Dear Readers: If you want these characters to make sense, please read Her Father's Daughter, Friends Bring Out The Best, False Assumptions, and Mechanical Failure frist. They are the foundations of these characters. Enjoy, and please, tell me how I did, because I'm not sure if I should really continue...
"Trembling, crawling across my skin, feeling your cold, dead eyes, stealing the life of mine..." -Breaking Benjamin, "Dance with the Devil"
"Good morning, Peter," Neal said cheerfully as he strode into the office on Thursday morning.
"You're in a good mood," Peter observed.
"Tomorrow's Friday," Neal said simply, folding himself into his rolling desk chair.
"Right," Peter nodded. "You get to see Jessica this weekend, don't you?"
"Yup," Neal confirmed with a smile. "First time in two weeks."
"She feeling better?" Peter asked. Jessica had come down with the flu and hadn't been well enough to travel for the past two weekends.
Neal nodded, "Her fever is gone, and she went back to school on Tuesday."
"Good," Peter approved with a nod and a smile. He liked the influence the ten-year-old had on the conman.
"Excuse me," Peter and Neal turned to see a young man standing before them. Hell, he was just a kid; he couldn't have been older than eighteen. He had short, thick, spiky light brown hair and ice blue eyes that looked on edge, nervous, scared. "I'm looking for Agent Peter Burke and Neal Caffrey."
"That would be us," Neal smiled, looking the kid over with a scrutinizing gaze, taking in the sight of his loose hoodie, his even-looser jeans, and his sneakers. The conman stood up, flashing one of his award winning smiles as he extended a hand towards him. "Neal Caffrey."
"Luc Hale," the teen introduced himself, shaking his hand firmly. "I'm a friend of Jessica's."
"I've heard of you," Neal nodded. Jessica met him at one of her art shows. They lived in the same building, and now he watched her when Rebecca had to work late. Jessica absolutely adored him. He helped her with her art shows, picking subjects to draw and paint. Rebecca thought very highly of him, too. Neal had not yet gotten the pleasure of meeting him face-to-face.
"What can we do for you, Luc?" Peter asked as he shook the boy's hand.
Luc glanced around. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked at last.
Peter and Neal exchanged glances, then the agent nodded. "Follow me," he commanded. He and Neal led Luc through the bullpen and into the FBI man's office. Neal leaned against the window behind Peter's desk and Luc took a seat in the chair in front of the desk as Peter closed the door and sat down in his chair.
"So, what's the problem, Luc?" the FBI man questioned.
Luc hesitated, obviously not wanting to admit what he was about to. Finally, he let out a sigh. "I'm in a little trouble," he confessed at last.
Neal studied the young man, intrigued. "What kind of trouble?"
Luc stood beside Jessica, leaning against the picnic table behind him, holding Shadow's leash in his hand, watching as the little girl worked on her art project: she was to copy a famous painting—in her case, the Mona Lisa—and add her own twist on it. Jessi had decided to sketch herself and Shadow into the picture. Right now, she was almost done with the Mona Lisa portion of the assignment.
"Hey, Luc!" Luc turned when he heard someone call his name, and instantly stiffened. A man with black hair and green eyes that shone with a false kindness that looked like a threat was walking towards him. Beside him, Shadow, now fully grown, growled low in his throat.
"Shadow!" Jessica scolded.
Luc chuckled. "Good boy," he muttered at the Retriever, smoothing his head. The man nodded at the teen, calling him over.
"Hey, Jessi, I'll be right back, ok?" Luc said as he tied Shadow's leash to the picnic table.
"Ok," Jessica agreed, not looking up from her work.
Luc hesitated, then made his way over to the man. "Matt," he nodded with forced respect.
"You've been avoiding me," It wasn't a question.
"I'm not going to do it," Luc said firmly.
"Actually, Luc, yes, you are," Matt grinned.
"No, I'm not," Luc shook his head. "I'm not a criminal, ok? Unlike you, I have a moral code. And my moral code says that I cannot help you bypass the museum's security system so you can steal a painting. I'm not going to do it. I refuse."
"See, you don't get how this works, kid," Matt's words had a threat laced into them. "You don't get to refuse. You are the best computer geek I could find on such short notice. This whole thing hinges on what you bring to the table. You don't get to back out."
"How can I back out of something I never agreed to do in the first place?" Luc challenged.
Before Matt could answer, the wind picked up, gusting across the flat area they stood in. Behind him, Luc heard Jessica scream, and turned to see what happened. The wind had caused her project to blow away from her. It was coming towards them, fluttering in the wind. Matt's hand reflexively shot out, snatching it from the air. He held it in his hands, examining it, as Jessica came running over.
Matt studied the picture, looking from the printed picture of the Mona Lisa attached to it, to Jessica's drawing, and back. The two were virtually identical.
"Thanks for catching that," Jessica said breathlessly, coming to a stop beside Luc. "I don't know what I would have done if I had to start over."
"No problem," Matt said with a charismatic smile. Then he returned his attention to the drawing. "Did you draw this?" he asked at last.
Jessica nodded. "Yeah, it's my art assignment," she told him.
"It's excellent," the criminal approved.
"Thank you," Jessica grinned, blushing.
Matt handed the drawing back to her, and Jessica went back to the table. Matt watched her go with a smile, then turned to Luc.
"You've been holding out on me," he said with a plotting grin.
Luc's eyes widened. "No," he said firmly. "No. She's not getting involved. She's ten years old for God's sake!"
