5 - The Portrait
The base of a drawer from one of June's 1920's dressers wasn't the best thing Neal had to paint a portrait on, but he'd worked with less before. Quickly flipping it over, he worked out the size and realised it would have to do. Now he just had to get the right paint, age it in the oven, and have Mozzie provide unnecessary commentary over his shoulder.
Just like old times.
The ringing of his phone startled him, and he frowned as he saw UNKNOWN as the caller ID.
"Who is this?"
"I could ask you the same thing. You seem to have many names, George".
"Dorsett" He realised, "How did you get this number?"
"You bought my girlfriend a drink with your credit card. I'm impressed with your resourcefulness" He replied, "Now you will see mine. I want the painting".
Doesn't everybody?
"If it's not returned, Joshua will pay a visit to your beautiful friend at the gallery".
"You leave her out of this".
"Brigitte was out of bounds, yet you involved her. You set the rules, now you must play by them".
Fuck.
"... I need two days" He eventually replied.
"That's all you have".
"You stole the painting?" Mozzie asked, resigned.
"I was going to give it back to Julianna".
"You're like a child! You have no sense of consequence".
Hurtful.
"Okay, will you look at the inscription?"
Carefully picking up the painting, he showed the white writing to him.
"Channing Curator said he authenticated the painting before it was stolen" Neal explained, "He saw that it belonged to Julianna and chose to ignore it".
"And you're Robin Hood?" He shot back, "And did I forget to mention the part where you stole the painting?!"
"I didn't think Dorsett would get away!"
"This is because you don't like the guy from the Channing. You did this for spite!"
"I've done things for less".
Neal sighed and turned back to the painting.
"... I can't let him go after Taryn".
"So, what are you gonna do?"
The only thing he could.
Neal jogged down the steps of June's mansion and turned to head towards the Burke's house.
He hadn't planned on telling Peter, hadn't planned on any of this really, but he knew when he was beat. And right now, he needed the FBI's help to keep Taryn safe, even if that did mean admitting that he stole a two-million-dollar painting on a whim.
You have no sense of consequence.
He shook his head.
For a man who lived with his head in conspiracy clouds all the time, Mozzie really could zone in on the hard truths when he wanted to.
Turning down the next block, he could only hope that Peter wouldn't be too mad. He knew he shouldn't have taken the painting and he knew that he was this close to been thrown back into prison, but once he explained why he did it, once he told Peter the story behind the painting, then surely he'd be, well, not okay with, exactly, but not not okay, right?
And besides. The Channing curator stole it first.
He was half-way there when a large hand reached out from an alleyway and yanked him in.
Of all things Peter expected late on a Wednesday night to show up at his door, a bloody and bruised conman on a leash was most definitely not one of them.
"Neal?!"
He gave an awkward smile, reopening the cut on his lip.
"Hey Peter".
His voice was rough.
"Any chance I could come in?"
Ten minutes later and he was sitting at their dining room table, Satchmo at his feet and El holding a damp towel to a bleeding graze on his forehead.
"Joshua?"
"Joshua" He confirmed, "Said his boss wanted to give me a little message, so he followed me, waited until the street was empty, and then…"
"Hang on, he followed you?"
"From June's, yea".
"So you led him to my home?!"
"Oh, give me some credit!" He snapped, "I ran around a few blocks first, made sure to lose him. I know when I'm being tailed".
"Not in this state you don't! What the hell were you thinking?!"
Elizabeth suddenly lowered the bloody towel and turned to her husband.
"Peter, can I talk to you for a moment?"
She dragged him into the kitchen without waiting for a response.
"What are you doing?"
He gave her a confused look.
"What do you mean?"
"You're scolding him for coming to us when he needed help!"
"I'm scolding him for potentially showing a murderer where we live!"
She gave him a look.
"You heard him yourself, Peter, he led that man in a wild goose chase. And that's assuming he was following him to begin with, which, if Neal's right, then he wasn't".
"He couldn't be sure of that".
"He's scared".
He blinked, then scoffed.
"Neal Caffrey? Scared?!"
El rolled her eyes at him and spun him around.
Neal was exactly where they'd left him, one hand holding the towel to his bleeding forehead, and the other gripping the edge of the chair with just a little more force than necessary. His face was blank, almost worryingly so, and Peter suddenly realised with a pang that he'd never seen the man so still before.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm.
Okay.
Time for a new approach.
He returned to the dining room, and once the conman saw him, the oh-so-familiar smirk took over. Only now Peter knew it was an act. The Caffrey Charm hiding the truth, as usual.
