OOC: lizzietish13, thank you so much. Your first review really motivated me. Thank you so so much. Thank you for the other reviews too.
"So, what did you think?" Peter swerved into his garage, and as usual slammed his foot on the brake, causing both him and Neal to jerk forward.
"Could you drive any better?" Caffrey was busy extracting himself from the car, his coat folded on his arm. "You'll kill us one day, Peter."
"Four years of prison didn't kill you, and I will?" Burke was already inside, being greeted by Elizabeth, his wife. "Hey, honey…"
"How was the day, baby? Glad you made it in time for dinner." She twirled her fingers in greeting. "Hi, Neal…"
"Elizabeth." Neal smiled, not his usual charming smirk, but a frank, open hearted smile he reserved for those closest. "Something good today?"
"Freshen up and get to the table, you'll find out..." Elizabeth disappeared into the kitchen.
"Hey Neal, you didn't answer my question..." Peter called as Neal started upstairs towards the bathroom. "What did you think?"
Neal looked to his friend, whose face reflected his obvious expectation of an answer along the lines of 'Lovely lady, maybe I'll get her number'. he sighed and answered. "Predictable, Peter. She's everything a princess should be."
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Dinner was excellent with Elizabeth presenting a selection of fish, pates, foie gras, filet mignon, carmelized pears and cheery tart. Of course, Peter shoveled through it all with only "Tastes great, honey", receiving exasperated sighs from both his dinner companions. Neal and Elizabeth discussed the food, and her upcoming events, he offering her tips regarding food, beverage and almost everything else. It was almost ten before the dishes were cleared, and by eleven, the three were sprawled on the living room carpet [Elizabeth was on the couch, though] going over the details of the case.
"So, any number of crooks could have nabbed the painting?" Peter sighed, his mind going over the number of suspects in 14th Avenue [imaginary] alone. "How are we ever going to even start, Neal?"
Peter expected a prompt answer, as always, for Neal brain was usually crowded with a dozen theories and cockamaniac ideas .However, he received none, and looked sideways to see the blue eyed man leaning against the foot of the couch, one arm propped up on his raised knee and staring silently at the carpet. "Neal?" He reached over to give a light shove.
"What?" Caffrey snapped out, dropping his arm.
"What's the matter with you? You've been spacing out all day...How about doing some thinking regarding this?" Peter patted the case file in his hand.
"Sorry…I was just… it's nothing." He sat up straighter. "I'm thinking we should start with the high end art dealers who might be trying to sell the painting, or maybe private collectors; you know, just questioning."
"Okay...draw up a list..." Burke placed a sheet of paper in Neal's hand. "We'll get on it first thing tomorrow." He stood up. "Oh, and Neal…go home, will you? It's late."
"I'll see you out, Neal. Go to bed, honey." Elizabeth picked up an armful of files, and walked with Neal to the front door. "Everything alright, Neal?" she asked. Struggling to balance the files. "You've been quiet."
"Elizabeth, you think everyone wears a mask?" Caffrey looked directly into her eyes, and she was able to see the strange longing in his eyes, perhaps for the answer.
"Of course they do. We're not meant to show our true natures to all, Neal But..." She sighed. "when there come along a certain someone, we're meant to remove it and be ourselves with the one." Elizabeth knew Neal was still bruised from the incident with Kate, she knew he doubted Kate's love, but couldn't bring himself to deny it completely. After all, one could still the loneliness in his eyes, remnants of a love he didn't know what to do with.
"Thanks, Elizabeth." He smiled, this time, the smile didn't touch his azure eyes. "Good night."
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Central Park was almost deserted at midnight; the drug dealers, hookers and derelicts would come out later in the night. Neal Caffrey strolled along the line of tress that marked the park's boundary, and felt the cold breeze rush against his heated cheeks. It was already autumn, and the trees were shedding. He liked the crunch of dry leaves under his feet, Kate had loved it too; Neal stopped. Once again, he felt an iron claw clutch his heart. "Damn it…" Would it never go? This pain, this feeling of indecision, this feeling of not knowing? He couldn't forget Kate, no matter how hard he tried, but he couldn't love her madly either. After everything Peter had told him about her, he couldn't trust her. "Just make up your mind." He muttered to himself, rubbing his bare hand over the left side of his chest. The pain sometimes became so great it was almost physical. "I just want to know Kate…did you love me?" If only he knew, he would spend eternity mourning her.
