Chapter 3

Still a bit tired Neal climbed up the stairs to the Burkes home the next morning. It was about 6 o'clock but the traffic was already busy. He had stayed late yesterday night to make sure everything was in order and came back first thing in the morning to make breakfast. Yawning he took out the spare key El had given him and he let himself in (not that he would have needed a key anyway). He dropped the grocery bag to the ground and listened cautiously but couldn't hear a sound while he stood in the hallway. But only a few seconds later the tapping from Satchmo's paws on the hard floor could be heard. The lab came to him happily wagging his tail. "Hey buddy," Neal greeted him quietly and knelt down to scratch the dog behind his ears. Standing up again he grabbed the bag and went into the kitchen to store away the groceries he just had bought. "Let's get you outside," he said after he had finished and looked for the leash. "Okay, here we go."

Returning half an hour later, Neal made sure that Satchmo's feet were clean before entering the house again. After that he went into the kitchen and began preparing the breakfast. Totally engrossed with his mission he didn't see El coming to the kitchen.

"Good morning," she greeted him and looked at him in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Uhm, breakfast?" Neal replied surprised, too. "And I wish you a good morning, too Elizabeth." Smiling, he gestured to the table. "Sit down, please. How's the ankle?"

She limped to the chair. "A little bit better, but still hurting," she answered and inhaled the air. "Smells good."

"Thanks. Coffee? Tea?" he asked and worked on the scrambled eggs. "And are you sure you won't go to the hospital?"

"Neal, I've already told you yesterday. I'm fine," El said and quickly added, "yeah, well, as fine as I can be with a swollen ankle. Still can't put any weight on it though and walking is out of question I guess."

"See? I'd feel better if you would go to the doctor. Besides, Peter will kill me if we don't have that ankle checked out."

Elizabeth had to smile. "Don't you worry. Peter already knows. And to answer your earlier question - coffee, please."

Defeated, Neal rolled his eyes. "Alright. Just for the record - I did ask you. Twice." He came to her and handed her a mug of coffee.

It was then that Elizabeth realized that Neal didn't wear one of his designer suits but jeans and t-shirt. "Wait, aren't you supposed to work?"

"Nope," he said and grinned. "I've called Diana and I'm free to go. Figuratively." He went back to the stove and put the scrambled eggs on two plates altogether with some slices of toast. "Apparently the FBI trusts me hanging around Peter Burke's wife and that I won't run."

"Seriously? If you would run? Peter will find you, no matter what."

"Yeah, I guess they figured out the same thing." He put the plates down. "Enjoy your meal! We have quite a lot of work waiting for us." Last evening he had spent almost two hours calling in favors and so far he had succeeded.

"You weren't joking yesterday, were you?" El asked stunned. "About helping me?"

"Of course not!" Neal shook his head. "Everything's in order. Tony, my manager at 'The Greatest Cake' is handling the dessert and he happens to have a friend who is able to jump in with the food. Sort of. We will have to take a look at the menu in order to…," he paused for a moment, "…to reschedule some points. But we'll manage this. Trust me." The charming Caffrey smile appeared on his face. "It's like planning a con. And you know I'm very good at this. It'll be fun."

…

"Okay," Neal said and stretched his back while sitting at the table at Elizabeth's office where they have met with Tony and his friend Giancarlo. Tapping his pen on the notepad in front of him, he scanned the topics. For the last 2 hours he and El had been rescheduling and now it seemed that they had everything in order. It was like planning a heist. "Moz will take care of the wine and cheese and will also be our additional man in case something else comes up. Tony, you have everything you need?"

"Yes, Mr. Caffrey. I'm gonna head back and start right along."

Neal nodded and looked at Giancarlo. "And you?"

"I have some no problems with the menu, but I'm afraid there's another problem, though."

Fearing another bad news, El eyed him cautiously and took a deep breath. "Yes?"

"Well, since your approach is on short notice, I'm lacking one cook. I mean, I can do most of the meals myself, but it would take too long," Giancarlo explained with his Italian accent.

