Things at their right place

The next day at the office Peter brought him directly into his room.

"Neal, we'll soon have a meeting, and I wanted to prepare you. You need to tell the team you stole the painting."

Neal stared. This he had not seen coming.

"Peter, I…"

"I'll tell the painting is found and that we'll use it to catch Dorsett. The team knows what we found in the hotel suite, Caffrey." 'Caffrey' as to remind him he was a criminal. Only Peter called him 'Neal'. The others kept their distance.

"So you knew it was me?"

"Yeah."

Neal swallowed. Peter had known.

"But you didn't bring me in…"

"Dorsett was a bigger problem at the moment. Without you, I was afraid we wouldn't find him again." Peter gave him a stern look. "I wasn't giving you a slack if that's what you think."

"I wasn't." He had hoped so, though. But he knew Peter.

"You know I'll have to give you house arrest for this, right?"

Neal nodded. It was nothing compared to being sent back to prison. When he came into Peter's office, prison had still been a possible ending of the day. Now it seemed as if he was off that hook.

"What do we do with Dorsett?" he asked to steer the conversation towards something more interesting.

"We'll meet Jones and Cruz in the conference room soon. I know you've been working hard for their trust. But this time it was you ruining it, not I. If you want them to trust you again, you need to tell them the truth."

Neal knew Peter was right but he was not happy about it.

"Neal?"

"If this is part of your punishment, just tell me so."

Peter studied him.

"I hadn't thought about it that way. Is that the way you feel about it?" Neal gave a nod. "Well, you did steal and broke our agreement. Do you prefer to go to prison instead?"

"No. I'll tell them." He would tell them nothing they did not already know. "Thank you."

"You did the right thing telling me, Neal. I hope you understand how glad I am that you did."

It felt good to hear. Neal was glad that he had told, too.

"Why did you tell me?"

Neal stuck to the whole truth and nothing but the truth and told Peter about how he realized he had put Peter's reputation in jeopardy and Dorsett calling on top of that.

"Dorsett called you?"

"Threatened Taryn."

"What did you say?"

"I asked for two days. We'll meet tomorrow."

Peter seemed pleased.

"Shall we join the others?"

Peter took him into the conference room where Jones, Cruz, and a few other team members were waiting. He gave Neal a nod to go ahead. Neal jammed his hands in his pockets and suddenly had cold feet.

"Neal?" Peter prompted.

His eyes left Peter's and they wandered over the assembled in the room.

"I stole the painting," he said. It was done.

"And Dorsett has contacted Neal to get it back," Peter continued and moved the focus from him to their mission. "Neal will deliver the painting tomorrow and we take him down."

"Neal or Dorsett," Jones asked with a smirk.

"Just Dorsett, for now," Peter replied with a grin. "And Neal will spend the next two weeks in house arrest."

Neal was used to his odd position and the jokes. This though felt like a public flogging. It was not a justified reaction. Jones and the others would learn about his punishment for his escapade with the painting one way or the other. At least Peter did not talk behind his back. He was straight forward and clear about things. It was a trait he had learned to admire. Now it made him feel awkward. Just as mention of the anklet had once.

It was late and Neal worked intensely to get the copy of Girl with a Locket ready for tomorrow. Someone knocked on the door.

"It's me," Mozzie called on the other side of the door. Neal unlocked the door and return to the easel. Mozzie entered.

"Glad to see you're still around. What did the Suit say?"

"He gave me two weeks of house arrest. No visitors."

"Could've been worse," Mozzie nodded and took a look at what he was doing. "And I see you're still returning the original to Julianna."

Neal could hear Mozzie was not overly pleased.

"I am."

"Neal…"

"It's Julianna's painting," Neal said with a tone that ended the discussion. Mozzie kept quiet. He did not even pour himself a glass of wine.

"You know you have absolutely no impulse control," Mozzie told him, watching him work. Neal had heard comments on the same theme many times since his friend learned about the painting.

"Hand me the Naples yellow," Neal returned.

Mozzie browsed through the tubes, found the right one and handed it to him.

"Haustenberg's brushwork is much more fluid," Moz informed him. "You're being choppy."

"No, my brushwork is fine." Mozzie was just nervous that Neal would go back to prison.

