A/N: This story overlaps slightly with Raphael's Dragon by Silbrith. I'll keep spoilers to a minimum in case you haven't read it yet. 

New York Presbyterian Hospital. Tuesday evening. May 3, 2005.

Neal Caffrey was grumpy.

He tried reminding himself that he was a valued member of the FBI's White Collar team, a graduate student at an exclusive university, a skilled artist and musician, a bon vivant. Being grumpy didn't fit his image.

But the fact remained that after being poisoned a few days ago, he was stuck in a hospital, and even though it was only early evening it seemed that he was expected to go to sleep. As if he hadn't been sleeping for nearly a full day. Grumpiness seemed warranted.

The room was dim, because the poison temporarily made his eyes overly sensitive to light. A book light cast a small pool of brightness where Neal's cousin Henry Winslow was reading a bright yellow hardcover book. And scowling at it.

Neal couldn't even read the title. Grump, grump.

And the soup he'd had for a ridiculously early dinner wasn't nearly satisfying. He might starve to death here. Grump, grump.

Suddenly Henry chuckled.

Grump, grump. Grr.

"Did you growl?" Henry asked.

"No," Neal said. The last thing he wanted was to remind Henry that their grandmother had nicknamed Neal Baby Bear because of the way he'd growled as a baby when unhappy. "What are you reading?"

Henry looked like he wanted to evade, but took in Neal's expression and said, "The Clue of the Broken Locket, by Carolyn Keene."

Neal had a feeling that he should recognize the name, but it didn't sound familiar. "A mystery?" he asked. Henry came from a long line of detectives. Solving mysteries was his job, and therefore he wasn't one to read them for pleasure.

"Tell you what. Let's order snacks, and I'll read it to you."

Yeah, Henry was being evasive. Interesting. That meant this wasn't simply a random book the hospital kept on hand for bored visitors. "Sure," Neal said. Hearing the story would break the boredom, and once he knew what it was about perhaps he could guess why Henry had selected it.

After Henry called in the order for food, he turned back to the first page of the book and started reading aloud.

He didn't finish the first sentence before Neal interrupted, "A Nancy Drew mystery?"

"Hush," Henry said, and he kept reading. In high school he'd participated in a school play and discovered a love of drama. Now he made up voices for the different characters and even stood up and gestured as if he were playing all of the parts in a one-man performance of the story.

Only a few pages into it, Neal interrupted again. "Henry Winch, the cowardly boat purveyor from Maryland. No way." The coincidence of the book being read by Henry Winslow, avid sailor from Baltimore was too wild.

Henry lowered the book. "Not my favorite aspect, but just you wait. I'm told there's a Neal in this story, too. And it's even spelled right, N-E-A-L." He returned to his dramatic reading of the story, pausing only briefly when the snacks arrived. You could tell Henry was really into something when it caused him to ignore food.

Neal found himself drawn into the story and it was several chapters later when he interrupted again, laughing this time. "No way! There's a pop singer in this story? And he's being cheated out of his money? That's not really a Nancy Drew mystery, is it? You're making this story up, tossing in our names and references to the Masterson Music case from last year."

Putting the book aside, Henry sat down again. "That's what I thought when I started reading it — that it was a joke. But it's the real deal."

"Where did you get this book?"

Henry checked his watch. "That's a story for another day. Any minute now a nurse is going to stop by to check on you and to tell us it's quiet time. No way you'll be quiet for the tale of how I got the book."

Neal smiled. His earlier grumpiness had faded away, and he was willing to wait to get the truth out of Henry. "Fine. Then keep reading to me, quietly."

Staying seated and keeping his voice low, Henry kept reading. Neal let himself drift to sleep.

Neal's loft. Thursday afternoon. May 5, 2005.

Neal Caffrey was home. He'd actually been released from the hospital yesterday, but the last twenty-four hours had been filled with so many visitors and revelations about cases that he was just now starting to feel normal. There was something about being home that let him put down his guard and relax.

He picked up the yellow book Henry had left on the sofa, and paged through it. As hard as it was to believe, the story really did include a singer seeking justice, and characters named Henry and Neal, as well as a mysterious young woman seeking the home of her ancestors. The reading aloud had continued during the rare slow moments on Wednesday, and they'd reached the midpoint of the novel. Being read to had been kind of nice, but Neal was relieved to find that his eyes had recovered to the point that he could read the words himself.

