June's mansion. Sunday evening. June 20, 2004.

Neal expected the mansion to be dark and empty when he got home. His landlady, June Ellington, was spending the weekend with her oldest daughter's family in Philadelphia. At least that was the plan, but Neal saw her in the sitting room, a box of tissues by her side. This didn't look good.

"June?" he asked.

She looked up at him, blinking tears out of her eyes. "Oh, my. Neal, what time is it?"

"About 8:00. Do you need anything?"

She shook her head.

"Are you sure? Have you eaten?"

"I'm fine, Neal. I ate on the plane."

Neal perched on the arm of the sofa across from her. It was a casual pose, so she wouldn't think he was worried. "Didn't you say you were flying back on Monday?"

"I was. Neal, do you know what today is?"

"It's Father's Day," he said. When June had told him about her travel plans, it was before Elizabeth had reminded him. He hadn't connected her trip with the holiday until now. Why had June flown home today instead of spending it with family?

"The first Father's Day since Byron died. I keep hitting those firsts. First birthday, first Memorial Day, and now first Father's Day. They break my heart. But my daughter... Well she pulled me aside this morning and said I needed to let them be happy. My granddaughter Cindy and her father, they're still alive and deserve to celebrate without being drawn down by my sorrow."

"But–" Neal interjected, only to be interrupted.

"She's right. She said I deserve to mourn, but not everything can be about Byron. Today needed to be about Cindy and Paul. I stayed out of their way and watched them for a while. But I was too blue to join them, so I came home." She smiled sadly at Neal. "And what did you do today?"

"I was with Peter and Elizabeth. We took Peter to a Yankees game. I wish you'd called me. You didn't have to be here alone."

"Yes, I did. Sometimes the best thing is to be alone and not have to put on act for anyone. Pretending to be happy can be exhausting. Being alone and free to cry is something I need to indulge in more often. I think I tried to rush back into my old life too quickly. I tried to con myself into thinking I was ready." She stood up and hugged Neal. "You're very kind, Neal, but you don't have to worry about me. Go on upstairs."

###

Up in his loft apartment, the conversation with June weighed on Neal. He understood her sadness but chafed at his inability to do anything to help her. And he was still processing everything that had happened with Peter and Elizabeth today. From the playfulness of the afternoon to the poignant memories of his mother that had overtaken him this evening, he felt he'd been on an emotional rollercoaster.

Just as he'd fantasized as a child that his father was honest and dependable like Peter Burke, he'd had daydreams about his ideal mother. Someone who paid attention to him, who enjoyed teaching him instead of having to be enticed into noticing what he was up to. That had certainly been part of the appeal of Chantal, the master safecracker who taught him her trade in Europe a few years ago. Hers was more a big-sister vibe rather than motherly, but she showered Neal with attention when he proved adept at her trade, and she was also a gourmet chef. When he acknowledged a passing interest in cooking, she took him under her wing in the kitchen, too. The dessert recipe he'd used today had been hers. She'd always talked about opening a restaurant eventually. Maybe someday he'd visit her and swap stories about how they'd traded in a life of crime for more legal endeavors. But he wondered if she could ever really leave the life, married to Klaus. Her husband was an extraordinary cat burglar who'd shown no inclination to retire. Klaus was a charming guy, but by the end Neal had suspected that his charm hid a more ruthless nature, one that he couldn't...

And then his phone vibrated. His aunt was calling. She was supposed to be with Joe Burke and his daughters, but this Father's Day seemed to be cursed. Had something gone wrong for her, too? "Noelle?" he answered. "Are things all right with your branch of the Burke family?"

"I think Joe's daughters were as scared of me as I was of them. We were all on our best behavior at first, but we started to show glimpses of our real selves by the end. I have a meeting with the Win-Win board of directors in the morning, so I'm at the airport, waiting for my flight home. I wanted to check in and see how your day went."

"We saw the extras on the DVD you recommended," Neal said.

"I hope you enjoyed it." There was a pause. "Neal, are you still there?"

"Yeah. It's just... I mean, there were all these emotions going on anyway around Father's Day and my lack of decent father figures before I met Peter, and then seeing the video brought on a flood of memories of Mom. It's like I don't even know if I'm happy or sad right now."

"Repressed memories?" Noelle asked, concern in her voice.

"No, nothing like that. Just stuff I haven't thought about in a while. I've been trying to put some of that behind me, especially the parts when she was drinking. Suddenly my head's full of exactly those memories I've been trying to avoid, when I wanted the day to be about Peter and how great it's been to have him in my life. The thing is, I wish you'd given me some warning. It felt like... like an ambush."

