Neal leaned back on the bench, shivering slightly in the brisk air that had arrived alongside the setting sun despite the warmth of the day. He tapped his foot impatiently, opened the newspaper, closed it again, set it down beside him, picked it up and started the cycle all over.

Above him the stars glittered coldly, looking down upon the meeting that wasn't quite happening. The music of New York at night swirled around Neal, beginning to ease him into sleep. Buildings lit up in their nighttime glory swam in front of his eyes until they blended with the stars into a mass of silver and gold light.

Neal shook his head, fighting to keep awake. The sleepless nights were starting to catch up to him. He promised himself that he would sleep in tomorrow or something, just as long as he could stay awake until the person he was waiting for came. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"Caffrey?"

Neal jumped a little. "You made it."

The man standing in front of him was wearing a heavy overcoat despite the temperature. His face was thrown into shadow by the hat he was wearing and the trees, but Neal had memorized his features by now. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he casually leaned against a tree.

"Of course. When Neal Caffrey calls me and asks me to meet him under the stars and in his radius I'm not going to deny him." The man's voice was deep and kind of gravelly. Neal felt his mouth spreading into a grin.

"Anyway," the man continued, "I assume you didn't want to meet me here just for small talk. How's your arrangement with the Feds working out?"

Neal shrugged, rising to his feet. "That's why I called you, actually. I'm getting a little… bored. I hate to say it, but I'm stuck in a rut."

"Ah, so you decided prison was the better option for you? I seem to remember that you initially loved this idea of this because you could get fresh air, walk around a bit, push your boundaries a bit more…"

Something flashed across Neal's eyes. "You know as well as I do that there was another reason along with those."

The man held up a finger. "Au contraire. There were two other reasons at least, but one of those is in Europe and the other is a tragedy three years past."

Neal hung a hand behind his neck. "Yeah, well. Some things take awhile to stop hurting. Either way I need help. I'm losing my touch."

There was a moment of silence. Then, "Well, Caffrey, can you still paint?"

"Forgeries or original?"

"Either or."

"Yeah. For both."

"What about safe cracking?"

"Yes."

"Still able to get anyone and everyone wrapped around your finger with only a few words?"

Neal smiled wryly, thinking of Diana. "Usually."

"Still able to notice when Moz slips the Queen under the table in three card Monte?"

"It keeps me on my toes."

"And back to where it all started: Can you still pick locks in record time?"

"The Feds actually encourage that one sometimes."

"Then you're good. My job here is done. Sayonara Neal. It was nice seeing you again." He turned to leave.

Neal frowned at the way he moved and the way the last sentence had sounded. "Wait!"

The man kept walking.

Neal ran to catch up. "Hey, wait a minute!" He reached out and grabbed the sleeve of the man's coat. There was the distinctive crunch of packing peanuts.

The man turned around, the streetlights illuminating his features. "Caffrey, I have other places to be tonight you know."

Neal grinned at the face of someone who was most definitely not who he was expecting to see. "Give it up." He plucked the hat away from the head of the person in front of him.

Honey colored hair turned to gold by the street light pooled around the shoulders of a pretty young woman, freed from the confines of the fedora. A smile spread across her face, revealing perfect teeth. She let her voice fall back to its normal pitch. "Hey Caffrey. I'm surprised it took you this long to catch on. You are losing your touch."

"Hey Syremmine. Still as good as ever, but I was kind of expecting-"

"My father. I know, Caffrey. I just thought I'd like to see you one more time before the feds turn you into a lap dog. From what I hear you're already their pet."

Neal opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by her sardonic grin.

"Cat got your tongue, Caffrey?" she asked innocently.

He thought for a moment, fighting to think of something to say as he forced old memories away. Finally, he managed to get out, "Ready to con the FBI?"

Let me know what you think of this. I'm kind of test running this for now, if there's any interest in it I'll continue it.