Footsteps pounded on the stairs — Henry running up with the lunch they'd ordered. "The city's best fish and chips," he announced as he entered the loft. Then he paused to catch his breath. "Have I mentioned how happy I am that my new apartment building has an elevator?"

"It means I'll always be in better shape than you." Neal took the takeout box and carried it to the table. He waited until they'd each eaten a piece of the fish and then said, "Time for the truth about why you were reading that book."

Henry reached for more of the chips. "We're on a mission, and that book is supposed to inspire us."

"Should I get my sword?" Neal asked, because they'd been discussing The Three Musketeers earlier.

"Not that kind of mission." Henry took a swig from a canned soft drink and then added, "A Mother's Day mission."

Neal blinked. In all the chaos, he'd forgotten that Mother's Day was this weekend. He and Henry were supposed to drive down to Baltimore Friday evening, to spend the weekend with Noelle and her new husband, Joe. This was the first Mother's Day since Neal had learned that Noelle had acted as a surrogate for her twin sister. So while Meredith had officially and legally been his mother and had raised him, Noelle was listed as the mother on his birth certificate.

"Listen, if you're not up to this, she'll understand," Henry said. "You just got out of the hospital, and if a road trip sounds like too much —"

"Shut up and tell me about the mission," Neal interrupted.

"Joe learned that Mom's favorite stories as a young girl were the Nancy Drew mysteries. Since they're overcrowded living in her townhouse, the best Mother's Day gift would be something they don't have to find space for. He thought she might enjoy solving a mystery, instead. He's got the core of an idea, but he's an amateur."

Neal nodded. He and Henry solved mysteries for a living, working for the FBI and for private investigation firm Winston-Winslow. Joe Burke was an architect.

"Joe called Elizabeth," Henry continued. "He asked if she could suggest a mystery for us to read, to get us into the right mindset. We're supposed to help him plant clues."

Neal glanced at the book on the sofa. "And that's the one El suggested."

"She said it had been forever since she'd read the stories, but she found the synopsis online and thought we'd relate to this one the most. I have to hand it to her. Characters with our names. A case involving music. She couldn't have picked better." He explained Joe's intended surprise and his ideas for turning it into a mystery.

Soon they were lobbing ideas back and forth to expand the mystery, until finally Henry grabbed a sheet of paper and started writing them down. Neal became energized and realized how much the worry about coursework and recent White Collar cases had been getting to him. He needed to take breaks for fun, he reminded himself. And as he was on medical leave for the rest of the week, he asked, "Would it be easier to implement this plan if we left now?"

"An extra day? Sure. If you think you're up to an adventure, pack a bag and we'll stop by my place on our way out of town. We can call Joe from the car to let him know what we have in mind."

Neal waited until he was mostly packed to say, "You realize this makes you Bess, right?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Noelle is Nancy Drew. That's the point of all this. George and Bess are her accomplices. They're cousins, like us. George is taller, with dark hair, and more athletic. And besides that, George is my middle name. Bess has lighter hair, loves food and is a little more..." He patted his midsection. "A little heavier than George. That makes you Bess." He picked up his bag and walked out.

Henry followed him down the stairs, protesting, "No, that isn't how it works. George and Bess help solve the mystery. We're the culprits in this, Joe's accomplices. There's a Henry and a Neal in the story. I'm willing to bet Henry Winch is the mastermind. That scaredy-cat bit of his is an act."

"Total red herring," Neal countered. "Anyone can tell Neal Raskin is behind everything. You know, I kinda like that name. Maybe I can use it as an alias someday."

Noelle's office. Friday afternoon. May 6, 2005.

Her final lecture of the week completed, Noelle returned to her university office. Time to pack up and go home, where she'd prepare for the arrival of... "Henry!"

He was sitting at her desk. He closed the textbook he was perusing and said, "Hi, Mom. The sign says you don't have office hours this afternoon, but I thought you might make an exception for me."

