It was a quiet fall morning in the city of Paris. People hustled around in the morning, trying to get coffee on their way to work. Children rushing off to school. Cyclists were passing in a hurry, trying to deliver their last-minute newspapers.

Neal sat silently, sipping his cup of coffee. He sat, thinking about the future. It had been 5 years, to the date, since he faked his own death in New York, and started a new life in France. 5 years had gone by, and what did he really have to show for it? Was this his happy ending?

Sure, he had met people since he came to Paris, but he missed his family back home. Every once in a while, Neal would hop online and check up on how Peter, Elizabeth, Jones or Diana were doing. Peter and Elizabeth seemed happy, their son already 5 years old. Diana was still working way to hard and continuing to climb through the ranks of the FBI in Washington DC. Jones seemed to have finally met someone, Neal always hoped he would. She seemed like a great girl for him, at least Neal thought so through the few photos he had seen. New York was still his favorite place. All the memories, the sights, the people. Neal wished he could go back but knew the trouble that would cause. He was supposed to be dead after all.

Neal looked out along the horizon of the small local Paris shops. What were his goals when he came here? Robbing the Louvre was his dream when coming to Paris, yet five years later, he still is yet to even come close. They had upgraded their security system around the time that Neal came to Paris, and what he once saw as a great challenge, now looked like an impossible threat.

"It's not worth getting caught" he kept telling himself, "if anyone found out I was even alive, we would have issues." Part of him just didn't care though. He was Neal Caffery, he took down the Pink Panthers, he could pull this off. Right?

Neal's mind continued to wander, watching the people hustle up and down the street. Was he ever going to find himself a wife? After Kate, Sarah, and Rebecca, did he even have it in himself to love again? Plus, who was going to want to fall for someone that is supposed to be dead?

Neal thought back to the first time he met Kate, and how he thought she was going to be the one. The life they were going to have was going to be perfect, and so different than the one he was living now. Suddenly reliving the day the plane exploded with Kate on it, he tried to assure himself that everything happened for a reason.

"You know, you do a lot of sitting around doing nothing." Mozzie said, rushing to the table Neal was at, snapping him out of his thoughts. Mozzie say down across from Neal, with a drink that didn't smell quite right.

Neal jumped. "You know, you could have a more calming presence about yourself sometimes Moz. You don't always have to be alarmed."

"Alarmed, you say?" Mozzie asked quizzically, "I like to just say I am always prepared and ready to go."

"It's a quiet Tuesday morning in Paris," Neal said, rolling his eyes, "what is there to be ready for?" Neal always gave Mozzie a hard time, even thought he was grateful Mozzie was here to keep him company. It took Mozzie about a year to find out where Neal was, after he left New York for good. Neal made sure to leave him just enough clues to find him eventually, but wanted it to take him some time, so he had some time to settle into Paris first. Ever since Mozzie joined him, almost four years ago, he has had an extra level of anxiety with him.

"You know what I was thinking" Neal asked, turning his head to Mozzie.

"That maybe you should go for a walk or something. You have been sitting at the same table for like two hours, and that could look awfully suspicious." Mozzie replied.

"What?" Neal asked, "No. I was thinking we need a real adventure."

"What is wrong with the adventures we have?" Mozzie asked, accusingly.

"Mozzie, I have been here for five years, and what do I really have to show for it?"

"What do you mean you have nothing to show for it? We have stolen a few pieces of art here and there, and you have enjoyed your time just making art."

"Those were from local galleries Mozzie, we hare in Paris. Home to some of the greatest art of all time, and you just expect us to sit around forever? That isn't fair."

"What is this about with you? The money, because you know we still have plenty of money – "

Neal cut Mozzie off, now frustrated. "No, I moved here years ago, and still have nothing to show for it. I am Neal Caffery, in the greatest art city in the world, and I am just sitting here… drinking coffee? Mozzie I need to live." Neal got up, grabbing his coffee and newspaper, clearly ready for this conversation to be over. Despite dealing this it for quite some time, Neal wasn't used to Mozzie being paranoid all the time.

"May I remind you, Neal Caffery is dead. What happens if you get caught? Do you know how bad that would?" Mozzie warned.

"Why do you care all of a sudden?" Neal asked, "You used to always be up for our wild adventures."

"I can't lose you," Mozzie said, "Not again."

Neal stood up, taken aback by what Mozzie had to say. He stared off into the distance for a moment, thinking. He knew how upset Mozzie when Neal faked his death and didn't leave him clues for the first year. Whether he liked it or not Neal knew that Mozzie was going to be at his side during this whole adventure.

Neal knew this was the time for him to make his move. Great art thief Neal Caffery was ready to be back in business. With a fresh idea in his head, he pat Mozzie on the back and grinned the infamous Neal Caffery grin.

Smiling, Neal taking his coffee and newspaper with him started down the streets of Paris. Seeing a group of cute ladies nearby, Neal smiled and tipped his hat towards them.

"Oh boy," Mozzie grumbled to himself, "guess we are back at it."