Chapter Text
It was a windy day in New York when Peter got out of his house. He had a fresh cup of coffee in his hands, lovingly made by his wife Elizabeth this morning. He left home early to avoid the rush traffic, so when he got to the bureau, he was the first one of the Manhattan White-Collar divisions to even be there. Even Hughes doesn’t get there this early. Jones, however, seems like he never even left last night when he walked in with his own hot drink from the coffee cart down the block.
They shortly greeted each other before both getting to their respective work. Clearly, Clinton was motivated, and Peter didn’t want to stop him in his tracks, especially if he’s been at it all night. He knows he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he spent all night on something, so he tries not to do it to other people.
Peter settled at his desk and took a sip of his hot beverage before looking up Neal’s coordinates. Just because it’s part of his routine and not at all because he’s paranoid about his CI doing something stupid, again. Fortunately, he was at June’s, as usual, probably busy wasting too much time combing his hair and choosing the right tie like always. Everything was right as it should be and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
It looked like it would be a pretty quiet day at work, through it should not be said out loud because everyone knows what happens when someone does. Because then, quiet suddenly turns to chaos and Peter would like some quiet for once. He needs some time to do the paperwork he skipped on last night and Neal probably has some to do too that he always procrastinates. If he could do it without doodling on every page for once it would be great too.
It’s a long but productive two hours for Peter before anyone else arrived, first Reese, followed by Diana, and then by a few other members of the unit. Most other special agents also managed to get there before Neal does. Fashionably late, again.
The con-turned-consultant came in his office to bother him for a few minutes before Burke managed to shoo him away to go do his own work. But not without Caffrey ruining his peace while walking out of his office with a smirk.
“Pretty quiet day today, huh?” He remarqued.
“Goddamnit Neal.” Peter groaned and Neal clearly knew why because he giggled, almost skipping happily back to his desk. Anything to get out of paperwork as always apparently. The little shit.
Just as expected, barely minutes after that, Jones came knocking on his door. As much as he wanted to pretend he didn’t hear it and ignore it, the walls are glass so it would be pretty hard to do.
“The Closer’s back.” Clinton announced as soon as he opened the door to walk in.
“What did he steal now?” Peter asked with a sigh after a few second of initial shook, rubbing his forehead slowly. Just what they needed.
“A painting from the Louvre.” He started, dropping the file on his boss’ desk. “Well, technically, he stole it at the airport after it had already been stolen from the Louvre.”
“Great, this week wasn’t busy enough without the impromptu come back of one of our most wanted...” Burke huffed.
“He always has that kind of timing, doesn’t he?” Jones said with a small chuckle.
The Closer had become a piece of legend in the FBI over the years, being already studied at Quantico and most notably marked by his impeccable timing and unbelievable stunts.
“Yeah, he sure does.” Peter grunted.
He seemed to amuse everyone at least slightly but not him. Neal was infuriating but he had a special kind of charm and audacity that Peter grew to like even while they were still chasing him, The Closer on the other hand is just infuriating and too confident.
The last time he had hit was back when Peter was hunting Neal down, causing him to have no choice but to focus on only one of them. It resulted in The Closer going free because the trails had gone cold after Caffrey was brought back to prison and they had The Dutchman to catch more urgently. Cash fraud did win over art theft. Burke had foolishly believed that the wanted criminal had stopped his activities for good after two years without any news. Until now that is.
Now that Neal is on their side of the law, he might be able to help them catch the successful conman who’s still running free because of him.
“Neal.” Peter’s voice came out of nowhere, grabbing the back Neal’s chair to stop it from spinning effectively startling the informant out of his daydreaming.
“Huh?” Neal frowned, still a bit out of it from the sudden interruption.
“‘The Closer’ you ever heard of that name?” The FBI agent asked making his consultant narrow his eyes.
“...Maybe... why?” The ex-con asked back suspiciously. He didn’t even do anything this time.
“Neal.” Peter gave him a warning look, his jaw tensing and head tilting slightly to the side in that all too familiar way for Caffrey.
“Fine.” He broke. “I might have heard of it once or twice.”
“Great, because he’s back on business.” Peter declared.
Neal barely had time to hold himself back from saying that The Closer never actually stopped doing anything, but he gave it a second and decided that he would rather see what they have on him first before saying what he knows about it.
“Huh, really?” He hummed innocently instead.
“I never understood the name...” The agent said absently, shaking his head and glancing at the doddles on Neal’s report. “Seriously, Neal, you’ll have to do these all over again.” He huffed, pointing at the papers. Neal always does it and Peter ends up having to rewrite the reports all over again. No matter how many times he tells him to stop, the kid still draws on them nearly every single time. He’s impossible.
“The Closer, he closes deals. It’s pretty easy to figure out.” The CI interrupted with a shrug, mostly to get out of once another scolding about the same reoccurring subject.
“Once or twice, huh?” Peter raised a brow, and Neal gave him a sheepish smile like he knows how to do so well. the older man signed but decided to let it go for now. “Anyway, a painting from the Louvre was stolen and shipped to the U.S, border patrol intercepted it, but it got stolen there last night and now it’s missing.”
