Ellington Mansion. Barely Wednesday morning. February 18, 2004.

It was after midnight when the taxi dropped Neal off at Riverside Drive. When he entered the house, the first floor was dark. But to his surprise, a light came on in the parlor beyond the music room. With Byron unable to climb the stairs to his usual bedroom, a hospital bed had been set up for him in that parlor. Turning on the light was a signal that he was awake and wanted company.

Neal approached the room with mixed feelings. While he liked Byron and appreciated the man's advice, it was painful to see the once vital man bed-ridden and struggling to speak. Beyond that, although the night of music performance had helped level out Neal's mood to the extent that he'd been convincingly lighthearted with George Knightley, Byron wasn't as easy to fool as a total stranger. Neal really wanted to go upstairs, but there was no ignoring the light in the parlor.

These days Byron was almost never alone. A nurse or June remained at his side, ready to administer pain medication or to fetch anything that might amuse or distract him. Right now June was lying on a sofa a few feet beyond the hospital bed, so tired that the light hadn't woken her. Byron's hand hovered shakily over the light control that lay beside him on the bed.

"Got a... hot... date?" Byron asked.

Neal took the chair between the hospital bed and the door. "As a matter of fact, I saw Kate this evening. She wants my help with a job. And the FBI wants me to take the job to lead them to a bigger fish." He tried to keep his voice low, to avoid disturbing June, but she sat up.

"Neal, have you been home long?" she asked. Her eyes were puffy from crying recently,

"Just got here. You want a break?" he offered.

"Maybe a moment to fix my hair. I'll be right back." She sniffled as she walked away.

"Your girl... pretty?"

"Almost as pretty as June. Hey, can I get you anything?" Neal asked, trying to deflect the conversation away from Kate.

"She change... her mind?"

Neal sighed. "No. She still isn't interested in immunity. I just don't get it. I'm used to being able to talk people into things. This should be a no-brainer, because she should already want it. She has to know the Feds are closing in, and when they do she'll go to prison. And she still won't go for a deal."

"Life... change. Hard. Most can't... do it."

"I did."

"Special." Byron shook his head as Neal started to protest. "You found... something... you wanted... more."

"I'm not sure, Byron. I love her. Maybe I'm supposed to give this up to be with her. Love's the most important thing, right?"

"Only if... she loves... you... as much. But... she loves... con more. Money... more than... people."

"More than me, you mean?" Neal ran his hands through his hair. "Do I just give up?"

"It's time... to let go... or get... hurt... even more."

"Even more than it hurts now? That's hard to imagine."

"A cycle... keeps repeating... hurting... till you... stop. Let her... go. And me."

"What?" Neal didn't follow.

"Be ready... to let... go. Not much... time."

"What? No!" Neal protested. He heard June's footsteps and stood up. "Tell him to stop saying that."

"Byron's right," said June, leaning against the doorway. "The hospice people are experts, and they say we have only a few days left."

Neal instinctively backed up a step. "But... You aren't just going to give up, are you?"

"Always... knew," Byron said. "Have to... accept."

"But you've been fighting all along. You can't stop now." Neal couldn't find the words. "No." He backed away another step. "No."

"It's all right, Neal. It's time to accept the truth, to be at peace with it, and be prepared. And it's all right to take your time to get there. You can't possibly hate it as much as I do, I promise you. But we wanted you to know what to expect." June's eyes were brimming with tears, and yet she looked at him with sympathy. "I know it's a lot to take in, and you have to go to work in the morning. Go on upstairs and get some rest."

Neal nodded and left, numb with shock.

###

In the morning, Neal approached the parlor with the silent footsteps of a cat burglar, determined not to intrude on the couple's remaining time together. Typically June and Byron would share a breakfast around this time, but today there was no breakfast tray. Instead a nurse was making soothing sounds and administering morphine.

June stepped out of the parlor into the music room. "He stopped eating yesterday. He can't keep anything down."

