A/N: Spoilers for entire series from very beginning.

A/N2: My first White Collar piece! This is a long one, so a couple of warnings for lovely readers: First, this is going to be a slooooooow burn. Please be patient with me, and it. Early chapters will closely follow the show, with a little bit of additional perspective and internal insight. I'm hoping it will be fun to rehash some of what we love while developing the AU part of the story slowly. Second, this is not a PWP. That's not what I write. I'm more of a "fade to black" kind of girl. If you're looking for quick pairing action, this is not the piece for you. Again, patience will serve you well and, I hope, will be worth it. Third, I have an extraordinarily demanding full time job and four (yes, four) part time jobs to pay my bills. I couldn't wait to get the first couple of pieces up, but this is a rough time of the year for my main job so again, please be patient. I'll do my best to update regularly but if you hate to be left hanging, maybe wait until it's complete. Finally, I revised the timeline from the actual show to make more sense; dates indicated line up with a realistic timeline and not when the show actually aired.

A/N3: I own nothing.

Chapter One: Prologue

June 2014

Peter Burke's arm vibrated from the recoil of the killing shot, but he barely noticed.

He watched as Matthew Keller crumpled to the pavement, a small red hole in the middle of his forehead. Peter only waited long enough to get a confirmation that the beat cop was taking over at the scene before he turned and sprinted back around the corner, in the direction Keller had been running from. He had one thought in his mind.

Get to Neal.

But it seemed he was too late. In front of him was a growing crowd of onlookers, surrounding an ambulance. A spear of ice snaked its way down his spine.

"Move! Move!" he shouted, pushing people aside. He ignored sounds of protests, and didn't care if he stepped on a foot or seven.

I'm coming for you, Neal.

Finally, he pushed past the people at the front of the crowd and could finally see his criminal informant. Neal Caffrey lay on a stretcher, a frighteningly large area of his chest covered in blood. An EMT was carefully but hurriedly placing gauze over his wounds. Neal's eyes were closed.

"Neal!"

Peter lunged forward, but an EMT got in his path.

"Sir, you need to step back," she said firmly, but he ignored her, reaching for Neal.

Neal's eyes opened. A blast of relief washed over him, followed by fear. Neal's captivating blue eyes looked dull and strained, and his face was too pale. Peter reached out and grabbed Neal's hand in both of his own, squeezing tight.

"Hang on, Neal. We'll get you out of this."

Neal shook his head. "I don't think so, Peter. Not this time," he said, his voice a little breathy.

"Don't say that," said Peter.

"It's okay," said Neal. "Peter, thank you. You were the only one who saw good in me. You were my best friend."

No, not were. Are. You are my best friend. My…you're more than that. Don't go. I…I love you, Peter thought desperately. But he couldn't make the words come out.

Neal's eyes closed, and Peter reflexively squeezed his own eyes shut in response. The EMT began to push at Peter. "Sir, you have to let go," she said. He felt her hands trying to pry his open, to release his grip on Neal, but he wouldn't budge. Instead, Peter clasped Neal's hand more tightly and raised it to his lips. He placed a kiss on Neal's increasingly cold knuckles.

Please. I need more time, he prayed. Another chance. I'll do it right this time. I won't let him think I don't trust him, or that he's not good enough. I'll tell him how I feel. Give me another chance. A little more time. Please.

Taking a deep breath, Peter opened his eyes.