"Of course." She put down her notes from the lecture and gave Henry a mild shove. He took the hint and vacated her chair. "I didn't expect you until tonight." She hugged her son and then glanced around before sitting. "Did Neal stay in New York?" She'd told herself all day she wouldn't be surprised if he decided to stay home this weekend. He'd just gotten out of the hospital, after all. But she couldn't shake a sense of disappointment.

Henry settled into one of the guest chairs. "Neal had the day off, so we left early. He's hanging out with Joe, and I wanted to talk to you about something before we kick off the weekend." He took a breath before continuing. "Over the last few days, I've been thinking about home, you know? Neal wanting to go home from the hospital. Me establishing a new home with the move to New York. Coming here this weekend to my hometown. Neal doesn't have that, you know? With WITSEC and everything, if someone asks what his hometown is, he can't tell them it's St. Louis. It's not like he has great memories from there, anyway. Even now, with the loft... Don't get me wrong. It's a great loft. I know he loves living there, and June is like family. But there's almost nothing there that's his. The furniture came with the loft. The suits belonged to Byron." He ran his hands through his hair. "I just wish, when this weekend is over and I drive him back home, that he really understands what it means to have a home."

"All that, in one weekend?"

"You've got the fancy PhD in psychology."

She nodded. "Maybe it's time..." She'd been putting this off too long, she reminded herself. She'd planned to tell Henry about it this weekend, anyway. "Time to talk about The House."

Noelle's townhouse.

"The House?" Neal repeated.

"Yeah, you can hear the capital letters," Joe Burke told him. "That's always how Noelle refers to the place where she and Robert lived when they were married. She hasn't been back since the divorce, and neither has Henry as far as I can tell."

Neal did the math. "Thirteen years."

"Robert kept the house in the divorce, but when he died last summer, ownership transferred to her. His parents sorted through his belongings, and then she hired a service to take care of the lawn and maintain the interior. She has some ideas for remodeling, but each time we're supposed to go there, something comes up and I end up going alone. It's obvious she's avoiding going back."

"Why remodel it?"

Joe glanced around the townhouse but simply said, "That's Noelle's announcement to make. She's been working her way up to telling Henry, and I've been encouraging her to talk to him about it this weekend."

Neal nodded. It wasn't hard to guess. Joe had moved here from Albany when the couple married, because in his job he could be more flexible with his location. The townhouse Noelle bought during the divorce had two bedrooms, one for her and one for Henry. Now the second bedroom served as Joe's office, and his desk and file cabinets loomed large in the small space. The couple didn't have a room for guests, although they'd made it clear that they wanted Neal and Henry and Joe's daughters to visit. Robert's house was larger and more practical for their needs.

Noelle's office.

Henry stared at his mother across her desk. He hadn't expected her to mention The House. He hadn't been there in ages. Even though he'd lived in Noelle's townhouse only one year before leaving for college, that was what he thought of as home, he realized. Home wasn't a place. Or it was more than a place. It was love and safety, and for as long as he could remember, that meant his mother.

He considered the surprise they had planned for her this weekend... Had Joe selected The House as the setting for the first clue because he knew she'd been thinking about it? "What do we need to discuss about The House?" he asked.

"Not yet. I'd rather wait until we're with Neal and Joe, so you all hear it together. It will help, I think, with your plan. We can open up to Neal about the concept of home, and hear his thoughts." She paused and then added, "I'm glad to help you with that, but I wonder, could you also help me with something, while you're here?"

"Anything. Just name it."

"There's something Joe's keeping from me."

Henry raised a brow. "He's not the type to cheat."

"No, nothing like that. It's something he wants to tell me, but he keeps shying away. For whatever reason, he's nervous about it."

"You want me to find out what it is?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to learn it behind his back. I thought you might convince him to tell me."

Well, this was interesting. It seemed Nancy Drew had already noticed that there was a mystery to solve. That should make this weekend's plans easier, unless she went and solved the mystery too soon.

"That's a devious smile. Should I be worried?"

Henry stood up. "Not at all. You've just made this weekend even more fun than I expected. Let's go catch up with Joe and Neal. Who knows what kind of mischief they're up to."

Noelle rose and picked up her purse. "You think you can convince Joe to tell me his secret?"

Putting his arm around her, Henry strolled down the hall with her and said, "You'll know it before the weekend is over. I promise."