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sheenianniTitle: Into the Sunset – Part II
Author’s Name:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sheenianni
Artwork:kanarek13
Fandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
PART II
Against Neal’s well-hidden fears, their flight to Paris went off without a hitch.
From the moment they stepped into the terminal at Heathrow, Neal had been on edge; nervous and jittery, practically certain that something was about to go wrong. The night before, he had seriously contemplated using a fake ID, despite all his previous resolutions and the promise he made to Sara. In the end though, his rational mind had won over his demons and he decided that the risks of being caught far outweighed any imaginary benefits. Besides, Sara was with him, and she would have asked questions that he couldn’t answer. He was already withholding enough from her as it was.
When they got through security at the Charles de Gaulle Airport and blended in with the crowds, Neal released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and smiled.
Paris, the city of art and romance, was waiting for them.
* * *
Their hotel was a little place about ten minutes from the edge of Montmartre; a small building with seven apartments and a restaurant that belonged to a friend of a friend who had once owed Mozzie a favor. In repayment, Neal had allegedly spent two weeks there in 2004, posing to the outside world as a wannabe artist who came to Paris filled with dreams and was now completely out of his depth. That particular alias had seemed naïve even to Neal’s romantic nature, but it had served its purpose and kept him hidden after a con that went sideways.
When he had first called to ask if they had a room, he had been surprised that Quentin, the owner of the hotel, still remembered him from ten years ago. When Neal had called him again last week to ask if he could change his reservations and add one more person, Quentin had assured him that it wouldn’t be a problem.
And so now there he was, sitting on a bed with his suitcase in the middle of their room, while Sara was staring at him from the opposite bed with a matching expression of exhaustion and incredulousness.
“Well… welcome to Paris,” said Neal at last.
The words broke the silence between them. Sara smirked. “Welcome to Paris, Caffrey.” She shook off her high heels and awkwardly glanced around. “So…”
“So.”
Sara paused. “Okay, for the record? This feels kind of weird.”
“What exactly do you mean?” asked Neal.
“Oh come on, Neal… This.” Sara opened her arms with a shrug to display the weirdness of the situation. “I mean this hotel?”
“It’s cozy,” replied Neal with a winning smile. Was Sara having doubts about coming here with him?
“And why do we have separate beds? Well, I mean…”
“Ah.” Suddenly, Neal chuckled. “Okay, that’s… a misunderstanding and probably my fault.”
Sara lifted her eyebrows in question.
“I know the manager,” Neal began to explain. “The last time I was here, it was with Moz. So when I called him if we could have a room for two –”
“– he probably assumed I’d be a short bald man with glasses. So… I should probably be happy that there wasn’t a double bed waiting for us.” They stared at each other for a moment before bursting in laugher.
“Okay, seriously,” said Neal once they calmed down, “do you hate this place?”
“No.” Sara paused while glancing around. “No, I actually kind of like it. It’s just not the place I thought you’d pick.”
It wasn’t hard to guess what she meant.
There wasn’t anything wrong with hotel room; it was clean and functional. It was just… plain; far from the luxurious hotels that were the trademark of Neal Caffrey at the peak of his criminal career.
And also cheaper than them. When Neal first started planning his trip around the world, he had done the math and realized that while he wasn’t exactly poor yet, his resources had diminished over his time on the anklet. While there might have allegedly been a small stash left, after losing his freedom for eight years, he wasn’t keen on risking selling any of it unless there was a true emergency.
He needed to get a job and figure out what to do with his life.
But he wasn’t going to think of that now. He was in Paris, finally free and with a gorgeous fantastic woman who he loved from the depth of his heart. To Neal’s wonder, Sara had actually agreed to come here with him – he only hoped that she wasn’t regretting it now.
“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked lightly while fearing the answer.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous, Caffrey.” Sara paused before grinning. “We are here on vacation. We’ll push these beds together, then you’re going to show me around and we’re going to have a damn good time. Now let me change from these pants. I need fresh clothes.”
Neal laughed. “Don’t let me stop you … Let’s have dinner,” he suggested. “Then we’ll deal with the beds, unpack and afterwards we could just take a walk; climb up to Sacré-Cœur. How do you feel about an evening in Montmartre?”
Looking up from her suitcase, Sara smiled. “Sure, why not.” She pulled out a dress and some toiletries. “Okay, I’m going to take a shower.”
