FIC: Behind The Shield (STXI, Big Bang, Gen, PG-13) Act 3 (2/2)

[mrwubbles]

Title:Behind The Shield
Author:Yuma aka mrwubbles
Betas:myfieldnotes and penfold_x
Artist:squarededdie
Fanmixer:epershand
Series: ST XI
Character(s):Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy
Rating:PG-13
Word Count:38,000+
Warnings: (if applicable) strong language
Summary: GEN - F.B.I. Special Agent Leonard McCoy of the White Collar Division wants to catch the Dutchman. But can the infamous James Kirk, a reformed young con artist, really help him? Or is this one big con, too? A revisit of White Collar's pilot episode, Star Trek Reboot style.

Previous Parts: Master Post| Teaser| Act 1 (1/2)| Act 1 (2/2)| Act 2 (1/4)| Act 2 (2/4)| Act 2 (3/4)| Act 2 (4/4)| Act 3 (1/2)

Act 3 (2/2)
87 Riverside Dr, New York City

The thrill Jim had felt when they'd figured out the Dutchman's scam had long ebbed away by the time Jim staggered up the steps. The mansion was dark; everyone was already asleep. His body ached, his steps heavy and he could barely keep his eyes open.

Still, the sensation of something not right was still acute.

Jim squinted at the dining area in the back, tucked under the sweeping staircase. The hair on the back of his neck rose. He crept closer to the stairs and plucked an umbrella out, making a face at his choice. Jim took another step, close enough to make out a very human shape. Jim raised his umbrella.

"I saw the best minds in my generation get run down by the drunken taxi cab of absolute reality."

Jim stiffened. He leaned in, tugged on the light from the Tiffany lamp and grinned.

"Scotty?" Jim lowered his umbrella. "Sitting in the dark, misquoting Ginsburg?"

"Aye, Jimmy. The light's how they find you."

Scotty sported a close to the skull crew cut now. Thankfully, he'd lost the goatee that gave him that weird, devious look. Otherwise, Scotty was exactly how Jim remembered him, even though Scotty had never visited him in prison. Jim had understood. That was just how Scotty was. Sam once called him a paranoid son-of-a-bitch. Jim thought it was just Scotty being…Scotty.

There was a fond, wry grin on Scotty's face as he lightly slapped him on the arm. "Ah, look at you, laddie." He nodded approvingly as Jim opened his arms and made a show of turning for him to see. "I like the hat."

Jim dropped down in a chair and stared at him. He had been trying to figure out how to reach his old friend without McCoy realizing. Finally, he had left a one word message on the answering machine of the last number he remembered. "How'd you get in?"

"I used this," Scotty quipped and he raised a fist. At Jim's look, he bristled and a bit of his childhood brogue crept in. "What did you think I was doing? I knocked. Has prison wiped all sense of politeness out of you now?" Scotty harrumphed. "I knocked and introduced myself. That Pike's a fine gentleman. Impressive spirits collection." Scotty made his face. "Those beagles he's watching over donnae seem to like me much." Scotty leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows. "Did you see his niece though?"

Jim shook his head, smiling. "Thanks for coming."

Scotty scoffed. "What was I going to do? Not come?" He sobered. "Can I see it?"

Cautiously—although Jim knew it wasn't that sensitive—lifted his leg up and set it on the table between them. He tugged up his trousers to reveal the device.

"Can you pick it?"

Scotty ran his fingers under, over, around the thick cuff before he sat back, shaking his head. "No way, lad. You flew to close to the sun on this one, Jimmy." Scotty grimaced. "They burned your wings.

Jim swallowed. He'd known deep down that the possibility was minute otherwise McCoy would never have agreed. He eased his leg back down. "What about Sam? Or Eddy? Where did they go?"

"They're ghosts on the wind. They did a fine job of melting away."

As children, Sam had been the best at making himself invisible. And until Jim had gotten old enough to handle himself he had shielded him from those who were drunk or bored or pissed and looking for entertainment. It turned out Frank hadn't been that unique after all.

"Well, keep looking." Jim paused. "Check France."

"France?"

Jim held up a hand at Scotty's look. "I know, okay it's probably nothing, just…look everywhere."

"Sure, sure. I'll give it all I got." Scotty clapped him soundly on the back.

Jim smiled wearily at him.

"So…McCoy, huh?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, McCoy."

"Of all the agents—He still that nasty pitbull Sam said he was?"

"An OCD Rottweiler and yeah, lately, he's been obsessed with this Dutchman guy."

"Ech. Dutchman. Just like a G-man to name their targets with something so…so…military."

Jim shook his head, smiling. Scotty definitely hadn't changed. "He's good though." Jim pulled out the parchment McCoy had left with him. "I need you to help me figure out who created this."

