"What have you got?" Peter questioned as soon as he was walking through the door of the conference room with a vigilant Mozzie in tow.

Jones looked up from the computer screen that he and Diana were looking at. "Caffrey's tracking data shows him walking towards the bureau but then there's about a four minute pause where he stops, then he starts walking back in the direction he came."

"What's at the location where his anklet was cut?" Hughes asked, keeping his eye on Mozzie.

"Dan's Bar." Diana answered.

"Ha!" Mozzie offered, rocking forward on his feet. "Neal would never go there."

Hughes, Diana and Jones turned their attention towards Peter for conformation. The agent nodded. "Yeah, he's right. Neal wouldn't set foot in there. They don't have wine and a bunch of cops go there."

Hughes straightened. "You said this happened around twelve-thirty?"

"Yes, sir." Jones replied.

"I sent Agent Harris out for some fresh air around that time. Maybe he saw him. Talk to him and see if you can get any leads. Get all of the surveillance videos for the next three blocks as well. Let's find Caffrey and Hernandez before anyone else turns up missing."

Neal stumbled as he was blindly led down a staircase. He heard the creak of old stairs underneath his feet accompanied by the heavy breathing of his captor. A shiver wracked his frame when a burst of cold air attacked his skin.

He came to the end of the stairs and was caught off guard by being shoved down onto the ground. He felt his cheekbone collide with a hard edge and a muffled scream was ripped from his throat. He heard the man take an odd intake of air and something that sounded like metal being dragged across the ground while he laid against the hard, cold concrete floor trying to work through the pain in his face.

He suddenly realized that the object being dragged across the room was shackles when they were wrapped around his ankles and the handcuffs around his wrists were replaced with the better restraint. He laid unmoving, like a rag doll knowing that he couldn't do anything with a black bag over his head except cause more trouble for himself if he tried to resist. He let the man maneuver him so that he was sitting up and leaning against what he guessed was the wall. He found his assumptions were correct when the bag was yanked off his head and he was met with the cold surroundings of an old cellar.

However, he was surprised to see Samuel Hernandez standing over him.

"Okay, we see Neal stop here." Diana said as she paused the surveillance video on the TV screen. "He waits a second," Diana pushed the play button on the remote, "then he turns around and begins talking with someone out of the frame."

"Whoever it is, Neal seems to act friendly towards them during their conversation, but we can't tell what he is saying." Jones supplied.

"Neal nods his head here and begins walking back in the direction he came, most likely going somewhere with whoever he was talking to." Diana picked up. "The next surveillance tape we have is from Dan's, but Neal never appears on any of them including the ones covering the entrances, which means he never went in."

"We checked the alleyway beside the bar, but we didn't find anything except Neal's anklet." Jones said as he slid the plastic bag containing the tracking device across the table to Peter. "Trace didn't find anything on it. No prints...or blood."

Peter sucked in a deep breath and ran a hand across his face.

"Did you get ahold of Agent Harris?" Diana asked, taking back the plastic bag that made their situation become too real.

Peter shook his head. "No, his phone went straight to voicemail."

"Well, you can't blame the guy for having his phone turned off." Jones replied with sympathy lacing his voice.

Peter suddenly frowned at him. "What?"

"What?" Jones repeated. "I'm just saying he probably doesn't want to be bothered. His wife was just murdered."

"Yeah, but he wanted to be kept up to date with the case. He wanted me to call him if we got anything." Hughes replied.

"Exactly. He would keep his phone on." Peter agreed.

"So now not only are we trying to find Caffrey and Hernandez, but Agent Harris, too?" Diana questioned.

Hughes ran a hand over his face. "It looks that way, Agent."

"Wait." Peter called. "Go back to the first video where Neal is talking."

Diana pulled the video up and pushed play. "What are we looking for?"

Peter stared at the screen for a few minutes until he pointed to the bottom right corner. "There. Stop."

