Author's notes:

MarJan53, thanks! It will be a bumpy road, but everything will turn out well in the end. :)

On AO3 I got an insightful comment from one of the readers. The part where Neal drank alcohol made them worried. They wondered why Neal does not fill the fridge with milk, yogurt, juices and soda and whether he only thinks about animals and Keller. I thought that some of you might find my reply interesting. I provided a bit of insight into Neal's character:

I understand why a scene where a 12-year-old is drinking whiskey can make someone uncomfortable and worried. Children should not drink alcohol.

In the chapter Neal drank alcohol out of fear and confusion. He thought that Keller was mad at him because the bottle failed to pass the test. In my story, when Neal was younger, Daniel (his mum's boyfriend) had forced him into drinking alcohol once. I think that the fear Neal felt, when hearing Keller's order to get himself something to drink, subconsciously reminded him of that trauma. He did not want Keller to get even more angry and so, he panicked.

If Neal were any less afraid of Keller or if Keller were any less of a bastard, nothing of the sort would have happened. Neal does not like alcohol. In fact, he hates it. However, in that moment he was just a frightened kid trying to stay on the good side of his abuser.

Now, about the fridge… I think I should start by saying that Neal's fridge is not his per say. Just like the workshop is not his – it belongs to Keller and Neal does not think of it as his home.

When he was younger he and his mum moved around a lot. They never stayed in one place for too long and so Neal never had a home. Another problem was that Neal's mum did not know how to take care of herself, much less how to take care of her son.

Neal suffers from the consequences of that neglect. Nothing about his current lifestyle is healthy. He suffers from lack of sleep, doesn't eat regularly and feels lonely.

In the story the almost empty fridge becomes a symbol of that loneliness.

And there is also an almost symbolic reason for each and every thing that does find its way inside the fridge.

Tuna and milk: One of the ways Neal fights his isolation is by befriending cats. They keep coming back because he feeds them. So, mostly it's not about the cats, it's about the cats helping Neal feel less lonely. That is why one would usually find milk and tuna in the fridge.

Whiskey: The reason why there must always be whiskey in the fridge is because Neal depends on Keller's goodwill. He both looks up to his mentor and is afraid of him. He believes that if there were no whiskey in the fridge, something bad would happen. He is afraid that if it were to happen, Keller would kick him out onto the streets.

To conclude, in Neal's mind, whiskey, tuna and milk are not the same as yogurt, juice or soda. It does not mean that the fridge is always as empty as in chapter 5. However, by its emptiness, I wanted to show just how hard it is for Neal to live on his own. With no one to take care of him and to show him how to look after himself, his life is in a state of chaos.

Chapter 6 "Trust, but verify"

"What did our pride avail us?
What have wealth and its boastfulness afforded us?
All of them passed like a shadow
and like a fleeting rumor"
Wisdom 5:8-9 (NABRE)

"HK MP5 was in the briefcase. Trigger was in the handle. It would fire through the briefcase shell while you were walking," having finished his story, Peter watched the man sitting across from him laugh. Douglas Neumann, as it turned out, liked good stories. Especially when they were about arms trafficking and other law-breaking behaviours.

That was one of the reasons why in Peter's mind there was no question about whether Neumann and Keller were good pals. Not anymore at least, not after having talked to the man. They simply had to be. Just like the inflated price of the Franklin bottle had to have been prearranged. The difference between the two criminals was that Neumann, unlike Keller, came from a connected family. One of those connections led to the Flynn organization, a small mob family from Nevada, mostly involved in gunrunning.

Which was fortunate since the FBI organized crime division already had someone undercover in the Flynn organization. That same agent agreed to vouch for Peter. And so, just two weeks after Neumann had come on their radar, Peter was at the third meeting with the man and was already talking to him as if they were old pals. He could not wait to put that one behind bars. With or without Keller, Douglas Neumann had to go down. He was far too dangerous to be allowed to remain free.

"You're a good man, Peter," the crook said around his cigar. Then, he grinned. "With one hell of a background."

