Everything Old is new Again

By Ldynwaitin

Chapter Twenty-Six

Thank God it's Friday

With a nod from Hughes, the male agent turned on the recording equipment. It took Neal nearly half an hour to describe what began over a week ago, starting from when he entered the tent. Hughes and Kramer silently listened. When he was finished, Hughes' frown was still there. He told the agent recording the deposition to leave.

Once he was gone, Hughes cupped his hands on the table. "We wanted you to know, Caffrey, that Sullivan is being held in custody here in New York. Unfortunately, we have no one that can give testimony to Sullivan being involved with the art robberies or the murders. What you heard would be considered hearsay. But with what you've told us we'll be looking into the robberies with different eyes now.

We'll be searching for any evidence that may be linked to him. Sullivan will be charged with your kidnapping. His DNA on the back of your hat proves it. He's also going to be charged with attempted murder of yourself as well as Peter and the murder of the man found dead at the mansion, a Mr. Hipolito Nolano. The bullet that killed him was from Sullivans gun. However, he will not be charged with the death of the woman found in the same room. Lilith De La Rue's death was caused by Nolano's gun. As to Albert De La Rue, his location is still unknown.

I assure you, after the trial you won't be seeing Sullivan again. He's going to be spending his retirement in prison."

Neal realized that this was the first time he heard Nolano's full name. He sadly smiled, Lilith told him he'd never leave the house unless she was dead. Unfortunately for her, she was right.

Kramer now spoke. "We found that the FBI informant in Sarasota was paid by Sullivan to lie about seeing Caffrey. Sullivan also gave the clerk we spoke to in the pigment store money to give us Caffrey's alias and a false address the pigment was sent to." Kramer's expression changed to an angry one. "He set up a false trail and I fell for it."

Hughes stood up. "I wanted to tell you, Caffrey, you should be grateful. You wouldn't be here if not for the diligent work of Agent Burke and his team. Despite what I and others felt, Peter never stopped believing that you did not run."

Neal nodded his head, "I am grateful, sir."

Hughes stared at the bruises on Neal's face. After hearing the deposition, he could see that he went through hell in that mansion. His eyes glanced at Kramer then at Neal. Pursing his lips, he shook his head. "I just want to say that it's good to have you back, you're a valuable asset to White Collar. We have a backlog of case files that need to be looked at. When you feel up to it, you can examine them."

Grimly smiling, Hughes left the room. Neal knew that was about as close as he was going to get to an apology. He noticed that Kramer remained in the room. Clearing his throat, Kramer got up and slowly walked to the painting. "I have to tell you, Caffrey, this painting. It's even better than something Le Peintre would paint."

"Thank you," Neal quietly said. Peter told him on the plane ride home that most of his career, Kramer was obsessed with finding Peintre.

"Oh, and Peter," Kramer said. "A deal is a deal, you were right, and I was wrong, Caffrey didn't run, this time. I'm going to back off from trying to take him to Washington, for now."

"For now?" Peter said. "Wait a minute, we had a deal."

Kramer slyly smiled, "We never said forever."

"PHILLIP!" Peter suddenly shouted. He said it so loud it startled Neal. Taking in a deep calming breath, he said. "Phillip, please. You said you would back off."

"I did, and I am. Peter, searching for your CI actually helped us solve our art theft case and brought in a killer."

Kramer looked at Neal. "No doubt about it, you're good at what you do, Caffrey. It's one of the main reasons why I want you so bad. That kind of talent is natural, it isn't just taught. You and Peter have done a great job here." He shook his head, "Just wish you wasn't such a bad influence on Peter."

"Again, with the old argument?" Peter said. "Well, here's mine. He's had no influence on me, it's quite the opposite. Since he's been working with me, I've seen a change in Neal, one for the better. It's something that I knew was always inside of him. I think that I was able to bring it out."

