The Thin Line

A White Collar Fanfiction

Part 1

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When was the first time they met, you ask?

Life holds many wonders, you see. Special Agent Peter Burke could only contemplate that idea as he waited for Neal Caffrey's signal, the young con-man's last flashy smile still fresh in his mind.

As worry began to itch its way through him and he grew yet more agitated, he began to think again of the funny twists of fate – of the thin line between rivalry and friendship, between a cop and a criminal... between life and death!

How a criminal he spent a good amount of his career tracking down became the closest friend - no brother, a person he would, without a single hesitation, lay his life to protect, was beyond him.

He sighed again, impatience eating at him like a disease, "What the hell is taking you too long Neal!"

He eyed the building that Neal had disappeared into not three hours ago and contemplated the thought of barging in with his men right then and there.

Fate however, had other plans.

A whisp of air, a blink, and then, suddenly, a force so powerful shook the world around them - a blast that erupted from the building they were about to bust and shattered the silence of the heavy day... the very building Neal was in at that moment.

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On the floor, ears still ringing and red spots dangerously hovering over his vision, one thought kept madly pounding on the walls of Peter's skull: Neal was in there!

He climbed to his feet with a strength he did not know he possessed and made his way with dangerously shaky strides toward the building being devoured mercilessly by angry flames in front of his eyes. He made few successful steps forward before hands held him back and stopped him.

Voices spoke to him but he tried to shake them off just as he was feverishly trying to shake off the hands that were holding him back. They did not understand that Neal was still in there..still trapped... still in need of his help... his protection. It was his job to protect him.

"Sir... Sir!" The voices were getting clearer... and noisier.

Peter looked up and locked eyes with those trying to prevent him from rescuing Neal.

Jones could see the anger and despair radiating from Peter's eyes but he did not let go. "It's too late; We can't do anything."

Peter said nothing, his eyes then seemed to be glued to the building being rapidly eaten by flames. His ragged breathing quickened matching his wildly beating heart. A moment passed and Peter slowly dropped his head, his strength leaving him at once. Jones loosened his hold as he nodded to the other guy to let go. Peter let Jones lead him to the car and allowed himself to be seated. His hands shook as he closed his eyes.

Nothing seemed real.

Peter wanted to go in there - to barge into the blaze of fire and search for Neal, but he was scared... more of what he might (or might not) find than anything else; not scared; terrified - so terrified in fact that his legs could barely hold him.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. People talked. Voices. Pats on the shoulder. Sirens. Paramedics. Firefighters came and went...

His eyes were open but he didn't seem to see. More time passed, then he finally heard the news - the news he was afraid he'd hear: No survivors!

But he said nothing.

They were finally able to put down the fire. The paramedics were finishing patching him up when he heard her voice. He looked up, and indeed, she was there.

"Elizabeth!" He was surprised he still had a voice. How was she allowed in here?

She touched his face and hugged him.

For a moment he just buried his face in her arms and savored her warmth, but then he tore himself from her comforting hug, held her hand, looked into her eyes, and told her what he couldn't tell himself, "He's gone! I couldn't save him. I couldn't protect him!"

"No," She held his face and tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault... that he couldn't have stopped it, but all her words were lost in the flow of tears running down her face.

Yes, his wife Elizabeth was one of the people Neal Caffrey managed to touch. She too had fallen victim to the handsome criminal's charm. Peter didn't know how or when, but Neal had managed to touch all their lives... and hearts. Him, Elizabeth, June...!

Yes June, the lady that owns the house Neal lives - lived- in. He had managed to touch her heart too, and now Peter is left with the cruel duty of telling her the news. There was also Alex and Mozzie.

Mozzie? Peter turned his head and sure enough, Moz was still there, standing in the background, waiting for something - something Peter cannot give.

Peter dropped his head. Neither man approached the other; neither of them having the courage to confront or deal with what happened. They both cared for Neal a great deal. Their love for the young con-man was what connected them, and now, Peter realized, they have nothing. They will be strangers again, just like they used to be.

"Peter are you okay? Please talk to me!"

He could tell his wife was worried... her voice.. her teary eyes.

"I'm fine," he said in a voice that could hardly convince a toddler. "Go home. I'll catch you later."

