Disclaimer: White Collar and its characters belong to Jeff Eastin and USA Network, not me.
A/N: This is just a short little story I came up with. I was in a sort of sad mood so I just wrote this to cheer myself up. It's pre-series, when Peter started his 3-year search for Neal. Read and review please! ^^
The first time Peter had ever seen Neal the man was practically breathless from running, yet was still managing a faster pace than the agent. His feet slapped against the floor and his arms swung wildly by his sides and the wind was swirling around the too, a fierce current that was working hard against them. Neal did everything in his power to shake Peter off, but the older man stayed close behind him and after a while there came a point when Neal simply couldn't run anymore. He darted down an alleyway and scrambled up a fire escape, standing on the first landing he came to and leaning his arms against the rusted rail as he tried to catch his breath.
Peter stood underneath the fire escape and stared up at the man, whose tired blue eyes glistened in the night. Peter took a moment to compose himself and then he took on a proud kind of stance with his fists resting on his hips and his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a straight line. He watched Neal carefully as the young conman straightened his back so he could stand a little taller, still keeping his fingers wrapped around the rusty railing, and one corner of his mouth twitched into a sly half-smile.
"You have two options here," Peter said, his voice stretching through the air and bouncing off of the brick walls of the buildings surrounding them. Peter couldn't tell due to the distance between them, but he thought he saw Neal raise an eyebrow.
"Oh?" he said. "And what are they?"
"You come down here and let me arrest you, or I chase you around a little more and then I arrest you. Either way, I am going to arrest you. Your choice how it happens."
Neal's smile was full now, lighting up his entire exhausted face, and he let go of the railing and stepped back on the metal landing, the whole of the fire escape moaning and shaking as he moved, and he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head in thoughtful consideration. As Neal's hand slowly moved towards the pocket of his pants, Peter's own hand moved towards his holstered gun. Was that a flicker of fear he saw in Caffrey's eyes?
"I'm not carrying," Neal announced and Peter stopped reaching for his weapon. "I hate guns."
Neal slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. He unfolded it and checked over the message before following the creases and letting the paper flutter down the concrete ground. A smirk played across his face as he gripped a rung on the next ladder of the fire escape.
"By the way," he said. "I like option number two."
And in an instant the young man swung up onto the ladder and swiftly climbed up it. He took long strides across the second landing and then scampered right up the next ladder, and he continued this until Peter couldn't see his shadow form anymore.
Of course, there was a part of the agent's mind that told him to go after Caffrey immediately, take him down now, put him in handcuffs and drive him down to the jail. But then another, more adventurous part of him told him to let the man go. Clearly, he was being challenged. Peter didn't feel like he really got challenged enough this days, each case he was handed being controlled by a criminal who was like a carbon copy of the last one. But Neal Caffrey, he was certainly different. He was smart and he definitely knew what he was doing. Tracking him down would be difficult, but that would just make arresting him all the more satisfying.
Peter took a step towards the paper that Caffrey had dropped. He bent down and unfolded it so carefully you might think it was made of glass. He read the words Neal had scrawled across paper.
Good luck finding me. This should be fun.
xoxo, Neal