"Maybe," Kramer softly said. He looked at the painting. "I have to admit, the man that painted that has the soul of an old master." He looked at Neal. "I imagine Peintre was proud of his student."

"Yes, he was," Neal said. He could see that Kramer wasn't giving up on taking him. It was time for him to try and change that, even if it was just a small act, he needed to do it and hope for the best. Standing up, he slowly walked to Kramer. "Peter told me that you've been looking for Le Peintre for a long time. He said that you never knew what he looked like."

Neal pulled out a paper from his pocket. Unfolding it Kramer saw a printed photo on the paper. "Now you do," Neal said, as he handed the paper to Kramer.

Kramer stared at the photo. He saw a young looking Caffrey, next to him was an elderly man. Long gray hair fell to his shoulders. Carrying a gold tipped cane he had an air of sophistication about him. He proudly smiled as he stood next to Caffrey.

"My god," Kramer gasped. "He's just what I imagined he'd look like." Kramer shook his head, "He was the best, I never even got close to finding him. And here you are, after all these years Le Peintre, I finally get to meet you."

Looking up, he said, "Thank you, Caffrey."

Neal happily grinned. "You're welcome."

Peter was proud of Neal, he gave Kramer an olive branch in hopes of ending his feud with him. An olive branch with thorns! Knowing Neal, he probably had something else in mind.

Kramer pointed at the painting in the room. "I'm going to take that back with me to Washington. To use as a tool for the new recruits. I want them to see what a good forgery looks like. It's a shame it doesn't have Vermeer's signature on it."

"Actually," Neal said. Impishly smiling, Neal took out his handkerchief. Dipping it in a glass of water he walked to the painting. Dabbing the wet handkerchief on the bottom corner of the painting he began wiping the canvas, slowly his signature was rubbed off. He then began wiping the upper left corner of the painting.

A large smile began to grow on Kramer's face, "Well I'll be damned."

Neal revealed the signature of Vermeer.

"It was covered with watercolor paint," Neal said. "It just seemed a sacrilege to not put his signature on it."

Kramer leaned closer to the painting. Taking out a magnifying glass he examined the signature. "Now it is a perfect forgery. As good, no better than a Peintre."

Standing up he patted Peter on the shoulder. "Told you Pete, once a crook always a crook." Looking at Neal he said, "But sometimes, just like we have good guys that turn bad, I guess we can have bad guys turn good, a little bit. See you later Petey. Good job all around. I'll let you know what happens to Sullivan. And Caffrey, word of warning, I'll be waiting for you to make a misstep. Then you can pack your bags because you'll be getting a change of scenery. Not because you influence Peter." He stopped in the doorway, looking Neal in the eyes he said, "Because you are that damn good."

Peter let out his breath when Kramer left the room. "Neal," he said. His no-nonsense voice was back. "I stuck out my neck for you and you do this? I can't believe you had the audacity to put his signature on the painting, and then to show it to Kramer!"

Neal painted on a look of innocence. He pointed at the painting. "Peter, what kind of teaching tool would it be if it had my name on it?"

Peter knew he was right, he just wanted them to score big in Kramer's eyes. Neal jerked as a buzzing was heard on his phone. As he took it out to check who was calling, Peter saw Jones and Diana waiting for Kramer to walk by them. Once he was out of the office, they rushed up the stairs and to the conference room.

"Boss," Diana said. "We got some new information from the Marshal's concerning Ellen's death."

"Thanks, Mozz," Neal said into his phone. "I'll let them know." Ending the call, he looked at Diana and Jones. "What did you find out? Is there anything about Sam?"

"No more, Neal!" Peter strongly said. During the interview he saw Neal growing pale and looking tired. "I want you to go home and rest for the weekend. We'll continue to work on Ellens case as well as looking for Sam. I promise, we're going to find her killer. We are going to find Sam."

Neal bought out his sincerest smile. "Peter, I assure you I am perfectly fine."

"Monday you'll be finer."