Neal breathed deeply, loving the tang of woody scents. He started walking again, hands buried deep in pockets. "Carmelized Pears..." Elizabeth truly had outdone herself. She had asked him about shops that sold mint flavored candies, and he had promised her that he'd buy her a sample. Neal picked up his pace. "Might as well do it new." June was away and left him a key, so he'd be able to let himself in.
The shop Neal was headed for was located towards the end of the park, on the other side with the traffic intersection. It was small, but well stocked. Neal rummaged for his wallet and was about to cross when he saw someone emerge. A figure dressed in black came out, holding something and crossed the road towards the park. The road being a bit wide, Neal wasn't able to realize why the figure looked familiar until it was about two feet away. "Miss Rossetti?"
He looked incredulously at the woman in front of him, the heiress to a vast fortune of wealth and heritage. She was dressed in black, black jeans and a slim cardigan that looked, obviously expensive. Her clouds of hair had been bound into a ponytail, and she wore not even a breath of makeup [ though she didn't either when they first met]. Neal even noticed her shoes, Nike sneakers and she carried a brown paper bag. This woman in front of him was an absolute far cry from the creature of breeding he had encountered in the afternoon.
For a moment, Esmerelda seemed not to be able to recognize him; she stood still, looking straight at him with an almost hostile glare. Then her vision softened, and she strode forward and he could see her skin almost glimmer as the streetlight fell upon her.
"Signore Caffrey, such a pleasant surprise." She held out her hand, and he took it. "You are fond of late night strolls?" She seemed as natural as ever, as if she was greeting him in her own parlor.
"Signorina Rossetti," Neal remembered that he could speak bits of Italian. "I am as surprised to see you out so late, and you look…different." He fumbled and failed for another word. "It's a bit dangerous, isn't it? This escapade?"
"I don't think anyone would recognize me, Signore. Most do not expect one of the family to be dressed such." She gestured to her outfit. "Moreover, this is hardly an escapade. I am no stranger to walks alone..."
"But still, my lady the streets or New York, or any city for that matter are not safe for a lovely woman such as yourself." Neal felt his usual ease returning; perhaps it was her regal image that had silences him in the afternoon.
"I am flattered, Signore. But I am capable of taking care of myself. I have training. And it is dreary to be locked in the suite. This is my first time in America, and I wished to experience it...on my own terms."
"You're walking the streets of New York alone at night on your first trip to America?" The surprise was clear in his voice. "You could get lost, my lady."
"I have navigational software installed on my cell phone that will direct me back to the hotel. If I am truly lost, I will be found soon enough. I am resourceful." She nodded. "I have found my way before."
Neal shook his head. This woman was strange in the strangest of ways. She didn't seem to be afraid or conceited; she was simply walking. And she was right, the way she was dressed, no one would guess her to be a Rossetti, even if they did see her face, they'd probably dismiss her as someone have resembling the heiress.
"So, are you shopping out late?" he asked, motioning to the paper bag she held. "Something special for you to buy?"
Esmerelda was silent, Neal thought that even under the dim street light he could catch a faint pink coloring her cheeks. "It is a bit embarrassing that you have encountered me like this..." she held out the bag and Neal looked in. "Chocolates, my weakness. I wanted to get some myself, it is said this shop is well known for the quality of its confectionaries."
It was all he could do not to laugh out loud. Chocolates. The lady from a painting who had so thoroughly flabbergasted Peter and him was a sucker for chocolates and strolled at night to experience America. "It's true, "he said after managing to stifle his laughter. "the very best."
