The depression came quickly.

After Kate, the only thing Neal wanted was some peace and quiet, some way to quiet the thoughts that racked his mind at every moment. The reminder of what happened to her, the torture she must have went through in the moments before she died. How it was all his fault.

Neal climbed within himself. He spent more time alone, less time with his friends. He needed time with himself, he didn't need them. He didn't need anyone. He just needed to forget.

A sleeping pill here, a drink there. He was quickly falling into a routine of misery, a routine of self-loathing, the kind that could only be remedied by climbing within oneself and doing some serious soul-searching. But Neal just didn't have the energy.

Neal was tense, always anxious, always restless. He needed something, he needed to do something. Something, anything, to take his mind off of everything. A way out, a way in, a way back. Anything at all.

Neal was tired. He was tired of others getting hurt because of him.

Neal was depressed. He was going through a phase where all he could think about was how little he mattered. People, things, places. He had nothing to be proud of. He was 35 and alone.

Neal was close to the edge. The tension just built up inside of him, bubbling up, straining to be released. He was one step away from a total meltdown.

Peter noticed. He noticed Neal coming in with shadows under his eyes, his hair messy, his clothes barely hanging on to his thin frame. He noticed the mischievous light leaving Neal's eyes. His goofy jokes becoming more sparse. And he was worried.

So when Peter had told him about a high-stakes gambling ring underneath a local club, he asked for Neal to come with him. Maybe a good case would get him back to normal. That's when Neal met her. Hadley.

She was stunning, to say the least. Long, curly red hair that fell around her face just so. Perfect, green eyes that sat atop lovely cheekbones. Full lips. Neal's kind of woman. She worked there. "How can I help you, gentlemen?"

Peter flashed his badge. "Agent Burke, FBI. This is my consultant, Mr. Caffrey."

"Does Mr. Caffrey have a first name?" Neal tried to smile.

"Neal."

She ignored his comment, and turned around, walking them towards the back. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Caffrey."

He stopped, in stunned silence for a moment, and Peter glanced over at him, grinning. Someone immune to Neal's charms. Peter considered this a blessing. At first.

In the back, she sat atop the desk, her long legs folded in front of her.

"Why do you care what goes on in my basement?"

"We have reason to believe a suspect in our current case is a player at your games. We're not interested in you, we just want him."

She sighed, glancing away as she spoke. "Every time someone like you comes in here, I get reamed." She looked back at them. "I can't have you going in there. Bad for business."

"Strictly undercover operations. No one has to know."

"So why are you asking my permission?"

Peter hesitated. "We need you to shut down for a while. Give him an opportunity to find a new club, of our choosing. One we set up."

"Why can't you just catch him in our club?"

"Because then we'd have to take you down with him." Peter shrugged. "With your cooperation, we're turning a cheek. No cooperation, you're done."

"Except that's what you want anyway, for me to shut down for a time."

"Yes."

She groaned, letting a fist drop to a desk and tilting back her head for a moment. "There's no way around this, is there?"

Neal spoke up. "Not really."

She glanced at him. "Did I ask you?"

Neal shrugged. "It was implied."

"It wasn't."

Neal raised his eyebrows, then closed his mouth. He heard Peter scoff next to him. He didn't look over, but he wanted to deck him.

When they were done, and she had agreed, she stopped Neal before they left.

"Can I talk to this one alone?" Peter rolled his eyes and walked outside. "Stay. You look tense. Let me show you something."

Neal stopped, glancing out the window at Peter. "While I appreciate the offer, I do have work to do."

She handed him a card. "Then come back. Tonight. 10 PM. We'll have fun."

He looked down at it, unenthusiastic. "I'll see you at ten."

Once outside, Peter gave Neal the up-down. "What'd she want?"

"She wants me to come back tonight. I figure I'll check it out."

"It's barely within your radius."

"Then I guess I'm in the clear." Peter sighed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What's going on?!" Neal had to yell to be heard as the bass thumped and the crowd got louder. He had entered the club, looking around, before Hadley appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his hand.

"Come with me."

The back room was suddenly full. A group of people. Bongs, lines, pipes, pills, needles. A veritable potpourri of illegal substances, and a veritable potpourri of people taking them.

"What's going on with you?" she shouted over the music. Neal just stared at the scene before him, shaking his head.

"I need… I need to go." She grabbed his arm.

"Don't go. Stay." She slid down to his hand. "Dance with me."

She let go, taking his other hand and pulling at him. He looked down at his open palm. A pill had been dropped onto it. He looked up at her. She winked at him. "You'll forget it all."

He wondered how she knew that. He threw the pill back, swallowing.

And he began to soar.