Winston-Winslow basement, Baltimore, MD. April 7, 2006. Friday evening.

Neal Caffrey was in the basement of Winston-Winslow headquarters, with Peter Burke, Mozzie, and a handful of Winslows. They were celebrating yet another win against a seemingly unbeatable villain. This one had kidnapped Neal's cousin Henry Winslow, who was now safe and sound and famished, and thus was loudly insisting they move the celebration to a nearby Italian restaurant. Henry's boyfriend, mother, stepfather, and grandfather were all present and debating the logistics of eating out versus ordering in when they were likely to spend the meal discussing details of a case that shouldn't be shared publicly.

The White Collar team had been on a streak lately, with a string of impressive wins. And the problem with a streak was that it always ended. You had to be ready for the moment when your luck turned.

Neal's phone vibrated with a text message, and looking at it, he wondered if he'd reached that moment.

"Everything okay?" Peter asked quietly.

Neal smoothed his expression as he explained it was a message from Annina Brandel, asking him to call. She was a U.S. Marshal in New York who had helped White Collar with a handful of cases, but she wasn't currently working with them on anything. So that meant she probably had news about one of his family members in WITSEC. Chances were slim that it would be good news.

He walked upstairs to the main lobby, which was quieter and more private. Despite having braced himself for bad news, it still came as a shock. When the call ended a few minutes later, he stared ahead blankly, wondering what to do next.

Glancing at his phone again, he saw an email notification. Sara wanted to know if they'd rescued Henry. It must be after 2am in London, and she was still awake, waiting to hear how things had gone. Without giving it another moment's thought, he called her.

Sara Ellis' flat.

Sara sat curled up on the sofa, a cup of tea in her hands. She kept forgetting to drink it but continued to grip it for its comforting warmth.

It was only a rumor, she told herself for the umpteenth time.

She glanced toward her laptop, where she'd started updating her resume a few hours ago. One of her employer's competitors had decided to outsource their insurance investigators, and someone mentioned today that Sterling-Bosch might follow their lead. It was "under consideration" with no decision expected right away.

But still, it made Sara question her choices of two years ago. Would she be better off if she hadn't let Sterling-Bosch tempt her away from Winston-Winslow?

Thoughts of Win-Win had her checking her phone, to see if there were any updates from Neal. She typed a quick email, asking how things had gone.

Minutes later she heard the ringtone she used for Neal. It was "Mockingbird" — a song they sang together during a romantic vacation in Venice a few months ago. "Hello," she said, a smile in her voice.

"Sara, umm..." Neal said. Not a good sign. In normal circumstances he was silver-tongued.

That's when Sara remembered that 2am calls were rarely good news. "Is Henry okay?"

"Yeah. He's fine." He took a deep breath. "I just got off the phone with the U.S. Marshals. My mom died."

"Oh, Neal. What happened? Was it..." She stopped herself. "Sorry, I don't want to be intrusive."

"No, it's okay. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. I thought telling you might help me prepare for talking to my family. The marshals said Mom decided to go on a vacation, and her car slid off a road in the mountains on her way back from a ski resort. It... the road wasn't meant for tourists, but the warning sign was down, or she didn't notice it." He paused. "I didn't catch that part, I guess."

"So it wasn't anything to do with being in WITSEC?" Sara asked, wondering if Neal was in danger.

"They don't think so. It'll take a while to process the scene, but it looks like a single-car accident. They'll examine her car and do an autopsy, to be sure."

Sara felt her eyes tear up in empathy. She'd been in high school when her mother died in a car accident. She remembered receiving many offers of help in the first weeks, and she hadn't taken advantage of them. She hadn't been ready, or even known what she needed. How could anyone help when all she really wanted was to have her mother back? Now she was experiencing the other side of the equation, wanting to help, and suspecting that Neal wouldn't know what to ask for. "Do you want me to come to Baltimore?" she offered.

"I think we'll head to D.C. That's where my grandparents live, and where the Caffrey family plot is." He paused. "I don't know if you can get a flight from London at the last minute, but yeah, if you can get here..." He trailed off. "It's a lot to ask. Could you even get the time off?"

"I'm not working on anything urgent at the moment, and I want to be there for you," Sara insisted. She opened her laptop and navigated to her favorite travel site. She didn't mention that she'd already searched for flights in case they hadn't been able to rescue Henry. All she had to do was press the purchase option.

"You know all of those movies or news clips where someone learns that a loved one has died, and they immediately burst into tears? That isn't how I reacted at all. It's like I fast-forwarded into acceptance."

"No, I'm pretty sure you're still in denial." Sara gripped the phone tightly. "I'm a lot like you in that regard. We don't accept defeat until we've exhausted every option for turning things around. You're still trying to think your way out of this, aren't you? Wondering if they misidentified her, for instance."

"That crossed my mind," Neal admitted. "I wondered who identified her and if they could have made a mistake."

"I didn't cry until I saw Mom in her casket. That's when I really gave up hope that everyone was wrong about her being dead."

Neal took a sharp breath. "I'd forgotten about your mother... I'm sorry, this must be bringing up memories you don't want to slog through again."

"Let me use what I learned to help you. Then it feels like some good came from my experience."

Transatlantic flight. April 8, 2006. Saturday morning.

One of the things Sara had learned from her experience with grief was not to try blocking sadness. It would only come back in a stronger wave if she tried to push it away. So she accepted the feelings that accompanied reminders of her mother's death, but she didn't cling to them. By the time she boarded the flight, she had dried her eyes and was ready to focus on other matters.

At least Neal wouldn't be alone in the hours before her flight would arrive. He had family with him, and Peter. They'd be able to help him deal with the logistics of planning a funeral. Were there special rules for funerals when the deceased had been in WITSEC? Sara pondered the question and told herself the Marshals would let the family know of any protocols they needed to follow.

To keep herself occupied, Sara opened her laptop and worked on her resume again. It crossed her mind that she should ask Henry if he'd be willing to act as a professional reference. She assumed he'd agree; after all, they'd remained friends the last two years. But was it possible he held a grudge over her sudden resignation to accept the offer from Sterling-Bosch? He'd been her boss at Win-Win, and shortly after she quit Henry's father had died. It's certainly possible he resented her leaving at a time when he could have used more support at work. Yes, she should definitely ask before listing him as a reference.

Of course her mind wandered back to Neal. For all her assurances that she understood how he felt and would be able to help, she harbored a few doubts. After all, she'd been a teenager when she lost her mom, and they'd been very close. Neal was an adult who'd had a particularly complicated relationship with Meredith Caffrey. It sounded like drinking or depression or both had turned a lively and fun young woman into a morose and distant mother. No wonder Neal was concerned about his lack of tears. He was probably feeling guilty about... about not feeling as much as he thought he should.

And of course as a con artist, he'd become an expert at masking his feelings. Now that she knew him, Sara was certain his emotions ran very deep, and that keeping them hidden was a defense mechanism. She didn't exactly put her emotions on display for the world, either. Being orphaned at sixteen, she'd had her own need for defense mechanisms.

Once again, she and Neal had more in common than she'd imagined when they first met.

She'd been staring out the window at the clouds, and now she turned back to the resume displayed on her laptop. She had her answer about whether leaving Win-Win had been the right choice. She'd met Neal because she had decided to move to New York. She couldn't regret that.