White Collar: The Nightingale

NOTE from the Phoenix: So in the last chapter I gave the dead guy that looks like Neal a name, and since he was very secondary I just pulled a name out of my head without much thought and came up with 'Jordan Chase' (I even had Mozzie call it 'lame' cause I felt a little lame for not trying harder to come up with a name). Well, I've been thinking more about that name and it started to bother me, I couldn't help but think that I'd heard it somewhere before. So I looked it up.

Jordan Chase was the main bad guy in the last season of Dexter (one of my all time fav shows).

Damn. So I'm going to roll with it and for you Dexter fans out there look out for the Dexter reference when I reuse the character in this chapter. :)

Chapter Nine

Standing in front of the sink Neal scrubbed off his latest 'tattoo' with some rubbing alcohol before rinsing it with cold water. He had completed and removed nearly a dozen paintings from the underside of his arm, however he had decided to leave the nightingale on his chest for now. His style was slowly getting better, but he still didn't think he was going to be able to produce an exact replica of the full back tattoo.

Once Neal had finished the plum branch on Hsing's shoulder she had practically begged him to let her leave. He had agreed and he hadn't seen her since. That had been late last night, and the sun was just starting to set again. Neal had spent the entire day painting, cleaning off, and starting again.

Neal had spent the time while he painted trying to think of a way to help Hsing out of her situation. Eventually had to admit that he still didn't know how he was going to save himself, let alone someone else. Neal hated dealing with people who knew him for what he really was, it made it nearly impossible to fast talk his way out of trouble.

"My 'canvas' might be my last chance of recruiting inside help."

Taking a towel off the holder Neal dried off his arm and wandered back into the living room. He was just settling in to try his hand at a cherry tree again when the door to his guided cage opened. Liao stepped inside followed by the mystery woman. She now wore a white silk robe lined with gold trim. She wore her straight ebony hair down, it fell about six inches beyond her shoulders. Her blood red lipstick was in stark contrast with her ivory skin. Deep purple and silver eyeshadow along with a heavy line of black eyeliner accented the sharply almond shape of her eyes. Although Neal tended to prefer women who kept to a more natural look he couldn't deny that she was beautiful.

"That is a beautiful nightingale, Mr. Caffrey." Liao said as he gestured to Neal's chest. "And don't think that the irony of it is lost on me, I know the nightingale's sad story."

"Actually I just painted it because I liked it."

"Sometimes I wonder how often the viewer finds far more meaning in artwork than the artist ever meant to include."

Neal wasn't in the mood to engage Liao in a philosophical discussion about the meaning of art so he just kept quiet. Liao waited a moment, but when it became clear that Neal wasn't going to play he just shrugged. He put his hand up and the woman placed her hand in his. He guided her over to the window while one of the guards came up behind them with a padded stool for her to sit on. She stood next to the stool, but did not sit down. The other guard came in with an easel that had the laminated tattoo stretched out on it.

"Your twenty-four hours are up, you have another twenty-four to finish the back piece."

"That's not enough time." Neal protested.

"I'll have Hsing bring you some coffee if it will help."

"It won't."

"How about an extra million in cash?"

"Even if I believed that you plan to pay me for my services money can't change time."

"Fine, technically I don't need the work until Saturday night, that gives you more like thirty-six hours."

Neal nodded as though he was agreeing to the new time frame. In truth he just wanted to see if whatever job they were pulling off had an actual time frame and it was looking like it did. When Liao reached into his jacket as if going for a gun Neal visibly tensed.

"Easy, Caffrey, relax. I'm not interested in hurting you." Liao assured as he pulled out and handed over a passport.

"What's this?"

"A token of good faith, your new identity for when our dealings are over."

"'Jordan Chase'?" Neal read off the passport with distain.

"You don't like it?"

"He sounds like a sleazy motivational speaker."

"I think it fits you well."

Neal rolled his eyes at Liao and tossed the passport onto the end table. If Liao was irritated with him he didn't show it.

"Is there anything else you require at the moment?" Liao asked politely.