Neal gave her a mischievous grin. “You sure you don’t want some company?”
Sara shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. We were on a plane for two hours, I’m tired and I stink, and you still have that on your mind?”
“That wasn’t a no,” called Neal as soon as she disappeared into the bathroom. Grinning at her answer muted by the closed door, he bent down to his own suitcase and began to unpack.
* * *
Paris was just as amazing as Neal remembered.
They’d spent their first evening at Montmartre, first walking through the terraced gardens to admire the basilica before returning to the streets filled with artists and bars, clothes shops and cafés, stands with trinkets for tourists, restaurants and sex shops that were open long into the night. The next day, they’d agreed to visit Louvre and Sara had spent a good part of the morning laughing at Neal who couldn’t contain his excitement and joy at once again visiting the famous museum with its vast collections. Another day was dedicated to Versailles, and in between of admiring the beautiful fountains and the blooming flowers, they had a lot of fun finding the more secluded, momentarily abandoned areas in the gardens and enjoying a quick kiss or two before other tourists came to interrupt them. They enjoyed an afternoon in Musée D’Orsay and went on a cruise to see Paris from the level of Seine.
For every major touristic attraction, they also went to at least two lesser known places – to various local bars, the Dali museum near Montmartre, small parks that were hidden in some of the more obscure city corners and to bakeries that made delicious croissants. They wandered through the streets without looking at the map and then came home late to collapse on their pushed-together beds to enjoy some cuddling, waking up in the morning for another round of mind-blowing sex.
The best part, Neal thought, was how quickly they fell into a synch again. Sara seemed to understand why he thought the Mona Lisa was overrated, even though he would love to hold it to study the brushwork of the old master. In a memory of some of their early failed experiments, they went to a porn shop and enjoyed some bad role-playing with Sara pretending to be Neal’s Dom, later laughing about it as they fooled around back in their hotel room. And one late afternoon, they returned to the gardens below Sacré-Cœur and Neal sketched a portrait of Sara, sitting on a railing with trees and a lamppost behind her while the shadows were getting longer during the sunset.
There were moments when was hard to believe that they’d only been in Paris for a week; it felt like eternity. Yet Neal was painfully aware that their time together was running short. They were already in the middle of their time together; Sara’s flight back to London was scheduled in mere five days. Neal tried to not think of how lonely it would be once she left.
If he had thought that he had managed to find some meager amount of peace in the months after his kidnapping, that illusion was now gone. His nightmares came back full-force, hazy dreams filled with cellars and zip-ties and handcuffs; blindfolds and starvation and a voice that explained all of it in a rational, patient manner like a parent talking to an unruly child. It took all his efforts to hide them from Sara, yet the passing look he sometimes glimpsed on her face told him that she suspected something; not that he expected any less from here. And then there were the moments during the day when he just dazed off, his mind suddenly going blank when visiting a gallery or trying to capture a scene in his sketch-book.
Being with Sara was fabulous, soothing, intoxicating, fun – it was the most Neal felt like himself since – well, in a long time. Knowing that it was coming to end so soon filled him with dread that he tried to shake off, telling himself to live in the moment and enjoy it while it lasted.
What was he going to do with his life when New York was off the table?
* * *
Shooting up in the bed as he woke up from another bad dream, Neal took deep, long breaths as he tried to calm his racing heart. Looking at Sara’s still form next to him, he kissed the air an inch above her hair as not to wake her up and then quietly climbed out of the bed. Changing from his sleep pants into a comfortable pair of jeans, putting on a shirt and grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed out to get them some fresh coffee and pastry from the bakery about fifteen minutes from the hotel.
Looking at the surfaces, it became clear that it had rained at night. Breathing the fresh air, Neal felt his spirit easing and his face broke into a smile. They were going to see the Eiffel Tower today, though it had yet to be seen whether they’d actually take the lift up or not. Thinking about how this was going to be a wonderful day, he bought some croissants and brioches, and then stopped at the coffee shop on his way back.
“Hey,” said Neal with a smile when he returned back to the hotel room, finding Sara in the bed, working on something at her laptop.
She smiled back at him. “Morning. Ah, you brought breakfast!”
“Just the best for my lady,” replied Neal, taking a sip of his coffee before setting everything on the table. “What are you working on?”
“Nothing, just the usual check-up with work…”
“No work during the vacation, huh?” said Neal teasingly.