"I'm sorry." It felt inadequate. "I'm so sorry, June. Last night I felt like a coward for leaving, and like a needy fool for wanting to stick around for reassurance. Is there anything I can do?"

"Do you have a few minutes?" When Neal nodded, June continued, "The day you met Byron, you were playing the piano, and we requested a Sinatra song."

"I remember. I played 'Young at Heart.'"

"And sang it, too. Would you do it again? He loves Sinatra. I'd like him to hear something he enjoys, to have happy memories now."

"Of course." The piano was nearby, in the music room where they were talking. Neal played and sang the song softly, almost as if it were a lullaby.

June had tears in her eyes again when he stood up. "I'm always crying today," she said apologetically. "Do you think, at..." Her voice broke. "At the funeral, would you play something for us?"

"Anything. If I don't know the song you want, I'll learn it." Neal looked at his watch. "I'm sorry, but they'll expect me at the morning briefing."

June took his arm and they walked to the entrance together.

Neal hesitated. "If you need anything, I could come back. Or I could get the day off."

"No. Save the time for the funeral."

There was an ornate set of coat hooks in the entry hall. Neal grabbed his winter overcoat and eyed a jaunty fedora of Byron's that matched the suit he'd chosen today. He picked it up and cradled it in his hands. "Would you mind?"

June took the hat and reached up to place it on Neal's head. She adjusted the angle and nodded. "It gives you the same devil-may-care attitude he had when he wore it. I'm glad to see it, and to remember. Wear it anytime you want."

###

The team arrived at the Wednesday morning briefing expecting to be regaled with the adventures of the latest Tuesday Tail, but Peter simply said their consultant had chosen to lead him to new information on a cold case. He directed Neal, Jones and Tricia to turn over their assignments to others on the team by noon, and to meet him in the afternoon to be briefed on their next assignment. He'd already warned Jones of Hughes' order not to mention Vincent Adler to the rest of the team yet. They had the remainder of the week to prove they had a solid lead in the case before they officially reopened it. If they found enough evidence, they would expand the investigation. If they couldn't back up Kate's story, they would drop it.

Peter spent the morning with Tricia Wiese, who had the most complex case to turn over. August Hitchum wasn't happy to take over a case midstream, and Peter had to smooth some feathers. He also made a note in Hitchum's file about the agent's increasingly poor attitude. It took very little to antagonize the man these days, and the rest of the team avoided working with him.

In the afternoon Peter led the trio back to one of the few conference rooms that didn't have glass walls. As they entered the room Tricia raised a brow, and said, "This is something big, isn't it?"

"It could be," Peter said, and closed the door before he filled them in on their new assignment. Jones would take the lead on the research, looking into the ownership of the Enscombe estate, and the lease agreement with Highbury. They needed to find a link between Adler and the Highbury retreat before they could get approval to send Neal in to crack the safe in Adler's suite. Tricia would look into the options for surveillance. A municipal van would be noticed on the estate grounds, and they needed an alternative for monitoring Neal if they sent him undercover. Neal would respond to the invitation Highbury had sent Nick Halden, and arrange to stop by their Manhattan offices. Peter stressed that Neal should make the appointment for a time when there would be plenty of people around, and he should remain in public areas at all times.

Neal made a token protest that he knew what he was doing, but not with the vehemence Peter had expected. Peter knew he should be happy at the lack of resistance, but instead he worried. He sent his agents on their way, and told Neal, "Let's look at Halden's resume and update it for the time since Adler's company folded. We can pull in some favors from a few companies in town, and get one or more of them to confirm you've been an employee in good standing."

"Sure."

The lack of comment did nothing to reassure Peter. "What, no complaint that when you do it, it's a fraud but when the government does it, it's fine?"

Neal looked at him blankly a moment, and grinned belatedly.

