Federal Building, Manhattan, NY. December 17, 2003. Wednesday morning.

"Join me for coffee?"

Neal looked up from his desk to see Agent Tricia Wiese. She had her coat over her arm, and that indicated she wasn't talking about a cup of the breakroom swill. "God, yes." He stood up and grabbed his coat. "Lead the way."

She chuckled as they entered the elevator lobby. "You know, it's okay to head outside for coffee whenever you want, as long as you time it around the meetings you're supposed to attend."

Neal pressed the down button. "Uh-huh. I see people come and go all the time without checking in with anyone, so I get it in theory. I also see the way they look at me the instant I leave my desk, and how they note the time when I return. Hitchum isn't the only one ready to accuse me of being a slacker. Or worse."

The elevator arrived and they stepped inside. It was nearly full, and they paused their conversation until they reached the lobby. As they pulled on their coats near the main entrance, Tricia said, "FBI agents don't trust easily. Most of us had doubts when we heard Peter had recruited you."

Neal followed her outside. "Is this going to be a talk about how you're keeping an eye on me? Because I've already heard it from a couple of agents, as if I hadn't already guessed. I'd rather skip the coffee than hear it again."

"No lectures, I promise. More like an apology and an offer of friendship." They'd crossed the plaza and were near the street. Tricia hailed a cab.

"You don't like the coffee shops around here?" Neal asked. "I don't mind exploring, but I need to get back in time for whoever's supposed to tail me over lunch."

"Don't worry about it. Hitchum assigned me as your Wednesday tail. Without asking me or checking my schedule, I might add. We're getting an early start because I'm taking the afternoon off. I'm going to help with an event at the school where my sister-in-law works." They climbed into a cab that answered Tricia's hail and she faced Neal. "You can bail if you want. I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not turning down coffee and an apology."

Tricia gave the driver directions to a cafe near the school. When the cab was underway, she said, "I'll start with the apology. Normally when someone new joins my group, I make a point of introducing myself the first day and scheduling time to get to know them over coffee or lunch. I should have made that effort with you."

Neal shrugged. "I wouldn't have known I was being snubbed if you hadn't told me."

"True enough, but our coworkers know and I have enough seniority that many will follow my lead."

"Another reason you stopped by my desk at 11:00. By noon the bullpen would be half empty, but at 11:00 more people heard you invite me to coffee." Neal studied her. "Why did you ask me to join you for coffee instead of calling it an early lunch?"

"I wasn't a fan of Hitchum presuming I'd go along with his lunchtime spying. I certainly don't want the rest of the team to think I condone it. And this way it's too late for him to sign someone else up to replace me."

"I think I'm going to like you."

"Same here. Your work on the case files I gave you was solid. I agreed with your findings, and the main feedback I need to give you is that your write-ups should be longer to satisfy Peter's preference for more detail. Beyond that, your conclusions made sense and you worked quickly. I hope we'll be assigned to cases together when Peter's ready to send you into the field."

"Thanks."

"Tomorrow I'd like to talk through your work in more detail, to get a sense for your thought process. Then I'll pick out another set of case files for you. Peter wants you to see a wide range of the type of cases we handle, so this is your advance warning that it will be a lot of files. Hopefully enough to keep you busy next week." She paused. "Did anyone tell you about Friday?"

Neal shook his head.

"There's an office party mid-afternoon in the big conference room. Everyone brings snacks and sweets, and the Bureau will order in punch and real coffee."

"A Christmas party?"

"Back when I started working for the Bureau, that's what we called it. These days there's more sensitivity about mixing work and religion. Officially it's called the Winter Party, but most of us call it the Sugar Rush because it's all about desserts. Then around 4pm, Hughes will stop by and tell us we can head home early if we want. Our floor will be empty by 4:15."

Neal raised a brow. "Even Peter goes home early?"

"Even Peter."

Over the next half hour, Neal learned that Tricia was a fellow coffee snob. As he savored a latte and a fluffy quiche he said, "Any time you want a companion for a coffee break, say the word. I'm at your disposal."

She grinned. "Unlike Peter. He's perfectly fine drinking Bureau brew."