Sara tossed a pillow at him. “Oh shut it, Caffrey.”
“A pillow fight? Very mature.”
“Well, if you’ll just let me finish this, then I’ll have all the time in the…” Sara’s voice suddenly faltered as she stared at the laptop screen.
“Sara?”
No answer.
Frowning, Neal picked up the pillow and walked back to their bed. “What’s going on?”
“It’s a diamond necklace that belongs to one of our clients,” replied Sara as in a daze. “It’s been stolen.” She paused before looking at him. “Neal, I – I have to go back to London.”
“What?” This couldn’t be happening.
Sara stood up. “Mrs. Neeson is our second biggest client in Britain. For her, that necklace is a symbol. If she thinks we’re not handling this properly… I have to go back to deal with this.”
“Sara…”
The look she gave him was both broken and resolute. “Neal, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand.” The words that were meant to be supportive and encouraging ended up sounding rather pathetic. “It’s been a great week,” Neal tried again, this time with more enthusiasm and firmness in his voice.
Sara gave him a sad smile. “It’s always something, isn’t it?”
“This isn’t the ending,” said Neal. “I’ll come see you again. Besides, we had great time.”
“We did have a pretty good time, didn’t we?”
“We sure did.”
They stared at each other for a while before Sara put her laptop at the nightstand. “Come on, Caffrey. Let’s have that last breakfast.”
Pulling her close, Neal kissed her on the lips. “Last breakfast.”
* * *
They lay in their bed, Sara’s back pressed firmly against Neal’s chest as he held her in an embrace. One of the blankets had fallen on the floor, the other one too short to cover them both properly. Staring at the ceiling while he kept gently stroking Sara’s leg, Neal sighed.
“I’m going to miss you,” said Sara, snuggling closer to him.
“Yeah, me too.”
Silence.
“You know, I don’t even know how we ended like this. I was about to look up the flight and then pack,” said Sara after a while.
“Hmmm.” Neal brushed his lips against Sara’s collarbone, breathing her scent while childishly hoping that reality would go away if he pretended to ignore it.
“I have to do that now, Neal,” said Sara gently.
For a moment, he closed his eyes. “I know.”
It wasn’t fair.
Letting her from his embrace brought a whole new kind of hurt, but Neal was smart enough to know that he couldn’t try to hold Sara back when she had her mind set on something. After all, they both shared the same love for freedom.
With a sigh, Sara got dressed. Then she picked up her laptop and taking it to the table, started to look for flights to London. While she searched, Neal made up their bed and then went to the mini-fridge, pouring himself a glass of wine despite the time of day.
“Well, this is it,” said Sara aloud after a while. “There’s a seat on a flight that’s leaving in about… four hours.”
Neal nodded. “You want to help me pack?”
“No, I can handle myself, thanks.”
Of course she could. She wouldn’t be the Sara Ellis he knew otherwise.
How was it that the things he loved and respected about her were also those that drove him crazy?
Stepping behind her chair, he gave her a brief hug, then stepped away as she clicked on the form in question and started filling out her information.
“Did I ever spoil your holiday?”
Sara didn’t even look up from the screen. “2005.”
“Really?” Almost despite himself, Neal chuckled. “So rather than going on vacation, you testified against me on my trial. Should I be flattered?”
“You owe me a trip to Italy for our next vacation.”
Our next vacation. Neal’s throat tightened. For a moment, he allowed himself to stop thinking about the rest of the world and reveled in the secret promise of the casually spoken words.
“Italy sounds good.”
"Yeah." Sara sighed. “They couldn’t have stolen anything else, could they? It had to be the damned Star of Quimper.”
Neal froze. “What did you just say?”
Sara frowned. “What…”
The Star of Quimper.
“Do you have a picture of it?” asked Neal urgently.
“Not here,” answered Sara questioningly. “Neal, what’s going on?”
“Do you remember what it looks like?”
Sara appeared to be in thought. “I don’t know. … It’s not an everyday piece of jewelry. Most of the time, she just keeps it locked in her safe. I think I saw her wear it to an event once,” she said at last. “It was a single stone – rather big one –”
“– white, class G or H, eight point five carat, a pear shape, set in platinum,” concluded Neal excitedly.
Sara blinked. “And just how do you happen to know that?”