Agent Berrigan paused it on the frame where a man's left hand appeared to be tossing something white on the ground.

"What is that?" She asked, before answering her own question. "A cigarette."

Peter nodded.

"So? We have a left-handed smoker," Jones replied, before squinting at the still frame. "who has a wedding ring on. That really narrows it down." Jones finished a bit sarcastically.

"Actually, Agent, it might." Hughes replied. "That could be Agent Harris."

Neal squinted up at Sam as he gently touched his cheekbone and winced.

"Damn, I really have to convince Peter to put me in self-defense training. You're what? Twenty-one, if I remember correctly."

The young man just stared down at him.

"Hmm. A mute criminal informant. How does that work?" Neal questioned as he tried to grin cockily, but it turned into a wince when his bruising and swelling cheek protested at the movement. Neal raised his brow and nodded when he was met with silence.

"Right. I know a few agents who would say I could learn a thing or two from you, but murder isn't one of them."

"Murder?" The kid finally spoke with a disbelieving air to his voice.

"Yes, that's what they call it when you shoot an FBI agent's wife and steal their family heirlooms."

"I didn't-"

"Where's Agent Harris?" Neal cut him off. "What did you do with him?"

"You know, I heard you were quick on the uptake but I'm starting to wonder if that's just a rumor." Another voice replied, from a dark corner of the cellar. Suddenly, a man stepped out of the shadows and Neal felt his stomach twist while he began pulling at his shackles.

"Burke." Peter answered his phone after one ring, while he sped down the road weaving through traffic. The caller must have heard the siren because the first thing they offered was, "Are you in hot pursuit? Did you find Neal?"

"Not yet, Mozzie, but we got a lead. What did you find on your end?"

"Oh, well, I talked to some of Sam's... acquaintances. They haven't seen or heard from him since the morning before the murder, but they claim that Sam wasn't capable of killing Harris' wife. Apparently, he had a good relationship with the both of them."

"Yeah, well the claims of acquaintances doesn't really count for much Mozzie." Peter replied with frustration as he took a sharp turn.

"Yeah, but I think it does when Sam's relationship with Harris' wife was bit closer than the agent would have liked."

"They were having an affair?"

A beep on his phone was his only answer, telling him he had just lost reception.

"Truth, rumor, is there a difference?" Neal asked, trying to remain unfazed by the darkening situation he was in.

"That mouth of yours Caffrey, it gets you into a lot of trouble."

"And out of it too." Neal countered, before a hand slapped him across the face making sure to hit his already bruised cheek.

"Ah, ha ha ha." Neal tried to laugh through the pain while he shook his head.

"I'm going to do you a favor, Neal. I'm going to help you. Just like I helped Sam here."

Neal glanced at the boy cowering behind the agent, before looking back up at Agent Harris.

"I really-" But his protests were cut short by the sound of a doorbell upstairs. Agent Harris froze before turning to Sam and motioning towards him. The kid stepped forward and placed a gag in Neal's mouth and tied it behind his neck, before Agent Harris grabbed Neal's jaw with a crushing grip.

"You make one sound, I'll make sure you'll never be able to use that silver tongue of yours again. You understand me?" The man let go of Neal's face and turned toward his consultant.

Neal watched the silent exchange in confusion as Sam sat down against the wall opposite Neal while Harris went upstairs.

Peter had cut the siren when he made it a few miles from where an agent from the Homicide division said that he might find Agent Harris. He turned into the long driveway and and noticed the small, old house on the outskirts of the city. He parked a little farther away from the house than normal so John wouldn't hear him pull up.

"This doesn't really look like a place an FBI agent would stay." Diana spoke up from the passenger seat as they stared at the house.

"Well, Agent Bradley said this place belonged to John's dad. When his old man passed away, he left John the house." Peter replied, climbing out from the car. "Listen, I want you to hang back on this. Let's make this look as less official as possible."