"I'm determined to win him over. I've learned he appreciates a good Italian roast."

"I'll keep that in mind. And his wife's a foodie. I'm certain she can be persuaded to help." Tricia sipped her coffee. "On the other hand, she hasn't been able to stop him from bringing deviled ham sandwiches for lunch."

"You've met Elizabeth?"

"She's visited the office a few times to meet Peter for lunch or when they have evening plans where it makes more sense for them to meet up in Manhattan than in Brooklyn. The most memorable time was a couple of months ago when she brought their puppy along. You should've seen..." She trailed off when her phone vibrated. "Excuse me." She read a text message, and the phone kept vibrating as more messages popped up. She scrolled through them, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Something wrong?" Neal asked.

Tricia opened her eyes again. "Looks like the school is canceling the event. We were going to take the choir caroling at a nearby nursing home, but several residents came down with the flu today."

"Do you believe in fate?"

"No. Do you?"

It took a moment for Neal to recover from the shock. "Well, yeah. I mean, what are the chances of Peter going undercover as the client for a crew of thieves I was recruited to join at the last minute — in St. Louis when we both live in New York — and him recruiting me instead of arresting me?"

"If you're going to be that specific, it sounds like a massive coincidence, but step back for a moment. Peter had been assigned to catch you. He'd been studying you for months and was closing in. Sooner or later he was going to find you." She paused to let Neal take that in. "He didn't recruit you on a whim, Neal. He based that decision on a combination of studying your previous crimes and observing your actions when you met. The fact that it happened in St. Louis rather than here was the most random thing about it."

"But if you're saying him recruiting me was bound to happen no matter where he caught me, aren't you confirming that it was fate?"

"No, I'm confirming that it was a logical sequence of actions on his part, given a known set of variables. But we can debate it later. I'm guessing the fate question was prompted by an idea for the canceled event?"

"Yeah." Neal cleared his mind of questions for Tricia and returned to his original train of thought. "There's a hospital nearby that's doing caroling over the lunch hour. They send groups of singers door-to-door to visit patients who can't leave their rooms, and another group gathers in a common area where patients and their families can get away from the hospital vibe. If the transportation you had lined up is still available you can get there in time."

Aloha Emporium, Manhattan, NY. Wednesday evening.

"So I hung around long enough to introduce the choir director to the woman who organizes the caroling at the hospital," Neal told Maggie Feng. "I joined in for the first song, and then went back to the office." He shook his head. "It was weird seeing a bunch of elementary students like that."

Maggie refilled her cup of tea. "You didn't mention it being weird when you helped me deliver flowers to the children's ward."

Neal followed her lead and refilled his own cup. "It's different, dealing with one or two kids at a time. A whole class..." He paused. People often thought of certain events as being breakpoints in their life, a time when things changed drastically. Typically they'd refer to life before and after graduating from high school or college, then before and after getting married.

For Neal, the breakpoints were different. One was the day he'd run away from home. He suspected that going to work for the FBI would be another milestone that marked a significant change in his life. Going into WITSEC would have been such an event for his mother.

Another breakpoint for him — the one he tried not to think about — was being abducted near the end of third grade. After that incident he'd been a loner for a while, anxious and distrustful of others.

The carefree innocence of an elementary school field trip simply boggled his mind. It felt alien, and the fact that it felt so strange and distant brought home how much the abduction had changed him. It wasn't something he liked to acknowledge.

Maggie was still waiting for his answer, and he said, "They were a barrage of normal... It felt like a Norman Rockwell moment, like something I could taint if I hung around too long." Neal pushed his chair back. "Sorry. I'm in a strange mood. I should go up to my room and not inflict it on you."

"Turtle," said Billy, walking into the room.

"Huh?" Did Billy think Neal was being slow on the uptake? Or was he comparing Neal's offer to leave to hiding in a shell?

Billy placed a plant on the table. "This is the Turtle Shell orchid. I picked turtles as my theme for the holidays."

Neal looked to Maggie to see if this made sense to her. "We don't celebrate Christmas," she said, "but many of our customers do. Instead of going with religious symbols or Santa Claus, each year we pick an animal to highlight for decorations in the store."