Neal frowned, "Is that a proper way to use that word?"

Peter quickly replied, "It is in Carolina."

"Okay," Neal said. "I'll rest the weekend, but Monday I'll be here early."

"What did Mozz say?" Peter asked him. "I heard you say you were going to tell let us know."

"He used a program to trace back the email address that sent you those emails from Albert."

"Tell me," Peter said. "Who sent them?"

"I'd like to know, too," Jones said.

"You all met her, it was Alex."

"Hunter?" Diana said.

"Yes, Mozzie called her. She admitted she sent him the emails. She had heard that I was missing. She's always known about my connection to Le Peintre. She said once she saw my painting and the new name, she made the connection and sent the emails to Mozzie."

"See Neal," Peter said. "She's still a good friend."

Neal looked uneasy. "Then why do I have a feeling that I'll have a 'can you do something for me' coming in my future?"

"Ah, the life of a conman," Peter said.

"It does have its ups and downs," Neal admitted.

Peter saw a man walking up the stairs with a box. "Hold on Neal. This may be for you."

Tired Neal sat on the table and waited as Peter rushed to a man that held a small box. Taking it, he hurried back. Peter placed it on the conference table next to Neal. He also held a large manilla envelope.

"I wanted to make sure before I told you," Peter said.

"Told me what?" Neal was curious what could possibly be in the box and envelope.

"Once the Marshalls knew that Albert got away, they wanted to make sure he was not hiding somewhere in the mansion. As they were searching, they found this."

Peter handed Neal the envelope. Neal opened the envelope. A small stack of legal forms was inside. The first line read, 'I Mathieu De La Rue Le Peintre, being of sound mind and body'.

Neal looked at Peter, "It's his will?"

"Yes, it is. I was told about it last night. Neal, Albert, and Lilith didn't tell you the entire truth. The mansion was left to them, except a small part. Le Peintre left you the entire contents of his studio."

Neal looked shocked, "The entire contents?"

Beaming, Peter opened the box. "Yep, frames, brushes, paint everything. The Marshals are going to be shipping them to your apartment, but I had them send this by express. It was in his studio, so technically it's yours."

Looking in the box Neal couldn't believe what he was looking at. "Lapis Lazuli," he whispered.

"That the stuff that was supposed to be so expensive?" Jones asked. He wondered what it looked like.

Neal reverently lifted a small bottle. "It's worth more than gold."

They saw a small glass bottle filled with what looked like sparkling blue stones.

"After they forced you to paint," Diana said. "Are you still going to continue painting?"

Neal placed the bottle back in the box. "When you have a gift, you use it, nothing can kill it when it's in your heart."

"Very poetic," Peter said.

"It's what Peintre would tell me when I wanted to give up."

Peter saw Neal reach back and scratch his back. He snapped his fingers when he remembered something he was told at the hospital.

"Neal, I didn't forget what the Doctor at the hospital in Webster grove said when I told him about the tracker in your back."

Neal quickly stopped scratching. "I was hoping you would." He was not looking forward to getting the tracer removed from his back. He hated needles.

"Not something that important," Peter insisted. "You know he said that you would need to see a specialist to have that tracker removed. I'll make an appointment next week for you to see one."

"Peter, you don't have to," Neal insisted. "I can make it myself."

Peter winked at him, "Neal, if I make it the government will pay for it. But as my CI I'll have to go with you when they take it out." Peter didn't admit that he wasn't going just as his handler but as his friend.

"Thanks, Peter. I appreciate it, I can't wait to get it out." He forced a happy grin. "Needles here I come."

"You're looking tired, Caffrey," Jones said. "I'll drive you back to your apartment."

"But!" Neal protested.

Peter picked up the box and handed it to Neal. "No buts, go home!"

Neal stood up. "Before I go, I wanted to thank everyone for not giving up on finding me."

"Got to admit," Diana said. "The place was quiet without you."

