Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

DAMON (1)

The kid was dirty. He smelled like the dirty alleys he lived in, and the dumpsters he sometimes slept behind, and occasionally dug through when he couldn't find a vendor not guarding his wares, or a pocket safe to pick. He had dark brown, almost black wavy hair which hadn't seen a barber in a while or a comb too often, for that matter. Actually, he didn't look that different from the dozens of street kids living under the radar in the back streets and alleys of New York City. He was too skinny, even for his slight 12 year old frame; blue jeans, t-shirt. A pretty non-descript homeless kid, except for his eyes…. His eyes were a dark blue; if you took the time to notice the color, but that's not what you saw when you looked in them. His eyes were old for his age, dark, deep, wild, they had seen something that took the light from them.

***WC***

Damon was scared. He was entering the den of the enemy and did not know if he would make it back out. But he had to go, he had to know. He had travelled hundreds of miles to reach this point. It had taken months; it was not easy for a kid that does even look as old as his meager 12 years, to travel around the country. But he was here now, he had to plan this right, he had to know. He did not care as much about escaping as he did about the knowing. He had to know why.

***WC***

It was a slow day at the White Collar unit of the FBI. Lots of tedious boring crimes to investigate, as always, but nothing eminent, nothing exciting going on in their crime genre. Peter, Neal and Jones were in the conference room. Diana had gone downstairs to get coffee for her and Peter, and was halfway back up the steps when the kid bumped into her on his way upstairs. She managed to save most of the coffee as the kid rushed on up and into the conference room, something big and black in his hands…. What? She set the cups down on the steps and checked. The kid took her weapon! She rushed up after him.

Peter and Jones were kicked back in their chairs, just relaxing. Neal was leaning against the wall in the back corner, bored and restless. There was no reason for him to be wasting his time there, with no crimes to consult on. But he knew Peter made him come in anyway, just because he could! If Peter got bored, he always had Neal to pick on to fill in the time. It wasn't fair! But suddenly, a 12 year old demon spawn was in the room, and boredom became a memory.

The kid sprinted by Peter and Jones and ran straight to Neal, shakily waving the gun in Neal's face and screaming, "Why did you kill my mother?"

Peter and Jones jumped out of their seats, just as Diana ran in the door, "He took my weapon!"

The kid swung the gun towards the agents barely able to hold the weapon up, and slowed any counter moves as they ducked to avoid a possible accidental discharge. At that time he pointed the weapon back toward Neal, "Tell me! Why did you kill my mother!"

Neal, hands up in front of him; like they could stop the bullet, stuttered, "I didn't kill anybody!"

Peter observed the kid and the weapon, he saw the safety was still on, but the kid's thumb kept fumbling around it. Hell, he'd have to move now, before the kid figured out how to work the lever.

Just before Peter had time to act, the kid sent the weapon spinning down the table, safety cache down. Peter couldn't tell if it the safety was on or off. He decided to let Jones and Diana deal with the weapon, he lunged for the kid. But the kid was lunging for Neal and hit him full force with a head bunt in the breadbasket! Neal doubled over gasping for air.

Peter grabbed the kid, struggling and fighting like a wild cat. Damn but he was light, there wasn't much to this kid. He body slammed him into a chair, a little gentler then he normally would, after all he was just a kid….and held him there while everyone calmed, a little, and Neal caught his breath. Peter waved Jones over and indicated he was to take over guard duty,

"Keep him in the chair" he growled.

Diana piped up "Let me do it, Boss. I'll keep there."

"No, Diana, he took your weapon, you'll hurt him"

"Boss, just give me half a chance and I'll teach him not to touch my weapon again" She sounded like a panther ready to strike.

Peter glanced around, insuring all was secure, then sat down, facing the kid. He took a deep breath, then addressed the troublemaker,

"I am Special Agent Burke. These are Agents Jones and Berrigan." He pointed to each, "The one you tried to shoot is Neal, but I assume you know that. Now, you need to explain yourself, let's start with your name."

The kid just stared back at him with those cold, dark, wild eyes. Peter didn't do kids well, but he was not looking into the eyes of a child. This one was hard to read.

"Better give me your side of the story before I call CPS or the juvenile authorities and just have you hauled away." Was that a flicker? Fear? No answer.

He played his card, "Diana, make the call"

The kid exploded. "No, mother-fucker! You have me now! Why do you want to send me away? So you can kill more innocent people?"

He was right, Peter waved for Diana to wait. "Then you better start explaining yourself right now."

The kid pointed to Neal, "That asshole sent in the FBI to kill my mother. I just want to know why"

Neal starting stumbling out denials, but the kid stared at him and he shut up. Neal thought he had hard eyes for a kid.

Peter scrutinized him. What was going on in this kid's head?

"Number one: Neal would not have anyone killed, not in his nature. Number two: No agent would kill for Neal. Trust me, he doesn't have that kind of power around here. Why do you think the FBI was involved?"

