A/N: Warning: Spoilers for Pilot (S1E1), Forging Bonds (S2E11) and Countdown (S3E10).

Beta Credit: Another fantastic clean-up by Mam711!

I do not own White Collar and all mistakes are my own.

Chapter 20: Exasperation

Day 8, 6:54am

Monday.

Monday, Monday, Monday.

It had been a week since Neal had woken up to find himself chained and caged by one of the people he trusted most.

It was going to be a long day. Mostly because he hadn't been able to sleep well and he'd finally given up at five a.m. It was almost seven now and Neal didn't expect much to happen as both Burkes had to work. He knew Peter would come by after work, because he was going to bring the identification paperwork he'd promised to let Neal look over. But 'after work' could be as late as ten or eleven that night.

So when he heard the slide of a bolt on the other side of the door as he made his way over to the chair with his newly-made coffee, he paused in place, wondering if something had happened.

Satchmo pushed through the door first, widening the opening with his broad body. The leash trailed behind him, an instant toy for Sinatra. As Satchmo sniffed at her in greeting, Sinatra lowered into a pounce-ready position before jumping clumsily in the direction of the trailing handle of the leash. She tripped as she went, landing paws and chin first on the harsh leather strap, but she didn't seem to mind. She rolled and jumped up, snaking out a paw in a swipe.

Neal took his eyes off her and looked back towards the door which had been closed behind Elizabeth.

She smiled at him. "Good morning, Neal."

He placed the coffee down on the table and returned her smile with a grin. "Morning! Stopping by on your way to work? Or did you want me to babysit Satchmo?"

Elizabeth shrugged out of her coat and laid it over the back of the couch. "No. It's been a week, Neal. Long enough. I thought we could start ... you know. Talk about things."

Neal frowned. "What about your business?"

Elizabeth walked over to the kitchen and poured herself some coffee after pulling out a mug. "Yvonne is handling it. I've told her I'm taking more hours off in the working week. Giving her more room to be creative. She loves it."

"So," Neal clarified. "You're going to be coming by each day? To talk?"

Elizabeth nodded as she watched the steam rise out of her mug.

"Without Peter?" Neal checked.

Elizabeth turned, lifting the mug after turning off the machine. "It was never meant to involve Peter. Just you and me."

Neal lowered himself onto the edge of the chair, leaning forward on his elbows. "Elizabeth ... don't take this the wrong way, but what does my life have to do with you? I mean, why... Let me put it this way: I was Peter's problem for seven years out of eleven, I can understand if he'd try to give me lessons, but none of that had anything to do with you. Why would you take it upon yourself to do this?"

Elizabeth came over with her mug and sat down next to him on the couch. She took a sip. She seemed to be considering her words carefully. "Two reasons. I care about you, Neal. And someone had to but Peter and the Bureau have already tried."

"No—n..." Neal paused. "No, Elizabeth, no one had to. Look, everyone makes their own way—"

"Neal." Elizabeth cut through. "I realize this is unconventional, and I knew you wouldn't agree, but..."

Neal raked his hair and nodded. "That's what the chain is for?"

El smiled with a gesture to say he had it in one.

"Well." Neal sat back. "All right, let's get started then."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement and put the mug down, before sliding back.

Neal waited. After a minute, he swallowed. "El?"

Elizabeth glanced at him. At Neal's raised eyebrows she nodded guiltily. "Yeah, yes. Okay, let's start at the beginning."

"Which one?" Neal asked. "Four years ago when Peter accepted my offer? Or when Peter first arrested me?"

Elizabeth regarded him for a second. "How about when you gave Peter that sucker."

Neal inhaled. "You know about that?"

Elizabeth gave him a look. And Neal nodded.

"Of course you know about that." He rolled his eyes. "Okay, what about it?"

"There are a couple of things about that sucker that, well, it says a lot about you, Neal."

"That was kind of the point," Neal replied as he scooped Sinatra onto his lap.

"Okay," Elizabeth said slowly as she shifted. "Neal, I don't know if it meant to Peter what you wanted it to mean."

Neal felt the first signs of tension settle in his forehead. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Elizabeth took a deep breath. "We talked it through..."

Approximately eleven years ago...

The woman tilted her head, looked up while letting her mouth twist, wondering. "... I suppose, I just decided one day, that I wanted to be the one who got to decide if something was good or not—because, everyone else usually ruins it for me ... you know?"

"Uh." Elizabeth looked down at her notes, not quite sure what to make of the bubblegum-chewing woman who sat across from her with an eager wide-eyed expression. "Well, thanks for telling me why you want to work for me. I will give you a call!"

Elizabeth stood up and extended a hand. "Thank you so much for your time. It was lovely to meet you."

The woman nodded, giving a self-satisfied smile. Elizabeth escorted her to the door before closing it behind her and leaning against it, weary from the ten or so interviews she'd given thus far that day.

Elizabeth looked down at the list that was attached to the clipboard in her left hand. She sighed. Only five more to go...

