A/N: So Merry Christmas to everyone. Just a few more chapters I think on this story and then it will be finished. I think the next one will be easier to write. This story just hasn't flowed well in my brain, although I hope its flowed better on paper.

Ender comes across as a bit bratty in this chapter, but well it's Kramer.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Neal arrived back at his apartment in a bad mood. First Kramer had to ruin his day by showing up early and making jab after jab at him, including a dig about Kate's death, then he was stuck at his desk for the rest of the day redoing paperwork administration said they lost. Finally, he ran out of pain medication at the office and felt too proud to beg some off another agent, or Peter, at the risk of getting ribbed over letting some mobster slice him up.

Upon entering his apartment Neal tossed his hat on the table and shuffled over to the bathroom medicine cabinet in search of his prescription. Washing the pills down with a glass of water, he collapsed onto the couch and waited for them to kick in.

"I told you working for the man would one day end in your ultimate demise."

Neal started upright, jumping almost a foot off the couch cushions, in surprise. "Don't you know how to knock Moz? Or turn on a light?"

"I prefer the relaxing solitude of a moonlit night while enjoying my Bordeaux." Mozzie held a wine glass and was swirling the contents around as he sat in one of the chairs a few feet away from where Neal sat.

Neal inwardly cursed himself that he was too tired to notice Mozzie was already in the apartment. He was getting soft.

But truth be told, Neal was too tired to truly care at the moment. "Did you find out anything new about Giordano, Moz?" He leaned back and rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips.

"He likes his caviar, hates the Yankees, very un New Yorker in my opinion, and his wife has two Doll-Faced Persian cats which is by the way a complete marketing ploy by animal breeders who as you well know are really controlled by big government and the EPA."

"What are you talking about?"

"Doll-faced Persians? Have you seen those things? They look like they ran into a wall head-on and their faces stuck. Doll-faced implies charm. Not a lack of coordination. Only a complete fool would buy into such a mendacious term after they saw those things." Mozzie stared down at the crimson liquid in his glass.

Neal just rolled his eyes. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"And that phrase is a poor wording of Shakespeare's 'Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye' who borrowed the translation from Plato, who most likely stole it from Confucius."

"Can you just tell me if Giordano has another meeting set up with de Vitis yet? Kramer's back in town and he's looking for any excuse to ruin Peter's career. Again."

"Kramer's here? What? How? When?" Mozzie sat up straighter in his chair, his fingers gripping noticeably tighter on his wine glass.

"Early this afternoon. Somehow he elbowed his way into this investigation because it's a 'work of art' that we're after. Personally I just think he's looking for another way to arrest me and force me to go to DC with him."

"The Suit won't let that happen."

"Peter doesn't control everything. If he could have stopped Kramer before he wouldn't have told me to run," Neal glumly pointed out.

As much as Neal believed Peter was one of these most exceptional FBI agents he ever met, he now knew there were some things beyond Peter's power. Before Kramer, he'd just always accepted that nothing he did was outside of Peter's ability to fix.

It was a bit of a crushing blow to find out differently, sort of like when a child first finds out his father is only human.

"So this means what exactly?" Mozzie arched his eyebrows, clearly puzzled by what to do next.

"We need to get that painting back legally."

Mozzie snorted.

"As legally as possible so Kramer has nothing he can use as leverage. This isn't just about me; I don't want him hurting Peter or Elizabeth again. That man only cares about furthering his career, by arresting as many people as possible. At least Peter cares about justice."

"Kramer seems a little overly devoted to justice if you ask me." Mozzie muttered to himself pouring another glass of Bordeaux.

"The difference is Peter actual cares about other people. Kramer doesn't care who he hurts as long as he gets what he wants."

Mozzie considered this for a moment then puffed himself up a bit leaning forward, as if to share an important secret.

"Fortunately for you, Ricky Rossetti has a second cousin who works at this Pizza joint in Queens."

Neal was familiar with most of the snitches they normally spoke with but that name was eluding him. "Whose Ricky Rossetti?"

"You remember him. That guy who owes me a favour for not ratting him out to the cops when he broke into that jewellery store of 12th and left the diamonds in my personal storage locker."

"Oh, right… right." Neal waved his hand. "And as I remember it you got to keep 60% of the diamonds so I don't know why you're upset."

Mozzie waved him off. "Semantics."

Typical Mozzie. "So how is Ricky helping us out?"

"Well, as I was saying." Mozzie held up his index finger to emphasize his point. "Ricky has this second cousin who works at a Pizza place Giordano regularly visits. The cousin says he remembers Giordano because the guy always leaves these giant tips."

"I don't think anyone cares how much Giordano tips the wait staff." Neal propped his feet up on the coffee table, since June was there to frown at him.

"Will you stop interrupting me, after I went through all this trouble to save your hide, yet again I might remind you."

"Sorry," Neal muttered.

"Soooo," Mozzie continued. "Giordano apparently has rented out the entire building next Friday for a 'business lunch'." He quoted with his fingers.

"Who rents out a pizza joint for their business lunch? I am so glad I'm not in the mob." Neal shook his head. The lack of class of some people.

