In the last few months, Neal had occupied himself with none other than his favorite pastime, scheming. The Smithsonian seemed as ripe as any place to try and it had something more famous than the majority of previous cons he'd managed to pull off. Mozzie was thrilled to be far and away from the prying eyes of the FBI in New York but that didn't mean he was any more happy about being in the District near the center of all that is FBI and suit holy. He'd made Neal promise, after this con they were done. Done and out of the States for good.
So, with the aid of some very fabulous forgeries, Neal got himself a job with the museum. With the aid of his charm way with words, he'd even gotten himself a nice position on the gem and minerals preservation team. For months he'd absorbed information and, after 'work', would help Moz with efforts to properly case, map, and plan the heist. It was a bi-centennial celebration year for the Hope Diamond. This meant it was on all kinds of display, cleaned daily for visitors, and sure to be put in a
( ... )
Peter made his way into the Met, looking around with wide eyes. He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Thankfully, the FBI had helped the Met in the past, so he didn’t even have to flash a badge to get in. Asking for James, one of the ‘higher up’ on the staff, he shook James’ hand and met him with a smile. It had been a while since he had been to the Met. No, it was only because of work. Yes, he would love a pair of tickets for El and himself. After some small talk, it was time to get down to business
( ... )
That nausea he had when they'd announced the diamond was traveling to Manhattan was back, twenty fold. Neal was beyond talented at hiding, well, everything, but it was almost enough to make his head spin when Peter appeared beside him so suddenly. Glancing between 'Michael' and the new arrival, it was clear the rest of the team from the Smithsonian was waiting to hear his response.
Clearing his throat, and hoping the sweat trailing down his back was not also on his brow, Neal managed a coherent reply.
"This isn't just glass, it's a pure diamond created through thousands of years of compression and heat. It may be former dinosaurs though." There's a chuckle around the group that 'know' him. "And, the left really is best due to the hours the museum operates and the fact that the sun sets in the West but these windows face East."
Right. So hopefully that explanation was enough. Enough to make Peter go away, since apparently he wasn't prepared to arrest him just yet. Some part of Neal wondered if Peter was just stringing out the collar
( ... )
"See, that's why you're the art expert and I'm not." He laughed, looking back and forth between Neal and his 'team' that he was working with. He smiled, even going so far as to pat Neal on the back. No, he wasn't there to arrest him. Neal might have been good at hiding, but he saw that look in his eyes. That oh shit look that he had come to know and love. "I never would have thought to take the windows in consideration. When it comes to art, I'm such a doofus. I couldn't even tell you the difference between a Monet and a Degas." And there it was, the art dig. A little nod that only Neal would really get. A past Neal would never forget
( ... )
Neal had a million reasons not to. But, he also no longer had any variant of FBI badging or authority and that was something Peter surely had in his back pocket. Literally. The best thing to do here was going to be to play along and hope, pray even, that he could bullshit enough to get the hell out of that place. Mozzie was going to kill him if and when he did get out, but that had to be better than prison. So, in an effort to seem as benign as possibe, he responded as if he hadn't gotten the dig at all
( ... )
"Oh, my apologies. I am so rude sometimes." He stuck his hand out and took Neal's to shake it. He may have held it a little firmer than he normally would. He wanted to remind Neal that he had a grip and a temper, two things he was sure Neal hadn't forgotten. "Peter Burke. It's a pleasure to meet you. Smithsonian, hmm? I hear that's a hard place to get a job in. You must be very talented. A moment, if you please."
Oh, he was sure Mozzie was around here somewhere in the city, but he doubted that Mozzie was here in this building. He led Neal off to the side, in a corner where nobody would hear them. Stepping around the corner, nobody would really see them either. He loved that the Met had these dark little alcoves like the one they found themselves in. When Neal didn't respond to the dig, he winced.
Once they were alone, Peter let him have it. He kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking the anger in his voice or his eyes. "You! You're back in New York and you didn't try to find me? And you pull this? Don't even stand there and
( ... )
Well, Neal was talented. And he could have used his powers for good and just taken a job like this and settled into a life of anonimity. Or, he could try to make that last big score. Make all the headache and hassle worth it, and never have to worry again. Listening to Peter's hollow words of pleasantries wasn't helping that nasuea any. Coming back to reality, he had one pissed off Burke in his face.
"Pull this? Pull what. I have gone straight Peter. I had no choice but to do it this way. My name is everywhere what did you expect me to do?"
