Details: I have always wanted to do a piece such as this, so here it is! And this is my first story in the White Collar department, so go easy.

Summary: While working on a case involving a child trafficker, Peter gets an unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of our favourite little con as a child! :)

Disclaimer: It is not mine, and I do not own USA Network, for if I did, In Plain Sight's season would be longer.

Question (I took this from amourdemavie39, so thank you!) for readers: Who saw the finale of that show last night, if you watch it. And also, how do you think that this finale is going to play out? Discuss in the review box!

This is the PROLOGUE! If you like it, please review and tell me if I should continue.

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Peter walked heavily down his wooden staircase, footsteps pounding against the hard wood. He readjusted his plain grey t-shirt, so it was situated properly over his broad chest, and ran a hand through his unruly morning hair. He had rolled out of bed only moments before, and his vision hadn't quite adjusted to the light barreling in through the window panes. He shivered against the cool morning air, escaping from beneath the door frame, and seeping into the Burke household. He yawned, swiping the drool from his chin, and rubbed his eyes like a small child waking up from it's afternoon nap. His movements were lethargic for he hadn't slept well the previous night. He was too wired from the case he and his team were working on; a child trafficker who also seemed to be skilled in forging passports and documents for the kids he sold. That was how it had become a Peter Burke and Co. case. He could not stop thinking about finding the man, and the satisfying feeling that he would receive after slapping the handcuffs around the flesh of his wrists. He had powered through three FBI "coffee straight from hell" as Neal had dubbed it, fueled all-nighters before Elle had finally convinced him to come home and get some rest, which unfortunately he did not. His team was tired and so was he.

I am going to nab that son of a bitch if it is the last thing I do, he thought to himself as he continued down the stairs, feet slapping against the floor. This case had set his entire team on edge, none of them particularly enjoyed chasing a man who sold kids for fun, especially Neal. For some strange reason, the con had seemed withdrawn during the entire mission; he hadn't even complained when he spent the majority of the time in the crappy van. It had worried Peter, for the entire state of New York knew how much Neal hated the van.

He shook his head to himself, quietly pondering if it was something he should pursue, or just let his friend work it out on his own. Peter had decided to wait until after breakfast, and perhaps get Elle's opinion about what he should do. He paused on the end of the banister, stretching his aching back out. He groaned at the popping noise his creaky old bones made as he moved them, and also at the fact that he was now at the age where he had been forced to call them old. He sighed, scratched at the stubble forming at the base of his jaw, and walked slowly into the living room.

He followed his nose towards the kitchen. The air was filled with the thick heavenly smell of coffee, wafting in from the kitchen. It was Sunday, which meant that Elle made a delicious breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a steaming cup of pitch black coffee, all waiting for him beyond the swinging white frame door. Another perk about Sunday, was that it was crossword day. He enjoyed the intellectual challenged they posed for him, as well as the fact that they always relaxed Peter and forced him to focus.

He wandered past his bookshelf, but paused, an unknown sound sent his FBI senses tingling. It sounded like someone singing, right outside his front door. Peter picked up a book from his shelf, knowing that it contained a back up Glock in case of emergencies. He eased it from between the pages, and crept towards the door. He raised the gun, counted to three mentally, and turned the door knob.

"Freeze, FBI!" He shouted, gun drawn, as he rushed out his oak door.

A small child sat on his front porch, happily singing "Row Row Row your boat" and swinging his feet too and from the step. He paused when Peter had shouted at him. Tiny blue orbs peeked out from behind a mop of messy brown curls, full of curiosity and slight irritation that someone had interrupted his singing. He was dressed in a light grey suit that hung loosely around his thin, tiny frame. His shirt was untucked and brown stains floated freely upon it, pants rumpled, yet his shoes weren't scuffed, which indicated that the child hadn't walked here, which Peter doubted that he was even old enough too. Around his tiny neck haphazardly hung an ocean blue tie, that closely resembled his sky blue irises.

"Pe-er?" he asked cautiously. He seemed a little frightened. Then a happy grin spread across his lips, and his cheeks gained a little red colour to them. The child recognized him. He reached out his fragile little arms towards Peter, expecting to be picked up.

It dawned on him who this child was. "Neal? What happened to you?" He asked quietly, as he lowered his weapon.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Neal is hot,

You know the spot,

To leave me a review,

If you do, I'll love you!

Get pumped ladies and gentleman, the Summer Finale occurs tomorrow! :))))))))))))