Author's Note: Please be advised that I have added more to this introduction since originally posting on 11/27. I'm hoping to a weave a narrative of Neal and Kate if they were able to be together in the present (you know, without the minor setback of the plane explosion). I am working as I go, and look forward to your feedback!

PROLOGUE

Kate stood silently on the corner of Madison and 59th, a sea of yellow cabs and black town cars swirling behind her.

"Say something," Neal whispered.

Kate blinked, incapable of any reaction requiring words.

"Please, Kate."

"You've been lying this whole time," Kate squeaked, her tone conflicted between hurt and anger. "Everything you've said from the moment you conned your way into Adler's office has been a lie."

"That's not true," Neal countered.

"This," Kate said softly, gesturing between them, "Is a lie." "I didn't go to Chicago, for you- for Nick!" her words becoming heated. "Everything I've done since I've met you is not real." Kate lowered her eyes to the ground. "Nick's not real," she said, disappointment resonating with each word.

"I'm real," Neal offered. "I've lied about a lot of things, Kate, but to you, only my name."

"You lied about who you are!"

"Kate," Neal whispered, his blue eyes glittering in the Manhattan sun, "This is real."

"This," Kate gestured again, pointing first at Neal and then toward their former office building, "Is a Shakespearean tragedy."

Neal smiled. "A girl who likes the classics. We can make this work," he offered, his grin widening. "We can be a team. Neal and Kate."

Kate couldn't help but allow her lips to curl into a grin. "Neal Caffrey," she smiled, extending her hand. "It's very nice to meet you."

...

"Oh jeez," Peter said, exasperated. Rolling his head uncomfortably above his shoulders, Peter focused his eyes on Neal. "I know that look."

"Huh?" Neal breathed, startled from his daydream.

"You tend to grin like an idiot when you think about Kate," Peter explained. "You gotta stop living in the past, Neal. If Kate wants back in your life, she knows where to find you." Peter grinned. "If you want, I can send a carrier pigeon with your coordinates right now."

"I'm pretty sure I don't have to tell you what is and isn't misappropriation of FBI resources," Neal quipped, "But in case you were on the fence, carrier pigeon probably falls into the latter— but if you need one, I know a guy."

"Do I want to know— you know what?" Peter asked shaking his head, "Don't tell me."

...

"June is lovely," Kate smiles, mentally scanning Neal's apartment in the hopes of finding it free of any paper flowers. Kate's eyes move from the bookshelf to the terrace. "This is quite the Poet's Garret you have here."

Neal pauses, a boyish smile creeping across his face. "To a better life," he grins, raising his beer toward Kate.

"The Neal Caffrey I knew had a much more refined palette."

"The Neal Caffrey you knew kept a safe distance from Peter Burke- a distance that generally did not include frequent home visits and surprises in my refrigerator."

"The Neal Caffrey I knew wore considerably less jewelry," Kate countered, pointing towards Neal's anklet.

A pang of guilt shot through Kate. Of course Neal wasn't always on the FBI's short leash- she effectively strapped that band around Neal's ankle. She disappeared- twice- and now Neal was subject to Peter's invisible fencing.

"It's not your fault, Kate." Neal said softly, interrupting her thoughts.

"You were searching for me," she whispered. "If the FBI hadn't tipped you off-"

"If the FBI hadn't tipped me off I would have never found you," Neal finished.

"I don't think Peter likes me very much," Kate offered, unsure of what to say next.

"You pulled a gun on him, Kate." Neal pulled his beer bottle to his lips and smiled. "Plus I think he's not used to sharing me."

"Oh really?" Kate challenged, raising an eyebrow at Neal.

"Really," Neal stated matter-of-factly.

...

"I don't trust her, Elizabeth," Peter spurts, twisting a corkscrew into a bottle of red wine with more force than necessary. Distracted, he takes a glass from his wife. "Every time I think I'm getting through to Neal something, or someone, pops up and he goes right back to toying with throwing it all away."

"Peter, you just have to trust him," Elizabeth sighs. Her husband had become uncharacteristically temperamental since teaming up with Neal. When Peter and Neal were away from the office, Elizabeth was left to moderate their middle school antics.

"I can't," Peter said defeated, firmly planting his glass on the table for emphasis. "Not with her in the picture."

"You've got Neal's ankle, and Kate gets the rest of him."

"Whoever negotiated those terms is a terrible divorce attorney," Peter stated, walking over to the TV. "You and I," Peter indicated, waiving a hand towards his wife, "Are in it for the long haul. I want more than your ankle." Peter smiled, pushing in the power button on the TV, "I'm going to need this too," He grinned, pointing to the illuminated screen.