Diana detected the edge in Peter's voice. "You really think he is in on it?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't know. I just want to play it safe. We have to find Neal. Something just..."

"I got it. The gut is speaking." Diana teased, as she split up from Peter to hide by the side of the house to remain unseen. "If you're not out in ten minutes. I'm coming in and calling in the calvary."

Peter smiled at her and nodded while walking towards the front of the house. "Make it twenty."

He saw Diana roll her eyes and disappear around the corner. He quietly walked up the steps and peered into the closest window before ringing the doorbell. Two minutes passed and just as Peter raised his hand to press it again, the door swung open and revealed a puffy-eyed Agent Harris.

"A-Agent Burke?" John stuttered with a sniffle and wiped at his nose. "Did you find something?"

Peter stared at the man with sympathy and started to regret bothering the man, but knew he had to find Neal.

"Um, no. Not exactly, John." Peter answered and waited to be invited in. However, Agent Harris just stood there. "May I come in?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure." John replied as he stepped back and held the door for Peter. "You're here by yourself? What uh, what brings you by if you haven't found anything? How'd you find this place anyway?"

"Oh, Agent Bradley said we might find you up here. I tried calling you a few times, but I couldn't reach you." Peter said as he followed John into the kitchen while taking the opportunity to check out the house that came into his field of view.

"Yeah, sorry about that. There's really bad reception out here. One thing I hate about this place, but I still can't seem to get rid of it. Sentimental thing, I guess." John stated while he poured a cup of coffee and offered Peter one. Peter declined.

"So what is it I can do for you Agent Burke?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, John, but I need to ask you if you spoke to Neal Caffrey today."

"Neal Caffrey?" John questioned as he turned his head in thought. "That's you're uh..." He trailed off and swallowed pathetically, "consultant isn't it?"

Peter took a regretful breath. He couldn't imagine what this man was going through. He didn't want too. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but I need to know if you spoke to him around twelve-thirty today."

"Why? Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"He's missing. His anklet was cut about three blocks from the bureau." Peter supplied, letting a little concern coat his voice.

John glanced up at him. "And you don't think he cut it himself and ran?"

"No. We have surveillance of him just before it was cut. He was headed to the bureau, but stopped to talk to somebody and then walked back in the direction he came. He didn't run." Peter responded making sure John knew that he didn't suspect Neal disappeared on his own.

"Oh. Well...yeah I talked to him while I was out having a smoke. In fact, that's probably me he's talking to on the video you have."

"What did you two talk about?"

John shook his head. "I just asked him if he knew anything about the case, because I knew you were working on it so I figured he might. He told me he wasn't on it and that he was supposed to work from home today, but was coming back to offer help. I told him that I appreciated it, but that it was probably best if he followed orders since the agency is a bit uptight today. Hughes even threatened to have me escorted home." He offered a laugh that was very forced.

Peter pretended to smile. "And he just...listened to you? Just turned around and left?"

"Yeah. Hey, I couldn't believe it either. Not with his reputation."

"And that's the last thing you said? The last time you saw him?"

"Yeah, Peter. I'm sorry. I wish I could be more help. Is this connected with... Michelle's case?" John asked, getting choked up again at the mention of his wife's name.

"Not sure, but...we're still working on it."

John nodded. "Well, I hope you find him, but if that's all I would like to have some privacy if you don't mind, Peter."

"Sure." Peter complied, before making his way to the door only to be stopped by a tapping sound coming from the floor. He listened to it then turned towards John who suddenly looked more uncomfortable than before.

"Rats." The man offered. "They love that old cellar down there. Another thing I can't stand about this place. M-Michelle has been...had been begging me to get an exterminator out here. Just, uh...haven't found the time."

"Yeah. My grandfather had a cellar in his house. He always kept some interesting things down there, you know...like memories and secret hobbies, but he had a rat problem too. What's down in that cellar?"

