Warning: Dark content! This is slightly AU and there is dark content. Not sure what the content is yet so if you have issues with anything sich as self harm or beatings do not read.

Warning: There is a lot of gramatic issues. I have no Beta so don't kill me please! This is my first time with present tense. Sorry if it is horrid.

This is to a prompt a friend gave me : I wonder how long it will take...

This is Neal's diary that he starts after he thinks he's going back to jail for good.

Diary of a Cajole-Man

I loved the sound of pen scratching on the paper. I always had. Maybe it reminded me of the few nights Dad was home doing his work as I lay on the floor and quietly drew pictures that he never truely saw no matter how much I showed him.

Why am I thinking of my father at a time like this? At a time when I could lose the man who had become closer to me than my real father ever had been. When had this started to spiral out of control? It was two days ago. I should have started this diary then but I just found time. I'm not much of a writer.

Since this is just a piece of paper no one will read until I'm dead or arrested then it won't matter what I say. Peter will look at this. Maybe he'll see it my way by then.

I am Neal Caffrey. I was arrested twice by Agent Peter Burke of the FBI who I was also released into the custody of for four years as an FBI consultant. About two days ago we went into a bust and mock arrested a boy named Joseph Krow. After about an hour with the young man I started to notice how familiar he was.

I looked him up and found that his real name is Jonas Moreau. As in Kate Moreau. I have loved Kate as long as I can remember and never did she tell me she had a son.

He has her eyes. How did I miss those eyes?

He came in two days ago and now he has to go back into this undercover crap that the FBI has conjured to get these fraud paintings back and I am scared. How can I send Kate's son into the wolves? You tell me.

Oh you can't. You're a piece of paper.I'll start from two days ago but It thought you would need a preamble.

Talking to paper again.

I wonder how long it will take...

Two days earlier...

I walk into the office and Peter is working on a case," How long ago did you get this?" I ask.

"I just got it about two hours ago. Come look." He made a motion to the pictures in front of him and I move over to them. All of them are pictures of a boy. He seems to be between the age of fifteen and nineteen. He has long, wispy, brunette hair that hangs in his eyes. It matches his white wife beater. The papers say there is a scar on his right cheek. Can't see it in the pictures.

"What's the deal?" I ask quietly, scoffing even quieter.

"He painted replicas of all of the paintings that were stolen from that gallery last week. When his step father saw them he thought he would pawn them off as real ones. His son came to us. This..." Peter points at one of the pictures," Is Joseph Krow. His father threw him to the wolves and forced him to go in and sell his paintings three times each. He was going to sell them to three major mobs working in this area of the continent. We set it up for him to go in with the paintings and we will arrest him and any pawns with him and confinscate the paintings."

"What good does that do? Won't it just get him in trouble?" I ask, scanning the photograph of the boy.

"Get's us some names to connect to the mobs, saves the kid and keeps a brilliant forger off the streets. When he hears your story it will scare him straight." Peter smiles and I smile sarcastically.

"Is he that good, Peter?" I ask. I have a lot of questions.

"Yes. Here is one of his paintings now." He put his hand up to signal that Jones could come in with the small painting he has under his arm.

"Here you are, boss. Hey, Caffrey." He has gone back to last name basis with me since the thing with the treasure. I technically wasn't the one who stole the treasure. Just saying.

"Take a look, Neal." He pulls the sheet away and I am shocked at the sight. Perfection. That is perfection. Almost as good as mine. I stare and twist my body and head to see better. I have to meet him.

"I have seen no rival to this other than maybe myself. How old is he?" I say, clearly in shock.

"Seventeen." Peter grins," And you get to meet him."

"Can't wait." I grin and look back at the work," Can I have this?" I point at the work and Peter's eyebrows knit together.

"Uh, No." He answers as he walks out. He stops at the door and leans back in. I smile my most charming smile and he shakes his head," No." I look at the painting again.

"I wonder..." I mumble to myself.

Please review. Please. Reviews are life! Happy reading!