A/N: I've been working on this for the past couple of weeks, and I thought I would post the first chapter. I have about three chapters written so far, so it shouldn't be a long wait for updates. The chapters are somewhat short, but they will get longer as the story progresses.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the hammy down clothes I am wearing. They were my sisters.

He ran as fast as he could, the heavy brown backpack bouncing up and down as he went. He bumped into people, who had yelped in surprise. Those people were met with muttered apologies as Neal ran along the crowded sidewalk, trying to escape from them.

He had to get away from them, before they realized who he was and what he stole from them. If they found him… well it wouldn't end well, to say the least.

Glancing back, Neal realized that the goons from the warehouse were hot on his trail. He sped up, no realizing who was in front of him. With the push and pull of the sidewalk traffic, Neal hadn't seen the man holding a tray of hot coffees in his hands. Instantly the two collided and the hot brown liquid spilled in every direction –most went on the man's suit though-.

"I am so sorry!" Neal said, helping the man to his feet. He felt slightly embarrassed for knocking the man over, but there was little he could do about it now. Save for apologizing and moving on.

A curse escaped the man's lips as he tried to wipe the coffee off his clothing. When he realized that just wiping it off with his hands wouldn't work, the man looked at Neal with subdued annoyance.

The man seemed to realize that it was just a kid he was dealing with and he quickly looked away. He said, "Its fine… Just watch where you're going next time, okay kid?"

Neal nodded at him and apologized once more. He knew that if he stuck around much longer the men from the warehouse would come after him. Neal took a glance behind him, to see if the men had spotted him. Thankfully they were looking in the opposite direction.

"Who were you running from anyways?" The man asked, as if he was beyond caring that his suit was ruined.

"What makes you say I was running from someone?" Neal asked, he kept his tone both cool and elusive. He had no idea who this man was, but he knew that whoever he was, wasn't good.

"Well for starters… those two guys over there seem pretty interested in you." Neal looked back and he bit back a frown because damn it, the men had noticed him and they were headed his way.

Neal looked over at the man, trying to discern just what the man's profession was. He didn't have to look hard though, the man had a gun holstered on his side and a badge was clipped to his belt. Add those two features with the bad tie hung around his neck…. Neal's shoulders stiffened a bit, but he hoped the man didn't notice. He was a fed! A no-good dirty rotten fed! Neal couldn't wait to tell Mozzie… The look on his paranoid friend's face would be priceless.

Suddenly the man's phone began to ring. It had been thankfully saved from the spilt coffee and as soon as the man answered it and looked away, Neal escaped from his sight and disappeared down an alley.

"This is Burke." The man said, averting his gaze from the teenager who had ran into him.

"Peter, we found something… something you need to see. Get up here as fast as you can." The man on the other line said. He sounded somewhat excited to be the one who informed Peter about the new update in the case.

Peter bit back a sigh. There was no way that he would be able to go home and change now that there had been an update on the case. He said before hanging up, "Yeah Jones, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Peter finally glanced back to where the kid had been standing only to realize that he wasn't there. He had somehow snuck past and had disappeared. Peter took a quick look around before a frown appeared on his face. Both the boy and the men who were after him were gone.

With the frown still planted on his face, Peter started to make his way to the Federal Building, where both new clothes and an update on the case were waiting for him.

WCWCWC

After many odd looks and long explanations, Peter finally made it to the 21st floor, which housed none other than the White Collar Division of the F.B.I. They had been investigating a jewelry heist, one that had little to no evidence left behind and had all of the marks of a professional job. Peter had drawn the short straw and was forced to buy his team coffee from the shop down the street. Coffee that was now split all over his suit.

"What do you got Jones?" Peter asked, his eyes already peering at the computer screen that was in front of him. He didn't bother explaining his wet clothing; he was sure that by now everyone in the office would know what happened.

"I was looking through the security footage, trying to see if our thief got himself caught on camera." Jones played through the first few minutes of the tape, which showed no one entering or leaving the safe, which the owners had thought to be impenetrable.

After the five minute mark though, someone entered the vault. Jones zoomed in on the figure, until they saw a crisper image of the thief. Peter's eyes widened in shock at the size of the thief. He looked like a teenager. The thief was wearing a ski mask, but that didn't stop Peter from recognizing the teenage thief. He immediately flashed back to a few minutes earlier, when that kid ran into him. He paused the tape, and looked at the thief. Really, really looked at him.

It was the teenager from before, the one who had made the coffee spill everywhere. He was the one who stole the jewels.