"I can say the same about you, Douglas," Peter smiled wondering whether or not it could be it, the moment every undercover agent waited for ― to be invited by the target to become part of their illegal activities.

"That's why I was surprised when I heard about your… Money troubles," the man said and Peter decided to just observe the crook in silence for a moment. The story Neumann was fed, was a nice way for Peter's alias to swiftly gain the man's confidence. Or in other words, to make Neumann believe that Peter Morris would make an easily controlled ally. Useful in whatever schemes the criminal was working on.

"Well, what can I say," Peter shrugged, while casually referencing his supposed gambling habits. "Lady Luck is a fickle mistress."

Even in the face of the man's uproarious laughter Peter's smile remained small and reserved. He watched as his target finished the last of his whiskey, slammed the glass on the table and reached for a new cigar.

"Maybe I could help a little with that," he offered offhandedly.

"Oh?" Putting away his glass, still half-full, Peter cocked his eyebrow at the man. It was a bad practice to drink while on the job, but sometimes with assignments like that one, one simply had no choice. If Peter Morris was a gambler, it was expected he would also be a heavy drinker. Above all else the cover had to stick.

"You know the Russian proverb doveryáy, no proveryáy?" the man asked and Peter raised his eyebrow at the almost perfect Russian accent. Now, that was interesting, and definitely something to add to the crook's file later on.

"Trust, but verify?" Neumann nodded and when Peter became certain the man would not say anything else without prompting, he asked. "Why? You have someone you need to verify?"

Neumann laughed. "Oh, Peter, when you are me you have only too many people like that. This particular one though… He's very slick. Ever met Matthew Keller?"

"No," Peter shook his head. "I heard of him of course. He's got quite a reputation."

"Oh, yes. Reputation. He's as good of a conman as the tales tell him to be," the man laughed and Peter allowed a small frown to enter his face. "Maybe too good for his own good," Neumann added, then locked his eyes with Peter's. "But I need him and I wonder… You wouldn't mind keeping an eye on him while he gets on with his job, would you?"

"You think there might be problems?" Peter asked, his satisfaction was hidden behind a well-trained mask. Neumann had no idea how glad he would be to help keep an eye on Keller.

"I don't know…" unaware of Peter's thoughts, his target shrugged and then poured himself another glass. "But you cannot just trust, can you?" he asked.

"No, of course you cannot," Peter agreed with a smile. Then, they clicked their glasses.

/\_/\
='x'=

"Boss, you're on fire," were the words that welcomed Peter just as he entered the van. Not able to keep a smile off his face, he nodded to Diana. She was absolutely right. Getting Keller into custody could be a matter of days. He accepted the coffee from Jones, then sat by his side.

"How's the bug?" He asked, taking the headphone set from Smith. He wished he could have planted more than two bugs in the office, but even two bugs, if not found, could provide them with more incriminating data than they would ever need in any court to pin Neumann down. After he pulled off that heist, of course.

"Loud and clear, we'll have ears on him 24/7," Diana answered and Peter nodded in approval. Right now, he could not hear any sounds except for the classical music playing in the background.

"All right," he got up from the chair. "Keep me posted and stick to the shift schedule. We all need to be fresh and ready whenever Neumann decides to move on with the plans."

After his agents had nodded, Peter, finishing his black, still steaming coffee, got up. He had a lunch with Elizabeth to attend to. A lunch that… Closing the door of the van behind himself, Peter sighed. A lunch filled with them finding new ways to search for their missing dog.

/\_/\
='x'=

"Douglas," the familiar voice in her headphones made Diana almost choke on her coffee.

"Is that―" she started to say only to get interrupted by Jones.

"Keller!" he confirmed her suspicions. She watched him turn on the recording button, so that they could send the overheard conversation to Peter as quickly as possible.

/\_/\
='x'=

"What a fine study…" Douglas Neumann remarked, admiring the sculpture. "You know, Fancelli is my favourite artist. "Statua di Vulcano…" the man continued, circling around the sculpture, then turned his gaze at Matthew. "You're sure it's a real thing?"