Elizabeth found herself sitting, listening to a mother of eight who sat before her telling her that nothing fazed her. But, of course, she might have family emergencies. And soccer games to see. And recitals to attend. And….

"I completely understand, but this job kind of requires someone able to work full time. I'm not sure it's right for you," Elizabeth said honestly, feeling guilty.

The mother nodded reluctantly. "Oh well. Thanks anyway."

"But, you know, I have a friend who is looking for an assistant secretary to cover a couple of shifts a week. I could refer you?" Elizabeth told her quickly.

The mother smiled. "That would be wonderful!"

Elizabeth smiled. But she still needed someone….

"You're not religious are you?" Another woman asked her almost as soon as she sat down.

"Why?"

"If you're religious, I can't work for you."

"Oh?" Elizabeth paused a second. "I'm sorry ... I'm definitely religious."

"So, why do you want to work for me?" Elizabeth asked for the umpteenth time that day.

"I just need a job. Hey, do you have anything against ... like ..." the young girl leaned forward, dropping her voice. "... coke?"

"...Coke?" Elizabeth repeated. "Um, no. Any beverages in the workplace are fine. Uh—no alcohol, though."

"Yeah … no." The girl shrugged, smiling wryly. "You know ... coke. The kind you … you know?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Oh." Then she leaned back and pulled out her phone, putting up a finger to indicate she needed a moment. "I'm sorry—it's on vibrate ... it's my husband ... would you mind waiting for a sec?"

Five minutes later, the police arrived.

El sighed as she informed her husband that the drug addict was gone.

"Hi."

"Hi," El answered. "So ... Yvonne?"

"Mrs. Burke." The woman smiled.

"Elizabeth is fine. So tell me, why do you want to work for me?"

"Planning events? What could be better? It's invigorating, challenging, creative ... fun!" Yvonne mused. "And you seem like the kind of person who shares that passion."

Elizabeth smiled for the first time in hours.

"I finally found my other half." Elizabeth told Peter just before she fed the fork into her mouth. "I don't how I've lived without her. She had the flower company wrapped around her finger in twenty minutes."

"Other half?" Peter furrowed his brows.

"Oh, honey." Elizabeth smiled. "My work half. You'll find one someday too. Someone you'll just click with, and work with innately, understanding one another without ever having to say a word; someone who'll match you for inspiration, vibrancy, and passion!"

Peter kept his dubious thoughts to himself.

After a few more bites, El gestured with her empty fork and swallowed. "So, what about you? How's your day going?"

Peter was going to shrug, and tell her the investigation was slow, but fine. But then he paused.

"Honey?" Elizabeth murmured a minute later.

Peter blinked. "This guy ... approached me today. I can't put my finger on it, but something about him bugged me."

El frowned, confused. "A guy approached you?"

Peter nodded. "He was young, seemed pleasant ... polite. He gave me a green lollipop."

Elizabeth frowned. "Honey, perhaps you should start from the beginning?"

"Right," Peter muttered, then straightened. "Okay, so I was talking to this bank manager—her bank was the most likely for James Bonds to hit next; it's in his area. Anyway, I was telling her about the bonds and how the guy operates. When I was done, the manager went inside and I was just waiting for another agent to show up when this guy comes up ... said he'd heard me talk about forged bonds. Wanted to know if his were safe."

Elizabeth cocked her head, bemused. "Then he gave you a lollipop? Maybe he just liked you."

Peter spared a moment to answer her tease with a sardonic smile. Then he sighed. "There was something about him, El."

"What do you mean?" El asked before popping a torn piece of garlic bread in her mouth.

Peter couldn't quite put his finger on it though.

Once El had swallowed, she prompted, trying to help Peter out. "He seemed what ... intelligent? Cute?"

"No," Peter answered vaguely. "No ... he seemed ... amused."

"Amused?" El confirmed, bewildered. "By an FBI agent...? That's odd."

But Peter had a strange look on his face. Suddenly he stood up and grabbed his coat. "El—honey, I'm sorry. I've got to go."

El watched, wide-eyed, as her husband gave her a quick peck on the forehead and apologized again before dashing away to the street he'd parked his car on. "Okay, I'll see you tonight, honey! I love you."

"You too, honey," was the distracted reply.

"It was him," Peter told her, face buried in his hands at the dinner table.

"The guy with the lollipop...?" El sat down at the table and took her husband's hands in her own, concerned.

Peter looked up at her. He nodded. "... was James Bonds."

"How can you be sure?"

"Another forgery turned up at the same time we were there," Peter explained numbly. "The teller that accepted it says she gave him a green lollipop. Said she didn't normally do that unless the customer has a child ... but apparently he was cute and charming ... she made an exception. And her description of him matched mine."

"Wow." El's nose crinkled. "And he actually came up to you? That's gutsy."

"That's cocky," Peter muttered angrily.

"Honey," Elizabeth murmured. "What's wrong? Did you get in trouble?"

"No," Peter sighed in reply. "No, Hughes was happy; this is a great step forward. I know what he looks like now."

"So," El nudged him gently and murmured. "What's the matter then?"

