Home for Christmas - White Collar
"Where the hell is he?"
Peter Burke was angry. His consultant was late. And not fashionably late, as he might suspect him to do for dramatic effect.
A knock on the door to his office preceded the door's opening by mere seconds.
"Boss?"
"Diana. Has Neal finally shown up?"
"You should see this."
*
Elizabeth Burke had just started making herself a cup of coffee to go with the European newspaper she had picked up on a whim on her way back from the bakery this morning when the doorbell rang.
"Mozzie?"
"Have you heard yet?"
"Heart what?" Mozzie pushed past her in almost his usual fashion. "What's going on?" She had never seen him quite so frazzled.
"It's all over the news!"
Mozzie was switching through TV channels like crazy. Elizabeth meanwhile went to the kitchen to get the coffee.
As she was stirring in the sugar, she caught a glance of the British newspaper's headline. Only to promptly do a double take.
*
In the WCU conference room Diana turned on the sound on the wall screen. A news show was on, showing a very familiar face.
"It's all over the news."
"This morning, Niccolo Calghieri, son of suspected mafia don Federico Calghieri, was arrested by the police on Sicily. He is suspected to have been involved in an art heist five years ago. His trial is expected to commence by December 19th with some experts expecting a ruling as early as January 2013."
"What the hell?"
*
The headline still on her mind, El joined Mozzie in the living room. He had, by now, stopped on an Italian newscast.
"Un ragno mafioso arrestato per furto d’arte! " The scrolling banner at the bottom proclaimed.
"Proprio questa mattina la polizia siciliana ha arrestato Niccolo Calghieri, figlio del presunto capo mafioso Federico Calghieri. L’unico discendenti della famiglia Calghieri e' sospettato di essere stato coinvolto in un colpo d’arte alla Galleria Nazionale dell’Umbria cinque anni fa. Gli esperti di primo livello si aspettano una decisione entro gennaio, se non prima."
Elizabeth looked at Mozzie.
"How did this happen?"
***
72 hours earlier
Neal wasn't convinced this was a good plan. Unfortunately it was their only plan and they had the big bosses breathing down their necks. So Neal sighed, shrugged and told Peter that he could do fake identities better than the FBI and to just leave it to him.
"No."
"What do you mean, no? We both know my identities are some of the best out there!"
"One misstep and this falls apart, Neal."
"More reason to leave it to the professional!"
Neal couldn't back down. Not on this. Because Peter was right, one misstep was all it took. And the op wouldn't just fall apart, they'd also all be dead. Which was a normal risk when interacting with the Italian mafia.
"Trust me, Peter, I know what I'm doing."
Peter looked as if he was agreeing to dental surgery without anaesthesia.
"Fine."
*
When Neal arrived at the upper class club their targets were supposed to be enjoying the night, he only barely held in a number of rather creative curses Elena would have washed his mouth for even thinking. He knew the discreet emblem on one of the security guards' jacket. Time for plan B. How exactly he was going to explain this away was a question for later.
Straightening his coat back into perfect alignment, Neal approached the guard.
"Tell your boss Nic Calghieri is here to see him."
In the surveillance van Peter, Diana and Jones were giving each other looks of confusion and in one case of dread.
"Calghieri?" Jones mouthed.
Diana was the one who looked more shocked than confused.
"He's basically asking to be shot", she groaned.
At her colleagues' puzzlement she explained.
"Niccolo Calghieri is the only son of Federico Calghieri, a rather prominent Italian mafia don, though no-one ever managed to prove it. He's also not been heard of for the last 11 years."
Peter wished he could strangle Neal. Not only had this not been the plan, it might also endanger the entire op.
*
The moment the guard heard back from his boss, Neal was being led through the elegant hallways towards a private lounge towards the back of the building.
Entering the room, the key occupant stood up to greet him.
"Nicco, ah, è così bello vederti, amico mio. Quanto tempo è passato, dieci anni?"
Neal smiled at the elderly man in the tailored suit.
"Undici, in realtà. E' bello anche per me vederti, Alfonso."
It almost surprised him how easily he fell back into Italian, even after all this time.
"But what are you doing here, Nicco? Last I heard you had cut ties with the family and run off."