"Oh, sweetie, that wasn't what I intended. I knew it might be bittersweet, but you had a support system there. It seemed the ideal opportunity for you to watch that DVD and open up to Peter and Elizabeth about some of the things we'd been discussing in our sessions."

He paced the floor and ran his free hand through his hair. "No. I couldn't do that. It's supposed to be a happy holiday."

She sighed. "It's supposed to be about love and family. Sometimes love causes sadness, even pain, and the people we think of as family can take some of the burden if we let them. Neal, I'm sorry. It sounds like I tried to push you into something you weren't ready to handle. I understand you need time to reflect on everything, so I won't push you to talk tonight. But I want you to promise to call me on Tuesday night. It can be for just five minutes, but you have to call. Will you do that?"

"Sure. Tuesday night."

"Thank you, Neal. I want you to remember that I love you, and that I'll do everything I can to help you."

When the call ended, Neal wished he'd hidden his confusion over the day's events. Now Noelle thought she'd done something wrong. She was worried about him, when she had enough going on in her life. Not just the budding romance with Joe, but also her concerns about Henry. Her own son was God knows where on Father's Day, hunting the father who'd tried to kill him. Compared to that, Neal's issues seemed paltry. Maybe he should have gone ahead and shared his memories about his mother with Peter and Elizabeth. Maybe they would have appreciated having him show his trust like that. Maybe it would have turned something sad into an uplifting experience.

Second guessing himself was never fun, but he consoled himself with the reminder that the Burkes would give him another chance. Next weekend. They could get together again next weekend, and this time he'd get it right.

###

Monday morning Neal felt more like himself, as if he'd recovered from an emotional equivalent of the flu. He had his act together now, and rolled his eyes at his uncertainties of the previous evening. Noelle was right. Instead of suppressing the tidal wave of memories brought on by seeing his mother on the DVD, he should have been open with Peter and Elizabeth about those memories and how they affected him. If he'd done that, he probably would have ended the evening laughing with them about the Baby Bear bit. And he would have remembered to thank Peter. He'd intended to commemorate Father's Day by telling his father figure how grateful he was for the job at the FBI and for the help cramming for his graduate entrance exams. Plus there was the letter of recommendation he'd written to accompany Neal's application to Columbia. The difference Peter had made in his life in the last six months was immeasurable.

He grinned to see Peter wearing the Father's Day gift tie. It really did make that ugly suit look more stylish.

After the morning briefing he asked to talk to Peter. Before the agent could respond to the request, Hughes said that Peter was needed in meetings all morning. He explained that he had information from his trip to D.C. last week that he needed to share with all of the Manhattan team leads and had asked them to clear their calendars for that purpose.

Which meant Neal wasn't going to be able to corner Hughes about the FBI paying for his tuition.

For a couple of hours he stayed busy with Tricia looking at their new case. It was an intellectual property theft, which was rather dry but at least something new to keep his mind occupied. But by 11am it had fallen apart. The more they dug into the allegations, the more it looked like this was a case of jealousy, not theft. "Take an early lunch," Tricia suggested. "I'll see if I can find another case for us."

Returning to his desk, Neal saw a blinking light that indicated voice mail. The caller was Annina Brandel, from the U.S. Marshals' office. She said she wanted to talk. After a quick check in the FBI databases to confirm she was who she claimed, he returned her call. She told him she was free now, and as he had nothing pending he volunteered to head over to the marshals' office to chat with her.

Annina led Neal to a small conference room. It seemed a relatively cheerful place, designed to put potential protected witnesses at ease, but Neal noticed the video equipment near the ceiling. It was very possible that their conversation was being recorded.

He leaned back in his chair, the picture of a calm and relaxed visitor. "What can I do for you, Annina?"

She sat across the table from him and opened a file folder. "You're something of an unusual case, Mr. Caffrey."

"Please, call me Neal."

She nodded. "Neal, you may not realize that most people who enter Witness Protection spend the rest of their lives in the program. You're one of the rare few to check out of the program and successfully reintegrate into a form of their old lives. I'd like to talk about your situation and confirm what we have in our files. It's possible your experiences could be useful to others."

"Sure." Neal pulled the folder toward himself. "Let's see what you've got and I'll let you know if anything's wrong or out of date."

Annina pulled the file folder back, but handed him a copy of one of the documents. "We have your address on Riverside Drive. Is that correct?"

"Yeah, it's..." Neal trailed off as he saw the appraised value of the mansion on the form. "Wait. You don't think I own this place, do you? I rent an apartment on the top floor."

"Yes, we know. And do we have your employment information correct?"

Neal saw he was listed as a consultant at the FBI. They even had his salary grade listed. They didn't actually show his salary, but he saw the range for his level. Interesting. There was definitely room to negotiate for a raise. "That's right."