Start with a lie.
Then blend in some truth.
"And have you lost your mind since I saw you last? If I found you, they've probably got the place bugged again and you'd lose your
( ... )
Peter sighed. "Straight my ass. It is the Hope Diamond. Only you would be crazy or stupid enough to try to steal that. Only you would be the one to ask. " If it was true and he had gone straight, he knew he would feel awful about it. Later. His shoulders slumped and he sagged a little. "Yeah, you haven't been here. Kramer launched an investigation into El and I. It was invasive. We had no privacy. They tailed me. They tapped us. All to find you. Not that it worked. Finally Hughes ordered the plug pulled. " If he looked close enough, he might see a few lines or gray hairs.
He would never blame Neal. It wasn't his fault. He was just too good. Hell, Peter hated working without him. "I never thought I would see you again." His eyes and voice softened as he gazed at Neal. He sure didn't plan a reunion like this.
"Neal..." He almost hugged him. Almost. "Don't do this. You are better than this, Neal." His voice was gentle as he pleaded with his former partner. "He had a lot to tell Neal. Like where he was working.
Neal had his moments where he could be blunt too. At first, he was fixed on ignoring the insistence that he was intent on stealing the diamond. Focusing on the news of Peter leaving the FBI and the gory details, he couldn't help but make a face. The Burkes didn't deserve that, they weren't criminals.
Eventually though, he couldn't ignore Peter's pleading. Ever the con, he had to twist his sincerity derived from concern into a 'sincere' insistence that he was legitimate.
"Peter. I swear it. If I was going to steal it I could have done it a dozen times by now."
A pause.
Mozzie was really, really going to kill him for his next response.
"Sure. Give me about an hour? There's a place seven blocks down and three blocks west of here called Ponzio's? Meet there."
Peter shook his head. At least Neal cared enough to ask? "Because they all thought I was too close to you. They wanted me to take some time off. I could be reinstated after a duration period." He shrugged his shoulders. "It was a bit of a mess. I wish... I wished you were here to talk to." No, they weren't criminals, but he had been. And because they had cared for him, they were marked.
"Then you won't mind if I hang around the next few days and watch you work." He raised an eyebrow at Neal. If Neal was trying something, having him around and watching would mess with his head. "Neal, I want to believe you. I do." He meant it. He really did want to believe in Neal. His case wasn't very compelling, though.
He smiled. This time, he did step up and give Neal A hug. "Great, I'll head over that way now. I've been wanting to try that place actually." He really had missed Neal a lot. He pulled away and looked around the room one more time. "I'll see you soon."
There was a moment's sincerity again, where pain flashed across Neal's carefully controlled countenance as he described the whole fiasco. The pain spiked visibly when Peter mentioned wishing they could have talked. More than once, Neal had turned any number of burn phones over in his hands and considered dialing the Burke home number. Every time that look was shining in his eyes, Moz would remind him it would put all of them at risk. Granted Moz was hoping that would be what was enough to keep their asses safe more than mister and missus suit but, well, same ultimate effect right
( ... )
He was sure he felt it, felt Neal not hugging him back. Well, Neal didn't contact him right away either. Maybe he was fooling himself that Neal would actually care about him in that way. They weren't friends. He was just a guy the FBI used and protected. As much as he tried to tell himself that, he didn't buy it. He thought of Neal as one of his close friends. A friend he hadn't seen in a long time.
Before he said or did something he regretted, he exited the Met and made his way down to the restaurant. It wasn't that far from the Met. He could walk there and be there soon. Plus, it gave him time to think about Neal. Heading outside, he began the lonely walk to the restaurant. He wondered what Neal would do when this job was over. Con or no con, Neal had to do something. He couldn't just hide for the rest of his life, could he?
Finally making his way inside, he sat at the bar and ordered a cold beer. He would wait at the bar and see if Neal actually showed up. A part of him hoped that he did.
The look in Peter's face as he left the museum pulled on Neal's heart. It didn't show but it hurt to see his friend in such a state. Knowing he'd lost close to everything and Neal couldn't even give him a hug? That only served to make the conman feel lower than he had when he'd realized it was Peter looking over his shoulder at the diamond's soon-to-be resting place.
Groaning, he shook off the feeling, slipped into character, and was Michael Stanton until it was appropriate for him to leave. He'd gotten caught up for about twenty minutes, given a whole host of things to 'keep in mind' for the next few days while the display was actively on. No talking to people about his work, no detailing his job, etc. Never knew who could be trying to con their way in!
