Hello all! So, chapter 3! I like this part. :D It has Fiona. :D
Disclaimer: Time for this… I don't own White Collar! Or Burn Notice! Or the painting that I randomly picked out of my art book! :P
Chapter 3
'Phone Call'
Michael's Apartment, Miami
Michael paced the room. Why hadn't Caffrey called him yet? Was it really that difficult to tell if something was a forgery? Or was it real and Caffrey was just playing him?
"Michael, enough with the pacing. You're giving me a headache." Fiona said from where she was sitting on the bed sipping a bottle of water. Michael ran his hand through his hair and sat down.
"What if he can't tell if it's real?" Michael questioned. Fiona raised an eyebrow.
"Then we take it to my guy. He's not a conman." She replied pointedly. Michael sighed.
"We were pressed for time, and you weren't here! I had to make a decision!" He protested.
"Oh, so you shipped it halfway across the country?" She replied. Michael rolled his eyes and got up to pace some more. Maybe it would make the phone ring. Fiona took a sip of water.
"I hate conmen." She commented.
FBI Office, New York
Neal glanced up at Peter's office. Peter had been working on something all morning, and hadn't asked for help once. It was driving him crazy, especially as he knew that Peter wouldn't give up on trying to find out who his "friend" was. He sighed and started up to the office. It was time for some damage control.
Peter heard Neal enter his office and looked up with a smile. It had taken him all morning, but he had gained access to Neal's phone records and traced it to a phone in Miami. From there, he had done some research and found the name of Michael Weston associated with that number. Granted, Weston wasn't someone Peter really wanted Neal working for, but he had managed to outsmart his partner, and that felt good. Neal must have noticed his smug grin, and his face took on an innocent look.
"What?" Neal questioned. Peter leaned back in his chair, still grinning.
"I figured it out." He replied smugly. Neal tensed for a moment, then propped his feet on Peter's desk. The tension would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but Peter could see it. That is, when Neal's Italian leather shoes weren't in his face. He knocked Neal's feet down.
"What did you find out?" Neal asked. Peter crossed his arms.
"Whose painting it is." He replied. Neal frowned.
"Really? Could you tell me? 'Cause I'm not even sure who the actual owner is." He said, starting to toss his ever-present rubber band ball up and down. Peter scowled, but let it go.
"I don't want you working with Michael Weston." He said seriously. Neal stopped throwing the ball and leaned forward.
"Why Peter, is that concern? I didn't know you cared." He said, his trademark grin in place. Peter snorted.
"Hardly. But have you read Weston's file? A burned spy is not someone you want to associate with." He said. Neal shrugged.
"I've done it before, so this can't hurt." He said. Peter sighed, shaking his head.
"I don't want to know why you were helping Weston, I just don't want you doing it now." He said seriously. Neal grinned and leaned back in his seat.
"Don't tell me you don't remember Nate Weston!" He said. Peter just stared at him.
"That was Michael Weston?" He questioned. Neal shrugged.
"Hypothetically, would I have come to tell you that Nate didn't do it if I hadn't had someone else coerce me into it?" He asked. Peter rolled his eyes. He got sick of Neal's 'hypothetical' stories sometimes. He pointed at the door.
"Out. And if I hear another word about you working with Weston, I will personally take you back to prison." He threatened. Neal stood with the gracefulness of a cat.
"Still playing the prison card?" He retorted just before disappearing out the door. Peter groaned and leaned his head on his hand. He knew without a doubt that Neal would do what Neal wanted to do, no matter what his input was.