A familiar twinkle appeared in Neal’s eyes, grin growing on his face much to Peter’s dismay who gave him an unamused look.
“What?” The ex-conman asked, raising his arms in the air in almost indignation.
“Don’t look so happy about it.”
“I’m just excited for the chase, you know that.” Peter isn’t sure he knows that, but he knows he doesn’t like the look on his consultant’s face anyway. “What’s the painting that got stolen?”
The FBI agent looked down at his notes before speaking in an almost painful French accent. It was painful for Neal to hear at least.
“A painting by Theodor Gericault, ‘Le Radeau De La Méduse’, The Raft of The Medusa.”
“Yeah, I- I know French, Peter, thanks.” The younger man replied sarcastically with a slight grimace “Yours... definitely needs some work.”
“Watch yourself.” The agent warned with pursed lips “What do you know about it?”
“The painting?”
“Yes, the painting. What else?”
“Well, it’s one of the most popular paintings of the Romantic period, and an icon of French Romanticism. You’ve never heard of it?” Neal asked in slight disbelief, wide eyed.
“I have heard of it, but I want your opinion on it.”
“Oh, should I be flattered?” He smirked with raised brows.
“Don’t oversell yourself.” Peter said flatly. “You’re a consultant, it’s your job.”
“Right. Well, it pretty obviously tells the sinking of La Méduse. It happened because of its incompetent captain who made them go too fast and drift off course. It depicts everything in great details; I mean the suffering and the horrors - they had to give into cannibalism after all - so much that it made a complete scandal when it was exposed. There’s pain, nudity, despair, and it’s pretty dark making it a perfect Romantic painting.”
“You say it made scandal?” Peter asked.
“Do you actually even know it?”
“I’m not as obsessed with art as you are.” He said and he realized he probably shouldn’t have asked that because, based on Neal’s growing smile and the way he straightens up in his chair, they’ll be at it for a while. Obsessed is definitely the right word for whatever is about to come.
“-Hum, well, for starters, it’s gigantic, especially for the time when big tableaus were kept for heroic scenes or depiction of powerful figures. It’s a scene of history but at the time it’s obviously not considered important enough to have a whole painting made about it. Not when formats like this were used to paint the conquest of Napoleon or the foundation of Rome.” The artist chuckled. “Then there’s the nudity of course, which was still taboo when it wasn’t gods' depictions for some reasons. It still gives a hint to God with its nod to The Creation of Adam painting, but He isn’t depicted or put in any kind of glorious way, almost like He’s ignoring them, you know?” Neal took a second to breathe but starts talking again before Peter even had time to process the fact that he had stopped in the first place. Yeah, they’ll be here a while. “It’s messy and chaotic in a way that is completely opposed to the order and calm of the neo-classism that people are still clinging to at the time. Also, the sailors, they aren’t idealized, they look dead and dying and dirty and it’s on purpose to be closer to the reality of what it was like on the ship. Gericault even went to study dying people in hospitals to get the skin color right. That offended people who were used to seeing everything made intentionally perfect and better than real. Better than that, the one character who is portrayed in the most heroic way, waving the flag, is a black man while slavery is still actively practiced in France, so people are still incredibly racist, especially the higher class and-”
By that point Neal was just rambling about a painting he likes so Peter decided to just call him back to order before they wasted their whole day over it.
“-Okay, okay, enough infodumping. How much is it worth?” He asked and Caffrey took a few seconds to come back to the present days instead of being an art teacher in the late eighteenth century who’s way too passionate about his work.
“Easily over three hundred thousand dollars.”
“For a single painting?” Peter asked, nearly choking on his unfortunately timed sip of his second coffee of the day, now turned lukewarm.
“Well, it is a national treasure and a piece of history in itself, so, yes. It’s probably worth even more in the eyes of the French.”
“Great, not like we had anything else on our shoulders already...” Peter sighed in something close to slight despair.
“Did anyone see who stole it?” Neal asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.
“They got it on camera, but we don’t see his face once. He must have known where the cameras were...” Burke answered, pulling out a printed copy of the best image they got of the culprit from the video tapes.
It’s just a lanky man wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood up, some used jeans and a pair of Vans, definitely nothing to help them identify him but still a surprisingly casual outfit for such a crime.
“Well, that would be pretty easy, they’re obvious and huge.”
“And how would you know that?” The agent asked with a raised brow.
“Saw it on TV.” Neal shrugged innocently. Not the full truth but not technically a lie either. The joy of lying by omission. “How do you know it was The Closer if no one saw his face?” He asked.
“Because he left his business card like he always used to do. He’s too damn proud to let someone else take credit.” Peter let out an irritated huff, showing the said business card – still in the evidence bag – to his consultant. An ace of spade card with Closed written on the back in sharpie.
“Seems like we’ll be busy.”
“Yeah, and it’s your damn fault.” Peter grunted.
“How is it my fault? I didn’t even do anything.” Neal asked in indignation.
“You know damn well what you did.”
And Neal does, and he’s proud of it.