Neal thought about it and answered, "I think I know someone who can step in."

"That someone," Giancarlo made clear, tapping his index finger on the table, "must have experience with cooking. I don't have the time to explain every single step, you know."

"That should be no problem," Neal smiled.

"Okay, in that case…I'm confident that everything will work out," Giancarlo said and quickly added, "I'm thinking about something like an historic and modern cuisine theme. How about scampis with sweet and sour onions or guinea fowl terrine, homemade ravioli and old-fashioned duck with wild apple. Have you ever tried strawberry and basil soup? Oh and my famous passion fruit pudding. It's delicious! You must try it."

"I'm afraid we have a tight cost frame-"

The grey haired man shook his head. "It's okay. We can handle that. If we're still too pricey, I'm gonna take that one on me, signora."

"But...," El interrupted.

"Like I said," Giancarlo insisted and smiled, "I own Tony a favor and I'd be more than happy to help you out. We Italians feel very strong about paying debts." He looked at Neal. "Maybe we can do more business with you in the future. The bakery is one of the best in town. It would match perfectly with our services."

Suddenly Neal felt reminded of Don Corleone from the "Godfather" movies. Which wasn't that offbeat, since Giancarlo had a stunning resemblance with said criminal. But Giancarlo was an honest civilian. Chuckling, he answered, "Sounds good. I'm sure we can work something out."

Tony and Giancarlo stood up and shook hands with Neal. "Call me, if anything comes up, alright?" Neal said.

"I'm afraid I'll have to remain seated," El replied sheepishly. The swelling on her ankle hadn't changed much so she preferred to keep it elevated.

"Ci sono cose peggiori," Giancarlo replied and smiled. "Sorry, old habit. It means-"

"There are worse things," Neal quickly stepped in and said to him in fluent Italian, "Molte grazie per il vostro aiuto."

Giancarlo raised his eyebrows and then laughed. "Why didn't you tell me that he speaks Italian?" he asked his fried Tony.

"I didn't know."

Looking at Neal, he grinned and shook his head in amusement before he said, "Prego. Fino ad allora." With Tony in tow, Giancarlo went to the exit and stepped out.

"See you!" After the two men had left, El turned to Neal and was still a bit stunned. "You speak Italian? You still surprise me, even after all these years."

"Yeah, well...what can I say? I'm a genius," Neal laughed out loud.

"I'm glad Peter didn't hear this," El replied and laughed, too.

"I guess he already knows."

"He would never admit it."

"True, but still…," Neal didn't finish the sentence and eyed El. For the first time since last evening she seemed to be convinced that they could handle the party and she visibly relaxed. He looked at his watch. "Okay, I think we have some time left. Do you want some coffee?"

"Sounds great. Wait, let me get it."

"Don't even think of standing up and going to the coffee machine," Neal told her with a stern voice. "I think I can manage this task, too." He went to the back office and after a short while he had found all the necessary things to get the machine started. A few minutes later he came back with two cups of freshly brewed coffee and sat down next to El.

"I don't know how I can ever thank you enough for doing this," El said and was really touched. "It means a lot to me."

"It's only coffee," Neal joked, well aware what she really wanted to say.

El slapped him slightly on his arm. "You know what I mean!"

"I'm honored to help you out, Elizabeth. Besides, now I'm really curious about tonight's dinner. Sounds great, what do you think?"

"Great? It's perfect! Mr. Wilson will love it, I'm sure." She stopped and frowned slightly. "I just hope that-"

"Everything will be fine," Neal said like he had read her mind. "Don't worry. It's a shame though that we don't have Peter as the bartender," he grinned.

El looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, that's…a long story," he answered and smirked. "I'll tell you someday."

"You are mean," El said and pretended to be pouting. "Why don't you tell me now?"

"Because NOW we still have some work to do."