"Yeah, she's ten years old, and she's one of the best forgers I've ever seen!" Matt exclaimed. "And I mean right up there with the best of the best. I'm talking...I'm talking Neal Caffrey good."
Luc bit back a smile, marveling at the criminal's choice of conman for comparison, considering that Neal Caffrey was her father.
"She's not getting involved," Luc said firmly. "Look, I'll...I'll do what you want, but I'm not letting you drag her into this."
"Too late, Luc," Matt said mischievously. "She has already captured my interest."
"I'm not going to let you do this to her," Luc growled furiously. "She's been through enough."
"Really?" Matt snorted, obviously not believing that a little girl would have had to deal with anything more traumatic than the death of a goldfish. "What has she been through before? Did she skin her knee or something?"
"She's almost died more than once," Luc snapped. "Her life has already been put into danger by scumbags like you, and I'm not going to let it happen to her again. She doesn't deserve it. She's just a little girl."
"Look, Luc," Matt sighed. "I like you and all, but I don't appreciate it when people tell me no."
"Well too bad," Luc said boldly, even though his heart pounded with fear, "because that is exactly what I'm doing." With that, he began to turn and walk away. Matt's hand reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.
"Hey, kid," he growled. "I don't think you get this. You don't get to say no, and neither does she. I don't care how you get her to do it, but you better get her to forge a painting for me. If not, I'll kill you both."
With that, the criminal turned and stormed off, leaving Luc alone.
Luc finished his story, recounting the events of the past couple of days, and waited for what they were going to say to him, expecting the worst.
"Which painting did he want you to help him steal?" Peter asked, all-business.
"It's called Bal du moulin de la Galette," Luc told them, his French impeccable. "It was painted in 1876 by Pierre-Auguste Renoir."
"Do you know it?" Peter asked Neal over his shoulder.
The consultant nodded, "Yeah. It's not really my taste, but it's valued at around $136.4 million."
"Yeah, and it's normally on display in Paris, but for about five months, it will be here, in the US...in DC, to be exact," Luc told them.
"How did this guy find you?" Peter questioned.
"Well, I work at a bank as...well, there's a really long, complicated name for it, but essentially, I'm a computer geek who helps make sure their security system stays up," Luc explained. "They were trying to get in to our account information. They tried to hack us. So, I back-hacked them, and crashed their entire system," the teen smirked with satisfaction, "Anyway, it didn't take much to figure out that it was me. I was the only one who was working that shift." Luc sighed. "Look, I really need your help with this. I do not want to help this guy. It's not just Jessica he's threatened; he's threatened my family, too. My dad ran out on us when I was thirteen, right after my little brother was born. It's just me, my mom, and Collin now. And he said that if I didn't help him, he'd kill them all. I mean...what am I supposed to do...?" The teen's voice sounded helpless.
Peter and Neal exchanged glances.
"You did the right thing, coming to us," Peter assured him.
"I think it's a good idea if you and your family stay in protective custody while we sort this out," Neal spoke up.
"I agree," Peter nodded.
Luc let out a weary sigh. "Yeah, I should have expected that my whole 'not worrying them' thing wasn't going to last," he said softly.
Peter smiled encouragingly. "It's gonna be ok, kid," he assured him. "I'll call some friends of mine in the DC office and we'll track down your family."
"Peter," Neal spoke up.
"Yeah, Neal, they'll pick up Rebecca and Jessica, too," Peter nodded, reading the consultant's mind. Neal sighed and nodded in thanks.
"Rebecca's gonna be so pissed at me..." Neal muttered.
"Now, Luc," Peter continued, "do you think you could give us a description of Matt?"
The teenager nodded.
"Ok, then we're going to get you set up with a sketch artist," Peter said, picking up the phone and making the calls he needed to make.
Luc sat at Neal's desk, glancing around the room, fidgeting nervously as Neal and Peter talked above in the FBI man's office. Guilt was eating at his heart. Because of him, his family had been ripped from their lives. His mom would have been working. Collin would have been in preschool. Now, according to Peter and Neal, they were with a couple of FBI agents in a safe house in DC. Collin was probably scared out of his mind. His mom was probably worried about him. He was supposed to protect them, and he was doing a seriously crappy job.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, causing him to jump. Calming down, he pulled his phone out and glanced at the screen. He didn't recognize the number, but curiosity made him answer anyway.
"Hello?" he said into the phone. When the person on the other end tried to speak, Luc couldn't understand them. "Hello? Who is this? I can't hear you, hold on," Luc made his way into the hallway, where he could find a much better cell phone signal. The teenager let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Now, who is this?"
"How does it feel to be an orphan, Luc?" The voice on the other end of the line sent a chill down his spine.
"Matt?" Luc choked. "How did you get my number?"
"It was in your mother's phone," the criminal chuckled.
"Where is she?" Luc demanded.
"Oh, I'm afraid that dear Sasha and her FBI detail are no longer with us," Luc's breath caught in his throat, and his heart seemed to go still as the color drained from his face.
"You called the cops on us, Luc," Matt continued. "You should have known this would happen."
"Where's Collin?" Luc asked, his voice frantic.
"Oh, don't worry, Luc," Matt's voice was full of false reassurance. "The little squirt is fine. I'm sure he's missing his big brother right now, though."
Luc let out a shaking breath, tears gathering in his eyes. "What do I have to do?" he asked finally, sounding crushed and defeated.
"Attaboy, Luc," Matt chuckled. "Here's what I want you to do..."