Authors Note: (PLEASE READ) This story was completely mapped out after episode 1x07 'Freefall" aired. It has taken me this long smooth out all the kinks and add in all the little details I needed. Because of the time it took me to write the story, and I don't intend on changing it for the recent plot advances in the show, this fic is an AU. I have planned out each chapter, there are six, plus one interlude, and I plan on staying one chapter ahead of my updates.
Warnings: This story will contain dark themes, and lots of angst. There is a gay couple in this story, and I plan on there being a very slight Peter and Neil relationship (only if you look long enough though)
Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor do I get any profit except enjoyment from writing this Fanfiction.
And lastly: Please review, positive or negative feedback are both encouraged, (although I'd take it as a kindness if you where polite with your negative feedback) and if your interested in being my Beta, please tell me. I've been looking for a Beta on this site but can't seem to find one, I know my grammar is just awful so please excuse it, I really have tried my best!
Without Further ado:
The Horse Head Nebula Chapter one: The Best of Luck in the Worst of Circumstances
"I've been hoping for months
Hoping for years
Hoping I might forget
But it don't get much dumber, don't get much dumber
Than trying to forget a girl when you love her."
-Ok Go, Needing/Getting
Neal awoke, like he normally did, to the brightness of the sun. He opened his eyes but made no movement to rise, instead he burrowed deeper under the covers. He had been sleeping a deep and peaceful sleep. The kind of sleep only freemen got to sleep. It was the fitful, and wondrous sleep of someone no longer caged. Something he was deprived of for nearly four years of his life.
The sleep he got in prison, wasn't really sleep. It was more like unconsciousness. Just because his body stopped moving, it didn't mean his mind did. So he would wake eight hours later feeling as if he had just closed his eyes.
The two experiences-waking up in a cage, and waking up in this posh apartment with a spectacular view-were so different from each other. But they did have one thing in common. The very first thing he thought about, even before he opened his eyes.
Kate.
Even in his waking hours, while he was working on a case with Peter, she was still there. In the back of his mind like a ghost that haunted him. All the things that would have made her mad, the things she would have laughed at. Her wonderful, musical laugh. He noticed everything she liked, and everything she hated. He even smelt her perfume sometimes. Everything reminded him of her, and everything felt useless without her. It was pathetic really. He was pathetic.
He sighed and rolled out of bed. He went through the motions of getting ready for the day, using them as a distraction from depressing thoughts. He showered, and shaved and fixed his hair just right. He dressed slowly, taking extra care while buttoning his white shirt. He chose a blueish tie and jacket to match his pants. He put on a sliver tie clip and his favorite pair of shoes.
Neal liked wearing his designer tailored suits and polished shoes. They made him feel rich, respectable, and comfortable. There wasn't an armor thick enough to mimic the protection he felt when pulling on an Armani suit. It was certainly a welcomed improvement to a jumpsuit, a look which although he didn't look bad in, it wasn't necessarily flattering either.
As he finished buttoning the cuffs on his sleeve, his phone rang.
"Neal Caffery."
"I don't know why you bother saying your name. I'm the only one who calls you." Peter replied on the other end, but there was a smile in his voice.
"For your information, I was expecting a lady friend to call," he lied easily while arranging himself into a comfortable position on the couch.
"Sure you were," but Peter continued before Neal could protest against the sarcasm. "I got a new case for you. Art theft."
"Haven't we done that before?"
"Not like this we haven't. Have you ever heard of The Horsehead Nebula?"
"William James supposedly painted it for Julia Baker a few years back." Neal loved any chance to show off his knowledge of art, so he didn't mind letting his tone become a little matter-of-fact. "William himself always denied that the painting existed."
"Oh, It exists alright." Peter never misses a beat. "It's been stolen from the Baker's home in upstate New York. We're going to check out the crime scene now, want in?"
"A scandalous painting stolen from a beautiful film star?"
"I'll take that as a yes, be here in 15 okay?"
"Will do." but Peter had already hung up his end. Neal smiled and straightened his suit He only stopped to grab his hat from the table by the door, flipping it onto his head. A graceful gesture for an invisible audience.
Neal never let the irony of his situation escape him. Here he was, a con-man. A convicted criminal, working as a consultant for the FBI. And no, he wasn't scamming them, or trying to escape (for now) he was actually…
Enjoying himself.
It wasn't that he enjoyed wearing a tracking anklet or having to answer to 'the man'. In a way, he was still doing what he loved to do. Crime. Except this time around, instead of planning crime, he was solving it. The same thing from a different perspective. In a strange messed up sort a way, he was given a second chance. He was having the best of luck, in the worst of circumstances, and all he could think of to do was enjoy it, and try not to look back too long.
The Baker's house had a long winding driveway that ended at a gate. They were buzzed in by the butler after stating they where FBI. They drove up, around the decorative fountain, and parked outside the giant double doors.