"I'm still waiting on a shirt."

Liao laughed and threw his arm around Neal's shoulders as if they were old drinking buddies. Neal tried to untangle himself from Liao but found him to be surprisingly strong. Liao pulled him in closer. Neal pulled away from his sour breath as best he could.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood." Liao hissed. "I am practically shoving a small fortune down your throat and you keep insisting on spiting back at me. Now I realize I haven't put a real figure in your head, mostly because I thought freeing you from the F.B.I was priceless. However, clearly you are a man with a physical price."

"I don't want your money."

"Wow..." Liao sighed sadly. "Agent Burke has really gotten into your head."

"Liao..."

"Just get this done and I'll leave you with a ten million and a choice to walk out of her as Jordan Chase or Neal Caffrey...I don't care which you choose."

"What could you possibly be planning that is going to net you enough to make my cut ten million?"

"It's a long term investment."

Liao finally released Neal and without any further word he and the guards left. Neal stared at the locked door for a moment. Part of him wished that Liao had offered him a more reasonable price, offering such an absurdly large fee for services rendered just proved that he had no intention of paying him or letting him go.

Dragging his hands through his hair Neal growled in frustration and growing anxiety. He had been here nearly three days, if Peter had any idea how to find him he would have by now. He was on his own with no real leverage to use against Liao. A silver tongue was only a good weapon when it was a secret.

Neal looked over to the woman who still standing by the window looking out over the city night scape. She showed no interest in her surroundings or situation. He got the feeling that she was simply waiting for him to bring out his paintbrush. Looking at the dead woman's skin on the easel did not really put him in the the mood to paint. Neal turned away from the dead woman and back to the live one.

"And where do you fit into all of this?" Neal sighed. "How is Liao using you?"

"Liao would not dare use me."

"You speak English."

The woman didn't reply, she didn't even look in Neal's direction. She stared out the window looking at nothing with a slightly unfocused gaze. Neal approached her carefully. He stood a few feet from her, but she didn't seem to notice or care. Smiling brightly Neal brought his hand up and waved it in front of her field of view. She flicked her black eyes at him before looking away again.

"Hi, I'm Neal."

"I know who and what you are Mr. Caffrey."

"That gives you an advantage over me."

"You may call me 'Tachi'."

"Like the sword?"

"Correct."

"So, Tachi...how do you like having Liao as a boss?"

"You are very clever." Tachi turned to face Neal with a cold smile. "Trying to turn the dogs on one another. However, Liao is not my boss."

"Then what is he to you?"

"I will not discuss such things with a man who has made his loyalty to his master clear."

"Peter isn't my master." Neal growled in frustration. "He has nothing to do with my resistance to joining Liao's crew. It's the fact that he is just going to kill me when I finish this that makes me less than enthused to get started."

"Talents like yours are rare, he knows better than to kill the duck who lays golden eggs."

"Goose." Neal corrected. "Why is everyone suddenly comparing me to various birds?"

"Personally you remind me of a parrot, you both talk too much."

"Great. I'll add it to the list."

Tachi lost her interest conversation and effectively rendered Neal speechless by suddenly shedding her white silk robe. Neal had only seen her back before and that had been stunning. Unveiled from the front she was truly breath taking. Without a trace of self consciousness Tachi turned around and sat on the stool with her back to Neal.

Swallowing hard Neal wondered if Liao would grant a request for a cold shower. Tachi looked over her shoulder and raised an expectant eyebrow. Any thoughts that Neal had once had that Liao was holding this woman captive were erased. She had an air about her of being very dangerous when she wanted to be, like a venomous snake.

"Mr. Caffrey, if you do not start this painting you will not have to worry about Liao killing you, I will do it myself."

"This is important to you."

"It is a matter of honor. Now begin."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Resigning to what wasn't an entirely unpleasant fate Neal went over to the inks and brushes that he had spent all day practicing with. Holding the ink jar and brush in one hand Neal reached out to brush Tachi's long hair over her shoulder. A glimmer of purple and green iridescence in her hair caught his eyes. Taking a closer look he found that she had about a dozen long black feathers with a natural sheen mixed in with her natural hair.