Neal grinned. “Because they wanted me to steal it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ten years ago,” added Neal to clarify. “Just a few months before I was arrested. The job fell through,” he said when Sara kept burning through him with a glare. “I had the whole heist planned when Mozzie found out that the man who hired me was going to have his thugs beat me up, take the diamond and then turn me in so he didn’t have to pay me. Moz had some elaborate revenge in mind, but then I heard some rumors about Kate, so instead we just took the advance money Novak gave us and left.”
“Nice friends you’ve made over the years,” said Sara humorlessly.
Neal grimaced. “So it would seem. Anyway, Novak was obsessed with that necklace. Said it used to belong to his family. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had hired someone again.”
“Now, after ten years? … Neal, I’m not saying you’re wrong,” said Sara when Neal was about to protest. “But that diamond, it wasn’t some small trinket. For all we know, it could even be an inside job. Something like that could tempt a lot of people.”
“Good point.” Neal paused. “I need to call Mozzie.”
* * *
“Hey Moz.”
“And the prodigal son finally decided to call! … Neal, are you okay? You know, it would have been nice if –”
“I’m fine, Moz. Everything’s fine.” Neal ran a hand through his hair, once again reminded of the ghosts that kept haunting him. “I should have contacted you. I’m sorry.”
“You sure? Because you know if you need me there –”
“I’m still sorting things out, but thanks.” He was well aware that Sara observed the exchange with unveiled curiosity. “Hey, do you remember Mr. Novak from Prague?”
“That lowlife backstabbing son-of-a-bitch? ‘Course I do. Neal, please tell me you’re not in business with him? You know, I’ve had plenty of legit offers. There’s this man from Chicago who has their eyes set on a Kandinsky–”
“I’m in Paris, Moz.”
A pause.
“With Sara. Right now.”
“Oh!” Even without seeing his face, Mozzie’s surprise was audible.
“Hey Mozzie,” said Sara with a smile. “Legit offers, really?”
A pause. “You and Ms. Insurance again, huh?”
“At least she never tried to kill you,” offered Neal helpfully.
“Yet!”
'Kill him?’ mouthed Sara at Neal.
‘Later,’ he mouthed back.
“Fine. I suppose you’ve done worse before,” said Mozzie at last.
“I’m so happy we have your approval,” said Sara bitingly.
“Great!” exclaimed Neal cheerfully to prevent the looming battle of wits. “Back to Novak. Mozzie, do you think you could get me some intel on him, what was he doing the last ten years?”
A pause. “Neal, do I have to worry? Is there something going on?”
The caring in the voice of his oldest friend warmed Neal’s heart. “No, Moz. Nothing bad…” Sara raised her eyebrows. “Well, not “bad” bad. … The necklace that Novak wanted was stolen yesterday. It belongs to a client of Sterling&Bosch. We need to know if he might have had his hands in it.”
“I’ll look into it. Give me a few hours, I’ll call you back.”
Neal smiled. “Thanks, Moz.” Hanging up, he turned back to Sara.
She sighed. “Well, I guess we have a few more hours together…”
Neal put his arm around her. “You want to go out?”
Running a hand through her hair, Sara gave him a tired smile. “Why not?”
* * *
When they came back two hours later, they were surprised to find an email from Mozzie.
“I called in some favors. For the last year and half, Novák has been searching for an acquisition expert. Word is that he had some dealings with Ema Bienkowska – a young girl from Poland, decent cat-burglar, subpar forger, brilliant at cracking safes; the name’s probably an alias. She’s been seen in London a few days ago.
PS: You can thank me with ten percent from the recovery fee.”
In the attachment was a photo of a young blond woman, not older than mid-twenties, stepping into a cab in front of the Embankment Station.
Sara stared at the email in disbelief. “Is he for real?”
“About the recovery fee? Probably,” said Neal with a shrug.
“No, I mean…” Sara looked him in the eye. “Do you trust this information?”
“Mozzie’s research is usually accurate,” replied Neal. He paused. “If you ask me, it’s a pretty solid lead.”
“Plus you want to go to Prague with me,” she said with a small smile.
Neal grinned. “What’s the harm in having an ulterior motive if I’m right?”
Sara hesitated. “It’s speculation, not solid proof.”
“Maybe.”
“No, it is speculation. Neal, if we’re wrong, this will reflect badly on me.”
Neal remained silent, giving Sara the time to process the information.