"I heard about someone wishing to get his hands on several rather interesting paintings. I happen to be in that line of work. "
Alfonso nodded. "You always did have a particular love for the arts. The Contessa has finally relented to hold an exhibition of your own pieces here in the Metropolitan, or so I heard. But let us talk about business now, there will be more than enough time to catch up later."
*
"What is going on, Diana?"
"I said I know Italian, boss, not that I was fluent. Also they're not exactly talking slowly."
"Jones, get us a translator. I want to know what they are talking about."
Peter was about to say something more but Diana shushed him.
"They're talking business now."
"Sono qui solo come avvocato, Nicco. Sua Grazia ha deciso di acquistare alcune nuove opere d'arte e mi ha mandato a fare i preparativi necessari."
"Our big fish doesn't seem to be as big as we thought. He's working on orders. A woman's." Diana summarised.
"Mia madre? Non è qui, vero? --
No, no. È ancora in Italia. L'ultima volta che le ho parlato, non aveva alcuna intenzione di cambiare le cose."
"Adriana Calghieri is who the orders come from, apparently, but she's still in Italy."
"Then this is pointless risk. Let's get Neal out of there. Organised crime can take it from here." Peter told them. Normally he'd prefer to see this through, but something about this situation rubbed him the wrong way.
*
Neal was getting ready to leave when Alfonso dropped one more proverbial bomb on him.
"Her Grace has expressed that she would very much like for you to come home."
"That's nothing new. Mother has wanted me home since I left. I have my reasons."
"I know that. But the Contessa has alluded to much the same sentiments."
For a moment all Neal could do was stare. Surely he was jesting. Right? But Alfonso's face was completely serious. Now wasn't that something to think about. Quickly, Neal said his good-byes and took his leave.
*
If someone were to ask him how he had talked himself out of passing for a suspected mafia scion with Peter, Neal could not have answered beyond guesswork. His mind was entirely occupied by this newest development.
Sitting at his table he played with the MiniDV cassette. He finally had the last piece of the mess in his hands. The Contessa was no longer out to kill him. At least not on sight. He could go home. His eyes drifted to the window. A flurry of snow was dusting the city in a blanket of white. It reminded him of the pandoro his mother would make. For the first time in over a decade he could be home... if there wasn't the matter of his anklet.
*
The next day the team was packing up in the conference room to hand the case over to organised crime as, somehow, conversation turned to Christmas traditions. Jones had just finished telling them about how he usually celebrated when Diana turned the focus to Neal.
"So, Neal, how do you usually spend the holidays?"
He held back a sigh and put on a charming smile.
"Well, I haven't celebrated in a while, of course, bit hard to in prison. But my family used to have this huge feast on Christmas Day and my mother would make pandoro and panettone. We'd put up the tree and the nativity scene on L'Immacolata and I'd try to catch La Befana to see her place the presents." He chuckled but it was hollow, forced. He missed it all. He missed the ridiculously big feast and the centuries old family presepio he had never been allowed to play with as a child. He missed celebrating Epifania and tricking his younger cousins into believing Befana would come and get them. He missed his huge family all coming together, even if that only stayed peaceful for a few days at most. Natale con i tuoi, Pasqua con chi vuoi. Christmas was for family and he hadn't seen his in far too long.
"You're Italian?" He should have known Diana would notice.
"My parents are. My mother's from Naples."
"Sounds like Christmas is a pretty big deal with your folks" Jones said.
He shrugged. "Kind of. I haven't been home in almost 11 years now. I don't think that's going to change soon" His hand lazily gestured towards his anklet.
*
It was a stroke of luck that Mozzie had cracked the anklet on just the day Neal had wished he could go home. His plan had been laid out for years, there wasn't much else to do when you spent 4 consecutive Christmases in prison.
With a somewhat sad smile Neal signed the card, put it in an envelope and placed it on the table in clear view of the door.
Grabbing the hand luggage bag June had insisted he take he went downstairs to say his goodbye to her.
"Do come visit me someday?"
Neal smiled at his landlady's words.
"I promise. When it's safe."
June returned the smile, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"If you don't, I will tell your mother. Adriana would not be happy with you then."
For once, his face must have clearly betrayed his thoughts because June laughed heartily.
"I have known for a while who you are. I don't expect you to remember but when I first met you, you were still diapers." She chuckled. "Now, off with you, before you miss your flight."
Neal hugged June goodbye before leaving the house and hailing a cab.
