Note: This is an idea for a diverging from cannon story featuring Agent Kramer as a completely different human being due to how he (and his wife) have reacted to an altered outcome with Kramer's first C.I.

Warning: mentions suicide; refers to prison violence

Stave 1

"They know about you boys in D.C. Lot of water-cooler talk about Gotham City's finest cop and robber." They chuckled. Kramer looked at the photo again, "You took this right here in the kitchen," he said softly.

"Yeah, yeah. Neal is my C.I. and he's…"

"He's also a friend." Elizabeth left, making an excuse of putting on coffee. "Your awful close to the guy you think stole the Degas"

"Is it that obvious"

"Well, today you had a room full of people ready to go after that painting, and you looked at only one man. You think he stole the treasure?"

"I have my suspicions. That's why you're here. I need an outside perspective."

Kramer sighed. "Before I met you," he said, "I had a C.I. who used to throw batting practice for my son's little league team." Peter was surprised not that Kramer had a C.I., but rather that he was mentioning it. There was a C.I. in D.C. Art Crimes when Peter was a probie. He had enjoyed teaming up with Andrew even if doing so was accompanied by fisherman jokes.

"And now?"

"Margaret and I put fresh flowers on Chase's grave every month."

"What happened?"

"He couldn't keep his hands off a Monet displayed in the National Gallery. Took it frame and all and placed it on the wall in the little apartment supplied by his C.I. contract. I'm sure he didn't have the slightest intention of selling it. I rather doubt he had any intention of keeping it. It was honestly more of prank than anything else and that he was going to slip it back inside the museum as soon as we stopped looking for it. But I had warned the man of the consequences of illegal actions during his work release, so being a good young agent, I did my duty, slapped a pair of handcuffs on him and shipped him back to the prison he came from."

"Then, being labeled a snitch in prison, someone took revenge and had him killed."

"Yes, someone took his revenge and had him killed. Chase did." Peter's eyes widened and his face blanched as he listened to his mentor. "He was put in protective isolation, but they didn't notice as he lost his will to live. I didn't notice either because I was too busy working cases and advancing my career to check in on friend in prison. I reasoned that he betrayed me, so I didn't owe him anything. That's not how friendship works, Petey. Actions have consequences, and we do have to let our friends pay for their missteps, but even if they have hurt us, we don't back out on our friends."

"If you had to do it all over again, what would you change?"

"First of all, there would be no apartment. All of my C.I.s since have been housed either an FBI holding cell a few floors down from work or at home with Margaret and me, their choice. They usually start at the house, get fed up with the strictness of the arrangement, request to move to the holding cell, come to their senses, then request to move back in with us. Our house actually has legal status as a private prison believe it or not. Generally speaking, I don't have the highest opinion of private prisons, but Margaret and I do pretty well with our specific population. A little extra supervision from a no-nonsense warden who is as good at spotting b.s. as she is at making oxtail soup never hurt any of my C.I.'s. I wish I hadn't left Chase unattended much as I did."

"That is all well and good for before an incident. But let's say Chase had already taken the Monet. Is there anything different you would have done during the fallout?"

"If it had come to prison, I would have made sure to visit him as often as I was allowed. So would Margaret. But first I would have tried to work something out with the National Gallery. You see Pete, prison is the proper place for art thieves, even scrupulously non-violent ones. However, once they have been a C.I., especially a C.I. doing fieldwork, their chance of safely being in general population is toast. And solitary confinement for art theft is a perversion of justice."

"But so is letting it slide."

"Yes."

"Then, what do you do?"

"You remember Andrew?"

"Of course, he was always great to work with."

"Originally, he was a C.I. in forensic technology. When I caught him rearranging the displays in the National Gallery on a dare from a probie on his team, he came over to art crimes. The probationary agent was, of course, fired. Andrew's handler was all for sending him back to prison. But by then, I knew better. I went to the National Gallery and spoke with the curator and the board of directors. Obviously, they were highly displeased with the situation, but they were not particularly eager to get a man placed in solitary for a decade or more who hadn't actually stolen anything and had otherwise been serving faithfully at some personal cost. But you are right, such infractions cannot be overlooked. Fortunately, one of the board members was aware of a small problem the Smithsonian was having in finding a living history actor for a certain display pertaining to Puritan colonies. To avoid prosecution, Andrew agreed to spend his Saturdays and occasionally a few hours midweek in stocks at the Smithsonian for 3 months."

"You're not serious! Stocks are barbaric, Philip."

"Really, Pete? Do you think he would have been better off spending years alone in an 8 by 10 cell, with his brain shrinking. That literally happens to prisoners in long term solitary. Or maybe he would have been better off in general pop, hoping for a guard to show up every time he was surrounded by guys he helped put inside. I was able to manage to convince his original handler not to send him back to prison, but I couldn't convince him to keep the man on, so I "adopted" him. All but four of the rest of my C.I.s have been short term relationships…anywhere from 3 months to a year out of a several-year sentence. A sabbatical of sorts; sometimes to clear the air between consultant and handler or to temporarily provide more structure. Also, Margaret and I sometimes house other agents' C.I.s. Right now, we only have one (he doesn't work in art crimes), but we have had up to five at a time, though there is room for seven."

"When I would come over to your house for dinner, Andrew was always there. There were also two other men you introduced as working in missing persons and organized crimes. Sebastian and Ruben must have been C.I.s too, but not yours. It makes sense now, how you treated them so much like you did Andrew and the probies."

"Yes, though only probies with a nasty tendency to go "in" without calling for backup were singled out for an earful. Now, enough reminiscing. You called me here for help, didn't you Pete?"

"Yes, sir."

"Neal Caffrey is a suspect, or no?"

"He is, sir."

"Let's make sure he knows for sure he is a suspect and feels the pressure, while still treating him as a colleague. Call him in early tomorrow. You and I are going to have a private conference with him before the others come in—in a conference room or your office.