Hey guys! This is my first White Collar fanfic but I felt a need to write it. I LOVE White Collar and am super upset it's over. However, I am even more upset that we never knew more about Neal's backstory! Who was his mother? What was it like growing up in witness protection? Did he have anyone else? What was the final straw that turned him to crime? Who taught him along the way? SO many questions! Well… here is my version to the answers…

WARNINGS: DEATH, BLOOD, ABUSE...probably more.

Chapter One

Just Another Day at Work

Neal held the dark leather case close as he strolled through the glass door. His FBI watch rested reassuringly against his wrist as he was scanned for bugs by a fairly attractive woman in a black dress.

"Now that you know we are alone, how about we get down to business?" Neal says in slight annoyance. He knows he should be on his "A" game since its a case, however he feels slightly ill and this was his third undercover opp in a row. He was tired.

"Why the rush Mr. Carlton?" the woman asks flirtatiously. Neal restrains himself from rolling his eyes. This woman was handsy from the start, another thing he was tiring of.

"I have dinner plans with my wife Ms. Johnson. I wouldn't want to disappoint her on our anniversary," he easily lies. The woman pouts before seemingly accepting his excuse. She turns on her ridiculously tall heels and grabs a silver case just behind the marble counter she stood in front of.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she smiles and winks at Neal. This time he can't help the forced smile that takes his face, it was better than an eye roll at least. He lays his case next to hers and flips the metal latches and looks to her expectantly. She does the same and they open the cases at the same time. She cooes at the full case of money Neal holds and Neal releases a breath of relief at the sight of the painting he was to recover.

"Well, it would appear that everything is in order," Neal says the practiced line in confirmation so the team could move in and end this, however it didn't quite go as planned.

The FBI moved in but Neal missed the gun tucked under the painting. The woman, Ms. Johnson, held it to his temple while pulling him close to her.

"I'm sorry to say that you won't be making it to that dinner Mr. Carlton," she hisses into his ear. Neal suddenly wishes he were nicer to the woman, or that he had at least checked the case.

"Lower your weapon now!" Peter bellowed in warning. The woman did something that set everyone on edge, she laughed.

"I suggest you lower yours agent, or I shoot your partner where we stand," she threatens. Neal's eyes catch Peters and fear strikes both men.

"You don't want to do that," Diane says from behind the woman.

"And why not? If you're here, you know I killed one man. Why not make it two?" she threatens turning so that her back was to the counter and Neal's body shielded hers.

"Look, I can help you. We can figure out a deal, a way to make this better. However, if you shoot him, then I will personally make sure you go away for a long time," Peter promises. The woman ponders for a moment before nodding.

"Okay," she says beginning to lower her gun. Peter cautiously steps forward but she raises her arm quickly in attempt to fire. Time slows as Neal quickly turns and pulls her arm toward himself. The bullet hits him center mass and throws him into the counter where his head hits with a sickening crack. Peter leaps forward to grab the woman's gun but she fires again, this time the bullet hits Neal in the head. Before she can make a third, Diane takes her out with a single shot through the chest. That was three shots, two of which were in Neal Caffrey.

"AGENT DOWN ALL UNITS MOVE IN, I NEED THE PARAMEDICS STAT!" Peter commands. He rushes to his partners side and hovers over his paling body. He nearly cries when his eyes meet Neals, still open.

"Hey buddy, can you move your fingers for me?" Peter nearly begs. Neal looks at him confused before grabbing Peters hand and saying "Yea." Peter shakes his head vigorously.

"No Neal, don't try to talk right now. You stay awake but try not to move your head or face," Peter pleads. Neal looks at him in further confusion. Peter avoids his gaze and presses his free hand to the bleeding wound on Neals chest.

"Why?" Neal asked, then he felt blood in his eye. His hand shakily rose to it before Peter intercepted it from going any further.

"I was shot t-twice wasn't I?" He asks voice wavering. Peter chokes back a sob that suddenly rose to his throat.

"It'll be okay buddy, you're going to be fine. Don't worry," Peter says grasping Neals hand. Neals body begins to shake just as the medics arrive, he was going into shock.

The medics are able to get him onto a stretcher after his body stills and rush out of the building. Peter followed closely, his hand grasping Neals like a lifeline.

"He was just awake a moment ago, moving his hand and talking," Peter says to no one in particular. The female medic looks to him and gives a reassuring look before telling him it was a good thing he still had function and that they would do their best. Peter was pushed out the ambulance and forced to follow behind as they began attaching all sorts of devices to Neal. He gave little protest, as time was of the essence, and sped the whole way behind the ambulance.