When Peter pulled into the driveway, Elisabeth looked unhappy. 'I miss Neal. This house is not the same without him. Why did you let him go?'

Peter decided to ignore the accusing undertone in the question. "Because he is very happy where he is right now and has probably the fun of his lifetime. He'll be spoiled rotten. When he comes back, he'll be unbearable."

El shrugged. "But don't you miss him at all? What happens if he becomes homesick? Or if he gets into trouble? You know him..."

Her husband sighed. "Yes, I'm going to miss him. But he's only upstate, spending 2 weeks with your parents. Quite frankly, I prefer if he stays there without me. Spending 2 weeks with your father is literally my worst nightmare. Of course, he will get into trouble. It's Neal! Trust me, your parents will handle it well and after spending a fortnight with a 7 year old bundle of energy, they will be glad to bring their grandson back to us. Until then we have 14 days of romantic dinners, sleeping in late, and quiet evenings just you and me."

Peter wasn't as cool as he pretended to be. He knew he would miss the nonsense talk over breakfast and watching baseball alone was just half the fun. However, he was also aware that Neal would have a lot of fun in the next two weeks.

Their neighbor, Jake, came over to greet them. It wasn't unusual for him to come across for a chat. The Burke's had made a lot of contact with the neighbors since they've had a kid who loved to explore the surroundings.

"Hey Peter, have you joined the Catholic Church recently? I dare say, that priest of yours seems to be a decent chap. If you ignore the funny accent, of course." Jake was obviously curious.

Whereas Peter Burke was confused. 'What priest? I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Jake recalled the encounter he had earlier that afternoon. 'Priest. European accent. Handsome fellow, about 6 feet tall. Probably in his late forties, grayish hair. He was asking for you. Told me you made once a leap of faith for him and that he's about to reinstate your commitment. Wait, what was his name... Father Denis, I think.'

El was laughing. 'Peter Burke, you never stop to amaze me. Now, you've made friends with a priest without my knowledge.'

Peter groaned irritated. 'Only because someone looks like a priest doesn't mean he has to be one. Did he leave a message?'

Jake smirked. 'Yep, he said he will be back tomorrow after church to talk to you. He also said he wouldn't mind joining you for lunch - as long as El does the cooking and he doesn't have to chew your pot roast. He really seems to know you.'

Just to be sure, Peter had to ask. 'Do you remember his eyes? What color have his eyes?'

'Deep blue eyes behind those glasses. To quote the wife, 'You could get lost in them'. And apparently she's never seen so beautiful eyes. Told me she would be going to church more often if all the priests looked like that nowadays.'

El stared at Peter. When they had entered the house and the door was closed, she didn't hold back. She was decidedly fuming. 'If I hadn't attended Neal Caffrey's funeral myself, I would say Jake gave a pretty good description of Neal. But he is dead. I've been grieving about him for a long, a very long time. Tell me I'm wrong and Neal George Caffrey has not been alive all the time!'

At the time, it had seemed to Peter the best option to tell no-one that Neal survived. It hadn't taken Peter long to understand why it was better for Caffrey to stay dead. This wasn't one of his cons, but a reasonable plan to keep everyone alive and safe. To keep a secret, you shouldn't let anyone in. 'Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.', as Mozzie had put it once.

Now of course, facing El's rage, it suddenly didn't seem such a good idea any more. They had a heated argument and she made no bones about her hurt feelings. She had mourned, and suffered, and finally coped with the loss. Only to find out, Neal turned up at their doorstep – in the flesh – almost 8 years later.

Later in the evening, Peter came to the conclusion that mentioning her hormonal imbalance during the pregnancy has neither been a convincing argument nor a wise move. On the other hand, they bought a new couch two years ago which was rather comfy. Sleeping a night on the couch wasn't too bad.

*** Next day ***

Peter Burke would have recognized Neal by that swaggering walk everywhere in the world, even in the middle of a dense crowd. He was sneering while watching his friend walking down the street. It seemed odd at a priest to be strutting as if he owned the world.

The very moment Neal entered the front yard, Peter hugged him tight, quite overwhelmed by the moment. 'Oh Neal, it's good to have you back!'

The other man told him in a solemn tone, 'You may call me Father Denis, my Son.'

'I may call you Neal or I may call the police, it's completely up to you.' But the FBI agent grinned and couldn't fool anyone.

The con man replied with disarming nonchalance, 'I guess, Neal is just as fine then.' He had to fight hard to act cool and pretend being unmoved. As a matter of fact, he had to gulp back his tears because it felt wonderful to meet his friend after all these years. Meeting June has been an emotional experience already, yet this was even more powerful.

Elisabeth didn't even try to blink back tears. She was a crying mess moments after she started hugging Neal. Not only was she happy to see him after all the years, but she understood the huge sacrifice he had made to keep his friends safe. So she hugged him, kissed him, and didn't stop talking.

At one point, she punched him hard in the chest. 'That's for not getting in contact and letting me believe you're dead. Don't do this again, ever!'

Neal appreciated that Peter hasn't confided the secret to his wife. Over the years, Neal has sent cryptic emails at least once a year to let Peter know he was doing alright. Even though, he kept his whereabouts to himself. According to Neal's unspoken wish, the FBI agent had restrained himself from searching for his friend because he didn't want to raise unwanted attention. It hasn't been easy for him and more than once, he was just about to start an international search operation in the FBI database. But he has never actually done it.

They ate lunch, shared stories and pictures, and enjoyed the reunion. Neal had to watch tons of photos showing his namesake as a baby, a toddler riding on Satchmo, his first day at kindergarten, or swinging a baseball bat.

