Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar. No profit here, I'm just playing in their world to fight off the withdrawal during hiatus. Thanks to those who create the real White Collar TV show.

Welcome to a Halloween inspired story - with our imperfect heroes getting into trouble as usual. I did a bit of research on the crimes/issues involved, but no guarantees on accuracy. Any resemblance to actual events or crimes is purely coincidental.

Neal clenched and unclenched his fist, considering the risks. The straightforward art forgery ring had gotten more complicated when he'd realized how the art was forged.

"It's just so wrong!" He complained fiercely.

Peter noted his indignation. "Paint by number forgeries? In this day and age, I'm not surprised."

"No skill required." Neal was taking it as a personal insult to real art forgers and artists.

"What you should be worried about is who is doing it. They may not like doing it either."

"What do you mean?" Neal's eyes narrowed. He took the file Peter handed him and shock hit his face.

"Do you mean...it's an art forgery sweatshop?"

"We think so. That information was uncovered by an NYPD vice unit. They hit the place trying to uncover a prostitution ring. They found not only the ring, but the sweatshop attached."

"So most of the girls are forced into prostitution, but the older ones..."

"They are forced into the forgery. Men too. It looks like they've tricked illegal aliens in, offering even husband and wife or brother a sister a job and help getting into the country. Then they get here and are separated..."

Anger flashed on the younger man's features. "And this guy, this Rinzon is the top guy."

"Or at least pretty high up the food chain in the US."

Neal breathed deeply. "How do we prove it?" He winced and sucked in a breath as horrific photos leaped out at him. A terrified young asian girl covered in bruises. An older man, skin and bones with bruises and paint splotches on his hands.

Peter looked uncomfortable. "You're already in as a fine art consultant. And Rinzon invited you to the costume party at his place on Halloween. I'm going in with you as your main client."

Neal glanced up. "Why are you coming in? And what are the costumes?"

"Costumes we haven't decided on yet. But we'll think of something. Maybe you could go in stripes with a ball and chain."

"Very funny." Neal scowled. But I notice you're avoiding the why."

Peter shifted uneasily and Neal realized he was not happy with the assignment. "I'd rather you weren't in there alone."

Neal frowned. "Don't you trust me?" His tone was light but he was confused. They had plenty of trust issues but this seemed different.

"I don't trust them. Neal..." Peter let out a slow breath. "This seems to work both ways. There is some evidence..." He hesitated again. "Well, the NYPD had sent someone in before and they disappeared. Not killed mind you, but vanished. The last evidence they had was that their undercover operative was taken out of the country."

His brown eyes peered at Caffrey with concern. "If they think someone is...well, the right type...they'll kidnap them and sell them overseas. Or use them in one of the operations over there at least."

Neal just kept blinking at Peter, absorbing this unwelcome news.

"We didn't know this when we first sent you undercover. But if they think they can get a good price, they'll look for another art dealer..."

"Um." Neal swallowed. He'd faced plenty of dangerous situations. But Peter's unease was a warning in itself. He felt this was too dangerous, that something could go wrong. Neal didn't always take Peter's advice, admittedly, he often ignored it. But he didn't ignore the danger. If Peter's instincts were warning him, he'd be a fool to discount it. He felt cold in the pit of his stomach.

"If you want out...we'll try and find an alternative." Peter said suddenly.

Neal glanced up. Peter wanted out, he could see that. But all those people forced to work against their will, plus the insulting nature of the art forgeries made him angry. "I'd love to back out. But this is our best shot isn't it? And..." his lips tightened. "If ever there was a group I'd love to see go down, this is it. You've got my back right?"

"Always. As long as your working with me not against me."

The party was at a mansion with an amazing amount of ground, considering this was New York. Backup was in the van but it was pretty far from the main house.

Elizabeth's idea that he and Peter go in as Butch and Sundance was pretty clever, Neal had to admit. Peter would even have an excuse to carry a pair of guns although Neal's would be fake. Neal had suggested a few modifications to the costumes for emergencies and they were good to go.

"How come you get the real six shooters and I get fakes?" the younger man grumbled.

"Because you hate guns and you are a felon. Remember?" Peter observed, smiling innocently as he and Neal proceeded into the party. "Why want one now?"

"I've had a creepy feeling ever since you gave me more details. Just because I hate them doesn't mean I won't defend myself."

"That's what I'm here for. Although I do wish I had my regular weapon."

"Better use your best shooting if you've only got twelve shots, Butch." Neal's eyes roved the crowd of party goers as they entered. "We might be outnumbered."