Peter stayed quiet for a while, but Elizabeth just waited patiently.

Finally, Peter shifted, taking his hands out of his wife's grasp and giving her a small arm rub. "His behavior ... I've been warned that … he regards me as, um, a game. They called him a sociopath. Coming up to me like that—he has no fear. It means he might focus on manipulating me and those around me to get what he wants. And he wants attention. El, there's a chance it might escalate. He might go after those I care about to get my attention."

"What—honey?" El shook her head and leaned forward, frowning.

"Sociopaths can be dangerous," Peter despaired. "He might hurt you to get to me."

Neal gulped, stricken. He mouthed his shock a few times before shaking his head. "They really thought I'd come after you?"

Elizabeth nodded mildly. "Yeah. Peter and the Bureau wanted me to go to my sister's. I did for a week. I almost lost my business before it even began."

El fell silent for a moment, wanting those words to sink in. When Neal could do nothing but stare at his hands, guiltily, she continued.

"But I came back. Peter tried to get me to leave again. But I refused to go. Told him it might be months before he caught you and I wasn't going to let some criminal stop me from being with him. He stressed for months before it became apparent that we didn't have anything to worry about."

"El," Neal spoke softly. "I never meant for … that wasn't my intent."

"Yeah," Elizabeth agreed. "I know that. But Neal, that's how things go. You don't ever intend the bad things; they're the unforeseen consequences that no one ever intends to come about. Even something as harmless as giving a lollipop to Peter crossed the boundaries. Crossing those boundaries meant that no one could be sure that you wouldn't do it again. You made something impersonal personal. Of course it was going to be taken negatively."

Neal gritted his teeth.

He hadn't really ever thought much about that day. He'd just been a bit cheeky and said 'hi' in a way. It should never have been thought about twice.

"I'm sorry, El," Neal murmured. "But, why would they assume so much from just a little—"

"Neal," Elizabeth interrupted softly. "That's what guys with no qualms about breaking the law and conning people do; they find ways to get to people, to get what they want."

"But not like that," Neal countered.

"Not with you, no." El took a sip of her now-cold coffee. "But guys like Keller?"

Neal glowered at the mention of Keller's name. It had been over a year but it still burned him that Keller had done that, taken Elizabeth like that. He sighed.

"You have a point," Neal muttered reluctantly. Then a memory flashed in his mind. "Is that why Peter was so upset when I came to your house to show Peter Hagen's signature?"

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow for second while tilting her head. Her meaning was clear; Neal was spot on.

Neal recalled Peter's despairing words from that day. He'd been truly upset that Neal was patting his dog, of all things. Well, at first he'd been angry, frustrated and confused, but Neal's easy-going grin and reassurance coupled with Elizabeth's soothing words that they were only talking had seen Peter's mood shift to exasperation.

"Yeah," El murmured. "You kind of crossed the line there, too. But we'll talk about that day another time." Elizabeth stood and rubbed Neal's shoulder. "I'm going to go to work now. I'll see you this afternoon. Do you need me to pick up anything?"

Neal blinked. "Wait, that's it?"

"For now," Elizabeth replied, nodding as she headed to the kitchen to rinse the mug out.

"Oh." Neal put Sinatra aside on the cushion and stood. He turned on the spot and watched as El headed to the door, picking up her bag and coat as she went. "No," Neal finally answered. "No, I just need some new pants. I'm going to shower in a minute."

Elizabeth smiled. "You did well, Neal." Then El gestured to the hidden panel. "Casual or dressy?"

"My black jeans," Neal answered, distracted. "If you can find them."

Elizabeth was over by the door now. She looked at Neal for a minute, wondering if he was as dejected as he looked. He didn't look like he was faking his distress at what he'd learned. Just before closing the door, she paused, realizing the dog was still lying on the floor in Neal's room. "Do you mind if Satchmo stays here for a bit?"

"What if he needs to go out?" Neal asked, crinkling his nose as he looked down at the dog. Satchmo was looking entirely too innocent. But Neal was no fool; he knew all about looking innocent.

"He'll be fine." Elizabeth waved dismissively as she swung her bag onto her shoulder. "I walked him before I came here."

"The room will stink up," Neal moaned. "If he's not 'fine'."

Elizabeth smiled. "I won't leave him here again if he makes a mess, Neal. But I'm sure he'll be a good boy. Won't you, Satchmo? You'll be a good boy for Neal, won't you?"

But Satchmo wasn't paying attention. He was lounging on his side, gazing up at Sinatra who was clawing the couch and chewing a loose thread.

"Hmm." Elizabeth shrugged. "He'll be fine. I'll put out your pants for you on my way out. Take care, Neal."

She shut the door before Neal could argue any further. Neal rolled his eyes. He was also an old hand at getting what he wanted, so he knew all about that too.

After Elizabeth had passed him his pants through the panel and departed (hastily, because Neal was not above complaining through the small window in the wall), Neal sank back into the couch and reflected on that day around eleven years ago when all he'd thought he'd done was call Peter a 'sucker' by way of a harmless gesture.

Oh, god….