"Otherwise I would not have brought it to you," he lied smoothly.

"Something like that…" the man said, turning again to look at the 'masterpiece'. It really was one of the finest works the kid had done for Matthew. Somehow, until now, he had not fully realized how gifted the sculptor Georgie was. Also, the kid's idea to hide the drill driver inside the study of Vulcan was brilliant. That way Douglas, in love with Georgie's work, would take the sculpture straight to his office, conveniently doing half of the work for them. The topic Georgie had chosen to forge also did help a great deal, since the Vulcan already came in with a hammer. A handy tool that could be used to crush the sculpture's innards in order to get to the drill. Then, all that would remain to do was to crack the safe and the music box was going to be Matthew's. Finally. After all those years of chasing after it, wondering whether or not it was just a myth, a legend… It would be his. "Listen, Matthew, I have a small favour to ask of you," the words brought Matthew back to reality. He turned his gaze to Douglas.

"Yes?"

"I need you to accelerate those plans we've been discussing earlier. I want the paintings stolen before the party," the man said and it took all the self-control Matthew had to hide his grimace. He had hoped he would be able to stall long enough not to have to complete that particular job. It required a crew, and until then Matthew had taken great care to keep his crew away from Douglas' business. He had no intentions of sharing the treasure with anyone.

"Why the rush?" Matthew asked, sipping on the whiskey and trying to hide his frustration. The party was supposed to take place next week, Douglas could wait.

"I have my reasons," the man shrugged, then cocked his eyebrow at him. "What? I thought you had all of the plans in place already?"

"Plans yes, the crew - no."

"Oh, the crew, yes," Douglas said with a weird flicker in his eyes. "That reminds me…" Matthew watched him fish a photograph out of his pocket and then show it to him.

"Damn," Matthew grimaced, unable to keep the curse to himself. Damn that kid. He told him to be careful when casing out the area around the mansion. Then again, it was not like Georgie to be caught red-handed like that. Maybe Neumann was looking more closely into Matthew's business than he suspected.

"Any particular reason for your kid to be so interested in me? Because it is your kid, right?" The man narrowed his eyes at him.

"He's my little tool, yes," Matthew sighed, then glared back at Douglas. "Mine being a key word, Douglas. You mess with him, you mess with me."

"It looks like right now he's trying to mess with me," the man answered, his frown deepening.

"It has nothing to do with you," Keller shrugged, trying to sound indifferent. "He's just not very big on the rules, that's all. He probably followed me here, wondering where I was disappearing day after day."

"That would have been very sloppy of you. After all, he's just a kid," Douglas stated, his voice was dry. Just before Matthew was about to protest, he stopped himself. An interesting idea popped into his head. Maybe the change of plans could turn out to be for the best. If he played his cards right…

"He looks like a kid, yes, but really, he's a little devil, trust me," he said, then chuckled. "In fact, if you wish it so, you can have a show of those skills of his on Thursday, when we get on with your plan."

"Oh?" the man smirked, his eyes were thoughtful, as if uncertain whether or not Matthew was joking.

"He can steal the paintings, yes," Matthew laughed. "He's in fact quite good at it."

"And you would trust him with the heist?"

"Of course, little Georgie likes to show off," Matthew smiled. "Still, that leaves me three people short. But don't worry, I'll think of someone―"

"Two," the man interrupted him.

"Oh?" Matthew asked. Now, why was that?

"You'll take Peter Morris, a trusted accomplice of mine." The name did not ring a bell and Matthew narrowed his eyes at Douglas. Since when did Douglas start having such big trouble trusting him?

"I like the crews to be mine," he disagreed.

"You can trust Peter, I've known him for years," the man said.

Not possible, Keller thought. He had cased Douglas out very carefully before approaching him. The name Peter Morris did not sound familiar. Maybe they had known each other for years, maybe not. One thing was certain though, Morris could not have been a close friend of Douglas. And that was almost as worrying as the fact that the man did not trust Matthew to do the job on his own.

