It was a simple picture, but it meant so much to him.
Neal had had the small painting -done on a small eight by twelve canvas- since he was a child. Before he first met Mozzie, while he was still wandering the streets on New York with little idea of where he was and a lesser one of what he was doing, it was kept in his backpack, carefully wrapped in old newspaper. After it was kept in his room, just by his bed by night and hidden from view by day. When he was on the run and in prison Mozzie held on to it, making sure it was safe and remained relatively undamaged. Now, staying with June while he was helping the FBI it was kept on his nightstand at all time, propped up on the lamp.
No one ever saw his room anyway, after all. Neal only showed someone that picture if he truly trusted them, if he knew for a fact they wouldn't leave him. Kate hadn't even seen that painting. Just Moz.
As one of his first works, Neal had been rather pleased with the results when he first painted it. More importantly, his mother had liked it. She had added a few touches or her own, too. It was the last thing she ever painted, before she ended up having to be hospitalized. Neal never forgot that.
The painting itself was a simple representation of freedom. A paper airplane, soaring through the night sky. The crescent moon glittered just off to the side, half covered by a cloud. The airplane had writing on it, all over. Illegible, unless you were truly trying to pick out the words and had a magnifying glass to help. The words were pure and rang true, repeated over the over on the page. That was his mother's contribution. It was her favorite phrase. "Live well, laugh often, love much". That was all. Neal would never forget those words.
Someday, when Neal was sick and Peter would happen to stumble into the bedroom, he would find the painting was "accidentally" tipped over to where it couldn't be seen, though there were seven words printed on the back in neat stroked of a purple paintbrush. The script was elegant, clearly a woman's handwriting.
Brielle and Neal Caffrey. Summer of '91.
Later, years later after that incident where Peter first saw it, Neal would formally show it to him, explain the story behind it. And suddenly, there would be an invincible trust that could never be shattered and shaken to the core again.
But for now, the simple, pure painting remained stationary, propped up on the nightstand, waiting for its story to be told again.
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A/N: This one can be blamed completly on stress and Owl City's "new" CD. Okay, it was from before Owl City was Owl City, but it just came out. Anyway, I honestly don't know where this came from. All I know this is the second thing I've written in thir format in the past three days, and this is fun! You can probably expect more like this written in the wee hours of the morning.
~Piki :B