Still on the plane. Still bored. So you get two chapters. Who knows, I might get three done. I'm just going to keep typing, and I really need to work on my other stories too. Sorry for all those reading my Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons Hogwarts Edition story. I'm trying, but the inspiration is lacking. I think I have something, but it's not very good.

Neal was woken up after his night in an FBI holding cell by Elizabeth Burke. He had been sleeping rather nicely, at least better than the night before when he fell asleep in a doorway, when he felt someone shaking his shoulder. His eyes snapped open, expecting to see an agent, not the kind eyes of Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth?" He asked, sleepily. He was still trying to focus on his surroundings.

"Hey Neal, how you feeling?" Elizabeth asked in a kind voice.

Neal sat up on the cot and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. As he looked around him, he saw what he had been to tired to see the night before when Diana had escorted him, rather roughly he might add, into the cell.

It was just four plain white walls, a small metal toilet, a metal sink, and Neal appeared to be sitting on a cot. The door was open, and Neal could see that there were other holding cells besides his own.

Neal turned to Elizabeth, and realized he didn't answer her question. "I'm fine. Is there something I can help you with?"

Elizabeth smiled at Neal. He knew that smile; it was one similar to his own when he wanted someone to do something they didn't want to do. "Neal can't you just come clean? It would be so much easier for everyone."

Neal just stared at her. He should have expected that she would try to convince him to admit to all the crimes he had done, but it was morning, and his brain needed coffee, or food.

"Elizabeth, I-" Neal was cut off when another person walked into his little room. It was none other than Peter Burke.

"El, what are you doing here?" Peter had stopped in the doorway, surprised.

"I came to drop off the lunch you forgot, and I decided to visit Neal." Elizabeth said with a smile.

"Hun, I'll talk to you later. I have to get Neal to the interrogation room." Peter said. He motioned with two fingers for Neal to come with him.

Neal got up and began to follow Peter; he turned and winked at Elizabeth before he disappeared from her view.

Neal was lead to the same room as before. He sat in the same seat as Peter sat in the same seat across from him. They only difference between now and last night was that both were well rested, and Diana wasn't there. Well, that and the sunlight was streaming in from behind Neal, but that didn't really count.

"Okay Caffery, last chance. Tell me what you have done, and I will try to cut you a deal." Peter said.

"I told you last night. I'm not admitting to anything else. You wouldn't have given me a second chance to confess if you had proof I did anything else." Neal said defiantly. He crossed him arms over his chest and glared at Peter.

"Fine kid. You're under arrest for theft and bond forgery. Put your hands behind your back." Peter ordered, standing up. Neal stood up and did as told.

He didn't particularly enjoy being led out of the interrogation room by Peter, but he didn't resist. In fact, he started to pic the handcuffs from the small pic he always had in his sock. He had slipped it up to his hands before the agent put the handcuffs on him.

As Peter led Neal through the bullpen, a burst of color on a desk of one of the agents caught Neal's eye. Neal stopped, causing Peter to run into him.

"What kid?" Peter growled out. He followed Neal's line of sight to the desk where the painting sat. "Oh that. An anonymous tip was called in. We recovered the painting. Reaper by Vincent Van Gogh. Seems to be the real one, now lets go."

Peter tried to yank Neal along but the kid just started to laugh. There had been about three agents looking at the painting, and they turned to see the young man nearly crying.

"What's wrong with you?" Peter asked, a look of disbelief on his face.

"You *deep breath* think that *more deep breaths* painting is real." Neal huffed out. Peter just glared at him.

"Alright, Mr. Know-it-all. Tell me, what's wrong with it?" Peter said gruffly. Neal stood up straight and wiped a tear from his eye. He approached the painting and placed his hands on either side of it, cuffs dangling from one end.

"How did you-" Peter began, as he checked his pocket for the key to those cuffs, and it was still there, but he was interrupted by Neal.

"Reaper is all about messy, exact lines. Each stroke of the paintbrush was perfect, but these are all sloppy. Yes, they all look the same, which is probably why you think it's the real one, but Van Gogh's lines were straighter, these are too wavy." Neal said as he glanced over the painting. "The artist is talented, but he was in too much of a hurry. Either that, or he wanted to see if he could use similarities to fool you. He almost did too. And one more thing. Can I see that?"

Neal was pointing to a pocket size magnification glass that an agent was holding. The agent handed it to Neal, after a nod from Peter.

Neal held the glass to the painting and scanned it for a moment, before a smile, not a fake smile that he had been flashing to all the agents, but a smile that meant he had accomplished something and he was proud of it, erupted on his face.

"There, the artist initialed it." Neal said, pointing to letters. Peter came over to where the kid was standing and leaned in. Sure enough, the letters LM where present in the painting, although they blended in with the painting well.

"Damn." Peter muttered, and stood up straight. He looked down at the kid who was grinning at the painting.

"Jones, watched the kid, I need to talk to Hughes. And don't bother with the hand cuffs anymore." Peter ordered one of the agents that had been standing around. Jones nodded and Peter dashed up the stairs to his boss's office. He had an idea.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

"So let me get this straight, one more time." Neal said, running his hand through his hair as he sat in Hughes's office. Peter and the old guys were standing on the opposite side of the desk. "The FBI is willing to take a 15-year-old kid on as a consultant, to help solve crimes. And in exchange for doing that, I wouldn't go to jail?"

"Almost." Peter said, with a smug smile. "You get to wear a tracking anklet while your working for us. We can see everywhere you go, and you have a radius. But yep."

Neal just looked at the two men. "What's the catch? This seems almost too good to be true."

Peter sighed. He figured Neal would be suspicious. "Nothing. You would come into work everyday and help us solve crimes. All we need to do is find a foster home for you to stay at. If we can't, then you go to prison."

"Ah, there's the catch." Neal smiled, almost sadly. "Okay, I'm in."

Peter smiled. Sure, the kid could be a jerk, but to have caught a forgery so quickly with barely a glance meant he had talent. All Peter needed to do was to use that talent for the right reasons.

"Great. Ill get Jones to take you back to your little room until we receive an update." Peter said. Neal nodded and stood up.

Jones took Neal to his room and Peter headed to his office where his wife was waiting for him.

"So what's the verdict?" Elizabeth asked as soon as Peter shut the door.

"Well, he is guilty, but that kid has a great eye." Peter explained as he sat down. "He spotted a forgery with only a glance. So I told Hughes, and we are trying to cut him a deal where he works for the FBI. The only problem is that we need to find a foster home for him to stay at. Now I have some agents working on it, but a lot of the criminal ones are full, and the normal ones don't usually take felons. That's the only problem right now."

Elizabeth nodded, and looked down for a moment. Then her head shot up and she looked at Peter with hope in her eyes.

"Hey hun, what if we-"

"No." Peter cut her off. "I am not having a convicted felon stay in my house."