The kid just glared at him.

"Boy, you charged into an FBI office, stole an agent's weapon, and then threatened federal agents with it. You committed several felonies today. And then you blame the FBI. I think you assume that we know what you are talking about, but we have no clue. You better give me the story, from the beginning, and fast before I have you hauled off in chains!"

The kid glared at Peter and then finally broke his stare. He looked around, the wildness overcoming his eyes. Now they reminded Peter of a trapped rabbit, ready to bolt.

"Boy, look at me. Talk. Tell me your story, maybe I can help."

The kid let out a short bark of a laugh, one with no mirth in it. "You stupid fuck head! How can you help? People die around me."

Peter scowled at him, "Please watch your language. There is a lady present."

The kid stared back, with those hard, cold eyes, "Where?"

Oh boy, Peter thought, if Diana wasn't pissed off enough about the gun, she was going to be now.

"Boy, talk." Peter was getting impatient, so he used as much firmness as he could in his voice without scaring the kid, he hoped.

The kid's body gave an almost imperceptible slump. Peter observed it, good he was giving in.

"I'm listening."

Finally, the boy started talking.

"They rang the doorbell, and she went to answer. Was in the closet and heard them say they were from the FBI. Heard her say something, figured she was asking to see their ID. She was from the east somewhere so she was very careful about those kinds of things. Slipped deeper into the closet and pulled door part way shut, but could still see out. Stayed back in the shadows. Figured if they saw a kid, they would make him leave, you know, FBI is adult stuff. Was curious so stayed hidden so could listen. She let them in. After talking a bit, one guy suddenly got real mean and demanded, "Where is Neal Caffrey's bastard son?"

With that statement, the kid looked up to see everyone's reaction. Neal looked shocked and started protesting, denied ever having any children. Agent Burke looked stunned and the female agent looked amused. But the kid saw that they did not know about him. They could not be involved. The killers knew about him.

Peter studied the kid's face, it was too dirty to make out any clear features, and his hair was oily and plastered around his face with God knows what stuck in it. He couldn't make out any resemblances. Peter turned to Neal. "We'll clear that up later, let him finish his story."

The kid went on with his account, "She got defensive. No one was supposed to know about Neal. No one was supposed to know Neal was my… my…" He went on, "She didn't answer. He got meaner, 'Where is the Caffrey bastard?' She said she didn't know what he was talking about, then there was a loud… a loud…, and…. and…." The kid was starting to panic.

Peter talked calmly, trying to relax the kid, "Did you see the man?"

But the boy was frantic, "No! Didn't see anything, it's all black… black… don't remember..."

Peter's voice became even calmer, gentler; "Tell me the next thing you do remember."

The boy tried to calm down, to focus, "Was in the closet, somehow the door was shut. Heard them talking, 'Search the house, find the bastard!' There was a lose wall paneling in the closet, the landlord kept putting off fixing it. Slipped in behind it. Was scared, didn't want to be found. Used the nails sticking through to hold it tight to the wall."

Peter was fairly impressed "You hid in the wall? How long did you stay there?"

The boy looked up with those eyes, "A lifetime."

Peter gently prodded, "Go on."

"Heard them searching the house, heard them open the closet door, but they didn't see the lose paneling. They said something about searching the town and the noises stopped. It got real quiet".

Peter inquired on, "Did you hear them say any names, besides Neal's?"

The boy thought a minute. "No, no names, the guy said "Get those; he might want them" but no names."

"Get what?"

"Don't know."

Peter urged for more, "Go on."

"After awhile, it was quiet for a long time, lost hold of the nails and panel fell forward and made some noise. Listened, but guess they were gone, no one heard. Got out of the wall and into the closet. Tried to open door once but could only open a little. Something was blocking it."

"What was blocking the door?"

"Don't know. Black..."

Peter changed tracks, "How long did you stay in the closet?"

The kid's eyes were far away, "Don't know. Forever. Don't remember leaving. Everything was getting foggy"

"What do you mean 'foggy'?"

"Memories quit being clear. They became like a fog. Sometimes things came out of the fog, but most times it was just fog. Thick fog."

Peter struggled to keep the kid focused, "What is the next thing you do remember?"

The kid stumbled with his thoughts, "People came in and out of fog. Had white hats. Not bad people, but faces not clear. Then went to, maybe, stay with some people. Introduced as Dr and Dr, think, still foggy. Maybe others there. Not sure. Maybe other kids. Don't know. Foggy. Was out back, taking out trash? Was going back in and doorbell rang." He looked up, his eyes cleared, "The fog left. Heard that same voice, saying from FBI, heard lady ask for credentials. Heard her invite them in….."

The boy's eyes returned to their original deep, dark state. "Started running. Heard a couple loud sounds, like gunshot, behind, don't know, kept running. Been on own since then."

Peter sat and observed the boy. He didn't know if he believed this wild ass story or not. But his eyes… his eyes…they have seen something.