She smiled again, and this time, under the light of street lamps and fireflies, Neal noticed that though she had flawless skin and glowing hair, her face was not as shining. Infact, he thought he could see a few lined along her forehead, lines that marked many frowns of worry, or perhaps ordeals. 'Ordeals..." he pondered. 'what ordeals would someone like she have?' Out loud he said,
"You're indeed brave, but I hope you will let me be a gentleman by allowing me to take you back to the hotel." He didn't care how trained she was. The park and its surroundings was no place for a female like her, especially after sundown.
"Very well, Signore. But, would you walk? It is a pleasant night." She didn't offer resistance, as he had expected, no speeches about how she could take care of herself and how she didn't need a man to protect her. Then again, why had he thought she would say those things?
"Of course. Shall we?" He motioned her to walk before him, and then moved forward to come to her side.
The walk from the park to the Hilton hotel was about twenty five minutes through the straight road, but the pair walked along the trees that Neal had passed earlier. They talked, much easier now, unfettered by the formal manners that bound their earlier meeting. It was much easier seeing her without the accompaniment of silk and pearls, wasn't that what she had said about Cinderella's stepsisters? Esmerelda was knowledgeable about art, as was expected from someone of her background and upbringing, and they talked endlessly about it from the baroque school to Van Gogh to Madonna of the Rocks. He found that she shared his interest of wine and that her favored bottle was a 1994 Chateau Lafleur.
"So, you are one that replicates great works of art?" Neal was startled by the suddenness of the question. Of course, his reputation preceeded him, but even to her?
"I used to, now I'm a consultant, helping the FBI bring justice to the world with my knowledge of thievery and scams." It sounded strangely sarcastic, even to himself.
"And what is her name?" Neal stopped; he didn't understand her question. This woman bombarded queries upon him with any prelude at all. "I beg you pardon..?"
"I asked what he name is , Signore Caffrey. This woman who so plagues your heart." Esmerelda stopped and looked towards the sky, lit by a slit of moon and faint stars. "My rose brought her to your mind in the afternoon, and you are unsure of her love, is it not?" She looked back at him. "Does she bear a name?"
Neal looked at her, stunned. Could she read minds? How could she know so well what raged through him? "Kate." He replied. "He name is…was Kate."
"I see…she is a bride of Death." Esmerelda started walking again. "But, Signore Caffrey, one cannot mourn with a heart of doubt."
"I know..." he had found his voice. "It hurts to think that she might not have cared… that it was all a lie for her." He remembered those morning when he would wake up with her in his arms, those afternoons when they would cuddle close, lazing over hot chocolate and a movie, those endless nights when he felt her bring him to pleasure he had never dreamed possible. Had it all been a lie? Neal felt the sting of tears once again. "But, I just want to know, I just want to know what she felt…even if it meant nothing to her, I could take the pain, but this…this agony of not knowing." He was too overwhelmed to say anymore.
"There are times when you may cry rivers that could flood a lifetime, and yet the next morning tears will cloud your eyes." Her voice seemed to falter, as if on the verge of breaking. "There are some tears that refuse to be shed, and remain here…" she raised her hand to the left side of her chest, "as if clotted blood."
Neal didn't know what to say. He realized he had just poured out his deepest sorrow to a woman he knew almost nothing of, but he also knew that she was first one who hadn't told her to move on. She realized, she knew how excruciatingly painful were the memories that clawed at him like phantoms day and night, the refused to let him rest. "Do not try to stop crying, Signore Caffrey." She said. "The pain will leave only if it is meant to."
He smiled, inspite of the streaks of salt water that stained his cheeks; he remembered what he had told Peter earlier. "You're nothing like I expected, Miss Rossetti."
She stopped, and turned to face him, a smile, a true beautiful smile, not the artificial adornment she wore until now, lit her face. "Please, call me Esmerelda...or Aisha; It is a name I keep for a friend."
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I know this is going slow, but please be patient. I want Neal to really know her before anything happens between them. I mean, he's completely broken up over Kate, and it would be weird if he just fell for Esmerelda/Aisha instantly, right? I really want to potray his feelings more than anything, so please be patient. And please review and tell me how to develop my work. Thank you so much!