Summary: What started as an average, everyday discovery of priceless religious art alongside a dead body quickly takes a turn for the Twilight Zone when Peter inadvertently offends a shape-shifting trickster god. A story in which parts of the past are brought to light, parts of the present are cast in shadow, Elle spends time with Satchmo, Mozzie tells the truth (and subsequently runs away), and Peter's strength of character is deliberately tested. Meanwhile, Neal might be the only one who knows what's going on.

Significant Revision: The TIMELINE has been moved forward; now set between 3x11 and 3x12, Upper West Side Story and Veiled Neighborhood Watch

Rating: T, because it's about the same as what you'd see on the show

Disclaimer: The names of any real persons, living or dead, are used fictitiously and/or are a complete coincidence. The historical accuracy of any history presented cannot be guaranteed. Also, I don't own (but I think you already knew that).

Question: Is it El, or Elle? I see El most often, but Elle looks more like a name to me, even a nickname.

Special Agent Peter Burke kept a mental list of Signs that Neal is About to Do Something Stupid, and it was constantly under revision. At the top of the list (items 1-4, but see also 15b) were:

1. Neal has slipped his anklet

2. Neal is being shifty

3. Neal has lost and/or found a girl

4. Neal takes an early lunch

As Peter watched Neal through the glass wall of his office one wet Wednesday afternoon, he wondered if he needed to make another amendment. A major problem with the List was that it was formed retroactively, so he could not be sure if the new strangeness in Neal's behavior was an ominous portent or not. However, Peter was nothing if not a master of patience (two years he'd held on to that lollipop); he'd get it out of Neal, one way or another, and until then he just needed to keep a sharp eye on him and try to stop Neal's Hindenburg from leaving the ground, and maybe fend off whatever incoming icebergs he could. A quick glance at his mug confirmed his suspicions - he definitely needed more coffee if he was mixing metaphors this badly.

Neal was spending very little time at his desk. On its own, this was not very unusual; he had a tendency to wander around the office and chat with the other agents as he leaned against their desks, and Neal would rather do anything else than go through mortgage fraud files. However, not only was Neal not sitting at his desk, he was giving it a wide berth. He'd spent time at everyone else's desk, except Jones's and Blake's, and he kept his back to the windows as much as possible. Peter idly tapped his pen against his fingers; there was something significant in that thought, he just knew it. Surveying the room again (and catching sight of Neal, procrastinating in the stacks), he reviewed his observations of Neal, and a pattern emerged - Neal was avoiding the side of the room with a view of the city. Time to find out why.

He stood up to get a refill of coffee and mentally composed his newest item on The List. Number Thirty-two: Neal avoids windows. Cross-reference with items 13 and 17, other avoidances. Action to be taken: …? He pursed his lips. Most likely, it was something that could be seen from the windows, since he was reasonably certain Neal was not at Mozzie's acute level of paranoia and was afraid of being seen from the window. If he was, there would be other signs, like little tinfoil fedoras - the sound of his phone cut off his idle musings.

"This is Burke." As he listened, a small part of his mind wondered if this was what being struck by lightning felt like. "Oh my God."

It was a small group that was gathered in the conference room, mostly limited to the Harvard crew, people he trusted to keep a tight lid on this latest discovery. The last thing they needed was for someone to leak information to the press; a media circus would not help their investigation. He felt giddy, excited; when they'd first uncovered the treasure on that U-boat, he'd felt the same swooping sensation in his gut, but then it had been tempered by the imminent danger posed by Adler (and unstable TNT. Can't forget the TNT). Now, when he thought about that seemingly-lost-forever-but-actually-saved hoard of masterpieces, his feelings were a convoluted, tangled mess because of Neal's role in all of it, that quite took away his appreciation for the art. But now was not the time. He forcibly shelved those thoughts, and focused on the case in front of him, on another lost treasure that might have finally, finally been found.

Clearing his throat, he addressed the faces turned expectantly towards him, "A lost painting has recently been recovered..." He trailed off, not certain how to proceed.

"Please, don't keep us in suspense," Neal raised an inquiring brow, even as he leaned back in his chair and tossed a paper ball once more into the air (Peter noticed he'd picked a chair that put his back to the windows, but since it was, incidentally, Neal's usual chair, it could mean nothing).

Deep breath. Like ripping a Band-Aid off, right? Best to just get it out there. "It's 'The Just Judges,' the missing panel from 'The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb'."

