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Chapter Two

"I can't believe he's actually here," Elizabeth was snuggled up beside him, but her mind was on Neal Caffrey. Or Nathan Clay. Sometimes things got confusing where his friend, and former CI, was concerned. "Even if it is just for a few days." She paused, "Do you think he'd consider putting a gallery here in the city instead of in Philadelphia?"

"I don't know," Peter answered absently, his mind still trying to wrap itself around the unexpected turn his afternoon had taken. "Maybe."

He was going to tell her the truth about Neal's business in the city; he was.

Elizabeth had been thrilled to find Neal in her living room, but he knew she wouldn't be thrilled when she learned why he had really come back to New York. She had been traumatized when he had been taken by Cordero's men; she still had nightmares. Sometimes, she woke in terror, having dreamed that someone had taken little Neal from her.

After their son had been born, she had pressured Peter to cut back on field work, but after the kidnapping, she had been adamant that he, in his role as section chief, leave field work completely to the other agents. He had a family; she insisted, and his son deserved to have his father as he grew up. The fact that he'd been kidnapped from a parking garage and not while on field work didn't sway her in the least. Even though he didn't like being on the sidelines when the action went down, Peter had given in to her demands. He had put her through enough.

So far, White Collar had only been allowed to provide office support in the Cordero case, but he knew well enough that when it came time for arrests to be made, he was going to make an argument to be there. He wanted to be the one to put cuffs on the point man here in NY, the man he knew had arranged for his kidnapping. Elizabeth would not like that, but he had decided to cross that bridge when he came to it. With Neal's new job opportunity, Peter felt that bridge was going to be crossed sooner than he had anticipated.

He was going to tell her the truth, but not tonight; not until he knew more details about what the plan entailed and what the timeline actually would be. There was no use in worrying her longer than necessary. Or at least, that is what he told himself.

He hadn't gotten any details from Neal before Elizabeth had returned from her walk, and the hugging, the tail-wagging reunion had begun. The moment Elizabeth introduced little Neal to his Uncle Nathan had been almost surreal, and the only time during his visit that Neal seemed at a loss for words, his air of certainty momentarily disrupted. It was something to have both Neal's in the same room at the same time. He thought back to the joy of the birth of his son, and the bittersweet memory when Elizabeth asked if it would be okay to name him Neal. She had even let little Neal kiss his Uncle good night before putting him to bed. Neal had handled it well if a bit awkwardly, and the look he sent Peter's way was a mix between amazement and apprehension. After little Neal had been put to bed, the three of them had settled down and discussed what had brought Neal back to New York.

Peter had felt his heart rate increase when Elizabeth asked Neal the question, and there was the briefest of delays as Neal's eyes met his, reading Peter's warning before launching into a what seemed a very plausible story. He was thinking about opening a gallery stateside; he told her. Peter listened as Neal recounted his recent visit to Philadelphia where he had scouted locations, attended gallery openings, and dined in five-star restaurants. Neal had always been thorough when constructing a cover story, paying meticulous attention to the smallest detail. Neal knew that the most convincing story had more elements of truth than conjecture, and this was no exception. By the details he shared, from the art on display to the wine selections, Peter guessed that he had actually been in Philadelphia the week before, possibly even under the guise of opening a gallery.

Neal was very good at keeping certain elements of the truth out of a story when necessary. That was typical Neal Caffrey and something Peter had grown to expect and anticipate during their years together. The only atypical part was ease in which he had now used that skill on Elizabeth. In the past, in spite of his best efforts, Elizabeth could tell when he was holding back or not telling her the complete truth. She had told Peter once that Neal didn't like to deceive her, and when he did, she could see a hint of regret in his eyes. Peter understood; that too had been the way he had been able to tell when Neal was being less than forthcoming with him. There was something in his eyes that his confident smile couldn't hide.

Peter had watched Neal closely all evening; partly to convince himself that he was truly here, sitting in his living room, talking art, wine and food with Elizabeth. But the part in an attempt to detect hesitation or regret in his eyes, words or actions, as he kept the truth about his visit from Elizabeth. There had been none. As he discussed his plans for a new gallery, he was funny, charming and completely relaxed. Even though he knew Neal had followed his lead and was only protecting Elizabeth from worry, on some level, it still bothered Peter. He wondered if he, too, could be so easily fooled?