"This could trick the occasional tourist but this guy at the Channing will not be fooled."

"I'm sure he won't," Neal agreed.

Hours later they both studied the result of his efforts closely.

"This pigment needs to be aged," Mozzie said as if Neal had not thought about it. Moz saw Neal's look. "I'll go preheat the oven."

"It's 125—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know how to age a painting."

If all his friend had to say was that the pigment needed to be aged he would probably fool the curator as long as he kept it to a visual exam.

When the aging was done and they stood side by side even Mozzie had to admit Neal had done a splendid job.

"Well, see you in two weeks, my friend. Can't say that you don't deserve it. You should use the time to contemplate and read some philosophy."

"Thanks, Moz."

Alone, he flipped the two paintings over. The inscription still remained. Neal dipped the brush in white and hoovered with the tip over the back of the painting. He wanted to be sure Julianna kept her portrait of her grandmother. Then he had to be sure his copy was never authenticated for real. He smiled and wrote.

Peter had picked Neal up at June's.

"You got the painting?" he asked first thing Neal sat down beside him.

Neal nodded and indicated his shoulder bag. The kid looked tired and was not his normal charming self.

"Let me see it."

Neal did not object. He took it out and unpacked it from a scarf. Peter nodded and Neal put it back. He got the car rolling.

"When this is done, you go home, got that?"

"I need to do some shopping. Groceries, you know."

"Fine, do it, just don't… do anything stupid. Just stay at your place."

"Do my time?"

"Yeah."

"How tenuous is my probation?"

"It's pretty thin. We need this one." Though it was Neal who had messed it up, Peter said 'we'. They were still a team.

"It's simple, right?" Was Neal nervous?

"Yeah, so don't make it complicated," Peter instructed. "Take Dorsett down quickly."

"I get him, you trust me again?"

"Yeah, comrade."

"You still gonna verify?"

"Oh, yeah." He did not hear any protests from the kid, but he was not likely happy about it. Who would? But Neal was a convict and he had committed a crime while out on anklet. Of course, he would verify.

Peter stopped a few blocks from the meeting point.

"Here we go," Neal said, gave him a faint smile and got out of the car.

Neal waited on the isolated place among the cars. He saw Joshua and Dorsett walking towards him.

"I'm surprised you had the guts to come yourself", Neal smirked.

"It's not bravery," Dorsett objected. "I simply don't trust Joshua with a million-dollar painting."

"Is it hard to live like that?" Neal asked as he opened his bag and took out the painting. "Not trusting people closest to you?"

"I suppose," Dorsett nodded in agreement. "But I'll take the money."

Neal handed the painting over to Dorsett.

"You won."

He grabbed the painting from Neal's hands.

"Yes, but it was a good game."

Neal turned and left and the second later he heard Jones' voice behind him.

"FBI! Hands where I can see them!"

He grinned. This one he did right. Now he had just one errand left to do and this would be over. Deliver the painting to Julianna.

She opened the door and gave him a suspicious look. He took out the painting from his bag and gave it to her. When she saw what it was she glared at him as if he was playing a joke at her.

"What is this?"

"It's your painting, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Agent Burke said-"

"As you said, Agent Burke does look like an FBI-agent, doesn't he?" Neal smiled at her. She grinned at him in return.

"Come on in," she invited.

"I like the inscription on the back," he told her when they arrived upstairs. Julianna picked up the locket again and opened it. She showed it to Neal. Inside was a black and white photo on each half. One was a photo of Haustenberg himself.

Neal did a quick calculation in his head.

"Haustenberg was her father?"

"Yes. She was his illegitimate daughter," Julianna confirmed. "But he had a family then, in Hungary. It was before the War."

He returned the locket to her.

"How did the painting end up at the Channing?"

"He willed the painting to my grandmother. When he died, the museum chose to ignore his will. Who cares about the illegitimate daughter of a famous artist?"

"It's not theft when rich men do it," Neal sighed.

"How do you know that 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."

No, the curator would never tell the painting he got back from the FBI was a fake. Not when he read Neal's message on the back: "My dearest Walter, I know what you saw here last time. NC."