It wasn't actually a house. It was a mansion, and it was breathtaking, not only in size but in beauty as well. The flower gardens themselves where a work of art, and the entire set up reminded Neal of MTV Cribs. He loved where he lived now, but he couldn't help imagining himself coming home to a house like this everyday. He didn't become an art forger for the great benefits-no, it was all about this. The money to buy things as beautiful as his (alleged) reproductions.
"I think your drooling." Peter said to Neal as they walked up the front steps- the butler already had the door open for them.
"I'm just appreciating the view. You have to admit, it's impressive."
Peter wrinkled his nose. "It's a little too flashy for me." Neal rolled his eyes. "One thing though," he stopped Neal when they where both standing at the threshold "I don't want any trouble, you understand? We had to deactivate your anklet, so no running off or what ever you might be planning." Neal feigned shock at the statement. "I mean it Neal." He said wagging his finger in Neal's face.
"Scout's honor."
"You were never a scout." Peter mumbled under his breath as he moved into the house.
"Hey," Neal said excitedly changing the subject, "do you think they have a pool?"
For a moment, Peter looked as if he would say something. Instead he just shook his head and pushed ahead of Neal and stepped inside.
It was just as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. A giant foyer greeted them, and to their left was a grand piano. There was a wide marble staircase leading to many doors on the open balcony several feet above them.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice." A women dressed in a white blouse and slacks said to them quickly. "I've just been devastated. To find one of my rarest paintings has been stolen, and then that Mr. Madison is suspected?" Her voice was sincere, but her posture and face was closed off. This was Julia Baker, star of a successful franchise of action movies entitled 'Dark Nebula' they weren't something that people watched for there great acting or intriguing plots, but rather the fact that Julia Baker wore skin tight cloths and beat the crap out of aliens. The women in front of him was dressed reasonably, looking very much like a mother, but she was still gorgeous.
Neal reached out his hand to her. "I'm Neal Caffery, FBI consultant," He gestured toward Peter before he could speak "and this is my colleague Peter Burke." Peter had a rather ungraceful moment where he stared at Neal open mouthed.
"What kind of consultant are you?"
"Oh, I deal in many trades." He replied with a suggestive smile that made Julia blush. Neal had always been a hopeless flirt. The only reason his relationship with Kate worked so well was because she found it extremely funny. It helped that she was also a hopeless flirt, which he found considerably less funny.
Peter shot an intense glare at Neal but walked forward to shake Mrs. Baker's hand. "What room was the painting stolen from?"
"This way." She turned and lead them around the grand piano, visibly trying to pull herself back together.
Sometimes, Neal couldn't believe Peter. They where currently in an amazing house with an even more amazing hostess and all he could think about was business? Mozzie was right; marriage really did ruin a man.
Julia lead them into a small sitting room adjacent to the dinning room. "It was right here." She said gesturing to the wall above an ornate wooden table. Neal looked at it carefully.
"You can't even see the outline where the painting was hanging."
"All my paintings are regularly taken down and cleaned. I have a rather large collection and they are all dear to me." She spoke rather stiffly as if offended by Neal's statement.
"Was the painting insured?" asked Peter, as Neal glanced around the other parts of the house he could see. There where indeed many paintings, most of them rare and like everything else in this house, all of them where beautiful. He smiled when he caught a glimpse of a pool through a sliding glass door.
"Of course," Julia said with a touch of defense in her voice. "Like I said, all my paintings are precious to me. This one was even more so. It was insured for as much it was worth at the time. Because of… recent events I was going to have it reprised on the 20th."
"The events your referring to is the death of William James?" Peter asked, again all business.
Pain crossed her face so quickly Neal could have imagined it. "Yes. He also, was dear to me."
"So he did paint The Horsehead Nebula for you?" Neal asked excited to lay some of these rumors to rest. Peter glared. If there was one Mr.-All-Business-FBI-Agent needed to learn it was that it took a lot more than a nasty look to keep Neal's mouth shut.
Julia sniffed. "As anyone who dug into the records would know, yes he did."
"And you have no proof of purchase?"
"I did not purchase it. It was a gift. I do though, have a document he signed. It was written up the first time I had the painting appraised. This was of course before he was denying it's existence. I also have a picture of the painting, my husband is upstairs trying to find them."
"Why would William deny that the painting existed ?" Neal asked looking carefully again at the wall. There where fingerprints right above where the painting would have been hanging.
"William is dead. We will never know." She didn't even try to hide the contempt in her voice that time.
Forensics was coming in now to test the area for evidence so they excused themselves.
"She seems uptight right?"
"Well you didn't have to ask her personal questions. We know the painting has been stolen, now we need to find out by who. It's not our jobs to get to the bottom of celebrity gossip."
Neal pouted for a moment, "Can't we do both?" Peter just shook his head and walked away. "Wait!" Neal said going after him. "Who are our suspects? Who's Mr. Madison. Oh!" He said excitedly stepping in front of Peter, "Was it the Butler? I've always wanted it to be the Butler."