"I don't need your man," he said, deciding to challenge Douglas. "Unless… You need him. To keep an eye on me, perhaps?"

"Maybe you need to keep an eye on that Georgie of yours." Matthew was surprised by the personal attack. The fact that Douglas wanted him to take the attack personally was funny, to be honest. He could not care less for the kid. In his mind, Georgie really was just a tool. The only reason he was protective of the boy was because of his usefulness, after all what use there would be for a tool if someone else broke it? Or worse, took it?

"This really is about the kid?" Matthew asked, cocking his eyebrow at the man. "That's one of the stupidest reasons I have ever heard. Maybe you turned informant, huh? Maybe that Peter bloke is a fed?"

Accusing each other of turning informant was a very common practice among thieves. It was suspicious when a person you were talking to did not accuse you of that. All in all, Matthew was not very surprised when he saw how little impression his words did have on Douglas, who just continued to sip his wine.

"With the kid being your tool, it has to be about you, doesn't it?" he shrugged.

"What do you mean by that?" Matthew asked, raising from the chair.

"I mean… That I don't trust you."

Matthew chuckled. "Obviously," he said, then sighed. "What I don't understand is why?"

"Because, as I've recently learned, you did stab in the back before."

Now, that was a serious accusation. "What are you talking―"

"Rey Roland, rings a bell?"

Shit, keeping his expression cool, Matthew cursed silently. Of course it had to be about Rey Roland. Apparently, his name would haunt him not only where Georgie was meant. The only reason he went after Roland was because he had thought the man had the music box. His info turned out to be wrong, but now the consequences of his actions meant he had to apologize occasionally and reassure Georgie that nothing like that kidnapping would ever happen to the brat again. He had nearly lost the kid. Or at least his use as a tool.

"I see it does…" Douglas commented on Matthew's silence and then sighed. "Look, Matthew, it's not that I don't trust you, it's… You know that Russian proverb, right?"

"Trust by verify?" Matthew's tone was dry.

"Doveryáy, no proveryáy" the man confirmed in a surprisingly good Russian.

"All right, I get it," Matthew sighed, putting the glass away on the table. "That I get it, does not mean I understand it. You're wrong, but… Whatever. You want my crew to have a babysitter, fine. Make sure it is a one-time thing, though. Next time I will not tolerate you messing with my crew like that."

"I understand," the man nodded and Matthew snorted. He took back his abandoned seat. Very soon, the bastard would regret giving him that ultimatum. Georgie and his burglar skills were to ensure that.

/\_/\
='x'=

"Lucky The Nameless, meet Satchmo The Nameless. Your new brother," Neal introduces the dogs to each other joyfully. "Vincent is also here, but let's ignore him for now, ok? He's in a bad mood," he advises the puppy. Ever since he met the new stray, Neal has had to keep on ignoring Vincent's numerous dry comments about how one dog is enough.

It's going to end badly. It's a surprise Mister Keller still hasn't found out about that one and now, what, you are bringing another… The cat growls. One month more and there will be as many dogs here as there are cats on your balcony right now.

And wouldn't it be wonderful! Satch asks, happily licking the snout of his newly adopted brother.

"It would!" Neal agrees, then turns to glare at Vincent. "You have your friends, now I have mine. What's wrong with that?"

Vincent meows. What's wrong is that Mister Keller has exclusively forbidden you to have friends here. Have you forgotten how you would be too afraid to let me in after the last time…

"But now I do let you in and you do come in, don't you! When it's you who gets the VIP treatment it's ok, but when Lucky The Nameless here―"

―Being kicked in the spine is hardly a VIP treatment, Neal! The cat growls and Neal immediately finds himself feeling guilty.

"Vincent…"

No! You're being careless, when you know the last thing you can afford is carelessness. Have you even thought about what will happen to those two when Mister Keller finds out? He might spare you, but what about us, huh? Have you thought about that!

