It was Friday night and the streets of New York City seemed brisker than ever before. The cold wind bombarded the already frigid streets like an unwelcome nightmare. The rain plummeted out of the sky as painful as shrapnel. For a bewildered Neal Caffrey, this situation was simply unbearable.

It is a week after the explosion. Not too many days ago, Neal witnessed the love of his life burn to death in a catastrophic plane explosion courtesy of Vincent Adler. Now that Kate was gone, Neal lost all sense of himself. He was numb, shattered, freezing and utterly alone. He was impervious to the reality around him.

-A few hours earlier-

Neal lay wide-eyed in bed, unable to get to sleep. He listened to June's comforting humming coming from downstairs. She always hummed while she tidied the house. However, this time her sweet, melodic voice could not put Neal to sleep. He tried everything from a glass of warm milk to counting sheep. However, he could not get the nightmares out of his mind.

With every blink, he saw the explosion. He felt Peter's comforting yet stern hands as he pulled him away from the fire, he saw Kate vulnerable and alone, vanish before his eyes. He wanted to scream out in terror, but he quickly restrained himself. Feeling boxed in the four walls of his lavish apartment, Neal knew he had to get out.

He stared outside. It was pouring rain and could not have been more than 20 degrees. He didn't care. He knew he had to get out. He sprung out of bed, jumped into his shoes and left without even grabbing his coat on the way out the door.

The weather was tumultuous. He had not been outside for more than two minutes and he was already soaking wet. He crossed his arms around his chest and walked with his head down and his teeth uncontrollably chattering. He didn't know where he was going or what exactly to do next. He just kept on walking.

-Peter is at the FBI-

Peter is sitting at his desk, drinking the bland, bitter Bureau coffee he has become so fond of. He is working on an art forgery case. He has just received a fax from the museum he is aiding. The fax contained pictures of their newest pieces of art. It has come to their attention that one of these pieces is a forgery. Peter stared helplessly at the photos. Each piece looked real to him.

Puzzled, he put down the sheet and immediately picked up his phone. He knew it was late, but he had to call Neal. He needed his help. Peter knew Neal would know. He called him about eight times. Each time, he received no response. That's so strange. Where would Neal be this late at night? He immediately called June.

"Oh hello darling" June's voice was sweet and comforting.

"Hi June, sorry if I woke you, I was just curious, is Neal at home?" Peter was trying hard to mask his concern. He didn't want to worry June.

"Don't worry, you didn't wake me. I'm just doing a little late night cleaning. And yes, the last time I saw Neal he said he was going up to bed.

" That's odd", Peter responded, still trying to keep his composure. I've tried calling him but he isn't picking up."

"He could be asleep. But if you want, I can check for you" June responded. Peter can hear a heightened sense of worry in her voice.

"Yes, I would really appreciate that. Thank you June."

June started up the stairs and finally reached Neal's room. She knocked swiftly on his door. "Neal, It's June. Can I come in? Neal, baby? It's June. Are you awake darling?" There was no answer. "Neal?"

She opened the door and slowly walked inside. "Peter." She said apprehensively. "He's gone."