The crinkle of the bond unfolding coaxed Scotty closer to the weak glow of light. Scotty pulled out a jeweler's eyepiece from his pockets and squinted through it.

"It's superb." Scotty lifted his head at Jim. "A Goya?"

Jim nodded. "Best forgery I've seen." He paused and then added with honesty. "Except for mine."

Scotty tsked. "Normally I would agree but you ruined your own record with that horrible Vermeer's The Concert."

"I was sick!" Jim protested. Stupid Sam had forgotten he was allergic to eggplant again.

"The reflection showed them in a threesome! Oh but it made me laugh to see that. That and the old fussbudget millionaire who almost bought it at Christie's."

Chuckling, Scotty took off his specs and idly brushed his fingers along the border. "You know the worst thing about art forgery?" He sighed with regret. "You cannae take credit for your work."

Cocking his head, Jim sat down next to Scotty. He chewed his lower lip.

"What?"

"Maybe," Jim said slowly as he slid the bond back to him, "maybe you can."

--

Brooklyn, New York City

Technically this was outside of his radius.

Jim peered down at the girl with pigtails, who stared back up at him with no fear, a Cheerio stuck on a freckled cheek and a yellow Labrador yawning against her hip.

Definitely outside of his radius.

"Uh, I'm looking for Leonard McCoy?"

"I know who you are," the little girl announced. "You're that damn James T. Kirk." She wrinkled her nose. "That's not cussing. That's what my Dad calls you."

Jim grinned. "You must be Joanna." His brow furrowed. "Thought you were coming this weekend?"

"Camp ended early. It was a surprise." Joanna giggled. "Dad's upstairs freaking out because he thinks I can't stay home alone."

Jim grinned. Bones freaking out? He would like to see that and told her so.

Joanna pursed her lips in a mini-McCoy fashion. Jim could now see the resemblance.

"You're not really a stranger," Joanna decided. She checked with the dog. "And Satchmo didn't eat you so you can't be too bad. And you're helping my Dad catch bad guys. Okay. You can come in."

Jim wasn't sure if he should be worried or impressed with Joanna McCoy's logic when he entered.

--

Christine Chapel was a godsend.

"I don't have a shift until Friday and Roger's not back from his dig. I could use the company."

Leonard sagged against his bedroom doorway. "Chris, thank you. Really. I wasn't expecting Jo to get here until—Not that I don't want her here…" A few extra days with his girl left an unaccustomed grin on his face this early in the morning even without coffee. "But I didn't make arrangements yet and fu—excuse me, the two weeks wasn't even submitted yet and—"

There was a laugh in his ear.

"Relax, Len. I said it was okay. Jo and I got along fine last year when she was here. We had lots of fun then, too."

Leonard winced at the reminder. "I'm a rotten father."

"No, just one who still can't let go of work when he needs to. Listen, we'll check out Brooklyn Art and have pizza at Grimaldi's. Give us a call about dinner and when she goes back, you will buy me something disgustingly expensive that will make my Roger jealous enough to head down the block to beat the crap out of you."

Leonard barked out a relieved laugh. "Did you just threaten a federal employee?"

"No, I just threatened my ex-brother-in-law." Christine snickered. "Joss would kill me though. My little sister likes her alimony."

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Nice to know I would be missed."

A beep in his ear made him frown.

"Hang on, I have another call." Leonard balanced his phone as he pulled on a sock. "McCoy."

"It's Sulu. Kirk's anklet is activated. Is he with you?"

Damn it.

Leonard snarled. Damn it. He was surprised it had taken the kid this long to try something. He hurriedly finished dressing. "No. I'm coming."

"Pavel's pulling up his location. Uhura is calling the Marshals."

"Hang on." Leonard switched back to his other line. "Chris, can you come over right now?" he asked urgently.

Chris, used to the rapid requests of an ER, didn't ask why. "I'll be there in five minutes."

Leonard was pounding down the stairs as he struggled into his jacket. He stuffed his tie in his pocket. "Sulu? Good. I'm on my way. Give me a few minutes to head out the door. Backtrack Kirk's last few hours…Jo?" he called out. "I'm sorry, honey, but Daddy has to go to the office right now, Aunt Chris is coming over and—"

Kirk looked up at him from the couch.

"Dad!" Jo chirped.

Kirk wiggled his fingers back at him before he turned back to his daughter. "So then your dad said 'Don't pander to me, kid. I know when a chicken's not a chick—'"

"Hey!" Leonard yelped. The last thing his daughter needed to hear was that.

"McCoy?"

Leonard glowered at the two on the couch. "Cancel the cavalry. Kirk is with me."