…

The party was in full swing a few hours later and El was happy. She had changed into an evening dress and had been there since Neal had dropped her and drove off with her car to get "something done". She had been worried, but Neal had smiled at her and had reassured her to not worry. Since then, he was gone. After she had realized that fact, she felt a bit uneasy, but since no one from the FBI had called her and had asked about Neal, she was confident that so far Neal hadn't done anything wrong. A voice brought her back to reality and she blinked a few times.

"Mrs. Burke! I'm glad that you are still here, so I can thank you," he said with a cheerful voice and stepped to her table in the background.

Startled, El looked up and smiled briefly. "Oh, Mr. Wilson, you're welcome. I'm glad that you enjoy the evening."

"I've noticed that you have some issues. I hope you are okay."

"It's nothing. I've twisted my ankle yesterday, but it's getting better. I hope everything is like you wished for."

"It's beyond that. It's perfect." His smile was radiant. "The cheese and wine selection is superb, even if that guy is a bit…extraordinary."

El glanced towards Mozzie, who seemed to be enjoying himself. He wore a waiter garment and surely was telling the guest his theories, even if they weren't interested at all. "Well, yes. Mr. Haversham can be quite…entertaining."

"That's for sure," Wilson nodded. "And I must admit, I was doubtful about the rescheduling with the menu, but you have outdone yourself."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Wilson, but the thanks is due to someone else. But I make sure that the cook will be informed about your praise," she answered and was relieved. Just as she was about to add something, she spotted Neal on the other side of the room. He was wearing one of his Devore suits. "Oh, I think my driver has arrived," she gestured towards him.

Neal came to them, showing his charming smile. "I'm sorry for the delay, Elizabeth," he apologized politely and shook hands with Wilson. "Good evening, sir. I'm Neal Caffrey."

"Good evening, Mr. Caffrey. Will you excuse me; I'm supposed to get back to my guests. Again, Mrs. Burke, thank you for the excellent service."

"You're welcome, Mr. Wilson." El let out a deep breath as soon as Wilson was gone. "Wow. I still can't believe it." She looked at Neal. "We've made it!"

"Did you expect something else?" He winked at her. "Ready to go home?"

"Oh, yes please. I want to change into something more comfortable."

"Your wish is my command," Neal said and offered her his arm.

Accepting his offer, she took his arm while they slowly made the way towards the exit. She noticed the scent of shower gel and his still damp hair and was somehow proud of her observation skills. But the longer she thought about it, she decided not to ask why Neal had taken a shower while he was gone. It probably would be better not to know.

…

About twenty minutes later, Neal pulled the car into a stop right in front of the Burkes home and helped her gently upstairs. Once inside, they were greeted by an overjoyed Satchmo. "You want to change first? Or dinner?"

"You don't have to cook."

"Nah, I got that covered." He waved with one hand.

She watched him as he got outside and shook her head. Neal had been a great help the last two days and she had no clue how to thank him appropriately. Sighing she hobbled to the cupboard and got the dishes out. She had to talk to Peter in order to get Neal his well deserved reward. True to his words, Neal appeared a few moments later and carried a big Styrofoam box. "You keep surprising me," El said and pointed at the box. "What's in there?"

"Alright," he said. "I've got the whole menu from tonight. One for you and one for Peter. He can heat it up when he's home tomorrow." He placed the box on the table, but didn't open it.

"W-wait, why don't you stay?"

"Uhm, actually, I wanted to take Satch for walk while you are eating and then…," he looked at his watch and frowned, "…then it will be too late to get to the exhibition." He sighed and slumped his shoulders.

"Exhibition? You wanted to go to an exhibition this evening?"

"THE exhibition," he corrected her. "The Kandinsky collection. I've longed for this for months and tonight was the last date, but…," he took a deep breath and couldn't hide his disappointment, "…well, it seems that it wasn't meant to be."

A rush of guilt came over El. "Oh Neal," she sighed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Why didn't you say something?" She went to him and touched his arm.

"I thought there would be enough time left, but Giancarlo and I were really busy in the kitchen and somehow I lost track of time," Neal smiled but his frustration was still evident.