Pursing tight his lips, Neal does not answer. He shakes his head. No, Vincent has to be wrong. Nothing like that is ever going to happen again. He was being sloppy back then. He is not going to be sloppy now. It is different. It has to be different. It… Feeling sad, Neal hugs his legs close to his chest. Those are his dogs and he has promised to protect them. He is going to keep that promise. Can Vincent not see that the workshop is a far better place than a street for a stray? Can he not see how happy the dogs make Neal feel?

"You disappear all the time and I don't know where you are…" Neal whispers, feeling tears in his eyes. "You're like mum. It's not in your nature to stay in one place for too long."

At the mention of Neal's mum, suddenly feeling sad instead of angry, Vincent stays silent.

"Dogs are not like that. I always know where Satchmo is. He's here, waiting for me," Neal continues, feeling a lump in his throat.

There is even more silence. Neal rubs his eyes. Life is so difficult to manage, sometimes.

You're not going to leave me, are you, Lucky speaks into the silence, his voice is a quiet whimper. Neal strongly shakes his head.

"No," he says, unclipping the pup's collar. He tosses it away as if it were cursed. "The adults might have kicked you out, they might have not wanted you, but we…" he gestures to himself, Satchmo and Vincent. "We are not like that."

The puppy starts to chew on Neal's hand in response. Neal picks him up and snuggles him close to his chest. "I'll never kick you out," he repeats the promise strongly, and then, as Satchmo unexpectedly decides to join their embrace, Neal chuckles. The dog licks his face. Letting himself feel the warmth of the two wonderful creatures by his side, Neal closes his eyes.

We're going to be together forever, Neal hears Satchmo's quiet, reassuring whine. He yawns. He is feeling so tired. It is a wonderful thing that today he does not have any more responsibilities to take care of for Mister Keller. He lets Lucky go and still lost in dreamy thoughts lies down on the floor and snuggles his face in Satchmo's fur. He is just about to start falling asleep when his ears are subjected to the obnoxiously loud ringing. Immediately Neal opens his eyes wide.

It sounds like Mister Keller's emergency line.

Quickly, he jumps to his feet and grabs the phone from the table where all the studies of Vulcan are still scattered around. He has almost not finished it for Mister Keller's last deadline.

All because of you being distracted by the dogs, Vincent remarks.

"Oh just shut up!" Neal shoots back and then immediately regrets it as he realizes who else has had to have heard him.

"…Sorry?" Mister Keller's tone is dry.

"I'm sorry! I haven't been talking to you, sir!" Neal rushes in with an explanation.

"I gather. To whom then, have you been talking?"

"It's… It's complicated," feeling heat in his face, Neal mumbles.

"Too complicated for you to explain?"

"…I kind of have been talking to myself, sir" he admits uneasily after a moment or two.

"Telling yourself to shut up?"

"Yeah, cause I knew you would have something important to tell me?" He chooses his tone very carefully and frames the answer to sound more like a question – a sheepish one, one that makes the adults laugh. Neal feels relief when, after a short pause, Mister Keller does indeed snort.

"Good enough. I'll drop by the workshop in an hour. Better be there," the adult says and before Neal can confirm or deny, Mister Keller hangs up.

Now… What was that all about? Satchmo asks and Neal finds himself shrugging his ignorance.

He does not know. What he does however realize, is that you two need to hide now. Hide or be kicked in the spine, Vincent says and Neal shoots a glare at the cat.

"I'll have to hide you along with those two, you realize that? Or kick you outside."

Do not dare to kick me outside!

"Well, then go to the room with Satch and Lucky." They lock eyes with each other.

…Fine, after a moment of strained silence passes, Neal's friend finally capitulates. But you'll carry me, I'm feeling too sleepy now to walk on my own, he adds keeping his eyes closed.

"Gladly!" Neal smiles taking the cat in his arms. Vincent starts to purr.

Besides, you'd better clean up here. Mister Keller is going to be very unhappy if he sees this mess… The cat, nevertheless decides to remark and Neal rolls his eyes.