*
Upon landing in Palermo, the policia was already waiting for Neal, ready to take him into custody. He went with a smile. This wouldn't take long. Soon he'd be home.
***
Elizabeth listened to what little Mozzie managed to explain to her and made her own connections from that. The parcel she had found on her doorstep just that morning had a lot more context now.
A bit shaken she went and got it. She'd feel better to have Mozzie with her when she opened this.
Inside the box were a beautiful vase, a bottle of limoncello, a rolled up canvas and a letter. Setting aside the vase and bottle, El turned her attention to the letter. It was short.
Dear El,
I'm sorry for not saying goodbye properly, but I couldn't risk anyone finding out and try to stop me. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.
You once asked if you would ever get to see a Neal Caffrey original. The canvas should answer that.
I'll miss you. If you ever find yourself in Tuscany, you should take a tour through the Calghieri vineyards.
Merry Christmas,
Niccolo di Federico Calghieri da Pistoia
PS: Don't worry, the vase isn't stolen.
With a sad smile Elizabeth took out the canvas and unrolled it. Facing her was a beautiful painting of Peter, Satchmo and herself with a sun-kissed field for a backdrop. It was magnificent.
Her trained eye spotted influences from Rafael, from Turner and a bit of Leonardo and Van Gogh as well. And hidden in the waves of her hair was a small signature. N. C.
*
Peter could only stare at the wall screen as the host talked to an expert on European law.
"So, do you think Calghieri will be found guilty? "
"No. And most of my colleagues are of an opinion with me on this. Federico Calghieri will not leave his only child to the proverbial sharks. Whether Niccolo Calghieri was actually involved in the heist in question or not doesn't really matter. There is very little possibility that the trial will end in anything but a swift acquittal. "
"We heard his trial is to start before Christmas and for a verdict to be reached by January. What do you think of that? "
"I think the Calghieri lawyers will push for the trial to start in a matter of days and that the not-guilty verdict will be reached before the 22nd, maybe 23rd of December. And Niccolo Calghieri will be free in time for the holidays. "
Peter could only shake his head. He didn't understand anything anymore.
***
Two weeks later, the expert's words were proven right. Neal Caffrey, Niccolo Calghieri was free and on his way to the family estate. The smile on his face for once was as real as the bespoke suit on his back. It wavered though, the closer he came to the front door. The last time he had been there had been 11 years ago, the day before he left his fiancee at the altar and fled to America.
It was Giovanni who opened the door. The butler referred him to the family sitting room but otherwise was far too professional to show any kind of reaction to Niccolo's return.
His mother was waiting for him in the sitting room. With long strides he reached her couch before she could stand.
"Mamma." The word passed his lips almost involuntarily. "Mi dispiace tanto, mamma. Ho fatto una cosa stupida e poi non sapevo cos'altro fare."
"Perdonato e dimenticato, mio caro. Sono solo felice di riaverti qui. Non farmi mai più preoccupare così, mi hai sentito?" She smiled at her son.
"Te lo prometto. Ti voglio bene, mamma."
Shortly after his reunion with his mother (he had already talked to his father before the sham of a trial) Giovanni announced that the Contessa had arrived.
Niccolo was nervous. How would she react?
She entered with all the stately grace he remembered. Her dark hair was kept in a tight updo on the back of her head, her hands were clad in supple leather not delicate silk or lace. Her dark brown, tailored jacket rested on a floor length skirt of the same colour, the cut of which betrayed its purpose to the knowing eye. She must have been riding when she heard. It certainly presented a more benign purpose to the riding crop in her left hand.
"Sei in ritardo."
"Gattina, mi dispiace tanto. Posso -"
She held up a hand. Then she smiled at him.
"Lo so. Me l'ha detto Fiyero. Mio fratello era piuttosto categorico sul fatto che lei fosse un idiota, ma che lo pensasse come l'unico modo."
He stepped towards her, took her hand gently in his.
"Ti amo. Ti adoro. L'ho sempre fatto. Lo farò sempre. E non voglio nient'altro che passare la mia vita con te, se mi avrai ancora…"
Her answer was a kiss like freshly fallen snow, gentle and sweet and for a moment he thought he heard the angels sing.
Then he realized his mother had turned on the concealed sound system and was now playing Bocelli's "Angels we have heard on high".