"And will you confirm your salary grade?"

"Yes, it's accurate."

"Have you received any signing bonuses, or other significant forms of income beyond what's listed here?"

Neal shook his head. "That's it."

"And I understand you've applied to study at Columbia. But you haven't applied for any loans or other forms of financial aid?"

"Not yet. Sometimes the FBI will pay tuition. I'm waiting to see if they'll help me out. What exactly does this have to do with my reintegration?"

She slid another piece of paper across the table. It was a copy of his latest bank statement. "You present a conundrum, Neal. Given your FBI wages and the going rate for rent in your neighborhood, not to mention the vintage suits you wear, you should be in serious debt already. You shouldn't even be considering graduate school. But despite all logic telling us it should be impossible, you're maintaining a positive bank balance and considering taking on even more expenses. There's something missing here. Either you live a charmed life, or there's something else going on. Possibly of concern to our office."

Neal shook his head. "A charmed life, really? Have you talked to anyone about my life in St. Louis? It's a miracle I'm still alive, so yeah, I guess you could say I'm lucky."

"You're aware that a few months ago your mother's location was compromised?"

"Yeah. I'm aware that while I was in the hospital recovering from an attempt on my life, the guy who wanted to kill me threatened to give my mother's location to my father's enemies. Are you saying you think I had something to do with that? That I'm on the take like my father was? Because if that's what you're accusing me of, then I'm putting a stop to this until I have a lawyer present."

"All I'm saying is that your finances raise some red flags, and I need to look into that."

Neal took a deep breath. "If you assure me that you're looking into Robert Winslow's role in all of this, then I'll answer your questions about my finances." Neal saw the bewilderment on her face. "The FBI told the marshals in February that Robert was the one who found Mom's location. Haven't you read my file? Or my mom's?"

"You have to understand, information is segmented in this organization for a reason. In order to keep our witnesses safe, their files are shared on a need-to-know basis only. All I need to know is that we suffered a breech related to your mother's location at a time when your finances indicate a security risk."

Neal stood. "There's something else you need to know, Annina. Before I joined the FBI, I was a con artist. We survive by making our own luck, by creating a façade that shows an impossibly enticing scenario. A charmed life, if you will." He tossed his copy of the papers on the table. "You fell for a con, and you think I'm going to trust you with my secrets?"

He left the building, stopping by a bistro for a quick lunch. He definitely wanted to run this by Peter. What had the FBI told the marshals about Robert back in February? Why on earth were they looking into Neal about this matter almost four months later? Was this simple incompetence, or an indication that Robert was manipulating the system, possibly bribing someone again to cause trouble for Neal? Until he knew what was going on, he didn't want to share any information that Robert might find useful.

###

The fates seemed to be conspiring against Neal. Peter's morning meetings with Hughes turned into an all-day event. He never made it back to his office, instead emailing the team that he needed to leave early for an errand, and that'd he be out Tuesday. Elizabeth had made appointments to look at options for space she might rent for her new business, wanting to make a more professional impression than meeting clients in her home. With no pressing cases, Peter was taking advantage of the lull to go along with his wife and the real estate agent.

Thinking about it, Neal realized that he didn't need Peter. The expert on the Robert Winslow case was right here – shutting down his laptop to go home. Jones probably didn't want to work overtime his first full week back in town, and Neal would be willing to guess Tricia had been warned against letting him try to get information out of Jones.

Instead, Neal wrote a note and folded it into a sophisticated version of a paper airplane. An expert in origami had standards to maintain. The plane floated to Jones' desk, landing on his laptop.

Jones picked it up and saw the writing on the tail: Dare you to volunteer for Tuesday Tails tomorrow. Jones looked over at Neal, who shrugged as if to say: What? I didn't do anything.

###

Tuesday Tails had started when the team followed Neal over his lunch hours when he first started to work at the Bureau. They hadn't trusted him, and wanted him to know he was being watched.

Neal had won them over by doing nothing suspicious, and by treating the lunchtime tails as a game. It evolved into a weekly training exercise, with agents refining their skills in tracking suspects. And recently Neal had reversed the game, saying he needed to learn to tail suspects, too. Once a month Neal followed an agent, who in turn practiced skills in losing a tail.

This week was a reverse Tuesday Tail, and it was the first time Jones had experienced being tailed by Neal. Jones wasn't bad, but not particularly creative, either. Ten minutes into the game, Neal walked up to Jones' hiding spot and said, "We need to talk."

Jones jumped down from the fire escape landing and followed Neal out of the alley. "I was afraid of this. I can't tell you about the case. Peter would have my head. He's determined to keep you out of it, worried you'll go off after Robert and get yourself killed."

