Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just having fun.

A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews, and anyone who's placed this fic in their favorites and alerts! I wasn't expecting such a nice response, so I'm very grateful. Enjoy the new chapter!

Chapter Two

The statement hung in the air for a prolonged, tense minute. Neal, who was straddling the line between con and consultant to the FBI, never imagined himself facing single parenthood. He had pictured himself a father before, but that vision of settling down into family life had always been nothing but unattainable, distant. A thread of something not meant for people who lived like he did. His acquaintance, Annalise, had been right in recognizing that. But what about him? Was there room in his chaotic, sometimes dangerous lifestyle for that screaming bundle of joy? He had not a clue of how he would juggle work with a newborn, but as he slowly reminded himself, that little baby wasn't just any newborn. She was partially him. How could he get through his days if he ever let her go, knowing there was a little girl out there somewhere whom he had been responsible for bringing into the world?

Annalise said she wanted her to stay with people who would give her everything she would need, who would take care of her, and love her. Neal couldn't imagine his daughter staying anywhere but here with him. It was a curveball he was less than prepared for, but he had to make it work, if only for his daughter's benefit. She needed at least one of her parents to stick with her.

"What are you planning to do, Neal?" June asked. Her expression had softened from concern to empathy. Neal noticed a flicker of newfound fondness in the older woman's eyes upon learning the little girl was indeed his.

"If you don't mind an extra tenant," Neal decided, "Gemma will be sticking around for the foreseeable future."

June's face broke into a smile. "Of course not. You are both more than welcome, you know that. It's been a long time since I've cared for a little one…" She looked excited at the prospect. "Here, I'll let you hold your daughter and then maybe she'll stop her fussing." She ran her finger across the pink skin of the baby's cheek, damp with tears, before passing her over to Neal.

He had such a look of panic on his face that it made her laugh. She remembered her husband wearing the very same expression upon becoming a first-time father. The memory made her heart swell with joy. She laid the infant in Neal's awaiting arms with the practiced care of an experienced mother and grandmother. Neal swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I don't want to, you know, hurt her," he said, eyes wide. "Is this…right?"

June chuckled again. "You won't hurt her, you're doing just fine. See there? Make sure to cradle her head. There you go."

Gemma's head was ever-so-gently propped in the crook of Neal's arm, his other arm wrapped around her, holding onto her from underneath. He was acutely aware of his movements, his hold on her steady and strong. He was still petrified. This was uncharted territory. His heart kept its rapid rhythm, afraid that one moment he would do something stupid or wrong to mess this up.

"Well, would you look at that," June observed. "She's stopped crying."

Truth be told, Neal had been so preoccupied he barely noticed. Gemma had, in fact, ceased in her hysterical sobs and chest-heaving whimpers.

"She has an impressive set of lungs. I bet she tired herself out."

"I think she just wanted her daddy," June smiled. Neal's lips upturned in a smirk, more pleased than he was willing to admit. "I'll leave the two of you to get acquainted and make a few phone calls. There might be some of my granddaughter's things packed away that she can borrow."

"Thanks, June," Neal said as she made her way to the door. She paused with her hand poised on the doorknob and pivoted on her heel to face him.

"I know this is overwhelming, but I have every confidence that you'll make an excellent father, Neal. I think you might need her as much as she needs you."

When the door clicked shut, Neal dared to move from his spot and began to pace across the apartment with Gemma cradled against him like he would never let her out of his grasp. Walking aimlessly, he finally had the chance to look down at the infant now in his care, the little human being who shared half his genetics and his last name. She was gazing up at him, too, oddly quiet. She was captivated, tiny fingers still grasping at nothing but the air. Neal pushed the ends of the blanket away from her to get a better look, and then eased his index finger into her tiny palm.

He let out a sharp gasp when her impossibly small fist curled around his finger. Neal didn't expect her to have such an iron grip; she held onto his finger like it was the only way she had to tell him she didn't want to let go, either. And he was okay with that. More than okay.

Her skin was soft, new to the world. It was a strange sensation, one that Neal could only marvel at. He could never dream of looking at this baby and feeling nothing but wonder and amazement at her very existence. Neal guessed that was where he and Annalise differed. As he took in the image of his daughter, he was mesmerized by the fact that he had helped create her. She was more precious than any work of art he had ever laid eyes on, anything at all he had ever forged or stolen in his entire life.

And there was no doubt she was his. The similarities were striking and visibly apparent. Waves of thick dark brunette hair stuck up at odd angles, curling across her forehead. For an infant, she had long, elegant eyelashes, damp with the remnants of her shed tears. Her cheeks were rosy and held the typical chubbiness of a newborn. Her sweetly curved lips were open, tongue smacking against the roof of her mouth.

"You have your mother's nose," Neal observed. "It's all right. It's a good nose." He laughed when her fist pinched his finger. "But you're all Caffrey, little girl."

Gemma had his eyes, and his eyes exactly. The same shade of crystalline light blue. It was startling to Neal to see a copy of himself perfected in this tiny infant.

"That's okay, too," he continued. "It's not so bad, I promise. Just means you'll be a handful."

Neal leaned down to place a kiss onto her forehead, eyes fluttering closed. "Gemma," he whispered at last, voice tinted with a songlike cadence. He liked the name. "Gemma Matisse. I think I'll call you Gem." He chuckled to himself. "You have no idea what I'm saying to you, but you're cute. I'll give you that."

Gemma made a small cooing sound, earning a grin from her father. "Ah, so you agree. Fair enough." He continued his pacing. "I bet you don't know that you're named after an artist. Pretty clever of your mom, if you ask me. When you're older I'll have to tell you about him, excluding the few times I've forged his work. That is an entirely different story we'll be saving 'til you're much, much older."

When she made another nonsense noise, Neal added, "Although it would make for an interesting bedtime story."

Another knock on the door interrupted Neal and tore his gaze away from his daughter. She had nearly been sleeping from the gentle rocking motion he had subconsciously created while he carried her around the room. The abrupt sound woke her up and provoked a few noises of irritation from her tiny lips. Without thinking, he unhooked his finger from her grasp and swept the back of his hand across her cheek in an attempt to comfort her.

"Shhh, it's okay, Gem," he said to her, voice hushed. To the knocking, Neal called, "Door's open, June."

The door was pushed open, but the person behind it wasn't June. Neal was both surprised and unsurprised to see Mozzie stroll across the threshold, perfectly at home. He halted, though, once he saw Neal, and more importantly, what Neal was holding.

"Hey, Moz," Neal greeted. Mozzie was so confused by the presence of an infant in his friend's arms that his jaw just about dropped to the floor. He was even more bewildered that Neal chose to act like everything was normal. Like this was merely a typical day according to what their typical days consisted of, which was not really anything typical at all.

"I walk in here and you're holding a baby and all you have to say to me is hey?" Mozzie exclaimed. "I demand an explanation. Pronto."