Chapter Text
The Moretti case fell into their laps in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. Neal and Peter had just returned from lunch at a local eatery, a bistro located a couple of blocks from the Bureau, one of a few places they could agree on given Peter's propensity for hot dog stands and Neal's preference for high end cuisine. This place seemed to fit the bill for both of them. Peter settled in front of a Reuben sandwich with a side of beefeater fries and some suspicious looking sauerkraut while Neal tucked into a large bowl of linguine with clam sauce.
‘How's Sara's doing?’ Peter asked between bites. ‘Is she feeling any better?’
‘Still praying to the porcelain god most mornings’ Neal replied with a shrug. ‘If we could just get her ribs to heal… it would help if she didn’t upchuck everything I feed her.’
The last few weeks had been challenging for the young CI and his girlfriend as they muddled through the first few months of her pregnancy. She was still recuperating from a brutal attack during a particularly snarly takedown and she’d moved into his place temporarily while she healed. Despite the ad hoc nature of the arrangement, neither one of them seemed particularly eager to see it end.
Peter sloppily wiped his mouth with a stack of napkins. ‘Still not keeping any food down, huh?’
Neal shrugged. ‘We’re getting there but, frankly, this morning sickness can’t end soon enough.’
He stopped, his loaded fork in mid air. ‘You know, that’s really a misnomer.’
‘What is?’
‘Morning sickness. She throws up morning, noon and night.’
Peter gave him an empathetic smile. Watching Caffrey morph into a caring father-to-be was still a novelty, something he’d never imagined witnessing in his lifetime.
‘How is she feeling — I mean about the attack?’ Peter asked, knowing full well the answer. He’d been hanging around Sara Ellis long enough to know how pig-headed she could be.
‘You know Sara… she acts like nothing happened. If anything, she’s more determined and feisty than ever, like she doesn’t want anyone to know how rattled she was by the attack. The fact that we arrested the asshole seems to have helped though. And the baby… well, it’s given her something to focus on besides that stack of Sterling Bosch case files.’
He got that goofy look he’d been prone to getting lately and Peter sighed. Once you got Neal talking about his soon to be progeny, you couldn't shut him up. He read everything he could get his hands on, giving Sara a detailed rundown of what was happening inside her body every night before they fell asleep. It was like doing research for a con and Peter knew it was only the beginning. It was going to be a long nine months.
‘Can you believe we’re already into our second trimester?’ Neal said earnestly as if he were the one suffering the indignities of pregnancy. ‘The baby has fingerprints Peter. Can you believe it? Fingerprints!’
‘Well, hopefully, those fingerprints won't find themselves in our data base like yours did’ Peter quipped with a childlike giggle.
‘Cute’ said Neal with a scowl. ‘He’s about the size of a peach and tiny bones are beginning to form in his arms and legs. His intestines are…’
Peter cut him off with a wave of his hand. ‘Neal, as much as I want to support you in this, there is such a thing as too much information. Please, stop now or I won't be able to finish this sandwich.’
Neal snarled a him. ‘This is your godson - or goddaughter - Peter. You might want to show a little more interest. Anyway…’ he added, undeterred. ‘…the really great news is that the chances of a miscarriage are a lot lower at this point so we’re hoping we're finally out of the woods.’
Peter stared at his partner, eyes wide. Who knew Neal Caffrey, his crafty CI, conman extraordinaire, would ever dare show such vulnerability. ‘Are all expectant fathers as annoying as you are?’ he threw out, changing the mood. ‘I've never seen anyone so invested in a pregnancy before.’
‘Because you know so many guys who've had babies?’ chimed in Neal, voice dripping with sarcasm.
‘No. But I'm pretty sure most guys don’t spend all their free time on pregnancy websites researching the daily changes to their partner's bodies. Don’t think I haven’t noticed all those hours you spend on your screen when you should be working on those unsolved mortgage fraud cases.’ Neal shook his head in frustration as Peter pointed to the man’s bowl of pasta. ‘Eat up’ he said, his mouth full. ‘We’ve gotta get back.’
WCWCWC
They walked back to the office chatting all the way, making plans to get together on the weekend for dinner and a movie as long as Neal promised to ease up on the details of the development of the baby's intestines.
Neal grudgingly agreed.
Hughes was waiting for them when they returned and gave Peter the overused two finger point the minute they arrived in the bullpen.
