A/N: This takes place before the Point Blank mid-summer season finale.

Mrs. Caffrey – Chapter 1

It had been a pretty dull Monday so far. Peter was stuck in budget meetings all morning, which left Neal, unfortunately for him, in Diana's care. So far she had put him to work catching up on all the paperwork he had been avoiding for months. "But I'm not an agent—I'm a consultant. I consult. I don't report."

"Right now, you report. To me. Hughes wants a full write up from everyone involved in any field operation. That includes you. Now type."

Neal took a step nearer to her, invading her personal space. His eyes sparkled and his smile turned sultry as he leaned in towards her.

Diana burst out laughing.

Neal retreated, his smile gone. "You know, it's an unfair advantage you have not being susceptible to my masculine charms."

"Deal with it. If you just sat down and did the work, you'd spend less time than you do trying to worm your way out of it."

Neal flashed her a grin. "It's all part of the dance. It's my mission in life to charm my way out of boring and mundane work."

Diana just folded her arms and tapped one foot impatiently.

Neal held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm going." Not seeing any apparent escape avenues, he resigned himself to the paperwork and sat down at his computer.

Finally, close to noon, Peter was released from the meeting. He went to Neal's desk and smiled seeing that the ex-con was deep in concentration typing a report. "Hey, I don't want to interrupt, but I need some lunch. Interested?"

"Oh thank God, Peter. This is the fourth DP-5 form I've done today. Diana is not a nice woman."

"Don't complain. When I started, we were using typewriters and carbon paper.

"And stone knives?"

"Well, if you're sure you don't want lunch, I'll let Diana know that you have some time on your hands."

"Sorry, Peter. I would dearly love to go to lunch with you. Your conversation and your wallet would be most enjoyable."

"Flatterer."

The two left in harmony and grabbed an all-too-quick lunch before having to return to budgets and DP-5 forms. They walked back into the office, Neal in front of Peter. When they reached Neal's desk, he abruptly froze. Peter nearly ran into him. "Hey, what are you doing?"

Neal was immobile, staring wide-eyed at an elegant black glass vase on his desk. It held a single white orchid with long, slender petals curled like legs.

Peter looked at the flower and found nothing significant in it other than the faint distaste he felt for its insect-like appearance. He noted that there was no card attached. Then he looked at Neal's face. Neal had paled to the point where even his lips looked ashen. "Neal, what's wrong? What is it?'

Neal turned his head to look at Peter as if he had just noticed him standing there. "It can't be. She's dead. I killed her."

The words struck cold fear in Peter, and an image of Neal handling a gun with practiced ease rose in his mind. Peter had never found out the cause for Neal's avowed dislike of firearms. What if the reason was that Neal had actually killed someone?

Neal's hand trembled as he reached for the flower, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it. Peter took Neal by the arm and forcibly hustled him up the stairs to his office. Closing the door, he pushed Neal into a chair.

"Neal." No response. Peter put his hands on Neal's shoulders and shook him slightly. "Neal, look at me!"

Neal slowly raised his head and glanced around seemingly confused as to how he had gotten to Peter's office. He turned to look at Peter.

"Neal, did you just confess to murder?" Peter held his breath, waiting for the response.

"What? Peter, no. But I was stupid, and I was responsible for her death."

Profound relief that he didn't have to arrest his partner silenced Peter for a moment. Then curiosity and impatience took over as he demanded, "So who are you talking about, and what the hell happened? C'mon, Neal, you can't just drop a bomb like that and then clam up. You have to trust me."

Some of the color had returned to Neal's face. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and stared out the window.

Peter watched as the internal debate Neal was having was reflected on his face. How much to reveal to his FBI handler-if anything. How much to keep hidden. What were the risks? The benefits? The options? Usually, this analysis took place in a flash in that lightning brain of his. This time it was a slow, grinding process. Peter sat down behind his desk and waited, giving Neal the time to reach the inevitable conclusion that he had to confide in Peter.

A long sigh signaled that Neal had capitulated and was ready to talk.