Taking the brush into his right hand Neal studied the macabre laminated tattoo. Looking for a place to start he decided that the poem on the left shoulder would be best. Bringing a wet brush up to her shoulder he looked between the dead and the living to ensure that the placement and proportions were going to be correct. The first stroke was always the most difficult and he found himself holding his breath as he poured in concentration into placing the first delicate stroke.

"Breathe, Neal. You can not perfect ink painting if you don't breath."

"I've had canvases speak to me figuratively before, but for this I'd prefer it if you didn't distract me."

"Very well."

Neal did follow her advice and took a deep breath. She was right, not just about the ink, but about any forgery. Remaining relaxed and loose during the process was important. A tense forger couldn't duplicate the artistic flow of the original artist. Neal took one last look at the painting and closed his eyes as he committed the image to memory and translated it into muscular action. Opening his eyes once more he slashed the first stroke onto Tachi's skin.

With first ink drawn the next strokes came somewhat easier. Neal was not used to compensating for a canvas that moved with every breath. It took time to learn her natural rhythm to avoid mistakes from the motion. Eventually the poem flowed down her shoulder like a waterfall. Jumping over to the other shoulder he began to recreate the cherry tree. He was only painting in black at the moment, he would add the colored flower petals later.

Time had a way of slowing down in Neal's mind when he was painting, meanwhile it was speeding by around him. Tachi stayed as motionless as she could, a living statue. With the tree mostly complete Neal set to work on the bird singing in its branches. The bird on the original was so lifelike he could almost hear her song. Neal did not get the same impression from the one that he painted.

Going back over the bird, trying to smooth out its lines only made matters worse. As the painting began to look less like the original Neal grew increasingly frustrated. This would be the point in a oil painting that he could blend out his mistakes and retry. With the ink it wasn't that simple. Taking a step back Neal looked from the original to his own work.

"Damn it." Neal growled.

"What is wrong?"

"It looks forced."

"That is unacceptable. It must be perfect."

"Who exactly are you trying to fool with this?"

"That is not your concern. Start again."

Glancing at the moonlit city Neal considered just asking to call it a night. In the end a touch of professional pride kept him going. He never recalled having this much difficulty with a forgery. Art usually came to him easily, but tonight his muse had decided to abandon him. Neal reset his canvas with some rubbing alcohol on a towel. He gently ran a cold wet cloth over her skin to remove the alcohol.

Starting over Neal was able to quickly repaint the poem. The lettering was the easy part. Even the tree came a little more naturally. However once again when he tried to capture the spirit of the singing bird something was off. The bird on the original tattoo was a masterpiece in its own right. On Tachi's back the bird lacked the ability to fly away.

"I can't do this." Neal snarled in defeat. "Hsing was right about nightingales, we can't sing in a cage."

Tachi calmly got to her feet and turned to face Neal. She reached out and took the ink jar and paint brush away from him. She carefully placed them on the stool before stepping closer. Tachi snaked her arms around Neal's waist and pressed her warm body against his. Taken off guard by the unexpected contact Neal didn't think to try and step away.

"What are you doing?"

"I need you to relax." Tachi replied simply.

"Uh..."

Before Neal could come up with a more intelligent response Tachi pushed herself up on her tiptoes and gently bit down on his lower lip. Neal put his hands on her shoulders to push her away, but she quickly escalated her light bite into a passionate kiss. With his heart racing Neal struggled to resist the offer she was tempting him with. Closing his eyes for a moment he returned the kiss as he ran his hand down her smooth back. Coming back to his sense he managed to break free and held her out at arm's length.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a little dizzy from having my moral compass spun."

"We're two consulting adults," Tachi pointed out as she pressed closer again "we're not doing anything wrong."

"A very annoying little voice is telling me differently."

"Trust me, this will help. Your tension is transferring directly into the brush, you will never succeed if you can not release your stress."

"I don't have a strong argument against that." Neal admitted.

"Then stop arguing..."