"... Do you need a hospital?"
"No".
"Neal".
"No" He repeated, firmly, "I told you, I got out pretty quick. He wasn't trying to kill me, he just wanted me pretty shaken up, and he didn't expect me to fight back".
"Joshua?"
"Joshua".
"But why would Dorsett want to send you a message?"
Neal immediately looked away, almost guiltily, and Peter realised with a sinking heart that this wasn't going to end well.
"This better be good".
He seemed to brace himself.
"... I took the painting".
"Damn it, Neal".
"I wasn't gonna-"
He held up a hand.
"I did it for-"
A pointed finger.
"... We can use it to catch Dorsett" He said instead, "He doesn't know I work for you".
Peter gave him a look, and he shrugged.
"... We'll set it up tomorrow".
He nodded, silently dropping the towel on the table as his head finally stopped bleeding.
"Now get the hell out of my house".
"Okay" He quickly agreed, jumping up, "Good night, Elizabeth".
"Night, Neal".
Peter took a deep breath and pulled out the case file, flipping it open to reveal the yellow butterfly clipped to the first page. Origami. He should've known.
He had known, on some level.
Elizabeth walked over and wrapped herself around him.
"Well, he, uh, told you the truth about the painting".
It was a hollow victory.
"Because they threatened Taryn".
"It's a start" She said, hugging him.
"... Yea" He admitted, "It's a start".
El kissed the side of his head.
"Do you think it was safe sending him back out? What if that man's waiting for him again?"
"He won't be. That's not how men like them work… And besides, Neal can hold his own".
The next morning's car ride was half awkward and half tense. Neal had seen Peter and his wife in their pyjama's, after all, but in the same breath he'd admitted to art theft, so he wasn't quite sure where they now stood. He kept glancing over at Peter, hoping to catch his eye and tempt the man into conversation, but so far he'd been unsuccessful. His head ached from where Joshua had shoved him against the wall, his mouth ached from where Joshua had hit him, and his wrist ached from where he'd punched Joshua in return.
All in all, Neal was not having a good morning, and it was all Joshua's fault.
"How tenuous is my probation?" He suddenly asked.
"It's pretty thin" Peter replied evenly, "We need this one".
"It's simple, right?"
"Yea. So don't make it complicated" He warned, "Take Dorsett down quickly".
"I get him, you trust me again?"
He paused for a moment and Neal felt his heart rate increase.
"... Yea, comrade".
He let out a sigh of relief.
"You still gonna verify?"
"Oh yea".
Of course.
Peter pulled in and Neal quickly unclipped his seatbelt.
"Here we go".
"I'm surprised you had the guts to come yourself" Neal greeted, glad to see that Joshua looked as bad as he felt after last night, his arm in a cast and a bandage over one cheek.
"It's not bravery" Dorsett replied, "I simply don't trust Joshua with a million-dollar painting. Especially after you broke his arm last night".
"Is it hard to live like that?" He taunted, "Not trusting the people closest to you? And I was just defending myself".
"I suppose" He replied, stepping forward to take the painting, "But I'll take the money".
He unzipped the bag, "You won".
"Yes" He smirked, "But it was a good game. Not for you or Joshua, of course, but for me".
There was a screech of tires, flashing lights, and sudden sirens wailing in front of them.
"FBI! Hands where I can see them!"
Neal grinned and walked away.
It was a game Dorsett was always going to lose.
"Haustenberg was her father?"
Julianna smiled and nodded, "Yes. She was his illegitimate daughter, but he had a family then, in Hungary. It was before the war".
"... How did the painting end up at the Channing?"
"He willed the painting to my grandmother, but when he died, the museum chose to ignore his will" She explained, "Who cares about the illegitimate daughter of a famous artist?"
"It's not theft when rich men do it".
She gave a sad smile before shifting nervously.
"How do you know the Channing won't try to take it back again?"
"If they do, the curator will have to explain why the museum went against Haustenberg's wishes" He replied, "I don't think he wants that".
Especially not with what Neal wrote on the back of the fake painting.
Julianna nodded again and then stood, making her way over to the painting which once more hung on the wall.
"... Did the men who my uncle owed money to do that to you?"
He rose a hand to gingerly prod at the gauze on his forehead.
"Occupational hazard, I'm afraid. You should see the other guy".
She flashed him a grin, and he was startled to see tears streaking her face. Quickly standing, he made his way over, a question in his eyes. Julianna just shook her head and turned back to her grandmother's painting. Neal simply smiled in return, realising relief when he saw it.
The painting was back where it belonged, and no one would ever take it away again.
