Disclaimer: Just for fun, not for profit. Thanks to all those who really bring White Collar to life,

Other Notes: I made the artist being forged up. The artist named Orwin is based entirely in fiction, as far as I know there is no such artist.

And Finally: in (belated) tribute to the fallen and heroes of September 11th, 2001

Neal smiled as he strode through the gallery door. "Hi Elizabeth." He glanced around. This was the place she worked at when she wasn't busy with Burke's Premier Events.

"Hey Neal." She looked past him questioningly. "Where's Peter?"

"Stuck in traffic. I was closer."

"Sometimes it really is faster to walk." She shook her head and smiled.

A man strode in, "Elizabeth...Oh hello."

"Robert. This is Neal Caffrey. He's Peter's consultant."

"Neal this is Robert Darning. He's runs the gallery."

"Where is Peter?"

"Stuck in traffic. He's on the way. He asked me to meet him here." Ordered, really, but no need to tell Darning that.

"Well, would you like to see the piece?"

"I'd be delighted." Neal gave Elizabeth a questioning look. Peter hadn't given him any details beyond a forged painting had been found.

As he glanced around the room he was led into, he recognized it as the place he'd had to secretly switch out the swatch of his painting that had been burned in the U-boat fire. A complete painting lay on the workbench.

"This is it. It's supposed to be an Orwin. At first we thought someone had spilled something on it. It turns out part of it was painted with water based oils, something Orwin never used."

"Water based oils are very a recent invention too." Neal leaned closer. He picked up a magnifying glass, then sniffed thoughtfully. Voices came from outside.

"Excuse me." The man stepped out.

Neal allowed himself a half smile. He carefully eyed the painting, eyes searching style of strokes, colors and looking for identifying marks. Outside footsteps approached. Peter had arrived and was talking to the gallery manager. The door opened.

"Neal." Peter was looking over his shoulder now and taking the painting. "Any thoughts?"

"Maybe. Orwin only did a few pieces. It looks like the forger signed it but..." Neal frowned, shaking his head.

"Where?" Peter leaned forward. Neal pointed. "You sure that's not just a smudge?" Peter demanded.

"It's not."

"I can't quite read that." Peter tried to read slowly. "Okay. We'll look up Reb...that's a symbol not a letter.." He glanced sidelong at Neal.
What's with the frown?"

"Nothing."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "Neal. You have that 'I'm holding back' look."

"I'm not holding back. I just don't want to say anything until I confirm some facts."

Peter would have challenged this had Elizabeth not come up to ask how it went. Neal took the opportunity to duck outside and call Mozzie.

"Mozzie? Didn't Rebny retire?"

"After September 11, yeah. Went straight and started giving everything to charity. Why?"

"Peter and I just found an Orwin forgery signed by Rebny. Recent painting too, I can still smell the paint."

"No way. He left the biz but good."

"That's what I thought. How can I contact him?"

"Neal, if you drag the Feds to his door, it will ruin all his charities and mess up his new life."
"I thought you said old cons never die, our smiles just fade away?"

Mozzie sighed at the other end. "Rebny... he lost his heart for it. And he is raising kids, nearly grown now. He always said he'd retire someday."

Neal peered through the glass back into the gallery. Peter was approaching the door, still talking to Elizabeth.

"Peter didn't know the signature. I'll avoid telling him until I can talk to Rebny."

"I'll see what I can do to set you up."

Peter was not pleased Neal was holding back. He knew this guy, he could feel it. They ran the name 'Reb' through the FBI database and came up with a decent number of possibilities. But he could tell Neal already knew who it was. He just went along, pointing out each one's specialties.

"I don't know El." He said over lunch. "Maybe I should follow him after work."

"Honey," She studied her dinner thoughtfully. "I'm not saying he wouldn't hold back. But you've given him room before. Why don't you see if he comes to you in a day or so?"

"I'm afraid if I give him too much leash he'll hang himself with it."

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Peter, I think if whatever he suspected was dangerous, he'd tell you."

"True. Well, maybe I'll just keep an eye on his tracking data."

"If it makes you feel better."

After dinner, Peter glanced at the laptop, noting Neal's location as he multi-tasked watching the game and reading files. "El, what's on that street?" He pointed to his laptop screen, swiveling to her. She glanced up from folding laundry.

"New restaurant. Delight of Arwen I think it's called."

"Hmm."

"Maybe he's on a date."

"Maybe." Peter eyed the tracker but decided to leave it be. Neal could be prickly at the reminder he was being monitored. In truth, he knew he walked a fine line between overprotective friend and parole officer. He didn't want to alienate his friend for no reason.