Peter crossed his arms. "I know that smile. It's the one you use when you need to convince someone you're happy. Stop trying to con me, and tell me what's bothering you. Is it Kate? Because I have to tell you, if she's telling the truth and we get to Adler, no one's going to care about making a case against her. She'll probably be treated as a witness rather than a suspect."

"Good." He didn't sound as pleased as he should have, but before Peter could follow up, he added, "I have an appointment to talk to a therapist on Saturday."

Peter nodded. He knew Neal wasn't thrilled about that mandate. Maybe his reticence today was due to annoyance at having capitulated to Hughes' demand. He decided against admitting that he'd spoken to Henry about it. "I'm glad you're taking that step. It won't be fun. But in the end you'll be better off, and I can give you the kind of case work you really want."

"You're sending me to Highbury even without a therapist's clearance," A portion of his normal smugness returned to Neal's voice.

"Only for an initial contact, and I want you in and out again in under an hour. There is no way you're going to one of their initiation events until your therapist agrees you can handle it."

"We only have a couple of weeks to get into that safe," Neal said.

"That's assuming we believe Kate. She could have made up that deadline to pressure you into acting quickly, before you could think things through. That's why we have Jones looking into the actual lease agreement."

Neal nodded and volunteered to find Nick Halden's resume. He returned with it shortly, and they busied themselves updating it. Then they responded to the email Highbury had sent, providing Halden's resume and expressing interest in learning more about Highbury's services.

###

Agent Tricia Wiese returned to the office shortly before 5pm. Peter looked eager to hear her report, but checked his watch and sighed. "It's getting late. We can pick this up again in the morning."

"I don't mind staying late," said Neal. It had taken him a while to get focused on work today, but having gotten there it was a welcome reprieve from the situation at the mansion.

And so they stayed another hour, with Tricia drawing a map of the area around Enscombe. "The most inconspicuous place to set up monitoring equipment within range is on the water. A sailboat would have the space we need, and could stay nearby. Enscombe has a dock we can use if we need access to the property to make an arrest."

"I hate to think what our response time would be if Neal needs help," Peter said.

"I won't need help," Neal countered.

"If I had a dollar for every junior agent who said that, I could retire now," Peter said. "What are the other options?"

Tricia pointed to Enscombe's nearest neighbor. "The next estate over has been turned into a bed and breakfast. I don't think we could bring in monitoring equipment without being noticed by the Enscombe staff, but a couple of agents could check in the night before the op, and spend the day outdoors without raising suspicion. From the B&B's beach area, someone could set up a picnic, go fishing, and easily access Enscombe's dock. There's a staircase leading up from the dock to the Enscombe buildings. If we got a distress call, we can have an agent on the scene in less than five minutes."

Peter stood up and paced the room, which Neal knew meant he was getting excited about the plan. "Let's say we have Jones at the B&B, and monitoring equipment on the water. Who do we know who has a sailboat?"

"Can't we rent one?" Neal asked.

"I'd rather not have a trail leading back to the FBI, in case the staff at Enscombe notices a boat hanging around and looks into who it belongs to. We need a boat that's not connected to us, and someone who knows how to sail it."

For the first time all day, Neal actually felt his mood brighten. He mustered his most innocent expression and said, "Henry might be able to help."

"Your cousin owns a sailboat?" Peter stopped pacing.

"No, but his grandfather on the Winslow side of the family does. All of Henry's Winslow cousins know how to sail. I'm sure Henry could talk his grandfather into letting him borrow it, and he could sail it up from Baltimore."

"Would your cousin be willing to do that for the FBI?" Tricia asked.

Neal pretended to think it over. "Well, helping the FBI, and helping me by extension, would seriously annoy Henry's father. So... Yeah, in a heartbeat." He grinned. "Of course that means Henry would be part of the op. I know he'll love the chance to work with Peter."

Peter sighed. "I'm already regretting this, but the higher ups in the Bureau would jump at the chance to see the FBI and Winston-Winslow collaborating on a case for the first time. Talk to your cousin."