"Cats, right?" he asks Satchmo, who as he follows them into the room, barks in an amused confirmation. Once all three pets are inside, Neal locks the door with a smile.

"Just promise to be quiet, ok?" he asks them through the door and relaxes only when he hears three, unanimous promises. They all know how important it is for them to keep silent lest Mister Keller find out.

/\_/\
='x'=

Half an hour later Neal finds himself sitting with his mentor and pouring him whiskey. "Thanks, kid," the adult says, taking from Neal the offered glass. Now, this is a very uncommon word for Neal to hear. Curious to learn more, he takes his own seat, a cold glass of milk clutched in his hands. As the silence between them stretches, Neal feels his curiosity turning into something more like dread. He watches the man light the cigar, then sigh.

"Listen… There's been a change of plans," Mister Keller deadpans, confirming Neal's worst suspicions. "The robbery will not take place during the party, instead… We'll have to find a way for you to steal the music box during the heist."

"What?" Not understanding what heist Mister Keller is talking about, Neal cocks his head. At that point Mister Keller fishes five photos of paintings out of his pocket and hands them to Neal.

"Do not get too excited. They're all forgeries. Douglas wants his insurance money, so we need to steal them from him," Mister Keller sighs, smoking his cigar.

"Oh…" Neal says. Now that is quite a common scheme. As always, when looking at forgeries Neal cannot help but feel a little bit sad. How is it, that one can paint as good as, or even better than the artist himself, and yet, as soon as the adults find out something is a forgery, its value suddenly drops from the estimated millions to a few measly bucks.

"I have planned the meeting for tomorrow. The heist will take place on Thursday. I'll use Travis and Miller for this. And you, of course. But your task once inside the mansion will be a double one. Oh, and Georgie―"

"I'm not telling anyone about the music box, I know," Neal says, then frowns deep in thought. "But why the rush, Mister Keller? Was it your or Mister Neumann's initiative to―"

"A mutual decision," the adult cuts him off. Neal is not sure whether he should believe him or not.

You shouldn't! Look how distressed he is, the hiss belongs to Vincent, but thankfully Neal manages to keep the cat's opinion to himself. Mister Keller's amber eyes are intent.

"There is also going to be a fifth person, Georgie. Peter Morris is Douglas' trusted ally, he'll be joining us." Neal opens his mouth to protest, but Mister Keller shakes his head at him. "I don't want to hear it. I promise to keep him away from you as much as I can. The rest you will just have to deal with."

Neal, focusing his gaze on the glass, still held in his now white-knuckled hands, purses his lips. Why the rush? He glances up at the adult. Does Mister Keller realize there is a chance that Mister Neumann insisted on a change in plans because he got wind of their intentions on the music box? And what happens if Mister Keller is wrong about Mister Neumann not realizing its true value? What if all this heist is a trap they are just going to go into and…

"By the way, Douglas loved your study of Vulcan. He called it a masterpiece," Mister Keller unexpectedly remarks. That gets Neal's attention.

"Really?" he asks, his eyes are shining.

"Yeah. You did a great job on that sculpture," his mentor smiles. "I would know." Trying to hide his smile, Neal sips on his milk. His eyes remain locked with Mister Keller's as the adult expounds on his plan. "Listen, kid. I'll make it simple for you. Nothing we haven't done before. First…" As Mister Keller continues his explanation, Neal cannot help but repeat over and over again the adult's last words in his head.

You did a great job. Has Mister Keller ever told him such a thing? Surely not using these exact words and not with that smile. Neal would remember. A true masterpiece.

This is the most toothsome milk you have ever bought, Vincent meows and Neal can just agree. He thinks so too. He wonders whether the adult's whiskey has ever tasted as good. Probably not. From Neal's experiences whiskey can taste only bitter. It burns one's throat. Which is not at all a pleasant feeling, whatever the fancy label and his mentor claim. Cats really do have a taste when it comes to drinking.

Next Sunday: First Impressions

(Yes! Peter and Neal will finally meet!)