John shook his head slowly and frowned while shrugging his shoulders. "Nothing except old junk and rats apparently. Would you like to see it?"

Peter hesitated, taking a moment to look out the window for Diana. He didn't see her.

"Sure."

Neal sat in a daze in the dark cellar. He kept trying to swallow his thickening saliva to get rid of the horrible taste in his mouth from the gag. He was momentarily distracted from his efforts when he heard Agent Harris open the front door and say 'Agent Burke'. Neal felt his shallow breaths deepen with relief but, suddenly found them shallow again in fear for Peter. He desperately struggled to send messages to his numbing legs and arms, but whatever the gag was coated with made it almost impossible for him to move. He sagged against the brick wall and searched the floor around him. He spotted a piece of chipped brick laying a few inches from his thigh and willed himself to move. He had to pull against the shackles causing the metal to dig into his skin, but he eventually grabbed the small piece of brick. He barely found the energy or muscle strength to throw it at the ceiling to get Peter's attention, but he managed.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Sam's fearful voice filtered across the room. "S-stop. Don't do that."

Neal wearily rolled his head along the wall to glance at the kid before tossing the piece a few more times until he heard Peter question John about the cellar. He let relief wash over him knowing Peter had caught on, but felt fear grip his heart when Agent Harris offered to bring him down and Peter agreed.

Peter knew he had made a mistake when John indicated for him to go down the stairs first, but the realization came to late. A pain exploded in the back of his head and he found himself tumbling down the last few steps. He came to a stop on the floor and laid there in a daze. It wasn't until he felt hands pull him up that he started to resist, but it was no use because now he found that it was two against one. He tried to shake his head to clear his vision when he felt something cold and heavy wrap around his wrists.

"No." He protested and tugged at the restraint. He felt one set of hands leave him. "John, don't do this."

"Be quiet." A soft, shaky voice begged of him, as he locked Peter's shackles.

"W-what?" Peter questioned, blinking frantically to clear his vision. His sight returned to normal just in time to see Sam kneeling beside him and Agent Harris bend down next to a limp body and unlock the shackles around the person's ankles. The pain in Peter's head was made worse by the sickening feeling that overtook him when John stood up and snaked an arm around the person's chest and began to pull him towards another room in the cellar.

He tried to scramble forward despite the restraints keeping him from crossing the room. The metal dug into wrists but he didn't care. The pain was nothing compared to watching a conscious, yet seemingly paralyzed Neal Caffrey being dragged away from him with nothing but fear swimming in his piercing blue eyes.

"Wait!" Peter screamed, as he tore his gaze away from Neal's haunting face. "John, please. If...if you're going to kill us...kill me first."

Peter had to swallowed hard when the fear in Neal's eyes became too much and threatened to pour out because it had no where else to go in Neal's drug induced paralyzed body. The fear couldn't furrow his brow or pull at the lines around the younger man's mouth. It couldn't force Neal to lock his jaw or clench his fists until his skin turned white. It couldn't make Neal fight for his life, but Peter could fight for him. "Take me first."

John stood stock still for a few seconds, before turning to Sam.

"Lock this one back up."

Neal's arms were chained together in a lock that could be undone with a few twists of his slim fingers, but not yet. His left ankle twitched with the weight of the shackles that replaced his tracking anklet when the sound of a muffled conversation filled the cellar. The muscles in his shoulders tensed while his back ached, but he remained where he was only because he had to.

"Tell me, Agent Burke, was it worth it to make such a fuss over that pathetic felon?" The snarl was muffled by the closed door to the room behind him. Neal heard what he put down in his mind as an airy laugh, but was probably a gasp. "Guess we will find out won't we?"

The lock on the door clicked and the hinges groaned as the door was pulled open. Footsteps were coming up behind him and he heard the clang of shackles that weren't against his own skin cling together. Peter was shoved down in the chair in front of him, a table in between them. With unmoving, unblinking eyes he watched the man fix the lock back around Peter's wrists and secure them to the table but leave the agent's ankles free. His own left ankle twitched again.