At last, she spoke. “So, do you know any good hotels in Prague?”
* * *
PART III
Author’s Name:
sheenianniArtwork:
kanarek13Fandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
___________________________________
PART II
Against Neal’s well-hidden fears, their flight to Paris went off without a hitch.
From the moment they stepped into the terminal at Heathrow, Neal had been on edge; nervous and jittery, practically certain that something was about to go wrong. The night before, he had seriously contemplated using a fake ID, despite all his previous resolutions and the promise he made to Sara. In the end though, his rational mind had won over his demons and he decided that the risks of being caught far outweighed any imaginary benefits. Besides, Sara was with him, and she would have asked questions that he couldn’t answer. He was already withholding enough from her as it was.
When they got through security at the Charles de Gaulle Airport and blended in with the crowds, Neal released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and smiled.
Paris, the city of art and romance, was waiting for them.
Their hotel was a little place about ten minutes from the edge of Montmartre; a small building with seven apartments and a restaurant that belonged to a friend of a friend who had once owed Mozzie a favor. In repayment, Neal had allegedly spent two weeks there in 2004, posing to the outside world as a wannabe artist who came to Paris filled with dreams and was now completely out of his depth. That particular alias had seemed naïve even to Neal’s romantic nature, but it had served its purpose and kept him hidden after a con that went sideways.
When he had first called to ask if they had a room, he had been surprised that Quentin, the owner of the hotel, still remembered him from ten years ago. When Neal had called him again last week to ask if he could change his reservations and add one more person, Quentin had assured him that it wouldn’t be a problem.
And so now there he was, sitting on a bed with his suitcase in the middle of their room, while Sara was staring at him from the opposite bed with a matching expression of exhaustion and incredulousness.
“Well… welcome to Paris,” said Neal at last.
The words broke the silence between them. Sara smirked. “Welcome to Paris, Caffrey.” She shook off her high heels and awkwardly glanced around. “So…”
“So.”
Sara paused. “Okay, for the record? This feels kind of weird.”
“What exactly do you mean?” asked Neal.
“Oh come on, Neal… This.” Sara opened her arms with a shrug to display the weirdness of the situation. “I mean this hotel?”
“It’s cozy,” replied Neal with a winning smile. Was Sara having doubts about coming here with him?
“And why do we have separate beds? Well, I mean…”
“Ah.” Suddenly, Neal chuckled. “Okay, that’s… a misunderstanding and probably my fault.”
Sara lifted her eyebrows in question.
“I know the manager,” Neal began to explain. “The last time I was here, it was with Moz. So when I called him if we could have a room for two –”
“– he probably assumed I’d be a short bald man with glasses. So… I should probably be happy that there wasn’t a double bed waiting for us.” They stared at each other for a moment before bursting in laugher.
“Okay, seriously,” said Neal once they calmed down, “do you hate this place?”
“No.” Sara paused while glancing around. “No, I actually kind of like it. It’s just not the place I thought you’d pick.”
It wasn’t hard to guess what she meant.
There wasn’t anything wrong with hotel room; it was clean and functional. It was just… plain; far from the luxurious hotels that were the trademark of Neal Caffrey at the peak of his criminal career.
And also cheaper than them. When Neal first started planning his trip around the world, he had done the math and realized that while he wasn’t exactly poor yet, his resources had diminished over his time on the anklet. While there might have allegedly been a small stash left, after losing his freedom for eight years, he wasn’t keen on risking selling any of it unless there was a true emergency.
He needed to get a job and figure out what to do with his life.
But he wasn’t going to think of that now. He was in Paris, finally free and with a gorgeous fantastic woman who he loved from the depth of his heart. To Neal’s wonder, Sara had actually agreed to come here with him – he only hoped that she wasn’t regretting it now.
“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked lightly while fearing the answer.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous, Caffrey.” Sara paused before grinning. “We are here on vacation. We’ll push these beds together, then you’re going to show me around and we’re going to have a damn good time. Now let me change from these pants. I need fresh clothes.”
Neal laughed. “Don’t let me stop you … Let’s have dinner,” he suggested. “Then we’ll deal with the beds, unpack and afterwards we could just take a walk; climb up to Sacré-Cœur. How do you feel about an evening in Montmartre?”
Looking up from her suitcase, Sara smiled. “Sure, why not.” She pulled out a dress and some toiletries. “Okay, I’m going to take a shower.”