Riiiiight.
Swallowing the ironic cautions, he listened like a dutiful employee and finally made his escape. Running was attention he didn't need so he kept his pace calm and liesurely until he'd arrived at the restaurant. The nearly empty beer he could see around Peter's left
( ... )
Peter looked up at Neal, smiling warmly at him. "And I have told you many times that there is nothing wrong with beer." He raised his bottle and finished the beer that he had, sliding the bottle over to the bartender. "Put his on my tab." He had been watching the door, wondering if Neal was going to show up or not. Oh yes, his mind went there. He had thought Neal was going to blow him off. Seeing him come through that door assuaged some of his feelings
( ... )
"Don't start," Neal says, waving a hand at the 'Michael' bit dismissively. "I needed something new and, well, play to one of my strengths seemed the way to go about it."
To add to his bullshit, he almost seemed annoyed by it all. Hopefully he could keep selling the line and Peter would just get on with believing him.
This was such a bad idea. The last time they played this game people got hurt, and some really bad decisions were made. Learning nothing, apparently, he continued with the charade. Anything to finally talk to Peter. See his face and hear El's name and they were at least okay. Maybe more with all that Peter paying the tab action.
Right then, despite the funny suit, he was all Neal when he began explaining the wine with a grin.
"Chianti is a red Italian wine, well, actually a specific blend of three. It's the one with the funny shape that comes in a basket?"
He was about to ask so many questions in return that it was almost going to seem like a diversion attempt. It wasn't. It's Neal and he notices everything when he's
( ... )
"Stopping." He smiled and sipped his beer. "Well, for a man who isn't working with the FBI, I am not sure I want to know where you got your money." He laughed and eyed Neal up and down. "Oh, right, the Smithsonian. They're paying the bill. Forgot about that." As he began to tell all about the wonderful world of Chianti, Peter rolled his eyes.
"I know which one is Chianti. I have had it before." He takes another sip of his beer. "It tastes really good with spaghetti and meatballs. And those drippy candles. Though, this restaurant isn't Italian... You sure that's what you want," he teased.
"Oh, I didn't say I lost my job. I said I wasn't working for the FBI anymore." The corners of his lips turned up in a smirk and he gazed over at Neal. There was a light in his eyes as he spoke, a small hint of mischief. Having Neal back beside him had made him feel so much better. "I have a new job. One that pays pretty well. And guess what, it's an honest one," he kidded.
So, with the aid of some very fabulous forgeries, Neal got himself a job with the museum. With the aid of his charm way with words, he'd even gotten himself a nice position on the gem and minerals preservation team. For months he'd absorbed information and, after 'work', would help Moz with efforts to properly case, map, and plan the heist. It was a bi-centennial celebration year for the Hope Diamond. This meant it was on all kinds of display, cleaned daily for visitors, and sure to be put in a ( ... )
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Clearing his throat, and hoping the sweat trailing down his back was not also on his brow, Neal managed a coherent reply.
"This isn't just glass, it's a pure diamond created through thousands of years of compression and heat. It may be former dinosaurs though." There's a chuckle around the group that 'know' him. "And, the left really is best due to the hours the museum operates and the fact that the sun sets in the West but these windows face East."
Right. So hopefully that explanation was enough. Enough to make Peter go away, since apparently he wasn't prepared to arrest him just yet. Some part of Neal wondered if Peter was just stringing out the collar ( ... )
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Oh, he was sure Mozzie was around here somewhere in the city, but he doubted that Mozzie was here in this building. He led Neal off to the side, in a corner where nobody would hear them. Stepping around the corner, nobody would really see them either. He loved that the Met had these dark little alcoves like the one they found themselves in. When Neal didn't respond to the dig, he winced.
Once they were alone, Peter let him have it. He kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking the anger in his voice or his eyes. "You! You're back in New York and you didn't try to find me? And you pull this? Don't even stand there and ( ... )
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"Pull this? Pull what. I have gone straight Peter. I had no choice but to do it this way. My name is everywhere what did you expect me to do?"
Start with a lie.
Then blend in some truth.
"And have you lost your mind since I saw you last? If I found you, they've probably got the place bugged again and you'd lose your ( ... )
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His shoulders slumped and he sagged a little. "Yeah, you haven't been here. Kramer launched an investigation into El and I. It was invasive. We had no privacy. They tailed me. They tapped us. All to find you. Not that it worked. Finally Hughes ordered the plug pulled. " If he looked close enough, he might see a few lines or gray hairs.
