New York, FBI White Collar Division. Monday morning, December 15, 2003

At 7:30am, Peter moved into the glassed-in office at the top of the stairs, looking down over the bullpen. He was setting a photo of El on his new desk when Reese Hughes walked in and congratulated him on the promotion.

"Thanks, but after what happened a week ago, I'm surprised you went through with it."

"Caffrey needs to know he can't break the law, Peter. You had the right idea, it was the execution that faltered. When you take extreme measures with your team, you have to be careful. It can indicate you've let things get personal."

"I did. And I can tell I've made Caffrey's job even more difficult as a result. By having my team arrest him, I've solidified the idea in their minds that he's a criminal first, and a consultant second."

"On the other hand, it means they'll be watching him carefully, and can let you know immediately if he's slipping up. By the way, what did you decide to do about Hitchum?"

"He says that injuring Caffrey was an accident, and he wasn't aware he'd done it. There's no evidence to prove otherwise, but my gut tells me Hitchum could be an issue. It also tells me that Jones has a lot of promise."

"That's good. You need to be aware of the strengths and weaknesses of your team. Keep an eye on Hitchum."

When Peter gathered his team in the conference room for the morning briefing, he made a point of giving Neal his consultant's badge in front of everyone. He also addressed the arrest. "I realize I didn't make it clear to the team that his arrest was intended to provide our consultant with a cover story for dealing with informants who won't cooperate with an FBI employee. It was my decision to surprise Caffrey with the arrest, to make it seem as realistic as possible to the witnesses. In retrospect, that was a poor decision on my part. We do sometimes arrest a team member working undercover to maintain their cover, but we go into undercover work prepared for that scenario. The order I gave last week wasn't respectful of a new team member, and Neal Caffrey is a member of this team. I expect you all to treat him as such."

Peter could tell many members of the team weren't pleased by the direction he was going, but he was determined to continue.

"At the same time, you are aware of his somewhat checkered past. You should all know that I believe no one is above the law. Not our consultants, and not our agents. I want to make it clear that Caffrey's role on this team is not to to keep your hands clean by having him circumvent the law for you. Last week, I mistakenly led Caffrey to believe that I wanted him to accomplish something by any means possible, legal or illegal. That was my mistake, and we all need to learn from it. No one is to order, pressure, or attempt to trick Caffrey into committing a crime. If anyone thinks there needs to be an exception to that, bring it to me and we will look for a legal alternative. Are there any questions?"

Peter was aware that it would take more than words to convince the team to treat Neal like an equal. Working with Neal and getting a few wins with his help would make more difference than any speech.

###

Jones, the most computer-savvy of the team, spent the morning at Neal's desk helping him set up his accounts and walking him through the systems he'd use the most, including a particularly painful time-tracking system. "Joining so late in the year, you won't get any vacation days until 2004, but you'll log Christmas and the day after as holidays. We get a four-day weekend this year."

Neal grinned. "I get holidays? That will be new."

"Yeah, that whole week will be slow. This place will almost be empty. I'm working, because I used up my time off this summer, but Agent Burke will be gone. He's visiting his in-laws. Although I think he'd rather be working."

"Because he loves his job, or dreads the in-laws?"

"Some of both, is my take. Here's how you get to your FBI email. You can access personal email, but keep in mind the Bureau will keep a log of everything you do on this machine."

"Big brother is watching."

"Better believe it. In fact, some of the team are planning to watch you. They're signing up for days to follow you when you leave for lunch."

"Good to know. Why warn me?"

"They claim they're refining their skills at tailing suspects. If they want an education, seems like you should know. Give you time to prepare a lesson plan. If it's all in fun, like they say, then let's make it fun. If it turns into harassment, you need to let Agent Burke know."

That afternoon, Jones caught up with Neal in the breakroom, where Neal was frowning at the coffee maker. "This is some of the worst coffee I've ever tasted," Neal said.

"Yeah. So, umm, I have to ask. Hitchum says he followed you to an adult video store, a condom store, and a leather fetish shop? Is he making that up?"

"Nope."

"What are you going to say if Hitchum tells Agent Burke?"

"That I was Christmas shopping. I have very interesting friends."

"I'll bet you do," Jones said. "What's it going to be tomorrow?"