Neal gave her a mischievous grin. “You sure you don’t want some company?”
Sara shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. We were on a plane for two hours, I’m tired and I stink, and you still have that on your mind?”
“That wasn’t a no,” called Neal as soon as she disappeared into the bathroom. Grinning at her answer muted by the closed door, he bent down to his own suitcase and began to unpack.
Paris was just as amazing as Neal remembered.
They’d spent their first evening at Montmartre, first walking through the terraced gardens to admire the basilica before returning to the streets filled with artists and bars, clothes shops and cafés, stands with trinkets for tourists, restaurants and sex shops that were open long into the night. The next day, they’d agreed to visit Louvre and Sara had spent a good part of the morning laughing at Neal who couldn’t contain his excitement and joy at once again visiting the famous museum with its vast collections. Another day was dedicated to Versailles, and in between of admiring the beautiful fountains and the blooming flowers, they had a lot of fun finding the more secluded, momentarily abandoned areas in the gardens and enjoying a quick kiss or two before other tourists came to interrupt them. They enjoyed an afternoon in Musée D’Orsay and went on a cruise to see Paris from the level of Seine.
For every major touristic attraction, they also went to at least two lesser known places – to various local bars, the Dali museum near Montmartre, small parks that were hidden in some of the more obscure city corners and to bakeries that made delicious croissants. They wandered through the streets without looking at the map and then came home late to collapse on their pushed-together beds to enjoy some cuddling, waking up in the morning for another round of mind-blowing sex.
The best part, Neal thought, was how quickly they fell into a synch again. Sara seemed to understand why he thought the Mona Lisa was overrated, even though he would love to hold it to study the brushwork of the old master. In a memory of some of their early failed experiments, they went to a porn shop and enjoyed some bad role-playing with Sara pretending to be Neal’s Dom, later laughing about it as they fooled around back in their hotel room. And one late afternoon, they returned to the gardens below Sacré-Cœur and Neal sketched a portrait of Sara, sitting on a railing with trees and a lamppost behind her while the shadows were getting longer during the sunset.
There were moments when was hard to believe that they’d only been in Paris for a week; it felt like eternity. Yet Neal was painfully aware that their time together was running short. They were already in the middle of their time together; Sara’s flight back to London was scheduled in mere five days. Neal tried to not think of how lonely it would be once she left.
If he had thought that he had managed to find some meager amount of peace in the months after his kidnapping, that illusion was now gone. His nightmares came back full-force, hazy dreams filled with cellars and zip-ties and handcuffs; blindfolds and starvation and a voice that explained all of it in a rational, patient manner like a parent talking to an unruly child. It took all his efforts to hide them from Sara, yet the passing look he sometimes glimpsed on her face told him that she suspected something; not that he expected any less from here. And then there were the moments during the day when he just dazed off, his mind suddenly going blank when visiting a gallery or trying to capture a scene in his sketch-book.
Being with Sara was fabulous, soothing, intoxicating, fun – it was the most Neal felt like himself since – well, in a long time. Knowing that it was coming to end so soon filled him with dread that he tried to shake off, telling himself to live in the moment and enjoy it while it lasted.
What was he going to do with his life when New York was off the table?
Shooting up in the bed as he woke up from another bad dream, Neal took deep, long breaths as he tried to calm his racing heart. Looking at Sara’s still form next to him, he kissed the air an inch above her hair as not to wake her up and then quietly climbed out of the bed. Changing from his sleep pants into a comfortable pair of jeans, putting on a shirt and grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed out to get them some fresh coffee and pastry from the bakery about fifteen minutes from the hotel.
Looking at the surfaces, it became clear that it had rained at night. Breathing the fresh air, Neal felt his spirit easing and his face broke into a smile. They were going to see the Eiffel Tower today, though it had yet to be seen whether they’d actually take the lift up or not. Thinking about how this was going to be a wonderful day, he bought some croissants and brioches, and then stopped at the coffee shop on his way back.
“Hey,” said Neal with a smile when he returned back to the hotel room, finding Sara in the bed, working on something at her laptop.
She smiled back at him. “Morning. Ah, you brought breakfast!”
“Just the best for my lady,” replied Neal, taking a sip of his coffee before setting everything on the table. “What are you working on?”
“Nothing, just the usual check-up with work…”
“No work during the vacation, huh?” said Neal teasingly.