He would never blame Neal. It wasn't his fault. He was just too good. Hell, Peter hated working without him. "I never thought I would see you again." His eyes and voice softened as he gazed at Neal. He sure didn't plan a reunion like this.
"Neal..." He almost hugged him. Almost. "Don't do this. You are better than this, Neal." His voice was gentle as he pleaded with his former partner. "He had a lot to tell Neal. Like where he was working.
"Neal... When you are ( ... )
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Neal had his moments where he could be blunt too. At first, he was fixed on ignoring the insistence that he was intent on stealing the diamond. Focusing on the news of Peter leaving the FBI and the gory details, he couldn't help but make a face. The Burkes didn't deserve that, they weren't criminals.
Eventually though, he couldn't ignore Peter's pleading. Ever the con, he had to twist his sincerity derived from concern into a 'sincere' insistence that he was legitimate.
"Peter. I swear it. If I was going to steal it I could have done it a dozen times by now."
A pause.
Mozzie was really, really going to kill him for his next response.
"Sure. Give me about an hour? There's a place seven blocks down and three blocks west of here called Ponzio's? Meet there."
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"Then you won't mind if I hang around the next few days and watch you work." He raised an eyebrow at Neal. If Neal was trying something, having him around and watching would mess with his head. "Neal, I want to believe you. I do." He meant it. He really did want to believe in Neal. His case wasn't very compelling, though.
He smiled. This time, he did step up and give Neal A hug. "Great, I'll head over that way now. I've been wanting to try that place actually." He really had missed Neal a lot. He pulled away and looked around the room one more time. "I'll see you soon."
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He was sure he felt it, felt Neal not hugging him back. Well, Neal didn't contact him right away either. Maybe he was fooling himself that Neal would actually care about him in that way. They weren't friends. He was just a guy the FBI used and protected. As much as he tried to tell himself that, he didn't buy it. He thought of Neal as one of his close friends. A friend he hadn't seen in a long time.
Before he said or did something he regretted, he exited the Met and made his way down to the restaurant. It wasn't that far from the Met. He could walk there and be there soon. Plus, it gave him time to think about Neal. Heading outside, he began the lonely walk to the restaurant. He wondered what Neal would do when this job was over. Con or no con, Neal had to do something. He couldn't just hide for the rest of his life, could he?
Finally making his way inside, he sat at the bar and ordered a cold beer. He would wait at the bar and see if Neal actually showed up. A part of him hoped that he did.
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Groaning, he shook off the feeling, slipped into character, and was Michael Stanton until it was appropriate for him to leave. He'd gotten caught up for about twenty minutes, given a whole host of things to 'keep in mind' for the next few days while the display was actively on. No talking to people about his work, no detailing his job, etc. Never knew who could be trying to con their way in!
Riiiiight.
Swallowing the ironic cautions, he listened like a dutiful employee and finally made his escape. Running was attention he didn't need so he kept his pace calm and liesurely until he'd arrived at the restaurant. The nearly empty beer he could see around Peter's left ( ... )
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To add to his bullshit, he almost seemed annoyed by it all. Hopefully he could keep selling the line and Peter would just get on with believing him.
This was such a bad idea. The last time they played this game people got hurt, and some really bad decisions were made. Learning nothing, apparently, he continued with the charade. Anything to finally talk to Peter. See his face and hear El's name and they were at least okay. Maybe more with all that Peter paying the tab action.
Right then, despite the funny suit, he was all Neal when he began explaining the wine with a grin.
"Chianti is a red Italian wine, well, actually a specific blend of three. It's the one with the funny shape that comes in a basket?"
He was about to ask so many questions in return that it was almost going to seem like a diversion attempt. It wasn't. It's Neal and he notices everything when he's ( ... )
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"I know which one is Chianti. I have had it before." He takes another sip of his beer. "It tastes really good with spaghetti and meatballs. And those drippy candles. Though, this restaurant isn't Italian... You sure that's what you want," he teased.
"Oh, I didn't say I lost my job. I said I wasn't working for the FBI anymore." The corners of his lips turned up in a smirk and he gazed over at Neal. There was a light in his eyes as he spoke, a small hint of mischief. Having Neal back beside him had made him feel so much better. "I have a new job. One that pays pretty well. And guess what, it's an honest one," he kidded.
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