Title: The Same Coin
Summary: They work well together. Opposite sides of the same coin. She sees this, even if he doesn't. Alex POV.
A/N: Because I really liked the Season 1 finale. And because Alex has character, and Kate is a huge question mark. Spoilers for the Season 1 finale.
There.
The blond, wearing a two piece suit so dark brown it almost looks black. He's a bit of a wimp, she decides, eyeing him as she slips easily into the stream of foot traffic. Unable to commit to either color, preferring instead to hover around the border of both. And a blue tie. Everyone wears blue ties.
Plus, she can see by the shine of his shoes and the model of the cell phone he's chatting away on that he won't miss whatever he's got in that wallet anyway.
She bumps into him with a bit more force than necessary before placing an embarrassed look onto her face, and laughing, "Oh, I'm so sorry" as she slips her hand into his pocket. The thin leather case slides out with barely a whisper, and she tucks it into her purse as she keeps walking.
After a minute or so she stops, next to a fountain with great, arcing jets of water; they splash down into their bowl with enough force that she can feel small drops of moisture kiss her face. It's refreshing.
She reaches casually for the wallet she nicked, and flips it open. A lone origami flower is bared to her startled, then resigned, gaze.
"Caffrey." The word comes unbidden to her lips, and she looks from side to side in irritation. Of course, it takes her a minute to locate him, and when she finally does she feels something inside of her snap.
The memories she's so carefully dammed up in her mind break free and surge forward relentlessly. Copenhagen. The music box, and oh, they were so close. Then those two anxious days in the hospital in Denmark, constantly jumping whenever a nurse entered the room, then relaxing with both relief and disappointment.
Relief because the authorities hadn't come for her yet. Disappointment because Neal hadn't either.
It takes her the entire two minute walk to where Neal's lounging against the railing to compose herself, and force those memories back into the locked box inside her head where they belong.
He's just as gorgeous as he was years ago; if time put any lines on his face at all, they only make him look more mature. More attractive. His blue eyes are still alight with a familiar wit and intelligence—a mirror, rather than a window. She's afraid to see what might be reflected there.
She holds up the origami flower as she approaches, like a barrier between them, and slips on her charming face. He's wearing his, as well, and he turns toward her in a more guarded motion than she remembers. Perhaps he's changed, too. But perhaps he hasn't, and either way she's keeping her heart to herself this time.
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FBI? Neal? Please.
"I'm serious, Al." Jeff's face is scrunched up in worry. "As a consultant under the same guy who caught him twice. Paul Burke, or something."
"Peter," she says absently, and then wishes she didn't remember everything about him so well.
"What?" Jeff stares, and then sighs and turns away. "Whatever. Just be careful, okay? The last time you worked with Caffrey you got twelve stitches in your right arm."
She opens her mouth to defend Neal, then closes it again because she doesn't want to. And Jeff wouldn't want to hear it. "Just start looking around for the music box, please. Follow up on that German lead, she sounded promising."
"As you wish, boss."
She also wishes her best employee weren't in love with her.
And then the FBI are watching her moves, and suddenly she's not so worried about unrequited love and Russian music boxes. Loud music from a club she's only vaguely familiar with hits her as she steps out of a cab. She tells the cabbie to wait ten minutes for her, and walks quickly inside.
She spots him immediately, aiming a dazzling smile at a blonde woman standing just a tad too far away. She can tell at once that he's working some sort of heist; so much the better. She's had to call off six operations so far, and reschedule about a dozen more. He can sweat for a bit.
"Dammit, Neal!"
He spots her and widens his eyes, sending her frantic signals behind the blonde's back. She recognizes them from the Copenhagen heist. Stay back.
It takes some of the fire out of her, but when she leaves the damage is done. She can hear him trying to explain away her presence, and his connection with the Bureau. He'll probably succeed. No one can resist Neal for very long.
Well, almost no one, anyway. The one person who could had captured his fancy years ago and, apparently, had no trouble exercising her talents in an attempt to keep as far away from him as possible.
She's never understood Kate. But she welcomes the opportunities Kate's absence brings.
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The German comes through. Well, sort of, Jeff explains. She knows the music box was in German hands. It was stolen by, strangely enough, the Italians. She supposes that, with their enthusiasm for art and penchant for collecting, she shouldn't be surprised.
But this information costs her. A lot. Jeff may be head over heels for her, but he still drives a hard bargain. She admires that about him.
Besides, Neal's smile when she gives him the news makes it all worth it. She's a sap, she thinks to herself, and takes a firmer grip on the heart that's suddenly become very, very slippery.
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"I'm an international art thief!" Neal announces, raising his champagne glass in a toast, and she smiles as they take him away discreetly. She loves watching him work; it's always so…effortless.
But she's no slouch herself, and she plants the smoke bombs in record time before sashaying over to her alternate exit. Once the alarm begins to ring, she hurries.
They work well together. Opposite sides of the same coin. She sees it, even if he doesn't. He's the heads to her tails, or maybe it's the other way around, but who cares? Either way, together they make a silver dollar.
"Neal! Let me in," she calls. Her heart clenches as she watches the surprised look spread across his face. She drops the key card back in through the grate, and the surprise shifts to betrayal. That look slices through her like a knife to the heart, and she turns away before he can flay her completely.
The first time she comes to give it back, his FBI handler is sitting in with him. She slips back out, unnoticed. The next time Neal's landlady (he calls her this, though she knows for a fact Neal has never paid her a penny of rent, and that June is more of a friend, anyway) catches her and shoots her a knowing look.
Alex freezes guiltily, but June only smiles cryptically to herself and says in her quiet voice, "Shall I escort you upstairs?"
Neal is shocked to see her again, and in a way she's offended. But then, she's never really given him any reason to trust her. But she's tired of waiting for him to make his move. So she puts her cards on the table (a queen of spades, jack of clubs, an ace of diamonds and, of course, a king of hearts). It's a winning hand, but she knows he always cheats, so anything could happen. He's already proved himself to be wholly unpredictable.
But then again, so has she.