Chapter Text
Jerking awake from another gut twisting dream, Peter focused wearily on the glowing dial of his alarm clock.
4:46 am
He sighed, as much as he’d like to go back to sleep, he knew he was probably up for the day. The last two days had been brutally long. The memories of Neal’s release request being denied followed by his kidnapping left the agent vaguely sick as they swirled roughly through his thoughts. Then his mind pulled the most difficult memory sharply back to the forefront again. Oddly enough it had come after he knew Neal was safe, after the younger man had grinned and told him he had an in to take down the Pink Panthers and asked with quiet seriousness if it was worth his freedom. When his consultant had slipped away to his “interview” Mozzie had silently appeared beside the agent, his eyes suspiciously bright.
“Thank you for bringing him home” the little guy said suddenly
“I always will, if I can.” The silence between them grew awkward after that.
“Promise me you will be kind to him, Suit” Mozzie spoke quietly as he pushed his glasses up sharply.
“I usually am, when I can be.”
“He’s more than an asset, so if your overlords won’t release him, be kind to him… he’s had a rough year…rough few years actually.”
“Of course he’s more than an asset. Neal is my friend.”
“You told him otherwise recently.”
“He is my friend” Peter sighed and shook his head. “I… I was just concerned… that the price of his friendship might be too high.” He admitted reluctantly. “After everything that’s happened…”
“The price of his friendship?!” Haversham snorted with shocking indignation “What about the price of your friendship?! He has forgiven you far worse than he has ever asked you to forgive him.”
“What does that mean?” Peter stared at the little guy in disbelief.
“The woman he loved is dead, the woman who raised him is too? How would you feel about a friend who was responsible for that?” The small man glared up at him, but he continued without waiting for an answer “He’s been accused of crimes he didn’t commit how many times? He’s been handed over to people who wanted to kill him. He’s lost most of his friends and his dignity. He’s still a prisoner while you have gotten two promotions based on his work, but he refuses to hold it against you. Consider if you would be as forgiving in his place.” The small man paused in the midst of his tirade to draw a breath and his eyes narrowed “I know if someone who wanted to call me friend had cost me even half as much, I would not be particularly forgiving, but Neal… Neal is inclined to forgive you. So I am simply asking you to be understanding, because he really can’t take much more.” With his back ramrod straight he had turned and stalked away with allowing the agent a chance to respond.
Peter rolled over and punched his pillow. He didn’t want to be up this early and he certainly didn’t want to be playing last night’s conversation with Haversham over in his mind, but the fact was it hadn’t left his thoughts since the small man walked away. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t his fault Neal had suffered so much since he made the deal. That Neal brought his problems on himself, but… the truth was Peter had spent the night dreaming of himself telling Neal not to search for his missing girlfriend, of running Ellen’s name through the system, encouraging Neal to try to have a relationship with James, of looking his friend in the eye and telling him he was disappointed while the younger pleaded to be believed… the list went on and on.
With a sigh he rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. There would be no more sleep this morning.
***************************
Neal rolled his shoulders and turned his face to let the cool October breeze lift his hair from his face. Being kidnapped… even by an idiot, was exhausting. A decent night’s sleep seemed to have barely taken the edge off the weariness. At least it was over and he had a new line on finding his freedom. He shook his head, rolling his shoulders again to release the tension there… he only had to take down one of the biggest gangs of thieves in the world… how hard could it be? Neal sighed, like he told Mozzie last night he wanted more than freedom. His friend would be horrified to hear what he really wanted, though… not the money or thrill of a big score, not the rush of evading investigating agents… not even the different thrill of a successful investigation and arrest. He wanted to be someone else entirely, or baring that to be himself with a chance to start over… really start over, to go back to being eighteen with the knowledge he had now. Of course that was a ridiculous dream, but his freedom would allow him to recreate himself somewhere that Neal Caffrey wouldn’t cause women to clutch their purses closer. Maybe he would go back to Daniel Brooks…
He turned his gaze to the flaming sunrise and smiled… when in doubt smile. He learned that lesson a long time ago. When he was five years old and the teacher looked at his dirty shirt and thread bare pants that stopped three inches above his skinny ankle and asked if everything was alright at home, and he smiled at her assuring her that everything was fine, the tight line in her forehead faded and everything was alright. The right smile could do almost anything he had discovered in that moment.
Allowing himself to settle on the park bench he watched the clouds on the horizon turn purple and gold. He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed the warmth of the early fall morning to soak into his skin…
“You look very content this morning, Mr. Caffrey.” The unfamiliar voice snapped Neal’s eyes open, revealing a well- groomed middle aged man in a more expensive suit than his own, with dark, slightly greying hair and calculating grey eyes. “Mind if I join you?” the man nodded to the bench. The young man tensed…his body preparing to run, but he held onto his calm exterior.
