Disclaimer—I don't own any of these characters
Summary—Neal Caffrey is a fifteen year-old art forger. And Peter Burke is the FBI agent assigned to his case.
Neal wandered around; not even bothering to conceal his amazement at the incredible quantity of works surrounding him. Even though he had already been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art before, Neal still found it overwhelming.
He stepped closer to a Vermeer. The painting was phenomenal, but Neal wasn't exactly concerned with the beauty of the painting. He had been offered a six-digit price for forging and stealing the real copy of this painting.
Sneaking a nonchalant glance around to locate the nearest guard, Neal took a few photos of the painting with a disposable camera. He swiftly slid the camera into his jacket pocket and wandered out, playing the part of a curious tourist.
Neal stayed up for six plus hours copying the painting. He finally sat back, tiredly rubbing his eyes with the non-paint-smudged wrist.
Peter entered his boss's office tentatively.
"You asked to see me?" he queried.
"Yes. A Vermeer at the Met has been replaced with an expert fake."
Less than two hours later, Peter was looking at surveillance tapes from the museum. He had already watched about three hours and was ready to take a break when something made him sit up.
He saw a kid step closer to the painting and take photos of the painting. Pausing the video, Peter magnified the image until he got a fuzzy image of the kid's face.
"Shit" he breathed.
Jones poked his head around the office door, "find anything?"
"Let's go."
Peter gazed over the top of his tourist map.
"Where is he?" he muttered over his communication device.
"He's coming" came Jones' reply.
"Yeah? How do you know?"
"I see him."
Peter instinctively swiveled his head in the direction of Jones.
Sure enough, Neal Caffrey was sauntering down the corridor, wearing a curator's uniform.
He was carrying a small case and wearing a pair of white gloves.
"I'm sorry, this gallery is going to be closed for—" he stopped speaking as soon as Peter stood up.
Alarm flashed through Neal's eyes and he dropped the case, sprinting for the exit. Peter leapt forward and tackled Neal, not hearing the heavy thud Neal's head made as he struck the floor.
Neal tried to say something but was silenced by the sudden dizziness that came with the agent jerking him to his feet. Neal didn't even try to resist as he was practically dragged out of the gallery.
A/N: I know I have another story going, but I just found this one my computer, so for now I'm going to continue with this one