Neal nodded. He had noticed new turtle-themed items appearing each day — not only in the store, but also in the living spaces. "I'd wondered if all the turtles were a subtle hint — like I was being too slow to move out."

Billy chuckled. "Not at all. You have much to learn from the turtle."

"Stop and smell the roses? Or the orchids?" Neal guessed.

"You're thinking of the Greek legend. Aesop's fables. In other cultures, the turtle represents good luck and endurance."

"You mean the doubts I had last week about working for the FBI? I thought I told you Peter and I talked it through before my first day. I'm gonna stick around and give it a fair shot."

Billy smiled and shook his head, causing Neal and Maggie to toss out increasingly wild ideas.

"Eat turtle soup," Maggie suggested after a few minutes.

"Wear turtleneck shirts," Neal said.

"I'll give you a hint," Billy offered. "Terry Pratchett."

"Oh!" Maggie stood and dashed over to a bookcase.

"Is that a philosopher?" Neal guessed.

"A British author. He writes fantasy," Maggie said. She picked up several books and carried them back to the table. "I started reading his works in college, and recommended them to Father."

Billy nodded. "I wanted to improve my English, and reading the books gave me practice."

"I don't remember a turtle." Maggie opened a book and flipped through the pages.

"You will," Billy predicted.

Neal excused himself, leaving Maggie and Billy to reminisce. Back in his room, he left a voicemail for Mozzie. A voracious reader, Mozz would probably know exactly what Billy was hinting at.

Drifting to sleep a few hours later, a memory slipped into his mind. He resisted at first, because recently memories from his childhood meant another nightmare was waiting in the wings, but this time it was harmless.

The second grade class was lined up at the front of the lunchroom. They sang the Christmas song they'd been practicing for a month, a few of them waving at family members in the audience who had taken the afternoon off to join the event. There was applause when they finished, and then they followed their teacher to the second row of seats. First graders were in the first row, and so on through fifth graders. All of the sixth graders were in the hallway, preparing for the next scene of their production of A Christmas Carol. There were five breaks in the play, with each grade taking a turn to sing a song loosely related to what was happening in the play, while the sixth graders changed costumes and prepared for the next scene.

As a second grader, this was the second time Neal had attended the event. Of course he was Danny Brooks back then, unaware that he was in WITSEC and living under a fake name.

Danny understood that in a few more years he'd be one of the big kids — a sixth grader taking part in the play. Every sixth grader had a part, even if it was simply sitting around in the background without any lines to say.

An hour later he clambered into his mother's car, and chatted non-stop while she drove them home.

"An' I didn't forget any of the words this time, but I like the third graders' song better. Do you think we'll sing that song next year?"

"Probably," his mother said. "The songs this time were the same as last year."

"Good. An' I already know that song, so I won't forget any words. An' they get to play instruments." There'd been triangles, recorders, a xylophone, and some handbells for a brief interlude that was more exuberant than melodic. "Do you think they'll let me play one next year?"

At a stoplight, his mom reached over and tousled his hair. She didn't do that much anymore. He only squirmed a little bit because he kind of liked it. "I started piano lessons when I was your age."

He looked at her with wide eyes, which she probably didn't notice because the light changed and she kept her eyes on the road as she drove. His mom so rarely spoke about her own childhood that every time she made an offhand comment like that he considered it a gift. He had a small collection of random facts like this one. "Could I do that?" He moved his fingers in the air in front of him, imitating what he'd seen the choir teacher do. "Could I play the third grade song?"

"It's an easy enough melody." His mother frowned. "We'll have to see if we can afford classes and find a way for you to practice. I don't know where we'd fit a piano in our house."

As an adult, Neal realized that his mother hadn't wanted a piano because she'd been a gifted musician herself, and that had been part of the pre-WITSEC identity she'd left behind. He was grateful now that she hadn't denied him the chance to explore his own interest in music.

A/N: My thanks to Silbrith for letting me borrow Billy and Maggie Feng. She created them and the Aloha Emporium.

If you want the full story of how Peter and Neal met in St. Louis, and how that led to Neal joining Peter's team, check out the first story in this series: Caffrey Conversation.