“By all means…” he flashed a bright smile… when in doubt, smile… “Though I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage Mr.…”
“Lancaster, Miles Lancaster.” The gentleman extended his hand in greeting as he sat on the bench. “You’ll forgive me, I hope for cutting directly to the chase… my time is limited. I have a proposition for you Mr. Caffrey.”
“A proposition? I’m listening.” After all, there was nothing wrong with finding out what he wanted, Neal reasoned.
“I understand you are… something of an expert at … acquiring … certain objects.”
“I may, hypothetically know something about the subject. What are you interested in acquiring?”
“Objects of historical and cultural significance. True importance…to protect them for future generations.”
“Isn’t that the purpose of museums…?” he couldn’t stop the hint of a frown. This guy sounded a bit…off. Even if he was inclined to take a job he never had been comfortable with an unstable client.
“I have my reasons for doubting museums security’s ability to fulfill that purpose.”
“I see…” Neal hesitated for a heartbeat “And what exactly does this have to do with me?” He needed to keep this guy appeased until he could determine if he was dangerous.
“I am hiring acquisitions experts for my conservation project.”
“And my name came up?” he glanced around quickly…. wondering suddenly if this was a test set up by the FBI… to ensure his potential honesty or to guarantee his failure, he wasn’t sure which was more likely.
“I have heard you could sell snow in February… in Alaska.”
“I might have some talent as a sales person…” pride and confusion battled in his tone.
“You are also known to be a thief and con-artist.” Lancaster said quietly.
“Allegedly… I was never convicted of either of those crimes...”
“Granted…” he arched a stiff eyebrow “but talented none the less.”
“So you want me to talk museums into selling you the pieces you want?”
“Selling… loaning, have them sent to me for appraisal or restoration… I would prefer to keep out right theft to an absolute minimum.”
“So acquiring… by any means necessary…? And you think I am the man for the job?”
“One of several men and women for the job. Yes.” Lancaster smiled “You would be well compensated, I assure you.”
“Assuming I’m interested… what pieces do you want me to… acquire?”
“I have also heard you are a true lover of the arts… so I want you to bring me your favorites… all of them.”
“Can I get back to you, Mr. Lancaster? I need to consider your offer…”
“Of course.” The older man’s smile did nothing to soften his sharp expression as he handed Neal his card. The younger man turned it over slowly in his hand. Only a phone number and the name, Miles Lancaster, was printed simply on the cardstock. “You may reach me at this number…” he rose abruptly and offered his hand again. The young man shook it cautiously.
“Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he should say in response to the bizarre offer.
“Don’t think about it too long, Mr. Caffrey… It is, shall we say, a limited time offer.”
Watching the man walk away Neal shook his head… “That very well might have been the strangest conversation I ever had” Being friends with Mozzie for thirteen years… that was a substantial accomplishment. A quick glance at his watch reminded him he had to hurry… he barely had time for breakfast before he needed to get to work.
Walking swiftly toward the office half an hour later a new thought occurred to him. Should he tell Peter about his strange encounter this morning? If it was some sort of FBI test and he didn’t, they might use it to extend his sentence, or at least deny his release… but if it was a legitimate job offer… as bizarre and crazy as Lancaster appeared, he wanted mostly legal acquisitions, it wouldn’t be Neal’s job to ensure the pieces were properly returned… and he could use the money to start over once he was free… Of course, Peter would say it was skirting the line, slipping into those grey areas that got them both in trouble. Maybe he could discreetly look into Lancaster before he decided what to do?
******************
He frowned as he watched Neal amble back to his desk. The younger man wore a bright smile for everyone and he carried himself with his usual jaunty step, but Peter could see the tension that lingered in his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have let him come in today.” He thought... no one should be at work less than twenty-four hours after a kidnapping, but he let Neal assure him he was fine, that the events of the last couple of days hadn’t phased him. Which brought Peter’s mind back to the odd conversation he had with the little guy last night, not that all of his conversations with Haversham hadn’t been odd, but the most recent one cut deep, leaving the agent wondering how often Neal had purposely diverted his attention and how often he simply overlooked the price the young man paid for their friendship. How many days had he come in to work looking exactly this way, tense, worried and tired, to be met with not concern, but with suspicion. How many times had Peter asked what he was up to, when he should have asked what he was going through?
Neal looked… agitated. All morning he had been up and down, unable to stay in his seat… obviously not concentrating on the case files on his desk. Right now he was playing absently with his stupid ball while his eyes stared vacantly into space. With a sigh, Peter gestured for his friend to join him… hopefully their relationship was on solid enough ground that he could get the younger man to talk to him. Neal followed him into his office, his movements deliberately casual. He melted into the offered seat with an innocent until proven guilty grin plastered on his face that made Peter’s suspicions flare briefly. Maybe it wasn’t the kidnapping… maybe Neal was up to something. He pushed the thought aside forcibly.