Again, El was stunned. "You…were helping Giancarlo?" Suddenly an idea formed and her eyes got big because of her discovery. "That's why you had showered! You…were helping in the kitchen! You cooked!"

"I'm capable of doing that, yes."

"No, no, that's not what I meant," she said quickly. "It's just…I…wow, I don't know what to say."

"But I do. Let's sit down and enjoy your meal before it gets cold." He opened the box and got some packages out which were wrapped with aluminum foil. Then he turned toward the lab. "Come on, buddy."

"Don't you want to eat something, too?"

"Oh, I'm good. I grabbed a little bit while cooking," he chuckled.

"I insist that you stay and get a decent meal," El answered and her voice didn't leave much room for interpretation.

"But Satch?"

"He can wait. Just let him outside in the backyard."

Neal nodded and opened the door. The lab quickly escaped outside and Neal closed the door again. "I'll get something to drink. What do you want? I forgot to get a bottle from Mozzie."

"Believe it or not, but there are some bottles of wine in the Burke household waiting to be opened."

"I'm impressed."

After they had finished, Neal left with Satchmo while El changed into casual clothes. He returned thirty minutes later and was obviously in a better mood. Maybe the walk and the fresh air helped him to calm down. She smiled. "I'm still thrilled about the meal. It was delicious! I'm willing to get Giancarlo's service on more occasions," she told him and put the last item into the dishwasher.

"Why are you walking around? I would have taken care of the dishes."

"Neal, you've done more than enough already. Besides, it's a twisted ankle, for heaven's sake. It's not broken," she smiled and limped towards the couch.

"You were lucky. Imagine if it was really broken. That would have been nasty, I can tell you."

"You are speaking from experience?"

Neal hesitated. "I've had a broken arm as a kid. But I guess a broken ankle would be much worse."

El sat down and looked at Neal. "What happened?" She knew from Peter that Neal didn't talk much about his childhood, so she gave it a try.

Again, Neal seemed to weight his options. "It's late and I-" Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders then he sat down on the armchair. "Well, I was about eight and I wanted to impress the kids. So I took a belt and a drape and climbed up to the backyard shed. I felt damn cool with this…," he laughed, "…I thought I was Superman. I told them to watch and jumped. The result was a broken arm. But I've also got a kiss from one of the neighborhood girls." His grin was breathtaking and his eyes lit up with those memories.

El laughed out loud. "I can imagine this." She went silent for a moment. "You know, with those glasses on you really look like Clark Kent."

"I liked disguises. I always loved to pretend to be someone else."

"A superhero. Like your father." She knew that this topic was a sore spot for Neal, but she had the feeling that Neal was comfortable telling her this. Peter had spent hours talking about Neal's background with her while hunting him, but it was just two years ago that Neal had actually talked about his father at all.

"Probably. Just like any other kid, I guess."

"But unlike any other kid, you kept your way of living someone else's life."

"Yeah, I'm privileged."

"I thought more of a modern Peter Pan."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Of course." El leaned back on the couch and enjoyed the light conversation. "But your superman action wasn't the only stunt you pulled, right? I think you were quite a handful as a kid."

"It wasn't always easy growing up without a father," he confessed, his voice low.

"I guess so."

He started to laugh unexpectedly. "Once I fooled the Marshals and took a drive with the car from someone of the neighbors. At that time I was Earnhardt, you know? I took the opportunity and hit the road. Fast. Real fast. But I didn't see the ditch. First, I took out a mailbox, then I hit a fence and finally came to a stop in a barn. The cops came and called…," he stopped, swallowing hard. "They informed my mother, but it was Ellen who lectured me."

El nodded sympathetically. The young man still mourned the death of his surrogate mother.

"At least I met the farmer's daughter," he smiled sadly.

She tried to lighten up the mood a bit as she replied, "You know, maybe that Earnhardt thing is the reason why Peter doesn't want you to drive the Ford."

A grin appeared on Neal's face. "He doesn't know about this." Then he frowned. "At least I think so."

"Speaking of Peter…," El continued, "…now I want to hear about him as a bartender…"

To be continued...