"It was ten years ago. I was twenty-two, young and stupid, on a high from my first successful heists. I was vacationing in Greece when I met her. Her name was Rachel. She had a dozen last names—I never knew if any of them were real. But it didn't matter to me. I was captivated the first night I met her. She was beautiful and fearless, always keeping her eye on the prize, doing whatever was needed to win. And with her, the prize was almost always jewels. She was fascinated by them. I followed her like a lovesick puppy, almost speechless with adoration."

Peter smiled at the idea of the normally suave conman flustered and stumbling after a girl. "So what was the job she recruited you for?"

Annoyed at Peter's insight, Neal asked, "Do you want me to tell you the story?"

"Fair enough. Go on."

"Well, you're right—she did want my help with a con. I would have helped her steal the crown jewels of England if she had wanted me to. She was planning a diamond heist.

"Neal, should you be telling me this?"

"Whatever my intentions were, I didn't actually commit the crime, Peter. There's nothing you should arrest me for."

"Good. So who was the mark?"

"She was targeting Rudolf Janik."

"Janik? The biggest illegal arms dealer in twelve countries? Were you crazy?"

"Maybe. He's also the biggest diamond collector in twelve countries. Rachel wanted them. One in particular. The Cathcart diamond. She…"

Peter interrupted. "The Cathcart? That disappeared decades ago. All 153 carats of it set in platinum. That would be quite a catch."

"Rachel had wanted it her whole life. She was convinced that Janik had it. So she studied him for years, what he liked, what he wanted, what his weaknesses were. She made herself over into exactly what he looked for in a woman and conned her way to his attention. It worked. He was hooked. Just one problem, though. Janik is a womanizer with an odd rule. He sees only married women, the more recently married the better. He gets off on taking the new bride from her husband. It also protects him from any matrimonial ambitions a single woman might have."

"So she wanted you to be the new groom?"

"Yes. She believed he kept the diamonds on his yacht he had anchored off the Greek islands. She got Janik to agree to have the wedding on his yacht as a gift to her. She planned to use it as cover for stealing the diamonds. She got a friend to impersonate a minister, ordered flowers, music, the whole thing. The wedding went off as planned. But she had done too good a job at hooking him. Janik couldn't tear himself away from Rachel. He truly was obsessed with her."

Neal's narrative faltered as he closed his eyes remembering what happened next. Peter waited quietly until Neal recovered and continued

"We were supposed to return to port that night, but Janik had other plans. He headed the boat out to sea. He wouldn't leave Rachel alone. He took her to his private rooms. It was all part of Rachel's plan, but I was afraid for her, so I followed them. I shouldn't have interfered. But I couldn't bear to see him caressing her and looking at her with that predatory gaze. He had decided that he wanted to possess her before she slept with her husband. I confronted him. I felt I had to protect her, even from herself. Rachel tried to calm things down, but Janik was enraged."

"He had one of his men lock me in our cabin, and he dragged Rachel up on deck. I picked the lock and hit the guard on the head with a statue. I went after them. I was in time to see her struggling with him at the bow. She slapped him, and he went berserk, shaking her and pushing her to the railing. The guard caught up with me before I could get to her. He grabbed me and threw me against the bulkhead. I was knocked out, but before I lost consciousness completely, I heard her scream. Then I heard a splash."

Neal closed his eyes. In his mind he could hear those sounds being replayed over and over. He could smell the ocean air, feel the motion of the ship through the waves.

Peter realized that Neal was lost in his memories, so he prompted him to continue. "How did you get away?"

Neal raised his eyes to focus on Peter, grateful for the distraction. "I didn't get away. He let me go. When I woke up, the yacht was anchored just off shore. I was brought to Janik. He held a knife to my throat and made a long shallow cut." Neal absently fingered the almost invisible scar. "I could feel the blood dripping down my chest. I was sure he was going to kill me. But then he told me to get out of his sight. He warned me that if I went to the police, I would be charged with her murder. He owned the local police, from the chief on down. He was too powerful for me to fight. So I did as I was told. I left Greece and never went back."

Neal put his head in his hands and let out a long shuddering sigh.