Chapter 15

Neal yawned and blinked to clear the blurriness from his eyes so he could focus on the blocks of print in front of him. Mortgage fraud was boring, always boring and always the same. It wasn't a great art theft or infiltrating a consulate; it was sitting at a desk reading dull words on a dull page.

"Could you look any less awake?" Diana asked him as she placed a coffee on his desk.

"I really don't know," he jokingly responded, rubbing his eyes as he focused on something other than words for a nice change. "Mortgage fraud," he said by manner of explaining.

"Oh," Diana commented with a smile that told him she was enjoying his predicament. Neal gave her a wounded look in reply and stretched out before picking up his pen and returning to the papers in front of him.

Diana started to leave.

"Hey, you forgot your coffee!" Neal pointed out, picking up the cup and holding it up for her to take.

"That's for you," she informed him with a snicker of laughter. Neal stared at the cup of coffee, feeling the warm heat in his hand. It was the good stuff and a welcome alternative to the office mud but, it had been so long since someone had brought him a coffee 'just because'.

He almost didn't know how to respond.

"Uh, thanks," he said, flashing her a smile and turning back to his work before she could realise how off-balance he felt because of her kindness.

He sipped at the coffee as he unravelled the evidence behind the case. As he always tried to keep an eye on Peter, he noticed the man leave his office and walk down into the bullpen before he called his name.

"Neal! Come on," he motioned, not even breaking stride as he walked towards the elevators.

Neal felt a thrill go through him. This was different. He cleared his desk and jumped to follow, flipping his hat onto his head.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Just wait," Peter responded as the elevator doors opened. Curious, Neal followed him. He waited for Peter to be ready to speak, but couldn't help asking a few more times.

"Sidney Ward's information has come back," Peter finally explained once Neal asked in the car, "he was working alone."

"Alone?" Neal questioned, "but he said something about a client?"

"A lie to get me to do an exchange with him," Peter responded quickly. Then he thought about it and amended what he said. "No, sorry. He intended to sell the painting, after he figured out why it was so important."

"So, he didn't actually know?" Neal questioned in disbelief.

"He claims not to. But, he did theorise the same as Sarah and me; that the painting had something to do with your theft of the Intersect."

Neal made a disgruntled sound. He didn't like his painting being stolen by someone who didn't even know what it was for.

"Anyway, they believe he stored the painting as his New York residence, which we managed to locate using the FBI database and his fingerprints."

"That's what you spent all morning doing!" Neal realised, "I'm sad you didn't invite me."

"Force of habit," Peter responded with a smirk. "I'm used to doing this by myself and sending you to your desk with the latest in mortgage fraud."

Neal felt his respect grow for Peter. All the times he had sat at his desk all morning with boring cases while Peter did CIA related stuff in his office and he hadn't seen through any of it.

"Next time," Neal wanted Peter to promise.

Peter gave him an indecipherable stare for a few moments, before Neal called out to watch the road and the proximity alarm started blaring.

"Next time," Peter agreed in the silence following his car screeching to a halt.

The address was really for one of Ward's aliases. Peter guided Neal up to the floor with a hand on the small of his back and covered Neal's side, keeping anyone who came up from seeing the picks he stuck in the doorknob, as he picked the lock.

Inside, the place was a mess. Rubbish bags stacked around the place, dirty dishes in the sink and things placed everywhere. Neal winced at the replicas of famous painting hanging on the walls.

"Good thing we've already arrested him," he commented, crinkling his nose in distaste. Hanging before him was a copy of 'Girl with a Pearl Earring', slanted almost completely to the side. "I almost want to shoot him again."

"Neal," Peter said in warning.

"Bryce." He couldn't help reminding the man of his other name.

"Fine," Peter sighed, "since we took the anklet off before coming in here."

"Want me to call you 'Ryker'?" Neal asked in a joking tone. Really, he was testing the waters. Seeing which name the other man related with more.

"Peter. Kieran Ryker's supposed to be dead." Also, Kieran Ryker was just the name he joined the CIA under, same as Peter Burke was the name he joined the FBI under. "A question for a question and an answer for an answer; why 'Neal Caffrey'?"

"Huh?" Neal questioned as he checked under the couch cushions. "What do you mean by that? The agency picked the name."

Peter, who was searching the kitchenette, flinched as he moved a plate and ended up setting of a chain reaction which ended with smashed plates and bowls on the floor. He glanced up, partly expecting to be scolded on his technique for searching houses.

Instead, he caught Neal hiding a laugh.

"That's not what I meant. Just, wouldn't it be easier to do your job if you were a violent criminal or something?" Peter questioned, wondering if Neal would clam up. They were spies and supposed to be able to mould to whatever role was required.

Neal made a face of distaste.

"Uh, no. Yes, it would be easier, but so tedious. And, as a criminal, I don't have a reason to use a gun so I don't."

Peter didn't know how to respond to that. He had seen so many criminals justify having a gun when the FBI turned up to search a house or turn a gun on CIA agent Kieran Ryker because they could.

"So, the CIA let you be whatever criminal you wanted?" he questioned, recalling something Chuck had told him. Something like hope blossomed in his chest. However, he was acutely aware of how easily his hopes could be crushed.

Neal snorted and, for a moment, Peter felt despair wash over him.

"They didn't specify how much of a criminal I had to be," he hinted with a smirk. It was a very Neal-like thing to say and he said it in the same tone that he had used on their first day of working together.

'Tell me which rule I broke.'

'They didn't specify.'

Chuck had said, "you shouldn't forget that Bryce is Neal and he created Neal. Bryce always had a little conman in him and Neal probably has a little agent in him. Neal puts a lot of effort into being the 'perfect conman' but he does have his flaws.

"It's obvious that you see more of Bryce than Sarah did and maybe even more than me. He did jump in front of a bullet for you."

"I found it!" Neal called out victoriously, shocking Peter out of his thoughts. Neal groaned a little as he pulled a rolled up canvas out from behind the couch.

"Great," Peter sighed happily. They could finally leave this mess-hole. "Now we just have to get it to the airport."

"The airport? Is someone picking it up?"

Peter froze. Neal didn't know?

"Chuck and Sarah's flight is in a few hours," he explained, "they're going to be transporting the painting."

Neal blinked for a moment, his face going suspiciously blank. Peter automatically found himself wondering what the other man was planning. He realised then that he still thought, 'what is Neal planning,' rather than, 'what is Bryce thinking,' in these situations.

Even though the other man wasn't wearing a tracking anklet right now.

"How are we doing this?" Neal asked in a businesslike manner.

"The plan is to place the painting in a tube and then one of us is to go for a drink, leaving the tube with the painting at our feet. Then, when Chuck or Sarah take the seat next to us, we leave and they pick up the painting as they leave."

Neal thought about that for a few moments before nodding.

"Can I see it?" Peter asked, pointing at the painting.