He eluded most of the questions how and where he'd spent the last years. When asked how he'd made a living, he just told them that he'd kept the French police very busy. Being asked directly whether he did that by committing crimes or helping to solve ones, he gave them the sphinxlike smile he had perfected and remained silent.

Peter had learned why Neal used the disguise of a priest, but still he was irritated. 'You know, these priest clothes take some getting used to. Are you aware that you're wearing literally a white collar?'

The response was only a strained sigh to comment on the stale joke. Which didn't stop Peter from rattling on. 'This must be a real turnoff for the ladies. Even worse, you turned gray. Well, not completely gray, but there are many gray streaks. When did that happen? And how do you cope?'

Caffrey grinned. 'It happened this Monday around half past five in the afternoon. I, a gifted hairstylist, and a bottle of dye accomplished the deed. My friend Denis is 53 years old. I can't look like my usual stunning self when impersonating him. Therefore, I had to age prematurely. It's all for the good cause.'

Neal talked about June's problem, yet Peter was already aware of the case. 'I know that my division is investigating. So far, I hate to say it... But so far, a lot is pointing in Byron's direction. Yet no other trace to be found. Maybe June is wrong, and Byron is the culprit after all.'

The former criminal objected vehemently. 'I won't deny that Byron was a criminal. But I know that he wouldn't have taken anything from a charity.'

The FBI agent wasn't convinced. 'How exactly do you know that? You haven't even met him in person!'

Caffrey shook his head in astonishment. 'I should have thought it was obvious. Look, do you know why June hit it off with me right from the start? I'm just like Byron in so many ways. It won't give me sleepless nights if I steal a treasure from the rich. Even so, I would never take anything from kids or a charity. There are not many rules we keep. But this is one of them and we don't break it.'

Burke could follow Neal's argumentation. However, the facts were not in favor of Byron. 'We found plenty incriminating evidence which will be hard to disprove. Maybe, there's nothing you can do for June.'

'Tell me about the incriminating evidence! What is it?' Neal was eager for facts.

Unfortunately, Burke had no intentions to share the details. 'You know that I can't tell you anything. It's confidential information. I can't share FBI details with you!'

The ex CI couldn't believe it. 'Seriously? Are you kidding me? I was working with you for years. I shared so many secrets I'd better kept for myself. You can't shut me off now.'

It took a while, but eventually the FBI agent was willing to disclose the state of the investigations.

Chemical analysis proved that the paint used for the art was manufactured in New Jersey between 1987 and 1989. It was a fact that the painting was a forgery.

Glenda Baker was the head of the charity. Her grandmother has founded 'Harlem Shelter for Kids' and ever since, the whole family has been deeply committed to it. Glenda told the FBI that one night she had seen Byron leaving the upper floor with a huge portfolio, the type used for paintings. When spoken to, he seemed like a kid getting caught with his hand in a cookie jar. However, he told Glenda a story about a Christmas present for June and coaxed her to keep this encounter a secret.

Not only Glenda hat witnessed this, but also a young community worker who worked for the charity. Both women remembered even the date of this occurrence because it had been the night before Christmas 1988 and they had stayed late to wrap last minute donations as presents for the kids.

During his criminal life Byron had swapped many paintings and replaced them with forgeries. However, the police could prove only one of these offenses against him. He had spent 3 years in jail for the forgery of a Matisse. Whether he abode by the law or was just too slick to get caught was unclear, but afterwards he has never once turned up on the radar of the police again.

That forged Matisse had been used as basis of comparison to the recently emerged Vermeer. They both used the same type of canvas and the colors were from the same small manufacturer. Both paintings were very different in artistic style, though there were similarities found.

The FBI has executed a search warrant. But to no avail. There was no incriminating evidence found in the Ellington's house at Riverside Drive. They interrogated a few fences, yet came up with nothing. The investigations got stuck.

Sure enough, Neal had to call these facts into question. 'Did you check Glenda's credibility? How's her financial background? It's quite easy to blame a former criminal to distract the attention from herself. And how can you compare a painting from the Dutch Golden Age with an Impressionist! They are too different.'

Peter wasn't convinced. 'We've done our homework. Glenda's financial background is stable. Over the last 30 years, she hasn't even once been in the red. Furthermore, the second witness is beyond all doubt. Actually, by the looks of it, she seems to be a colleague of yours...'

Caffrey threw him a questioning look. 'What are you talking about?'

Burke sneered. 'She's a nun. A real one. Honest-to-goodness. A genuine nun. No alias, but the authentic Sister Mary Frances has given her statement.'

Instead of being downcast by the news, Neal was excited. 'Then, I think I've got the perfect angle to go in and start an undercover investigation. That's awesome! We're going to prove Byron's innocence.'

Somehow, Peter Burke wasn't surprised by this enthusiasm. It'll be a cold day in hell when he'd admit that he had missed that reckless abandon, but he was truly looking forward to digging into this with his former consultant. 'If there's any undercover operation at all, it's driven by the FBI. And whether you go in or not is completely up to the Special Agent in charge of the case.'

Neal was not thrilled hearing this. 'Fine. If you want to wait until your dull, bureaucratic Harvard co-eds have filled out the necessary forms, go ahead. June is running out of time and I'm not going to waste precious time.'

Peter looked deadly serious while teasing his friend. 'I'd say we should talk to the Agent first before jumping to conclusions. Should I tell Clinton that you called him a dull, bureaucratic Harvard co-ed or do you want to have the pleasure yourself?'

AN :

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