Unintended Consequences

DISCLAIMER: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA Network.

A/N: Just to clarify it's still Tuesday evening, just later, so Peter hasn't received the phone call yet. I originally meant to only have one chapter with what Neal was up to beforehand, but I decided to include some more background. I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter! Let me know what you think : )

Chapter 3

Tuesday evening, 8 pm

Neal found a pencil and paper for Frank to start writing down anything he could remember. Neal then walked over and pulled out a large art book from one of the shelves in his apartment and consulted the index to find the page number for Vermeer's painting, The Concert. Fortunately, there was a full page picture in the book for him to duplicate. It also provided details about the colors, the style of painting and the precise measurements of the canvas. He had just sat down on the couch and began to study the intricacies of the painting when he heard a knock on the door. Neal put the book down and walked to the door. He opened it expecting to see Mozzie, but instead found June standing there with a plate of sandwiches in her hands.

"I thought you young men might need these. Mozzie was at the door and said that you were working on something and needed his help. I asked if he had eaten. He said he hadn't had a chance. I knew you had other company, so I thought it might be nice to put together some sandwiches for you. May I come in?"

"Yes, Yes. I'm sorry, please come in. You're so thoughtful."
June stepped in with the plate revealing Mozzie still standing in the hallway with a piece of canvas in his hands. June set the plate down on the table and turned around.

"You gentlemen have a lovely evening. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

June winked and walked back through the door and past Mozzie, leaving the three men alone.

Mozzie stepped into Neal's apartment, still eyeing the sandwiches.

"Thanks for coming and bringing the canvas."

"Now please enlighten me as to what is going on?"

Mozzie walked past Neal intending to set the canvas down on the table, but stopped dead when he saw Frank sitting there.

"We're helping him?"

"Can it, Moz. Grace is missing; Frank says she's been kidnapped."

"You're doing this because of Kate, aren't you?"

"Moz, really, we don't have time. We need your help. Frank is coming up with a list of people who might have her and where they might have taken her. I have to study this painting."

"Is the ransom is a painting?"

"You just don't miss much do you, Moz?"

Moz noted the sarcastic tone in Neal's voice, but didn't dignify it with a response.

"Yes, Moz, the ransom is a painting."

"Which painting?"

"Vermeer's The Concert."

"That was stolen years ago, so why are you studying it?"

"Frank had it in a storage locker; there was a fire and the painting was destroyed. Now the kidnappers are demanding it as a ransom, not knowing it doesn't exist anymore. If we don't give it to them, they might kill Grace."

"Ok, ok. I was just asking."

Moz continued to walk toward the table glaring as Frank picked up one of the egg salad sandwiches.

"Definitely not good to see you again, Frank."

"Likewise."

Neal had to chuckle at the two men. Being the romantic that he was, Neal couldn't turn down the opportunity to help Grace. He knew Mozzie wouldn't be too happy about helping Frank and he hoped Mozzie would forgive him; even if it was at a much later date.

"Now that you two have exchanged pleasantries, could we please get down to business? I know you don't like Frank, Moz, but this is about helping Grace, ok?"

Neal turned around, got out his art supplies and set up his easel. Mozzie laid the canvas down on a block of wood which was there to protect the table when Neal re-sized the canvas.

"This will be perfect, Moz. Thanks for picking this up. I really appreciate it."

"Well, at least someone appreciates me."

Mozzie cast another frosty look over at Frank before he sat at the opposite site of the table and picked up a sandwich as well.

"So, you're trying to track down Grace's kidnappers?"

"Yeah, we're trying to narrow down suspects and possible locations. Neal thought between the two of us, we should be able to come up with a good list."

Mozzie didn't even try to hide his irritation with Frank. It was probably a good thing he was hungry and had a sandwich in his mouth or he would have told Frank exactly what he thought of him. Neal was going to owe him big for this. Neal didn't miss the look that Mozzie gave Frank, but he was hoping that together they might be able to come up with a good idea of where Grace might be. With both of their underground contacts, Neal knew it wouldn't take too long for them to come up with at least something to go on. In the meantime, he was going to leave them to do what they did best, and concentrate on what he did best. Using a ruler, he started scoring the canvas to 72.5 cm by 64.7 cm; the exact size of Vermeer's painting. If it was going to be a believable forgery it had to be authentic and Neal was anything but sloppy.

##

Several hours later, based on chatter both Mozzie and Frank were hearing from their underground contacts, Mozzie and Frank had come up with a list of places Grace might be. Mozzie had also managed to secure several floor plans for buildings they were looking at. In addition to the floor plans, they had a map spread out on the table that both were leaning over.

"I just have a gut feeling that this building would be most likely."

Frank pointed at a location on the map.

"It has a nice office space with an empty warehouse. It would be a good place to hide her."

"Isn't that the one owned by Hector Ramon?"

Mozzie had heard of the name and knew it meant bad news.

"Well, that's the name, but it's an alias of Marco Ortiz who is a former associate of mine. He holds a grudge for a job I pulled a few years ago, so in my opinion, he's the most likely suspect to have taken Grace."