‘Looks like something's brewing’ Peter mumbled under his breath as he left Neal at his desk and jogged up the stairs.
Neal went back to the very boring task he’d set aside before lunch, reading dead files for new leads and putting to use his uncanny ability to spot the small details that had gone undetected by the Harvard crew who’d initially investigated the cases. Thanks to his devious mind and sharp intellect, he could always be counted on to come up with an angle no one had thought of before.
Within minutes, Peter was calling the whole team up to the conference room for a briefing.
Relieved at the temporary reprieve, Neal sprinted up the stairs, two steps at a time. There was something invigorating about landing a new case, the anticipation of hearing the details, processing the information and looking for an angle that could break the case wide open. It certainly beat reading cold case files and, with any luck, he’d get away from his desk and out into the field where he really thrived. There was nothing like looking at a case through the eyes of the criminal, imagining how they were thinking and plotting. It was a way of living vicariously through others without having to do the jail time and that suited Neal just fine.
‘We got a tip that key members of the Moretti clan have moved into town.’
‘The Moretti clan?’ Jones repeated. ‘Isn’t that the crime family out of Chicago?’
Peter nodded. ‘They’re suspects in that heist at the Chicago Museum of Modern Art two weeks ago.’
Neal piped up, eyes bright with interest. ‘Yeah, a whole collection of Argentinean art was stolen’ he said with what sounded like admiration.
Peter glanced annoyingly in his direction. ‘Why am I not surprised you’ve heard about it?’
It wasn’t meant as a compliment but nevertheless, Neal beamed, proud as a peacock.
Peter returned his gaze to his attentive team. ‘The whole collection was taken and word on the street is that they’re looking to fence some pieces here in New York. This isn’t their usual MO, they usually deal in drugs and weapons but they stand to make a bundle with this loot. Any thoughts?’
Peter was greeted by a bunch of blank faces. It usually took a while for his team to digest information and come up with tactics and strategies. But as usual, this was not the case with Neal whose hand flew up almost immediately, impulsive and quick.
‘I think the way to go is undercover’ he said with his usual panache. ‘Infiltrating the clan, gaining their confidence… They're going to be looking for fences to move this stuff and if I were them I would want to diversify, spread the information, you know... less chance of the trail leading to them from one fence who knows too much. And they usually work out of Chicago so they're going to be looking for some local expertise.’
Diana piped up. ‘I hate to admit it but I think Caffrey might be right’ she said. ‘They don't know the New York scene like they know Chicago.’
Peter sighed. ‘Do you think Mozzie might be willing to help?’ he asked, turning to look at Caffrey.
Neal scowled. ‘Seriouly Peter’ he replied deadpan. ‘You want to ask Moz to burn his contacts? His first question will be What’s in it for me?’
Peter looked around the room. He could see Diana was already in solution mode. ‘What about Neal? He’s got the expertise and we could put the word out that he’s got the contacts.’
Neal appeared miffed. ‘I do have the contacts’ he corrected as Peter glared at him.
‘Or did… I did have contacts’ Neal said, somewhat more subdued.
‘I don’t know…’ Peter mumbled under his breath. ‘These guys play dirty. A security guard was killed in that heist.’
‘That’s because he tried to play the hero’ Neal commented. ‘What if I went in and offered to help broker some deals.’
‘Are you suggesting we resurrect one of your past aliases?’ Peter asked, beginning to warm up to the idea.
Neal shrugged. ‘Maybe Steve Tabernacle – he had quite the reputation. I could go in, offer to put them in touch with local fences, act as a middle man, keep their hands clean.’
He could tell his handler was intrigued by his proposal. But ultimately, Peter Burke was responsible for his CI’s safety, even though the younger man had a tendency to jump in head first without much forethought.
‘I don’t know…’ he repeated grudgingly. ‘Any other thoughts?’
To the silence, he added ‘We have to move fast before they start dumping everything.’
The blank looks returned except for Diana Berrigan.
‘Boss, like I said, I think Neal’s got a point. We’re not going to get any intel if we don’t infiltrate somehow.’
After a moment, Peter seemed to make up his mind. ‘All right. Let me run it by Hughes’ he muttered as he dismissed the group.
Neal glanced at Diana, wagging his eyebrows.
‘Back in Steve’s shoes.’
TBC