The man that had been his company for the past few hours walked over to him and fingered the chains around his wrists. "You see Peter, you won't need a tracking anklet for this kid anymore. It's all up here." He supplied casually around the table as if the three of them were old friends and having a drink, while he pointed to Neal's head.

"Once you get it through, once you engrave it in their pathetic little minds that they can't get away, that they can't screw you over, they won't even try because they know they are just a lonely little deer in a field of hunters."

"John..." Peter tried, but was cut off.

"You see, Peter, I'm doing you a favor. I was just like you, a good agent trying to do the right thing, trying to give out second chances, but it isn't our job to give them! So I'm taking them back! I'm helping you!"

"John, this isn't right."

"I'm teaching them!" John yelled back as he snaked an arm around the consultant's neck. Neal didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. "And you're boy here...he's a quick learner. Sam was too." The man dangerously waved the gun over where Sam obediently say in the corner with his fearful mind being the only restraint keeping him there.

"Let Neal go." Peter growled.

"Peter." The man sighed. "I know it's hard, but you'll thank me in the end. I won't give him the chance to do to you what Sam over there did to me. Sure, you gotta be a little ruff with them at first, but it starts to click real fast."

"John, this has to stop."

"Be quiet!" The man yelled back tightening his hold around Neal's neck.

Peter swallowed and shut his mouth, more for Neal's sake rather than obeying out of fear. Peter glanced at Neal who still sat in the chair like a statue and failed to catch the younger man's eye.

"You know I wonder just how much you and this pathetic little criminal mean to the bureau, Agent Burke." Agent Harris removed his arm from around Neal's neck and moved to stand beside the table facing Peter with his back towards the consultant.

Peter stared up at John trying to gauge what the man was going to do as he sat completely still. He didn't have to wonder for long because John placed the barrel of his gun that John had taken away from him earlier, against his forehead.

"John."

The sound of Peter's blood pumping was rushing in his ears drowning out all other sound, but suddenly there was another sound filtering through his ears, a soft clinking sound, the sound that shackles make when they moved. He tore his gaze away from the gun against his head to glance at Neal, but the younger man was blur.

For a split second he was frozen just like Neal had been ever since he had found him. He watched in a panic, as Neal suddenly jumped up from the table and threw his arms that were still shackled together, but now unlocked from the table around John's neck and pulled backwards.

Neal's ankles were still locked to the floor, preventing him from going anywhere but down. Both men fell backwards, Neal landed hard on his back with John landing on top of him. Peter heard the air rush out of Neal's lungs, but it didn't stop him from cutting off the supply to John's. Neal pulled the chains that were around his wrists harder across John's neck while the agent frantically kicked and punched to get loose.

"P'ter!" Neal wheezed and pulled harder. "Run!"

Suddenly, Peter's brain was able to send messages to his muscles and the agent fiercely tugged on the chains around his wrists, but he couldn't get them loose. He glanced back at Neal, whose wheezing was getting worse. John was still struggling against the chokehold Neal had on him and suddenly he had the upper hand when Neal's muscles seemed to fight against him and leave him paralyzed once more. John drove his elbow into Neal's left ribcage, leaving Neal shaking on the floor trying his best to breathe.

Peter felt fury roll through him before he stood up and began kicking at the leg of the table. John twisted out of the chains that were now loosely wrapped around his neck as Neal struggled to draw in a breath. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see John clambering for the gun and with one last forceful kick the table leg gave way and Peter was able to slip his chains from it although they still remained cuffed together. He rushed Agent Harris and tackled him to the ground before the man could get a good grip on the gun. The weapon clattered to the floor while Peter and John fought with each other. It would have been an easy fight for Peter if his hands hadn't been locked together. This created a weakness that John sought out after and suddenly had the upper hand.