Sara tossed a pillow at him. “Oh shut it, Caffrey.”
“A pillow fight? Very mature.”
“Well, if you’ll just let me finish this, then I’ll have all the time in the…” Sara’s voice suddenly faltered as she stared at the laptop screen.
“Sara?”
No answer.
Frowning, Neal picked up the pillow and walked back to their bed. “What’s going on?”
“It’s a diamond necklace that belongs to one of our clients,” replied Sara as in a daze. “It’s been stolen.” She paused before looking at him. “Neal, I – I have to go back to London.”
“What?” This couldn’t be happening.
Sara stood up. “Mrs. Neeson is our second biggest client in Britain. For her, that necklace is a symbol. If she thinks we’re not handling this properly… I have to go back to deal with this.”
“Sara…”
The look she gave him was both broken and resolute. “Neal, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand.” The words that were meant to be supportive and encouraging ended up sounding rather pathetic. “It’s been a great week,” Neal tried again, this time with more enthusiasm and firmness in his voice.
Sara gave him a sad smile. “It’s always something, isn’t it?”
“This isn’t the ending,” said Neal. “I’ll come see you again. Besides, we had great time.”
“We did have a pretty good time, didn’t we?”
“We sure did.”
They stared at each other for a while before Sara put her laptop at the nightstand. “Come on, Caffrey. Let’s have that last breakfast.”
Pulling her close, Neal kissed her on the lips. “Last breakfast.”
They lay in their bed, Sara’s back pressed firmly against Neal’s chest as he held her in an embrace. One of the blankets had fallen on the floor, the other one too short to cover them both properly. Staring at the ceiling while he kept gently stroking Sara’s leg, Neal sighed.
“I’m going to miss you,” said Sara, snuggling closer to him.
“Yeah, me too.”
Silence.
“You know, I don’t even know how we ended like this. I was about to look up the flight and then pack,” said Sara after a while.
“Hmmm.” Neal brushed his lips against Sara’s collarbone, breathing her scent while childishly hoping that reality would go away if he pretended to ignore it.
“I have to do that now, Neal,” said Sara gently.
For a moment, he closed his eyes. “I know.”
It wasn’t fair.
Letting her from his embrace brought a whole new kind of hurt, but Neal was smart enough to know that he couldn’t try to hold Sara back when she had her mind set on something. After all, they both shared the same love for freedom.
With a sigh, Sara got dressed. Then she picked up her laptop and taking it to the table, started to look for flights to London. While she searched, Neal made up their bed and then went to the mini-fridge, pouring himself a glass of wine despite the time of day.
“Well, this is it,” said Sara aloud after a while. “There’s a seat on a flight that’s leaving in about… four hours.”
Neal nodded. “You want to help me pack?”
“No, I can handle myself, thanks.”
Of course she could. She wouldn’t be the Sara Ellis he knew otherwise.
How was it that the things he loved and respected about her were also those that drove him crazy?
Stepping behind her chair, he gave her a brief hug, then stepped away as she clicked on the form in question and started filling out her information.
“Did I ever spoil your holiday?”
Sara didn’t even look up from the screen. “2005.”
“Really?” Almost despite himself, Neal chuckled. “So rather than going on vacation, you testified against me on my trial. Should I be flattered?”
“You owe me a trip to Italy for our next vacation.”
Our next vacation. Neal’s throat tightened. For a moment, he allowed himself to stop thinking about the rest of the world and reveled in the secret promise of the casually spoken words.
“Italy sounds good.”
"Yeah." Sara sighed. “They couldn’t have stolen anything else, could they? It had to be the damned Star of Quimper.”
Neal froze. “What did you just say?”
Sara frowned. “What…”
The Star of Quimper.
“Do you have a picture of it?” asked Neal urgently.
“Not here,” answered Sara questioningly. “Neal, what’s going on?”
“Do you remember what it looks like?”
Sara appeared to be in thought. “I don’t know. … It’s not an everyday piece of jewelry. Most of the time, she just keeps it locked in her safe. I think I saw her wear it to an event once,” she said at last. “It was a single stone – rather big one –”
“– white, class G or H, eight point five carat, a pear shape, set in platinum,” concluded Neal excitedly.
Sara blinked. “And just how do you happen to know that?”