"Don't worry," Neal assured him. "I'm not going to ask any questions. Just the opposite. There's some information I want you to have." They bought sandwiches to go from a small café and walked into a park. On a bench away from most of the foot traffic, Neal described his experience the previous day at the marshals' office. Then he waited to see if Jones would draw the same conclusion.

"Four months after the fact, they're suddenly looking into you as a suspect?" Jones asked.

Neal nodded.

"Huh." Jones took the last bite of his sandwich and washed it down with the remnants from his bottle of water. "That sounds suspicious. Did you look up the marshal you spoke with?"

"Yeah. She seemed clean, but relatively new. Green enough to take orders to look into me without questioning it."

Jones crumpled up the wrapper from his sandwich and made a perfect shot, dropping the wrapper into a trashcan a few feet away. "Thanks for telling me about it instead of looking into it solo. I'll see what I can find out."

As they stood up, Neal said, "Let me know if I can help."

"Like I said, Peter wants you kept out of this one."

Based on Jones' tone, Neal said, "It doesn't sound like you agree with him."

"I think catching Robert is going to take a lot of creativity, and you're probably the most creative person on the team. Sooner or later, we'll have to loop you in."

Neal was flattered by the comment, and it started his afternoon on a bright note. When he saw Hughes was finally back in his office, he hoped the positive trend would continue. He walked up the steps to Hughes' level and knocked on his door. "Got a minute?"

"Caffrey, I've been wanting to talk to you. Let's grab a conference room. I'd like some privacy for this." Hughes led him to a small, out-of-the-way conference room and gestured for Neal to take a seat.

"Has there been a decision about my tuition?" Neal asked as Hughes closed the door.

Hughes sat across from Neal and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I kept bumping the question up the ladder hoping to get an exception for you, but HR isn't flexible on this one. Only agents get tuition assistance. However there are loan programs that will give you a lower interest rate as a Federal employee."

Neal swallowed his disappointment and appreciated the privacy to gather his thoughts before returning to his desk. Sure he could fake a smile for the team, but it would be easier if he had a few moments to bounce back from the bad news. So much for his supposedly charmed life. He looked up at Hughes, surprised the man wasn't on his way back out the door. "Thanks for trying. Was there something else?"

"At the party last week, I noticed you were very familiar with the Burkes' home. You were clearly well known to the dog, you helped out Peter and Elizabeth serving the food and then you picked things up. At times it almost seemed like you were a co-host."

Neal stared at him, unsure where this was going, but sensing Hughes' disapproval.

"I'm not the only one who noticed. We're FBI agents, after all. We're trained to be observant. The fact is, some of the team are starting to call you the teacher's pet. That's the kind of thing that leads to jealousy and dissension, and we can't have that. Team members need to trust each other with their lives. They need to trust Peter's leadership, and that his decisions aren't swayed by favoritism." Hughes paused to let Neal take that in. "Do you understand?"

"I'm undermining Peter's position?"

"I don't think it's intentional, and it isn't irreparable. I just need you to be aware of it. Don't ask for special treatment or act like you deserve it. Don't monopolize his time. Don't have inside jokes or otherwise make the team feel like you have an inside track with the boss." Hughes stood up. "You're an asset to this team, Caffrey. I've seen what you've contributed and I want to keep you around. But I also want Peter to succeed."

"So do I," said Neal.

"I'm glad to hear it. It's fine to be friends, as long as you remember to keep things businesslike when you're working. Remember that Peter's the boss, and treat him accordingly. That's all I'm asking."

"Does..." Neal trailed off. He wanted to ask if Peter knew about this, if he approved. But of course Peter knew. He'd spent all of yesterday in meetings with Hughes. Did he approve? Neal wanted to think he didn't, but looking at the big picture, he had to acknowledge that Peter's job was at stake, a job that meant the world to him at the best of times. Now, with Elizabeth quitting her job at the art gallery to start an event planning business, looking at locations and planning to take out a loan... Peter needed stability more than ever. "I wish Peter had been able to tell me," Neal said.

"I think you needed to hear it from someone more objective." With that, Hughes opened the door and left.

Neal took a deep breath. Everything Hughes said sounded reasonable, so why did it feel like he'd been punched in the gut?

A/N: For more about Klaus and Chantal, see Woman in Blue by Silbrith. For more about Neal's hospital stay and the threats Neal mentioned, see Caffrey Flashback.

Thanks to Silbrith for asking how Neal can afford his standard of living, which inspired the conversation with the U.S. Marshals. Annina will return later to resume that conversation, and the question of how Neal pays for Columbia will continue through most of this story.