"But you're hurt..you need.."

But he wasn't listening anymore. His head hurt, and dark thoughts kept invading his mind without mercy.

God, it hurts! It hurts so much that he wanted to scream and beat the wall so hard, his hands would bleed. It hurts so bad, he could hardly breathe or think or cry!

The sound of his ringing cell-phone penetrated his mind's fog. His first thought was to grab the phone and smash it against the wall until it shatters into tiny pieces, but then, the the sound brought forth an inexplicable sensation... a flicker of hope – a tiny ray of light that halted his descent to self-destruction.

With shaky hands he lifted the phone to his ears without checking the caller's ID.

"Burke!"

Silence was his reply for a slow moment, then an unfamiliar voice spoke, "He's alive."

Peter's head snapped to attention, and his hand squeezed the phone so hard, it almost broke.

"What? Who is this?"

"He's alive," the voice repeated, "but tell anyone and he won't be anymore!"

Peter swallowed as he stood up on surprisingly steady feet. Elizabeth and Jones exchanged looks.

"Who is this!" Peter demanded again.

"Wait for my call."

Peter stood still.

"Sir is everything okay?"

Peter's eyes seemed to flash for a moment, and he turned, "Yeah, everything's fine. It was a prank call."

But Elizabeth, Moz, Diana and even Jones caught the flicker of life in Peter's eyes; however, none of them said anything.

"Honey, go home. I'll be fine," Peter told his wife.

This time Elizabeth said nothing. She nodded and kissed his cheek before leaving. Peter immediately snapped back to work. He followed the regular procedure of investigating the explosion and ordering his men around. It was almost like nothing had happened... almost!

In reality, Peter didn't know what he was doing. A voice in the back of his head told him to do something about the mysterious call. Told him to trace the call and to trust his men, but Peter followed a feeling deep in his guts, and that told him to wait.

He continued to work as he always did, only this time his hand was holding his cell as if for dear life.

Indeed, an hour later his cell phone rang again. In a flash it was on his ear. The same voice spilled an address then told him to come alone or else.

Peter was heading for his car before the call even ended, barking an order or two on his way. "I'll be back," he finally said, "Continue what you're doing. Get me something. I want to know who's behind this."

Diana and Jones exchanged worried glances but otherwise said nothing. They watched silently as Peter hurriedly got into his car and sped away.

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The sun was slowly setting as he reached the address. It was a semi-deserted area, not far from where he was. Peter sighed as he exited his car. The thought of this being such a bad idea crossed his mind briefly.

This was so not like him; it was ridiculous! He does not jump into action without backup or a plan. It was like Neal not him to act so impulsively... but at that moment, he didn't care.

He eyed the rundown building before he entered. There were two old men sitting at a table near the main entrance drinking. They eyed him suspiciously, their conversation paused.

Peter ignored them as he headed for the stairs and climbed them quickly, gun ready in hand. The room specified by the caller, number 12, was in front of him. He took in a deep breath, cracked his gun, but before he made a move, the room's small wooden door was opened and a tall muscular man greeted him. The stranger scanned the gun with what Peter could only call boredom. He then stepped back and opened the door further, silently inviting the FBI agent in. Peter hesitated for a second before he stepped inside.

The small room was dimly lit with a window, a small wooden table with a single chair and a bed... a bed on which the young man he grieved for not a moment ago lay very still. Peter froze, his eyes unable to leave the unconscious figure of his friend, his gun still in hand but forgotten.

"He's alive," a second man whose voice Peter hazily recognized as the mysterious caller assured him, "Go ahead, check him over yourself."

As on cue, Peter went to the bed, his hand shook as he touched Neal's face. It felt cool to the touch. His hand traveled lower and rested on the young man's neck, there Peter closed his eyes in relief as he felt a strong pulse.

"He inhaled a good amount of smoke, hit his head – probably has a concussion, and nasty bruises on his chest and abdomen that need to be checked ASAP."

Peter finally allowed his gaze to leave his unconscious friend and travel to the mysterious man now standing in front of him. Coal black hair matted with gray and piercing and strangely familiar blue eyes greeted him.

That was the first time Peter Burke met him: The first time he met Neal Caffrey's father.

TBC

Comments and feedback are very much appreciated and welcomed :)

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