There was a time when he would have dismissed the thought; in his years of chasing Neal Caffrey, years of working with him, Peter had developed what he called the Caffrey Radar. It alerted Peter when something was amiss; and even though it had pinged the entire time Neal had been working his last case, Peter had never suspected what Neal had really been planning; the death of Neal Caffrey and the life of Nathan Clay. Neal had fooled them all; he, Elizabeth, even Mozzie. The memory of that act still brought a twinge of anger even though he knew why Neal had done it. Could Neal fool him if he wanted to? Absolutely. But did he have a reason to now? Peter hoped not.

"He's different, though, isn't he?" His mind had been wandering, and Elizabeth's question caught him off guard. He was curious as to what difference she had seen that had escaped his attention.

"Different how?" he asked.

She didn't answer immediately. "I don't know. There is something missing in his eyes, Peter," When didn't comment and she continued, "I saw it in Paris; He's not happy. He tries to convince himself he is but he's not."

Elizabeth had told him about her visit to Neal in Paris when she had flown across the globe to get his help to save Peter. Then, too, he had been able to completely mislead her; convincing her that he couldn't help when he fully intended to do exactly that. She had also told him about the way Neal had changed; the sadness of his eyes, and the emptiness of his office and his apartment.

Peter thought back to his earlier exchange with Neal; before Elizabeth had arrived. There had been moments when he had seemed awkward, times he had seemed unsure, times when he could tell that Neal was happy to be there. His reactions to Elizabeth, Satmo and Little Neal, had been exactly what he would have expected, right down to the blush on his face when Elizabeth wrapped him in a tight hug. He had behaved just as he would expect Neal to behave.

But after little Neal had been put to bed, and Elizabeth had asked him why he was in the city, there had been a shift. Peter had seen it; with the question Neal had easily slipped into a man playing a part. From that time until he rose to leave, he followed a prepared script in his head, executing it perfectly without even the slightest indication that he was anything but transparent. It wasn't something Peter hadn't seen him do before; Neal had always been a gifted con artist. He just hadn't seen him do it with Elizabeth.

"He's been gone a long time, El" Peter replied. "He's bound to be different; he's been living a different life as a different person on a different continent. Being back here with us," He paused, thinking of Neal's arrival earlier, "it has to be strange to him."

"Yeah, I guess it would have to be," she yawned, the long day catching up with her at last. "I'm just glad he came. I wish he had stayed here with us, though."

"I know," Peter said, squeezing her gently, "me too."

Moments later, the gentle rhythm of her breathing told Peter that she had fallen asleep. But sleep didn't come as quickly to Peter; he was thinking about what the next days may hold. He had his concerns, of course, but he also felt a thrill of anticipation he hadn't felt in a long time. Working with Neal again made things feel like they were right again for the first time in two years.

Earlier, when Neal had finally announced that he needed to go, Elizabeth had tried to get him to stay with them. Peter hadn't been surprised that Neal had declined. Even though he had seemed relaxed during his visit, Peter believed what he had told his wife; being at the Burke house, or perhaps even back in the city, was difficult for Neal. The unease he had picked up on when Neal had arrived returned when he walked him to the door. Having played his part for Elizabeth, when he was alone with Peter, he seemed to have dropped his act.

"It's late. You sure you don't want to stay here," Peter offered again, "We have a guest room, and you are welcome to it." Peter still had an irrational fear that once Neal disappeared into the night, he might not return. Neal hesitated for just a moment but again declined.

"No, I am all set," he said, "I arranged for a late check-in."

"So, Mozzie still has safe houses here in the city," Peter inquired with a smile, "What day of the week are the two of you staying during this little adventure?"

"I'm staying at the Waldorf in midtown," With a look of mischief in his eyes at Peter's raised eyebrows, he continued. "Penthouse suite. Can you join me for an early lunch in the restaurant downstairs, say about eleven? We can," he glanced over Peter's shoulder into the living room. "discuss things."

Peter could hardly wait to discuss things, but the Waldorf? Even a regular room in that place was above his pay grade, even as section chief. And Neal was staying in the penthouse?

"Penthouse at the Waldorf?" he asked in disbelief. "Cordero's people footing the bill?"

"No, Peter," Neal replied with exaggerated patience. "I am a successful business man with an expense account; I foot my own bills these days" He rewarded Peter's skeptical look with a smile. "But you can buy lunch if it makes you feel better."

"At the Waldorf?" Peter replied, shaking his head. "I don't think so. It'll be nice to take your expense account for a spin for a change."