Neal walked home. He had no rush getting there. At home he had two weeks of house arrest waiting and this would be his last walk for a while. It had been worth it. It had been a rash, stupid move but Juliana's joy to get her grandmother's painting back was reward enough to last for a long time. He also knew that Peter had been close to arresting him. He had known more than Neal had figured, and that was the real lesson learned. Kate was still to be found. And he liked this new life of his, working with Peter. He wanted it to last and that meant he could not do what he had done with the portrait. Maybe he was capable of change after all. And maybe he would enjoy it.

Peter watched the curator from Channing study the painting Neal delivered to Dorsett. Something was wrong. Or was it just his imagination? Neal, what have you done? Did he sit there and offered a forged painting to the Channing museum? A forgery made by one of their own consultants.

Walter turned it over. He seemed to read something on the back.

"Problem?" Peter dared to ask.

"No, no… I'm just overcome with the…" the curator mumbled. He turned the painting back again and looked at them. "I'm thrilled to have the original Haustenberg back where it belongs."

Peter relaxed. Whatever shenanigans Neal had done, it was over. Officially. Damn kid! He was not done with him yet.

Peter stormed into Neal's apartment, not bothering to knock. The kid sprung out of the sofa and dropped the book he was reading in pure surprise.

"There was an inscription on the back of the painting," Peter blurted. "What did it say?"

Neal gazed at him. The kid was not stupid. He knew where this was going.

"To my dearest Julianna. Keep this forever," Neal replied.

Peter clenched his teeth. That inscription would explain a lot.

"It did not say that on the painting I just returned to the curator, did it?"

"Did the curator have any complaints?" Neal asked in return.

The kid did not tell a lie. It was to his credit as always. Peter shook his head.

"What did you write on the back of that painting?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"Why do you think I wrote anything?"

"Because I think you painted a copy and wrote a personal message to the curator instead of the original inscription."

"Peter, now you're speculating."

"I am," Peter agreed. "Am I right?"

Neal did not reply. Peter took it as a yes.

"You just bought yourself another two weeks of house arrest."

"What? For something you can't prove I did?"

"You want me to prove it? You want me to go to the museum and ask to read what it says on the back? Have the painting authenticated again? No? Then you accept to spend four weeks in this place without argument."

Neal gave in. Nodded.

"Neal…"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever do a stunt like this again on my watch, I'll bring you in. You got that?"

"Yeah. I got that."

Peter had to clench his jaws not to make a speech about that Neal should consider what he had and what he was risking. If the kid had not understood it by now Peter could do little about it.

"Make sure your friend knows you're not allowed any visitors. It'll cause both of us less trouble if he doesn't get here in the first place, alright?"

Neal nodded again.

"I've already told him."

"It counts for four weeks now."

"Thank you for rubbing it in, Peter."

A sudden thought crossed his mind.

"Does this remind you of your isolation after your escape?" He wanted to send a message to Neal, but he did not want to cross the line and torment the kid. He had read the prison records. Those four weeks had been Hell for Neal, for real.

Peter's facial expression must have changed because Neal picked up his thought as easy as if he was reading a book.

"Don't worry, Peter. I've got books, paint, and a view. And I don't blame you for this."

Had Neal just comforted him for feeling bad about giving him house arrest? Why did this kid have to be a criminal? Why could they not have met under other circumstances? Peter found himself saying that he would check on him from time to time and left.

Peter had learned something troublesome. Neal had had less than forty-eight hours to produce a copy of the painting and make it look old enough. He had had no idea that a painting could be copied that fast. Oil needed time to dry to not make the whole painting a brown goo when adding shades and details. That meant that Neal had to spend very little time on planning, finding material and do the actual motif. It meant that Peter was not likely ever to catch the kid while doing a copy.

He drove to Julianna Laszio's place and was greeted with a smile from the young woman.

"Thank you for returning my painting," she said first thing. So, Neal had returned the painting to its owner. That was good to hear. Julianna showed him the portrait back over the fireplace.

"Neal told me it had a fascinating story," Peter tried and the owner of the Haustenberg was more than happy to tell the story. The kid had given away two million dollars for doing what in Neal's world was 'doing the right thing'. In his heart, he understood why Neal had done what he had done. And it made him proud.

This is the end of part II. Do you wish me to continue? Am I doing the series justice?