There was a lengthy pause. "You're sure?"

Unfortunately. "Yeah."

"Morning."

"Morning," Leonard replied automatically. "Clean your face, Jo. You have a Cheerio on your cheek." He glowered at Kirk. "You're on my couch." He moved his glare to Jo who was trying to hide the fact she'd just fed Satchmo the stuck Cheerio round. He let his disapproval show. "You're not supposed to let strangers in."

Joanna blinked at him. "But he's not a stranger. Satchmo thought he was okay."

"Jo, Satchmo once ran away from a pebble because he thought it was a bug. He wouldn't know if it's the mailman or an ax murderer at the door."

"He's not an ax murderer or a serial…"

"Serial killer," Kirk said helpfully and damn it, his girl happily thanked him.

"See? He's Jim."

Kirk beamed up at him.

Leonard scowled. "Damn it, Jim. Get off my couch."

"Daddy." Damn if his daughter didn't sound like his ex right there. "He was telling me stories about when you were chasing him."

"The key word here is stories." Leonard pointed at Kirk. "How did you get here?"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Uh…Cab? There are plenty around New York?"

Leonard waved at him. "You activated your tracker. You're in my house, on my couch, with my daughter."

Satchmo trotted over to Kirk and dropped an empty bowl at his feet.

"Good, Satchmo," Kirk crowed as he ran his fingers up and down his sides. Treacherous dog barked and wagged his tail frantically. "Would you like some more cereal?"

Leonard threw up his arms in disgust. "And you're petting my dog."

"Why don't you like the name Bones?" Jo blurted out despite Kirk shushing her.

Leonard's glower intensified. "You told her." He shook his head at Jo. "It's just a nickname, Jo. It's silly."

Kirk grinned. "I think it suits you."

Leonard grabbed his cell. "I'm putting you back in prison."

"But Dad!" Jo whined. "He knows who your Dutch man is!"

Leonard pursed his lips. Slowly he hung up the phone. He growled when Jo and Kirk high-fived each other.

The frantic knocking on the door drew everyone's attention to it.

"Uh…" Kirk hedged. "Want me to get that?"

--

Christine was introduced to Kirk very enthusiastically by Joanna—much to Leonard's irritation and Christine's amusement. She giggled when Kirk kissed her hand and offered her a seat on Leonard's couch. Christine smiled demurely, complimented him on his hat before Leonard's glower sobered her. She excused herself, made coffee (thank God), got juice for Jo and they sat around the couch. Satchmo dropped himself at Kirk's feet. The traitor. Jo insisted on getting a plate of cookies as well.

When had the Dutchman case became storytelling material, Leonard didn't have a clue.

Leonard folded his arms and leaned on the bookcase that divided up the den from the dining area. "All right," he drawled, waving to Kirk. "Enlighten me."

"Nero." At Leonard's blank face, Kirk went on. "He's an art restorer. One of the best in the world, but his own work never took off." Kirk paused, his mouth curving into a smirk. "He's particularly good at Goya restorations." He pointed to the bond he set on the coffee table. "That's what this is. The bond is him showing off."

Nero? What was with the one word names? They were artists, not rock stars. Leonard shook his head. "Interesting theory. How do we prove it?"

"He signed it."

Leonard snorted. "I think we might've noticed a signature tucked in the corner."

Jo bounced on the couch as she tugged at Kirk's sleeve. "Can I show him? Can I?" When Kirk handed over the magnifying glass with a smile, even Leonard couldn't help but smile as Jo waved him closer to peer at a spot at the lower corner.

"Look at the pants on the Spanish peasant. What do you see? Look. Look really close." She said rushing through her words.

"It says 'Nero'," Jo burst out, nearly dropping the eyepiece in her excitement. "It's like those hidden puzzles in school!"

Leonard winced as he straightened. "I don't know, that's a stretch."

"I think I see it," Christine volunteered as she took a turn.

"Only because he mentioned it," Leonard explained. "You're only seeing it because you expect it. It's not admissible as evidence."

"This bond is a masterpiece," Kirk argued. He looked at the bond wistfully. "If I'd done something this good, I would've signed it too."

Leonard groaned. Great, forgery envy.

"Hey, the forgeries you caught me on, I signed them."

Leonard arched an eyebrow at him. "Where?"

Kirk mirrored him. "Look at the bank seal under polarized light sometime."

Leonard grimaced. Knowing that would have made things a hell of a lot easier then. It didn't occur to Leonard until later to wonder what it meant that Kirk had told him at all.

"The news gets even better. Nero is here in town. He's doing a church restoration on Third Street." Kirk's eyes gleamed. "We can stop by on our way in."



| Act 4 (1/2) |