CONTEST TIME: All right readers, I need your help. As you may have noticed, this story is without a title. I have no idea what to name it. That's where you come in. Read a chapter or two and let me know what you think is a good title for this story. I'll choose the one I think best suits the story and shall entitle it as such and will announce the winner. I really do need your help for this one so please give me your ideas. Thanks.
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Chapter 1:
What do you get someone who has the power to get anything he wanted?
Peter Burke had no idea.
Peter glanced at the small calendar on his desk and was reminded of the short amount of time left before Christmas. And he had yet to get a gift for one of the most important people in life.
His friend and partner, Neal Caffrey.
Of course, there was no rule claiming that he had to get the ex-convict anything. If he wanted to, he could just watch the numbers on his calendar change until the bold font read 25 and feel not the least bit concerned that he didn't exchange a gift with his consultant. If he wanted to, he could choose not to worry of feel anxious about deciding what gift to get or to go through the hassle of shopping to find the perfect gift for Neal.
But he didn't want to.
There are certain things friends do for one another and one of them was to get a gift for that friend for Christmas. Neal was Peter's friend and Peter damned sure was going to get him a gift. The kid deserved it. Besides, sometimes a prettily wrapped box topped with a bright bow could say words Peter didn't feel comfortable saying or words that his pride wouldn't let him speak. Like: Thanks for all your hard work. Or, good job for keeping clean. Or, most importantly, I'm proud of you.
A present represented much more than the tradition of gift-giving at Christmas. Sure, in the days of youth, Christmas was only about the presents; getting the most expensive gadget, something to show off to the other kids. But as the juvenile and superficial slipped away with age, gifts became to mean more than a contest. Gifts were symbols of love; tokens of gratitude. Gifts were bought with the thought of the person: what they could use; what would make them happy.
And Peter wanted to make Neal happy. The poor kid had had it rough, what with the death of a loved one and having spent the previous four years in jail and the three before that on the run. Peter wanted to get something that would bring back the old shine in Neal's eyes and a genuine smile on his face.
But what?
Neal had the charm to con someone to get him what he wanted and the skill to steal it if charm failed. He lived in a wealthy house with a wealthy and kind widow. He donned expensive and fashionable suits and drank the finest wine and coffee New York had to offer. He took his breakfast out on the balcony with the fantastic view of the city as his guest. He had looks that could seduce any woman and the silver tongue that could control any conversation. He had a smile that could melt hearts and eyes that could capture souls. He had the talent to conjure any picture he could think of onto a white canvas. He had resources that could get him any information he required.
He had everything.
And yet, he had so little.
It's not always the objects acquired within a lifetime that makes life worthwhile, but the people that share that life and make it worth living.
Peter didn't know anything about Neal's parents: where they were, how they treated Neal, or even if they were alive. The only woman Neal truly and sincerely loved was dead. There was only one person in the whole world Neal truly and sincerely trusted with a second close behind.
Neal could have whatever he wanted. But that was just it. He had everything. That was all he had. Things. What good are things that can't be shared with another? What good was it to have everything but to be alone?
And to add salt to the wound, Neal didn't even have his freedom. He was trapped within a two-mile radius of the FBI building and if he overstepped that boundary, he was chased down, arrested, and risked a trip back to jail.
All that taken into account, Peter really wanted to get Neal something worth having; not just another item to be thrown onto the pile with the many countless others. Peter wanted to get Neal something that mattered to the ex-con. Something memorable.
Peter blinked as the idea came to him.
He knew what he wanted to get Neal.
Peter glanced at the office where his boss sat, working diligently. Now all he had to do was convince Hughes to go along with his plan.
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I'm sure you've all just been diagnosed with diabetes from all the sweetness.
While we may know what a gift is supposed to mean, we may still care more about what the gift is rather than what it means. Let's just pretend that, in this story, what a gift represents means more than what the gift is. The real world's a little different.
Anyway, please enlighten me about a title for this fic if you're so inclined. Thanks.
Until next time,
Hobey-Ho