Some faces looked back at him with polite interest, just another piece of art to them. He reminded himself that there were whole spheres of white collar crimes that did not require any art appreciation whatsoever. Other faces perked up, like they smelled fresh coffee in the air, or their favorite song just came on the radio. A few, Neal's included, seemed to be experiencing the same bolt from the blue that had struck him; Neal was the first to recover from his shock. His posture relaxed from its rigid attention, but he did not resume tossing anything in the air. "Sure it is. Oh, that reminds me; Mozzie wanted me to ask you if you were interested in buying a bridge. He's got a local one he could get you a great deal on."

Peter looked him straight in the eyes, trying to convey his sincerity through sheer optic willpower (he wasn't sure he succeeded, but Neal stopped leaning back, so he counted it as a win). "No joke. Authenticators are looking at it now, under the highest security in the utmost secrecy. People, this could be the big one."

"That panel's been missing since 1934. Peter, the Ghent Altarpiece is the most frequently stolen painting of all time."

"I am aware of that, yes." Personally, he felt that having twenty-four individual panels increased one's odds, like buying a whole ribbon of raffle tickets to a cat-burglar convention.

Neal, apparently, was not quite finished yet, "It's been looted in three different wars, buried, dismembered, smuggled - "

"Yes, we get the picture," he tried to interrupt, but Neal overrode him.

"Illegally sold, censored, hidden, attacked by iconoclasts, forged - " Peter rolled his eyes upwards." - Hunted by both the Nazis and Napoleon, used as a diplomatic tool, ransomed, rescued by Austrian double-agents, and stolen on seven separate occasions."

"I take it you're familiar with the painting," he commented wryly, ceding the floor to Neal with a wave of his arm.

Neal's eyes were alight with a feverish excitement, "This piece is the fulcrum between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, the world's first major oil painting; it's van Eyck's masterwork. 'The Just Judges' panel was taken from the Saint Bavo Cathedral in Belgium and held ransom for a million francs. The Bishop agreed, but he couldn't pull together the full million. The police pressured him to only offer less than a quarter of the full ransom; the thief dropped correspondence, kept his prize, and it hasn't been seen since. Allegedly, Arsène Goerdertier, stockbroker and amateur artist, confessed on his deathbed that he took the painting, and that only he knew where it was. Then he died before he could tell anyone. It's going to be displayed, right? Before it gets sent back to Belgium? When and where?"

Peter heaved a sigh. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. "There is a full media blackout on this. Even within the Bureau we're limiting the number of people who know, so talk to no one about this who is not sitting in this room right now. They haven't even told me where it is now, or who's looking at it."

"Peter, this is international headline news. Why the conspiracy routine? Even if they were afraid it's another forgery, the papers would eat it up - nothing sells news like a little intrigue." For a man who kept so many secrets, Neal seemed rather personally affronted by the hush up.

"Because it is evidence in an ongoing murder investigation" he dropped the file he'd been holding onto the table. "Ezra Gray, sixty-two years old, resident of Queens, was found dead in his apartment earlier today, stabbed in the chest." The glossy photos sent over from NYPD showed an elderly man with a goatee and mustache lying on his back, arms crookedly splayed to the sides, one hand curled around a chicken egg. Blood pooled around the wound to his heart. "We've got people from homicide working their own angles. Our job is to find out where the painting came from, and if possible, where it's been this whole time. Anything that might explain why a sociology teacher was killed in his apartment and a priceless piece of lost religious art left next to his body. We have Belgian cooperation on this; they're sending over what records they have for us to go through. I'm sorry to say, it looks like it will be a lot. Apparently, their attorney general has a 2000 page file, not including all the 'tips' they receive yearly, so I want to see good teamwork on this one."

"Why is it that even the exciting, paradigm-shifting cases have so much paperwork?"

Peter ignored Neal's muttered comment and tried to instill some energy back into the wilting group. "But! Before we get started on that homework, we're going to take a field trip to the scene of the crime. Get ready to move out, people."

Peter glanced around his office one last time to make sure everything was in order before he left, striding quickly across the bullpen. He felt a prickle on the back of his neck as he stepped through the glass doors, and turned back just once to look out the large office windows, towards the glum gray horizon, and wondered what Neal saw when he looked out. Movement caught his eye, but it was only three birds flying by in quick succession. Then, with a ding, the elevator doors slid open, and Special Agent Peter Burke was on the case.

Author's Notes:

Source for most of the Ghent Altarpiece information comes from Noah Charney's Stealing the Mystic Lamb: The True Story of the World's Most Coveted Masterpiece (2010), as well as "Ten Missing Treasures You Should Really Be Looking For!" by Ethan Trex (mental_floss, May-June 2012)

Thank you for reading! Any questions or comments, feel free to drop a review or PM me, but PLEASE, no spoilers for the second half of season 4, I have not seen past "Vested Interest" yet.