"I'm considering packing a lunch for a few days and seeing how they deal with boredom."

At the end of the day, Peter summoned Neal upstairs to his office and asked, "How was the first day?"

"Like you said, research isn't the most exciting thing, but I need to know how to do it. I gave Agent Wiese my notes for the cases I think can be closed with what I found. There's one more I'll keep looking into tomorrow. How long till I can work on some bigger cases, and actually go into the field?"

"After the start of the year."

"You know, Peter, you don't have to worry about me. What happened last week, that's really rare. I go years between flashing back to that time."

"Yeah, well I need some time to get over it. But mostly I want to wait until I'm back from vacation before setting you loose in the field. Remember, I don't send new guys out alone. I'm going to partner with you when the right case comes along. As far as worrying about my team, that's part of my job. And Ellen had a few things to say to me about keeping you out of trouble. I promised her I'd keep an eye on you. And speaking of Ellen, she sent you a Christmas gift."

Neal was surprised. "The Marshals let her do that?"

"I'm pretty sure she evaded the Marshals on this one. Somehow I was temporarily added to the church's email distribution list, just long enough to get a monthly newsletter containing the link to a video of the Christmas concert. The performers were named, with your name conveniently left out, and there was a note to share the video out to anyone who might have been missed. I'll forward it to you, now that you have an FBI email account. But I'm curious, any idea how she got my email address?"

"I might have slipped one of your business cards into her pocket when I hugged her goodbye."

"I thought it might be something like that."

"It wasn't illegal. It's like un-pick-pocketing."

"Could be a useful skill in the field, to get a message to someone without others noticing. I'm not going to complain about that. But here's something almost everyone does complain about." Peter slid a stack of papers across his desk to Neal. "Bring these back to me by this time tomorrow. They're your enrollment forms for benefits, retirement savings plan, and direct deposit of your paycheck."

"Mozzie will have a field day with these. Big brother really is taking over my life."

"Mozzie?"

"You know him as Dante Haversham."

"I wish I didn't."

On his way back to his desk, Neal asked Jones, "What's your day to follow me?"

"Tomorrow."

"Do you have a car?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Tomorrow's going to be your lucky day, Agent Jones. What better way to follow me, than to escort me where I'm going? Oh, and I should ask: Are all your vaccinations current?"

"Just tell me there aren't going to be rats."

###

Tuesday at noon, Neal directed Jones to take them to a nearby hospital, and led the agent to a pseudo-family room. It was a space for patients and their families to hang out, furnished and decorated to help people forget they were in a hospital. There was a big-screen TV, a host of toys, and a piano. Neal played a few Christmas carols for the families who were there, and some of the children made requests for their favorite songs. Then a more mature, alto voice asked him, "Are you too young to know any Sinatra?"

"No, ma'am," Neal answered the elegantly dressed woman in her sixties. "I've recently started taking an interest in his songs." He played and sang "Young at Heart," glancing up only briefly when the alto voice joined his. Soon a man joined in, too, his voice shaky but determined.

"Thank you," said the third voice when the song ended. He was a wiry Black man seated in a wheelchair. "Makes me wish I could still dance with my lovely bride. But instead she has to wheel me back for my medications. I hope you'll come again, play another song for June and me."

"I hope I can," Neal answered. He played one more carol and then stood. It was time to get back to the Federal Building.

"That was nice, I guess," Jones said as they started down the hall. "But I'm still wondering what we were doing here."

"I promised someone I'd stay in practice. Unfortunately your average New York City apartment doesn't have space for a piano, much less neighbors who want to hear you play. It's taking some creativity."

"I might have a solution." They turned to see June, who said, "There's an apartment sitting empty in my home, and we have a music room, with a piano that doesn't get enough use. If you were willing to play for Byron, I think we could come to an agreement on the rent." She smiled sadly. "Byron doesn't have much time left, and the pain is getting worse. A little music and conversation with someone who appreciates Sinatra would mean the world to him."

"Excuse me, Mrs...?" Jones said.

"Mrs. Ellington."

"Mrs. Ellington, you're offering to open your home to a complete stranger? For all you know, Caffrey is a felon."

"So was Byron." She opened her clutch and pulled out a card with the name June Ellington and an address on Riverside Drive and handed the card to Neal. "Can you stop by around 8:00 this evening?"