"I'm guessing this is where they'll be doing the exchange. And it happens in plenty of time for DeVitis to fly back to Sicily for the holidays."

"And also enough time for us to plan a sting." Neal wished he was taking pain meds so he could pour himself some of the wine. He needed to unwind and a glass of red was just the thing.

"As long as Kramer doesn't ruin everything." Mozzie pointed out.

Neal smirked. "I'll just get Ender to scream at him again."

"What?" Mozzie was staring at him now clearly interested.

"Ender and I ran into him in the lobby today and Kramer didn't know Ender was Peter's son. He tries to take him to find his father and Ender screamed bloody murder. Maria, who works security at the front desk looked about ready to have him arrested."

"Is there security footage?"

"I might be able to snag some tomorrow." Neal gave into temptation and snagged Mozzie's glass taking a sip, and savouring the flavour on his tongue.

"Remind me to buy that kid whatever he wants for Christmas."

Ender was sitting contentedly in one of the filing rooms playing with his cassette tape cases, setting them up like a giant set of dominos. Mr. Hughes had ruined his project a couple days ago by prematurely knocking over his masterpiece, but Ender was determined to try again. His goal was to film the entire production and then post it on You Tube to see how many hits he could get. May be a hundred. That would mean a lot of people watched.

The plan was to have the cases begin zigzagging across the table, with one case falling off to the floor which would set of a new chain reaction where the cases separated, and crossed back and forth before coming back together in a spiral until the last case fell in the middle.

It was very well planned if Ender said so himself.

To ensure the cases all fell according to plan Ender was building the design backwards so he could work his way out of the room instead of risk knocking a case over too soon.

"That's pretty impressive."

Ender's eyes snapped up to the doorway, where Agent Kramer now stood.

The kid didn't say anything, just regarded the man with suspicious blue eyes.

"Does Peter know you're here playing with his evidence?" He gestured to the room and the cases as if to imply Ender shouldn't be there.

"What my father does or doesn't know is none of your concern." Ender glared at him, then placed another case in the pattern.

"Uh, uh, uh…" Kramer took on the tone of a disappointed father. "I'm not one of Peter's little lackies who you can speak however you want to because they won't report you to daddy."

"And I'm not one of those snivelling cowards who work for you, who only show you respect because you'd try and destroy their careers if they didn't."

Kramer carefully watched him for a moment and Ender stared back. "You've got guts kid, I'll give you that much."

"And you've got an overly developed sense of self-worth, if you think I care about your opinion of me." Ender glowered a moment longer before going back to his task.

"You've been hanging around Caffrey too much. You don't seem to realise I'm one of the good guys kiddo."

Ender paused from his project by kept his eyes on the cases. The he pushed himself to his feet and stared down Kramer, enunciating in his perfect little accent. "What I know is you're just like all those cops who came to our house and believed all the lies my foster parents told about why we didn't go to school, or why my foster brother just ran away one day, when they really murdered him.

What I know is that the only people who matter to people like you, are the ones who are carbon copies of your own deluded fantasies, and the rest of us are just garbage you can toss out like yesterday's newspaper.

Now if you'll excuse me Inspector Javert, I have work to do." And he dropped back down to return to his cassette cases.

Kramer just stared at him.

Ender looked back up. "You knock over my cases, I'll scream again."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of destroying your… masterpiece." Kramer looked around the room in disbelief.

His hand shaking from concentration, Ender placed one of the cases on the edge of the table, estimating that when it fell it would hit the bottom case and set off the next set of dominos.

"You know, I really don't understand all this hostility. You father and I happen to be good friends."

"Were."

"What?"

"Were. You were good friends. He doesn't like you anymore."

"Where would you get a ridiculous idea like that?"

"I heard him telling mummy at dinner last night." Ender made a face at Kramer's expression. "What? Just because I'm little doesn't mean I don't have ears?"

"This is one of those thing I wouldn't expect a child to understand."

"You tried to ruin my daddy's life. What's not to understand?"

"A criminal was about to ruin his life. Any good mentor looks out for his people, even if he's no longer their boss."

Ender's eyes suddenly teared up. "Is that why you're here? Because you want to arrest me and throw me in jail, because I'm going to ruin daddy's life." His lip began quivering and the tears tricked down pale cheeks.

Kramer immediately held his hands up. The kid could change emotions in an instance and he had no idea if it was an act or real but he really didn't want to deal with an emotional child.

"No, no, no… Don't cry. I didn't mean you, I meant Caffrey." He stepped forward bumping into table. The impact knocked off the domino Ender had just placed at the edge of the table.

Ender and Kramer both watched, as the domino fell in slow motion. An eternity later it hit the ground, bouncing slowing and knocking into the rows on the floor, setting off the chain reaction.

The cases started to fall, each bumping into the next. A clicking sound could be heard as each case hit others, the speed picking up as the rows began crossing back and forth before coming back together and circling end to the finish.

Ender just stood there, his mouth wide open staring at three hours of work down the drain.

"At least you know it works."

The kid looked up with big eyes. "You're the devil." He screamed and ran out of the room.