too."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, probably. But I won't go in undercover; I'll just go as good ole Neal Caffrey."

The two were gathered in Peter's hotel room, the morning's light spilling in through the window. It had only been a few hours since their plan had failed, and it was way too early for Peter to be dealing with Neal's bullheadedness. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're acting on emotion, Neal. I told you what would happen if you let it affect your decisions."

Neal crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. "I'm not. What other choice do we have? Jones won't fall for another trap, and he'll be on high alert for any other angle we try now that he knows we're after him."

"You know that's too dangerous. There's too many variables; we don't have nearly enough information. How do you know he'll even meet up with you?"

Neal smirked. "Call it instinct."

Peter snorted. "Yeah, I'm not going to bet your safety on 'instinct'. You're not thinking straight."

Neal ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Peter, I'm not suggesting this so I can get revenge or whatever you think this is. I just don't want anyone else to get hurt like my family did. This guy's a killer."

Peter's face softened. "I know, Neal, but that's the reality of this job. We can't just run in half-cocked like that. I know you're used to just working on your own, but now it's not just your ass on the line. We have other agents who risk their lives on these stings, and I can't clear a risky operation with that hanging over my head."

Neal winked at Peter. "Oh, I see, so if someone went off on their own, unauthorized, instead of with other agents, it'd be okay?"

Peter covered his face with his hands. "Of course that's what you'd get out of this conversation. No, I'm not trying to imply anything. We just have to wait and figure out a better plan."

Neal furrowed his brow. "Fine, you're the agent, I'm just your humble CI. If you don't mind, I'm going to take some of these files to my room."

Peter sighed as Neal walked by him and grabbed a pile of documents. "I'm sorry. I know this must be hard for you, but we have to be smart about this."

"I know, I get it. FBI, protocol, risks are too risky, it makes sense. I'll see you later," he called over his shoulder, shutting the door before Peter had the chance to answer.

oOoOoOo

Neal sat on his hotel room's bed, paying no mind to the documents strewn around him. His sole focus was the phone in his hand and the message it displayed.

'Polk Street. 12:00 tonight.'

The number was random and not in Neal's contacts, but the ex-con knew that any attempts to trace it would just lead to a burner phone. It had to be Jones. Neal bit his lip, honestly conflicted. The address was within his temporary radius, so he didn't have to worry on that front. But, he knew Peter would never let him go to the meeting if he told him about it. However, without backup, it would be impossible to arrest Jones.

Neal drove the heels of his hands into his eyes. The morality Peter was trying (and succeeding) to instill in him was troublesome. He shook off the guilt at the possibility of lying to Peter and approached the situation the way he would have years ago.

He tells Peter? He doesn't go to the meeting, Jones doesn't get arrested. He doesn't tell Peter? He goes to the meeting, Jones still doesn't get arrested. But, Neal can get answers to the questions that have been plaguing him since they first got this case.

He needed answers. He needed them like he needed air.

Neal wasn't fooling himself. He knew he was letting his emotions dictate his actions, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was stupid, selfish, and completely irresistible. He couldn't turn down this meeting, and Jones knew it.

So, hours later, Neal found himself slipping out of the hotel into the cool night, guilt barely felt as it was overshadowed by anger and adrenaline. His heart raced in anticipation at confronting his parents murderer, and his mind raced as he struggled to get ahold of his emotions. Unleashing his rage wouldn't get him any information from Jones.

He walked down Polk Street, freezing when he heard the scuffle of footsteps in an alleyway. Senses on high alert, he crept up to the alley's entrance. He took a deep breath to center himself and shook the tension out of his shoulders, sauntering into the alley and coming face to face with Jones.

"Ah, Neal!" Jones exclaimed, spreading his arms out in a grand gesture. "How nice of you to join me! I was worried you'd stand me up."

"Why did you murder my parents?" Neal ground out, barely keeping his hands from curling into fists.

"Wow, straight to the point. I thought con artists were supposed to be charming. No fun. Anyway, I guess you deserve to know the truth. I don't just kill people senselessly. Killing your father was necessary, you see? Your poor mother was just collateral damage. I'm truly sorry for her death."

Neal took a deep breath. "And why was it so necessary?"

Jones pouted. "First you skip the foreplay, and then you rush my grand reveal. Manners, Danny; you have no manners. To answer your question, your father was informing to the FBI; like father, like son, they say."

Neal's face twisted into a scowl. "Bullshit."

Jones laughed. "Geez, such vulgar language. I'm glad I can shake the great Caffrey's composure; that's some bragging rights. I'm not asking you to take my word for it- you can do your own research. Just thought I'd kindly point you in the right direction." With that, Jones turned disappeared into the darkness before Neal could think of another question to ask.

Now alone in the alley, Neal released the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. He clasped his hands together to stop the shaking as a shiver snaked down his spine.

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, fumbling a few times before managing to hit the right numbers. "Mozzie?" he asked when the other answered. "I'm going to ask you to do something, and you're going to hate me for it."

oOoOoOo

When Neal answered his phone the next day, he was met with Mozzie yelling in his ear.

"You are the worst friend ever. You ask me to hack the FBI and of course I can't say no because you ask me to look up your dad. That's some next level manipulation, even from you."

Neal sighed. "Moz, I wouldn't have asked you if it wasn't really important."

"I know, glad to help and all, I really am, but I'm just thinking about all of the technology I'll have to destroy to erase any trace of the FBI. Ugh, it's almost as bad as going into the actual office. I'll definitely have to burn the laptop I used, maybe even the router too-"

"What did you find?" Neal interrupted Mozzie's rambling.

"... I'm sorry, mon frere. Jones's story checks out."

Neal dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. After a moment, he composed himself. "Can you check the log of who's viewed the document?"

"Yeah. Not many, most from years ago when the.. accident first happened. But..."

"But what?"

"It says Agent Peter Burke viewed the document three days ago. He found out your dad was an informant, but he didn't tell you."

"...Moz, how soon can you get to Missouri?"