"Charles Madison, is the Baker's head of security." Peter said pushing past Neal. "Him and the family where the only ones who knew the security code. What we need now is proof."
"Alibi?"
"At home with only his 16 year old son as a witness. We're working on getting the right to interview him without his dad present. Looks like Charles is giving him queues."
"This just became boring." Neal said with less enthusiasm than Peter thought possible. "Finding out who did it is the best part!"
"Well you can help me with interviews, those are fun too right?"
"Interviews?" Neal asked a little hopeful. He wouldn't mind interrogating Julia Baker some more.
"Cooks, gardeners, pool cleaner, three kids, and a husband. All people who have access to the house, and could have easily found out the code."
Neal frowned deeper. Greasy cooks and dirty gardeners did not sound as much fun as Julia Baker.
"How old are her daughters?"
It turned out that Julia's daughters where age 12 and 18, their only son was 17. It also turns out that interviewing staff is about as much fun as it sounds. None of them where even remotely interesting, or seemed like the kind of person capable of stealing a painting.
After the interviewing, Neal and Peter went back to Headquarters, where Neal was caught up on the facts of the case.
Between 2AM and 3AM there is no security footage. Because of the late hour, everyone in the house, and the daily staff members where asleep. This makes it hard to confirm alibis for pretty much everyone. To add even more to the list of subjects the Baker's where preparing for a party, so the day the painting was stolen there where caters, decorators and cleaners working in the house.
There is no record of a deletion in any of the security systems, and judging by how all the clocks where flashing 12:00, the power must have been cut from the entire house. Whoever did that just had to flip the breaker, but the breaker is clean. So clean that it had to have been wiped of prints. So why didn't the generators kick in? The generator, and the back-up generator where both broken. A clean cut to the wiring system, which from the looks of it was done weeks ago.
All of that essentially means it was premeditated, and done from the inside. And all things point toward Charles Madison. So much so it feels to Neal like he is being framed. An idea which Peter scoffed at.
"Sometimes things are exactly what they seem." A statement which Neal had always refused to believe with every fiber of his being.
"Mozzie," Neal said after calling twice in a row, "You always pick up your phone what's going on?"
"Eh--Nothing. Did you hear about The Horse-"
"-head Nebula? Working on that case right now actually."
"Wow they took out the big guns for this one." Neal knew Moz well enough to tell he wasn't being sincere by saying that.
"Yep and I need your help." Neal stretched, and placed his feet on the table, disturbing some papers that Peter was working on. "I need you to keep an eye out for the painting. Any code words or rumors you can get from any of your contacts."
"Come on? William James' death has been on the cover of every newspaper and tabloid for two weeks. The day after the police close their investigation on his death, the most controversial painting of his career gets stolen? Something like that would be kept quite. It's nearly impossible."
"Nearly!" said Neal jumping on to any hope he could find, "It may be possible?"
"I'm just not promising you anything." There was a brief pause, "Listen ,are you with Peter?"
Neal glanced over to Peter who was staring with his brow crinkled at some official, and very boring, looking document, "Yeah, why?"
"I gotta go. Lots of stuff needs to get done. Bye." His voice was rushed, distracted.
"Bye." Mozzie hung up abruptly then, leaving Neal to blink at his phone. He really didn't want to have to think about Mozzie growing distant from him. But the fact is he was. It was very apparent these past few days, he wasn't returning phone calls and he was hanging up abruptly. Neal couldn't help but feel like he had done something wrong. Mozzie had always been there, almost like a lifeline. He was a good connection, but more importantly he was a good friend, and that was something Neal had always been pathetically lacking. It was almost a relief when the phone in the office cut off his depressing spiral of thoughts.
"Who was that?" Neal asked as Peter hung up the phone and took his seat opposite of Neal.. "They released Charles Madison from custody. Wasn't enough evidence to hold him for more than a few hours, and we where pushing that anyway."
"So now what?" Neal wasn't ready to call it a day. This case was so frustrating because there was nothing to do. It was interesting yes, but at the moment there where hardly any leads to follow.
"We call it a day," Neal winced at that. "They found fingerprints near the painting, and we'll have the results by tomorrow morning. After that we interview Charles son, Terry."
"So we just…wait."
"Yep,"
Neal hated waiting.
Mozzie looked out the dusty window of his apartment and on to the streets below. Currently, he was faced with a moral dilemma. To understand this as a big deal, you must know that until five days ago, Mozzie didn't know he had any morals. Morals where for honest men, family men, married men, and he was proud to be none of those things. No, what Mozzie was, was scared. And that kind of pissed him off.
Knowing things, is never good. He was in a business where knowing got you into all sorts of trouble. Do what you have to get paid, if the sucker is dumb enough to give you money upfront, you run. There was no where to run now. No hiding place.
Peter had Kate.