John landed a hard punch to Peter's stomach that had him doubling over. Before Peter could straighten up, John punched him again. And again. And again, until he was back on the floor. Agent Harris now stood over him, his fist raised to deliver a sickening punch to Peter's face, but before he could land the blow the sound of a gun went off.

Diana checked her watch. Thirteen minutes. She sighed and rolled her eyes. She bent at the knees and walked over to one of the windows and peered in. She saw Peter and Agent Harris leaving the kitchen and appeared to be heading for the door. She released a relieved breath. However, it was cut short when she saw Peter stop and turn around with a curious expression on his face. "Oh no, Boss. I know that look." She whispered to herself before ducking out of sight of the window when she noticed John turn a little. She squatted down underneath the window and waited for the sound of the front door opening, but minutes passed and she had yet to hear it. She slowly raised up and peered into the window again, but she didn't see Peter or John. She moved to the next window, but still didn't seem them. Diana glanced at her watch again. Eighteen minutes. "To hell with waiting twenty minutes."

Peter's body jerked at the unexpected sound of a gun going off, but found himself gulping for air when he didn't experience any pain. He heard John give a cry of pain and he turned to see Sam standing shakily in the corner holding the gun. Peter struggled to get to his feet with a wince and held up his hands in surrender to Sam while he glanced at Neal who still laid on the ground wheezing softly and John who had passed out from blood loss after being shot in the shoulder.

"Easy, kid." Peter coaxed Sam as he took a step forward. "Hand me the gun."

Sam readjusted his grip and took a step back while drawing up in fear.

"Okay. Okay." Peter replied gently. "Listen to me, I'm not going to hurt you. Okay? Just put the gun down."

"N-no!" Sam shakily countered, now holding the gun with both hands to steady his shot. "I-I'm not going to prison. I didn't kill Mrs. Harris! I didn't kill her!"

"FBI! Put the weapon down!" Diana shouted running down the stairs and coming to a stop beside Peter. "Put it down now!"

Peter swallowed and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face when he heard Diana mumble, "Twenty minutes my ass."

The gun dropped with a clatter and Diana immediately moved forward to cuff Sam's hands behind his back. Peter rushed to Neal's side who had yet to really move except a few twitches in his legs and hands that Peter had caught out of the corner of his eye.

"Neal? Neal, can you hear me?" Peter asked, taking one of the younger man's hands in his while he checked Neal over for injuries with the other. He felt a few twitches of Neal's fingers in response and met Neal's fearful blue eyes again. He placed a reassuring hand on Neal's head. "Good. It's okay. It's over. You're going to be fine."

"Th-that will wear off." Sam's voice whispered over from where Diana was holding him secure until the back-up she had called in arrived. "H-He will be okay."

"We will leave that for the paramedics to decide, but for your sake you better be right. He still owes me breakfast." Diana threatened. Peter felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips, filing that threat into the back of his mind alongside all of the other sibling-like moments that Diana and Neal had.

Two days later

Peter and Neal walked into Perry's Bake Shop and looked around until they saw a few familiar faces. They saw Jones wave them over and started that way. Peter stayed close to Neal on the short trip across the restaurant just in case the younger man's muscles decided to go against him. The drug that Agent Harris put on Neal's gag had worn off that night at the hospital but the doctor had told Neal when he was discharged the next morning that he would experience side effects for the next couple of days.

They made it to the table with Neal's pride a little bruised because at one point Neal's leg had went numb and he would've fallen if not for Peter steadying him and waiting for the momentary numbness to dissipate. The consultant greeted Jones who sat at the end of the table while dropping lazily into the chair beside Diana. When Peter sat down next to Elizabeth on the other side of the table, Neal greeted her too.

"Somebody is doing significantly better today." Elizabeth smiled, trying to ease Neal's embarrassment from almost falling.

"Yeah, but I was hoping Peter wouldn't catch me so I could talk Perry into giving me a free box of blueberry scones." Neal teased.