Mozzie groaned internally, afraid to let Frank or Neal hear. Of all of the people for Frank to be associated with, of course it would be Marco Ortiz. Mozzie knew it really shouldn't surprise him. He could see them working together; both had the same power grabbing style and were not afraid to use force to get it. Several years ago, when Neal had agreed to do a job with Frank, Mozzie had tried to warn Neal that Frank associated with a "shoot first, ask questions later" crowd. Neal had mocked Frank that using guns lacked imagination. Frank had been angry that Neal had refused to shoot a museum guard and walked away with the painting without a shot being fired. Even though Neal had given Frank a cut of the take, Frank had never really forgiven him for the snub. Mozzie was pulled from his thoughts when he realized Frank had asked him a question and he had no idea what it was.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you agreed if we should start at this location."

"I'd have to agree, the abandoned warehouse on 4th Avenue is probably a good choice, but I think this old train depot might be a great possibility as well. Maybe you should check it out first. "

"Well, I'm actually not checking anything out, I'm taking the painting to the drop. It's at 9 pm tomorrow night. I give them the painting and they're supposed to give me Grace's location. I'm afraid though they'll want more and won't let her go. It was Neal's idea to case the areas we think Grace might be held. We need to find her before someone decides she's expendable even after I give them the painting."

Mozzie looked up startled when Frank had mentioned it was Neal's idea to look for Grace. He was ready to say a few choice words to Neal but caught himself as he realized the futility of the attempt. As Shakespeare said "They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth." Mozzie realized that he would never be able to talk Neal out of this; no matter what he thought about Frank personally. He had no doubts Neal was doing this because he felt guilty about Kate's death and he was trying to redeem himself in his own eyes by helping Frank save Grace. It was amazing the power love could have even from beyond the grave. Warning bells were going off in Mozzie's head and he felt obligated to find a way to protect Neal from himself. It would just be so much easier if Neal didn't find it necessary to prove again and again how much he loved Kate.

##

Finally satisfied that they had suitable locations for Neal to case in their attempt to locate Grace before the kidnappers would harm her, Frank announced that he was leaving so that he could get some rest in anticipation of the meeting with the kidnappers. Mozzie stayed for a little while longer, observing Neal's intense concentration on his painting. Neal was clearly not in the mood to talk, so Mozzie eventually excused himself and left Neal to his work. Neal knew Mozzie was watching him, but he was too involved with the intricacies of the painting to carry on a lucid conversation. His brush strokes worked the canvas back and forth creating a work of art that even the biggest fans of Vermeer's work would have attributed to the 17th century master. Various shades of reds, blues and yellows filled the canvas and brought to life the musical gathering Vermeer had frozen in time. Neal set down his paint brush and stopped to admire his work. It was truly remarkable. It still felt so natural, so right; he just needed a few more hours. He fully realized that this painting would not make him millions like some of his forgeries had; yet it was priceless because the painting would hopefully save the life of a friend. He thought it was strange that he had never thought about paintings in that light before. How could he even begin to compare it to the value of a human life? Grace and Kate were both worth more than any of the paintings he had ever forged. He had gone to such great lengths to secure the music box to ensure Kate's safety; nothing the music box could ever offer would even begin to compare to what Kate meant to him. Now that Kate was gone, he was struggling to find meaning in life. What was his purpose? Why was he here? He remembered when he was about to get on the plane with Kate that Peter was begging him with his eyes to stay. Peter had told him he made a difference; was that enough? Would that have made him stay if the plane had never blown up? Neal was still unsure what decision he actually would have made. By forging this painting he felt he could save a life, even if it couldn't be Kate's. He leaned back against the wall releasing a huge sigh before walking back over to the painting and picking up the brush to finish the most important forgery he had ever made. He was a little surprised that he felt unsettled at keeping all of this from Peter. He had tried to talk Frank into getting Peter's help, but Frank's reaction had quickly dashed those hopes. He understood though, it was the same reason why he didn't want Peter to know he was searching for the music box. He wanted to handle it on his own, without any FBI interference.

##

Several hours later, as darkness was giving way to dawn, the first streaks of light filtered through the French doors and illuminated a perfect recreation of Vermeer's The Concert. The sun's rays stretched even further to reveal a figure fully clothed lying on the couch clutching a blanket. A muffled groan permeated the stillness of the morning. Neal slowly pushed the blanket away and cracked an eye open. He was disoriented at first as to why he was on the couch, but then he remembered the painting. He remembered he had been so exhausted he didn't even feel like walking the few feet to his bed. He had grabbed the blanket, slumped down on the couch and fallen asleep. He stood slowly, stretching the kinks out of his back. Still rubbing his eyes, he shuffled over to the painting and stood there admiring his finished product. Regret washed over him in waves, feeling his chest tighten, as he tried to come to terms with the fact that although he could bring an almost 370 year old painting back from the dead, the love of his life was still gone forever. He could only hope that the same didn't happen with Grace. Neal slowly shuffled over to the oven to turn it on and age the painting so it would be ready by evening. He was still exhausted; there was no way he was going to be able to stay awake and make it through work. Peter would notice something was wrong immediately and be all over him with questions about what he was doing. He was going to have to call in sick so he could get some sleep to be on top of his game tonight. He felt confident that Peter would check the tracking data and would find, to his chagrin that Neal was indeed still in his apartment. Hopefully there would be a new case that would get Peter's attention and distract him from continuously monitoring his anklet or from actually checking up on him. After all, Neal rationalized, it wasn't like he was going out for the next several hours and when he did it wouldn't be outside of his two-mile radius. There was no reason to feel guilty, so why did he? He pondered for just a second, annoyed that Peter was really getting into his head; it didn't really matter. It wasn't like Peter was going to stop him from going forward with their plan. Being the FBI Agent that he was, Peter should understand the need to save a life.