“I didn’t do it.” Neal’s eyes twinkled playfully.
“What is it that you think, I think you did?” Peter frowned momentarily
“I have no idea.” he shrugged “but since I haven’t done anything I’m not supposed to… Whatever it is, I obviously didn’t do it.”
“What makes you think I suspect you of something?” he carefully kept his tone light, hopefully assuring his consultant this was not an interrogation… or an angle Peter was playing against him…
“You have this look… right here…” he gestured vaguely to the area around his eyes “you only get it when you think I did something wrong.”
Peter sighed “I don’t think you did anything… well, I didn’t until you started talking.” Neal opened his mouth then closed it sharply, readjusting his grin swiftly. “I called you up here to ask if you are ok.”
“I’m fine.”
“Really fine or…your idea of fine.” Peter smiled quickly.
“Really fine. I told you he didn’t hurt me… and he wasn’t even on the same playing field as I am mentally… I’m not sure he was even on the same playing field as most sixth graders, actually.” Neal’s grin grew more natural as he shook his head.
“I’ll give you that…” The agent conceded, “you played him like a piano, but something is clearly bothering you this morning. If it isn’t the last couple of days…”
“What makes you say that?” the arched eyebrow dared him to continue, the matching smile lighting the younger man’s expression with mischief.
“Ok, you don’t want to talk to me.” Peter frowned slightly at the tiny voice in his head that whispered that Neal not ever trust him again. “I’ll let it go for now, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.” he watched the debate rage in the blue eyes for a fraction of a moment, but Neal shook his head.
“Thanks… I appreciate that, but I’m ok.” Neal rose smoothly and stepped to the door… Peter sighed inwardly. Whatever trust they had once been building was clearly gone. “Hey Peter?” he stopped with his hand on the glass, looking back “did you ever have a strange conversation… that you didn’t know what to do with?” His tone was light, casual, but his eyes bored into the agent intently.
“Yeah… every time I talk to your little friend.” Peter grinned when Neal laughed briefly.
“Well there is that.” Neal almost laughed again.
“Mozzie acting stranger than normal? Because if he is… it’s probably because he was really worried-” the conversation started its loop through his mind again.
“No, oddly enough I wasn’t talking about Moz.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’ll get back to you when I’ve figured it out… ” With that he was gone, headed back to his desk with a grin. Peter drew a relieved breath, it wasn’t full disclosure, but Neal wasn’t shutting him out entirely. Now he just had to find out what sort of strange conversation his friend was talking about and why it had him so upset.
*******************
“Are you still planning to go through with this idea?” Mozzie burst into the apartment talking before the door was fully open. “You know they will try to find a loop hole to keep you in chains my friend…”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Neal answered absently…his eyes never leaving the skyline as his hands quickly painted the vista.
“Assuming of course you don’t get yourself killed trying to pull off this crazy stunt.” The small man watched him paint for a few moments, fascination with Neal’s talent over taking his thoughts briefly.
“I’ll be fine, Moz” he glanced over his shoulder quickly, his hands never stilling.
“Who are you painting?” because the painting really was beautiful and the little man thought he really should recognize the artist.
“What?”
“Who is that?” He nodded to the easel “I don’t recognize the style” and he knew all of the masters’ styles, or at least he thought he did… obviously his education had missed one.
“What? Oh… I was just… doodling, more or less.”
“Are you planning to become a legitimate artist…? I know you were taking about going straight, but may I remind you that the payout is often quite small?” the small man adjusted his glasses as he inspected the painting more closely “Although you are quite good, actually…” better than good really, better than anything new he had seen in a gallery recently honestly. “But your work wouldn’t be worth much within your own life time. Maybe if we introduced you then…you happened to …”
“I’m not an artist, Moz.”
“I’m just saying…”
“I was just thinking and not paying attention to what I was painting… can we move on, my lunch break is not that long. How is the contract coming?”
“They will be hard pressed to find a loop hole when I am finished.”
“Good.” His gaze wandered again “I need to ask another favor.” The young man finally said.
“Proceed.”
“What do you know about Miles Lancaster?”
“I assume this is for something the suits have you working on…”
“Something like that.”
“I know he owns a huge steel construction company, beyond that… I can find out.”
“He’s a legitimate business man?”
“As far as I know.”
“But you haven’t heard anything about shady dealings?’
“I haven’t, but…maybe he’s just good.”
“Maybe, but if you haven’t heard anything at all…”
“If you want, I will air all of his closets and see if any skeletons fall out.”
“I'd appreciate that. Look, I have to get back to the office.”
“I’ll text you when I find something.” He eyed the painting on the easel again thoughtfully.
“And Moz don’t try to sell the painting… it’s not worth anything.” Mozzie looked up to catch his friend’s easy smile and the sharp ache he couldn’t hide deep in his blue eyes.