"You mean you can con your way into the Royal Navy, but you can't sweet talk your way into a free box of scones from Perry?" Jones countered, causing Peter to take a deep breath and bit his lip.

"I told you, nobody heard him say that!" Peter warned with a frustrated sigh, causing everyone to laugh.

"So...what happened to Agent Harris and Sam?" Neal asked taking a sip of his coffee that the waitress had just brought over.

"Well, it turns out that Agent Harris found out about his wife opening up another bank account under her maiden name and found out she planned on leaving him. Sam stole the heirlooms so he could fence them and get the money for her."

"Why couldn't Mrs. Harris just sell them?" Neal asked.

"She was hoping to leave without saying anything to John. She had...some kind of relationship with Sam. She told him that if he got the money from the heirlooms that he could run away with her."

"Oh." Neal replied with a grin. "I guess Sam was consulting on a little bit more than just criminal cases."

Peter shook his head. "Yeah, and look where it got him. He's being sent back to prison for burglary and he got his handler sent to prison for murder."

"Hmm." Neal grinned at him even more.

"Don't." Peter replied shaking his head. "It's a wonder that I'm not in prison for murder with all the crap you've put me through."

Another laugh was shared around the table, before Diana spoke up. "Yeah, but really she was just setting him up to take the fall if Agent Harris found out."

"Guess she didn't plan on John going crazy." Elizabeth stated with a little surprise to her voice. "But I feel bad for Sam though. It seems like Harris really did a number on him. I mean, what he did was wrong, but that doesn't give Harris the right to practically torture him."

"Yeah-" Peter began, but was cut off by Neal's stomach growling loudly announcing just how hungary the young man was. Neal grinned when Diana passed him a menu, but handed it back to her.

"I want to skip to dessert."

Diana rolled her eyes and gently shoved him. "Well, come on." She said trying to put annoyance in her tone although everyone knew better, and stood up while gently helping Neal to stand. "Let's go see about getting you your scones you love so much."

"Scones?" Neal asked, with a hopeful tone. "Meaning more than one?"

Diana rolled her eyes. "If my debit card is still in my wallet when we get to the counter, I'll consider it. Jones? You want one?"

"Yeah! I love scones!" The agent replied standing up from the table and following them.

Peter and Elizabeth laughed at this and watched them slowly walk across the restaurant to the glass case that showcased each kind of scone Perry had.

"Siblings." Elizabeth said as they watched Jones and Neal tease Diana, before turning their attention back to the table to look over the menu.

A few minutes passed, before both were startled by a white box being dropped onto the table and Neal lazily falling into his chair again. He grinned at them around the scone he was eating.

"I see you got your box of scones." Elizabeth stated with a smile.

"Mmm hmm." Neal nodded while taking another bite and dramatically savoring it.

"Did you pay for those?" Peter asked and raised an eyebrow.

Neal shook his head.

"Neal." Peter warned.

"Relax, Peter." Neal defended. "Diana paid for them."

Elizabeth made an 'oh' expression, but Peter knew better. "Does she know she paid for them?"

Neal didn't have time to reply, because Diana walked up to the table and cut him off.

"Neal!"

"Hey," The consultant held up his hands in defense then quickly grabbed his box of scones so Diana wouldn't take them away. "You just said as long as your debit card was in your wallet until we got to the counter. I lifted it after!"

"He's right, you know." A new voice came to his defense and appeared beside Diana eating a scone.

"He might be, but I never said I would buy one for you Mozzie."

"Yeah, but you never said you wouldn't either." Jones supplied around the scone in his mouth.

"You're taking their side?" She asked.

"What? They bribed me with scones."

END

AN: Okay, this ended a bit different than I had planned and a little shorter, but I realized that if I drug this out I would probably abandon Dream A Little Dream... so I figured that I would just wrap this up. Hope you still enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!