Neal grinned. “Because they wanted me to steal it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ten years ago,” added Neal to clarify. “Just a few months before I was arrested. The job fell through,” he said when Sara kept burning through him with a glare. “I had the whole heist planned when Mozzie found out that the man who hired me was going to have his thugs beat me up, take the diamond and then turn me in so he didn’t have to pay me. Moz had some elaborate revenge in mind, but then I heard some rumors about Kate, so instead we just took the advance money Novak gave us and left.”
“Nice friends you’ve made over the years,” said Sara humorlessly.
Neal grimaced. “So it would seem. Anyway, Novak was obsessed with that necklace. Said it used to belong to his family. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had hired someone again.”
“Now, after ten years? … Neal, I’m not saying you’re wrong,” said Sara when Neal was about to protest. “But that diamond, it wasn’t some small trinket. For all we know, it could even be an inside job. Something like that could tempt a lot of people.”
“Good point.” Neal paused. “I need to call Mozzie.”
“Hey Moz.”
“And the prodigal son finally decided to call! … Neal, are you okay? You know, it would have been nice if –”
“I’m fine, Moz. Everything’s fine.” Neal ran a hand through his hair, once again reminded of the ghosts that kept haunting him. “I should have contacted you. I’m sorry.”
“You sure? Because you know if you need me there –”
“I’m still sorting things out, but thanks.” He was well aware that Sara observed the exchange with unveiled curiosity. “Hey, do you remember Mr. Novak from Prague?”
“That lowlife backstabbing son-of-a-bitch? ‘Course I do. Neal, please tell me you’re not in business with him? You know, I’ve had plenty of legit offers. There’s this man from Chicago who has their eyes set on a Kandinsky–”
“I’m in Paris, Moz.”
A pause.
“With Sara. Right now.”
“Oh!” Even without seeing his face, Mozzie’s surprise was audible.
“Hey Mozzie,” said Sara with a smile. “Legit offers, really?”
A pause. “You and Ms. Insurance again, huh?”
“At least she never tried to kill you,” offered Neal helpfully.
“Yet!”
'Kill him?’ mouthed Sara at Neal.
‘Later,’ he mouthed back.
“Fine. I suppose you’ve done worse before,” said Mozzie at last.
“I’m so happy we have your approval,” said Sara bitingly.
“Great!” exclaimed Neal cheerfully to prevent the looming battle of wits. “Back to Novak. Mozzie, do you think you could get me some intel on him, what was he doing the last ten years?”
A pause. “Neal, do I have to worry? Is there something going on?”
The caring in the voice of his oldest friend warmed Neal’s heart. “No, Moz. Nothing bad…” Sara raised her eyebrows. “Well, not “bad” bad. … The necklace that Novak wanted was stolen yesterday. It belongs to a client of Sterling&Bosch. We need to know if he might have had his hands in it.”
“I’ll look into it. Give me a few hours, I’ll call you back.”
Neal smiled. “Thanks, Moz.” Hanging up, he turned back to Sara.
She sighed. “Well, I guess we have a few more hours together…”
Neal put his arm around her. “You want to go out?”
Running a hand through her hair, Sara gave him a tired smile. “Why not?”
When they came back two hours later, they were surprised to find an email from Mozzie.
“I called in some favors. For the last year and half, Novák has been searching for an acquisition expert. Word is that he had some dealings with Ema Bienkowska – a young girl from Poland, decent cat-burglar, subpar forger, brilliant at cracking safes; the name’s probably an alias. She’s been seen in London a few days ago.
PS: You can thank me with ten percent from the recovery fee.”
In the attachment was a photo of a young blond woman, not older than mid-twenties, stepping into a cab in front of the Embankment Station.
Sara stared at the email in disbelief. “Is he for real?”
“About the recovery fee? Probably,” said Neal with a shrug.
“No, I mean…” Sara looked him in the eye. “Do you trust this information?”
“Mozzie’s research is usually accurate,” replied Neal. He paused. “If you ask me, it’s a pretty solid lead.”
“Plus you want to go to Prague with me,” she said with a small smile.
Neal grinned. “What’s the harm in having an ulterior motive if I’m right?”
Sara hesitated. “It’s speculation, not solid proof.”
“Maybe.”
“No, it is speculation. Neal, if we’re wrong, this will reflect badly on me.”
Neal remained silent, giving Sara the time to process the information.
At last, she spoke. “So, do you know any good hotels in Prague?”
PART III