"Yes, I'd be delighted," Neal said. "I'm Neal Caffrey. I'm a mostly reformed alleged felon, never convicted. Jones works for the FBI, but he seems decent enough." He patted his suit pocket, then looked at Jones. "Can I get business cards?"

"Yeah, there's a form for that." When they got back to his car, Jones said, "If anyone asks, I'm saying you spent the lunch hour Christmas shopping, again. No one would believe the truth."

"Sure," Neal agreed. "If anyone asks, I never spotted you."

###

At the end of the business day, Neal returned the forms to Peter, including one for business cards. Peter raised a brow when he saw that, but didn't comment on it.

Peter paged through the other forms to confirm everything was in order, and paused near the end. "Henry Winslow, again. That name keeps popping up."

"Does it?" Neal asked.

"You've listed him as your emergency contact. And as your beneficiary for your retirement funds. Take a seat, Neal, and close the door." When Neal had followed those instructions, Peter said, "Something else that popped up is your travel plans. You booked a flight to D.C. for the night of Christmas Eve, flying back here Sunday night."

"Jones said we get Thursday and Friday as holidays."

"That's right. I'm not concerned about the time off. I'm concerned about where you're going. Are you planning to look up your family in D.C. now that you're officially out of WITSEC? Because I have to say, you have no idea what the Marshals told them when you and your mother disappeared twenty-one years ago. Showing up on their doorstep out of the blue at Christmas might sound like a great reunion, but I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Don't worry, Peter. I have it on good authority that the Caffrey family is spending the holidays in New York. By going to D.C. for Christmas, I can do a little research on my mother's family at a time when I can completely avoid running into them."

"And this good authority of yours is who, exactly?"

"Henry Winslow."

"Do I want to know how he knows?"

"Probably not."

Peter glared at him.

"It's not illegal," Neal said. "Well, not his part, anyway. Or my part. But my mother may have stretched the boundaries of the law a little bit. Are the rules surrounding WITSEC considered laws?"

"People sign a contract when they enter WITSEC. It's considered legally binding."

"I see. I'd rather not incriminate my mother, if that's okay."

"It's only your second day," Peter groaned. "Already you're turning my black-and-white world into a swirl of looming gray areas. WITSEC. Mothers bending laws. Your force of chaos."

"More creeping than looming, I think."

"Creeping gray areas. It sounds like a horror movie. Is there anything else going on in your life I need to be aware of?"

"I'm looking at a new apartment tonight. It doesn't get more boring or normal than that, right?"

"Maybe there is hope."

###

"This is incredible," Neal said for about the tenth time as he looked at the apartment on the top floor of June and Byron Ellington's mansion. "All this for seven-hundred dollars per month?"

"It's not about the money," June said. "If I wanted to make a profit, I'd rent the space out for parties. No, this is all about the heart, and making Byron happy. Speaking of which, the closet is this way. It's filled with his old suits. Byron noticed that the one you wore at the hospital was a very classic style. He called it a modern take on the original Devore. You know, Sy was an old friend of ours. Nice man, terrible poker player."

"You knew Sy Devore?"

"Yes. In fact, now that I think about it, you're Byron's size, at least his size when he was your age. It would be wonderful if someone got some use out of these clothes again."

"Sy Devore suits?"

"Yes, some were designed by him. And there are fedoras, too, as I recall, if you wear hats. I always liked the look of a man in a fedora."

The apartment, the rooftop terrace, the suits, the fedoras, the price. It was too good to pass up. And then they returned to the main floor and stepped into the music room. "May I?" Neal asked, and when June nodded he sat down at the grand piano and played the song Michael Darling had given him after the Christmas concert. There was a haunting chorus, "Always alone, always alone" that changed to "Never alone" at the end of the song, as the storyteller finally finds what he's been looking for.

It wasn't perfect. The song had a few rough spots Neal should discuss with Michael. But it fit what Neal was feeling tonight, the longing and excitement and fear around the combination of the new job, possibly connecting with his family, and renting a space from a total stranger. The transformation from a loner into a team player and a family member would have its challenges, but he was willing to face them, to stop being "always alone."

"This is exactly what I needed," Neal told June.

"Then welcome home."