Five Years Ago

Two Days 'Til Christmas

New York

How do you catch the man who knows every trick in the book?

It was a question that FBI Agent Peter Burke had no answer to. The con he was trying to catch, the infamous Neal Caffery, had eluded him again. And in his own home city of New York.

Damn it!

Peter slammed his had against the wall in the simple loft he had traced Neal to. It was almost Christmas. He should be at home with Elizabeth, not standing alone and upset. He had sent the agents he brought with him away, not wanting their condoloences. Not wanting their sympathy and pity.

"You'll get him next time, Burke,"

"Caffery can't run forever."

The same things they said every time he escaped the FBI. And there were a lot of those times.

Peter's head hung down. Normally he was not one for self-pity. He believed that only the weak felt sorry for themselves. That the strong sucked it up and dealt with the problem. But Peter was tired of dealing with it. Damn it, he wanted to catch Caffery. He wanted to see the clever man behind bars where he belonged.

But oddly enough, the thought of catching Neal did not make Peter smile. He had felt a connection to the man he was chasing recently. Neal always left something special for him at each place he stayed. He knew Peter was right behind him. He lad left two glasses of sweet red wine. Another time there was Peter's favorite brand of dark chocolate. Once Neal even left a book on legendary art thieves and con-men, open to his section, of course. And always, always, Caffery left a crossword. There was something intimate about the relationship between hunter and huntee. And though Peter tried to ignore this connection, Neal flaunted it.

At the thought Peter's head snapped up. There was something wrong here. Neal Caffery had not left anything. Not a single scrap of paper littered the wooden floor in the open space. Then he heard it. Somewhere a door creaked. The sound made Peter jump. It was a loft, there were no walls, no seperate rooms, no doors. So where was the noise coming from?

A shadowed figure appeared in Peter's sights. The man began to walk toward Peter. He was graceful and thin. his stride even and relaxed. It could only be one person, Burke thought, but then shook the idea away. In the seven months he had been chasing Caffery the man had never done anything without thinking it through first. His choices were always pure, his every move contemplated and perfect. He was not stupid. And showing up in the presence of the very federal agent who was chasing him was stupid.

But that seemed to be exactly what Neal Caffery had done. Because when the figure stopped, about four feet from him, Peter could see Neal's boyish black curls, and clever smile. He could see the devious sparkle in the other man's blue eyes. Neal held out a hand to Peter.

It was the first time Agent Burke had seen Caffery in person. Sure he had seen pictures and video, and he had seen the work, the forgeries that Neal had done. They were all perfect. It was an art in and of itself. Finding himself shocked to silence by the man's appearance, Peter shook Neal's hand.

The skin was not soft as he expected it to be. His hand was a calloused. Still holding Neal's hand Peter ran his thumb over the hardened skin and looked into the con's eyes.

"It's not as easy as everybody thinks it is." Neal said in response to Burke's questioning glance. He did not pull his hand away. Peter was struck by the truth of Caffery's words. Nothing was as simple as other's thought it was. Not catching Caffery, not solving every case. The White Collar unit was not all fun and games as everyone seemed to think.

"You're right." He said, finally dropping the other man's hand. Neal let it fall to his side.

"Nice to meet you Agent Burke." He said politely, charmingly.

"I must say, it is a surprise Neal." Peter answered looking around him. He knew he should immediately call for backup, immediately arrest this man, but he could not bring himself to do it. It seemed like such a long time since he had so purely connected with someone. Peter shook his head free of these thoughts.

"I am going to have to arrest you. You know that, don't you Neal?" Peter asked, curious as to why the con man would sacrifice himself.

"I know Agent Burke. It is Christmas and I have a present for you." Neal said, not looking at all deflated at the thought of being taken into custody, and pridictably sent to prison.

"You leave me things at every other place. What makes this one special enough for you to deliver it personally?" Burke asked suspiciously. For someone who had been running for almost three years, he was making easy to be caught. Neal nodded, as if he was reading Peter's thoughts.

"Like I said Agent Burke. It is not as easy as everyone thinks it is. Running is the most physically and mentally exhausting thing in the world. You must know what I am talking about. You have been undercover. Undercover you can't let anyone from your job get close to you, lest they find out who you really are. But even then you have the escape of going home to your family. When you're running, you don't have that. No one can know where you are, no one can know who you are. You do it to stay alive. But still you have to do work. You have to do what you do to survive." Caffery's words became rushed as he spoke. His voice became pleading and his eyes dull.

Peter felt a twinge of guilt and sympathy for the man. All he wanted was someone to listen to him. He had no one. No one except that girl Peter had talked to months ago. What was her name? Peter thought about it for a moment. Kate! But even she hadn't talked to him in over a year. Looking back at Neal, Burke nodded in agreement.

"So what do you have for me, Neal?" The FBI agent asked, not un - kindly.

"These." Caffery pulled a standard orange envelope from his jacket.

"Be careful with those." Neal said, as Peter began to pull the antique paper out of the envelope.

"What are they?" Burke asked curiously.

"The bonds." Neal answered, taking the papers from Peter's hands and flipping them over so they were right - side - up.

"There are six bonds here. Only three went missing. Which means three of these are fogeries." The pieces came together in Peter's mind. His head snapped up to look the con - man in the eyes.

"You're signing your own arrest warrent, Neal."

"I know Agent Burke. But I can't run anymore. Merry Christmas, Agent Burke." Neal spun on his heal and began to walk away.

"Peter. Call me Peter." Neal turned around and smiled at the Agent.

"Merry Christmas Peter." He said before walking away again. But something seemed trouble him. Once again he stopped again to talk to his soon - to - be - captor.

"Central Park. Three P.M on Monday. I'll be looking at the new statues they have on display." Neal paused for a second, and flipped his fedora in his hands. Placing it back on his head at a smart angle. He walked away.

"I'll see you there Agent Burke."

"Neal! Merry Christmas Neal." Peter called to the forger's receding form. Peter shook his head and left the loft, going through what had just happened in his mind. He didn't want to arrest Neal any more, but there was nothing he could do. It was killing the man to be running. Peter sighed and headed home.