"Not a problem, Neal," Peter said with a pleased smile. "Like Hughes said, you are a valuable member of White Collar. It's good to have you back."

That night Neal cleaned the paint from his brushes. Mozzie was sitting with him. Picking up a wine glass he finished the few drops left inside. Stepping back, he inspected what he had done. It was Peintre's favorite picture, Sorrowing Old man. He finished sketching it and had started on painting the old man. Neal carefully closed the bottle of the rare blue pigment.

Stepping up to the easel, Mozzie stared at the painting. He saw an old man sitting on a chair. Leaning over, his head was held in his hands.

"So, this was his favorite?" Mozzie asked him. Staring at it he asked, "Why?"

"Van Gogh felt he was painting an old man nearing his end, contemplating the existence of God. For Le Peintre, when he looked at it, he saw a man that realized as long as he lived, he didn't have enough time to accomplish all that he dreamed of doing. He said it reminded him of his life, until he found me."

He smiled at Mozz, "I wanted to thank you for helping Peter find me, Mozz. It took a lot of courage for you to drive with Sullivan by your side. I can't believe you went to the FBI office."

Mozzie shyly blushed, "No problem, mon frere. Dodging bullets was easy, but going to the FBI office, now that was tough."

"You braved getting hives for me," Neal said with a grateful grin.

Scratching an itch on his elbow Mozzie said, "I know you would have done the same for me."

"You're a good friend, Mozzie."

Mozzie held up his wine glass as a toast. "I knew when I met you, an adventure was going to happen."

Neal frowned, "Who said that?"

Mozzie reverently bowed his head. "The very short and wise, Winnie the Pooh."

Neal chuckled. "I'm tired, Christopher. I'm going to bed. I'm taking it easy this weekend. I'm going to need a specialist to remove the tracker in my back. Peter's setting up an appointment for me, he said he would go with me when they took out the device."

Seeing a look of fright cross Mozzie's face, Neal quickly said, "Don't worry, you don't have to come. I know you hate hospital's more than the FBI office. Peter will call you when it's done."

"I shall be awaiting his call. And when you return, I'll check to make sure they did take it out."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Neal said.

Grabbing a wine bottle, Neal saw Mozzie pour some in his glass. "You really don't have to stay."

"Not a problem, Neal. Just making sure you're all right. You went through a lot." Mozzie held his finger up stopping him from talking. "And the Suit made sure to tell me not to let you get away with a 'I'm fine'."

"I'm alright?" Holding his hands in submission, he said. "I'll be fine, just don't stay up to late drinking. You know how you are when you have a wine hangover."

Mozzie stayed for another reason. They still didn't know what happened to Albert. He truly thought of him as his mon frere, his brother. And he wasn't going to let Albert get his hands on Neal again, not on his watch.

Walking past his open patio doors, Neal stopped and looked out into the night sky. The view was always magnificent. He closed his eyes as he felt a cool breeze touch his face. Albert was out there somewhere. He couldn't imagine how he managed to get away. He surprised everyone. But he was a wanted man now. A man on the run, Neal knew what that was like. It was not an easy life. Not a life for a man like Albert. He would not last long on the run.

Opening his eyes, he turned around and looked at the collage frame on a table next to his easel. The left picture was Neal with Peintre the other was Nolano. In front of the pictures was a small rubber ball. Both men had a large influence in his life. The way a growing man will be in life is built by those around him. Neal knew the man he became, was partly due to the strong influence of these two men.

And now he knew that both men were proud of how he chose to use those special skills they taught him. With Peter's help he will use them to find whoever killed Ellen. All he had to do was find Sam. After what he just went through, he figured it'd be a piece of cake.

La Fin The End

I want to thank all that took your time to read my story. Loved the series and just had to write this story that was bouncing around in my crazy head. It was fun to write, I hope you all enjoyed it. A special thanks to Janet, you kept me going at times I felt bad, you have my deepest appreciation.