A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to White Collar lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has mild spoilers through Season 1, Episode 11, and major spoilers from Season 1 Episode 12. [SPOILERS BEGIN NOW] It takes place during the show, after Neal meets with Keller and begins work on the Benjamin Franklin bottle, but before Jones calls off the idea. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

"Shauna?" Peter stopped with his finger pressed against the elevator button. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to talk to Neal." Her hands were shoved in her pockets, her toe scuffing the floor.

Peter frowned, then shrugged and pressed the button all the way down. The elevator hummed as it headed down towards them.

"No, that's not true." She looked up suddenly and met his eyes. "That's not true."

"What? A Caffrey admitting to a lie? Never thought I'd see the day." Peter turned when the elevator dinged and gestured with his hand. "Come on. I'm late."

She didn't move, and when she spoke, her words came out in a rush. "I came to talk to you."

"I'm flattered. Why?" He stepped into the elevator and pressed his arm against the door to keep it open. "You coming?"

She followed him and tried to ignore the closeness of the walls, shutting her eyes. "I need to talk to you," she repeated. "About Neal."

"Great." Peter jabbed the button for the third floor. The elevator began to rise. "Talk."

"He can't know!" Shauna reached out to pull his arm away from the buttons, but it was too late. She caught herself and shrank to the other side of the elevator. She swallowed, tried to calm herself down. "Look. When I go in there, tell me that you need to speak to me, that I'm in trouble."

Peter said nothing. She wasn't sure he understood.

"You know," she explained, switching to a deep voice, "'Shauna! Come here this minute! You have some explaining to do."

"I don't sound like that."

She eyed the numbers ticking away above the elevator door. "Please, Burke!"

The elevator stopped. Peter watched the doors crack open, then nodded without looking at her. "If you're going to drag me into this, you better make it convincing."

"I will." She pressed herself against the wall so that she couldn't be seen by anyone in the office. Anyone being Neal. The doors closed after Peter, and she pressed her palm against every single button. It was ten minutes before she could convince the elevator to stop on the third floor again, and by that time she was sweating.

She stepped into the office. It smelled like coffee, like coffee and old printer ink and some sort of lemon cleaner. Neal's desk was on her right, and he saw her immediately. "Shauna, what are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you." She didn't even look up to Burke's second-level office as she stepped to Neal's desk. "What are you doing?"

Like she needed to ask. His desk was covered with research on 18th century wines. Papers covered the desk, and a few had even fallen to the floor. He never would have been this careless if he'd been doing the forgery illegally. No matter how involved he was in a project, Neal kept his workspace clean. Organized. Easy to pack up in case of an...emergency. Emergency being an unexpected visit from the authorities.

"We're going to need to find some wax." He ran his fingers through his hair. He looked tired, and she tried to remember what time he'd gone to bed the night before. She couldn't remember. She'd been asleep. "Beeswax, if we can. 18th century beeswax would be even better."

"Mozzie can't find any?"

"Not within a week." He sighed.

Shauna began, "What if..."

Peter's bellowed throughout the office, "What were you thinking, Shauna Simpson?"

Within half a second, the eyes of the entire room were fixed on her. Shauna met Neal's gaze and shrugged innocently, a move she'd learned from him, then looked up to the top of the stairs where Peter stood. "What?"

"You better have a good explanation for this."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked at Neal. "What's he talking about?"

Neal shrugged. Innocently. "Haven't a clue."

"I need to see you in my office, Shauna," Peter continued. "Now."

Aware that everyone was still watching, Shauna shook her head. "I didn't do anything!"

"Now, Shauna!"

"But I'm..."

Peter stopped sounding like a parent and started looking like one, or at least what Shauna thought one should look like. The eyebrows were raised, the head tilted to the side. The look given before someone starts counting to ten.

"I'll come with you." Neal shoved his chair back. "This is ridiculous."

"I'm only coming if Neal's coming," Shauna told Peter.

"You're coming because I say so," rejoined Peter. "And Neal is not coming. You think I need two Caffr—two of you giving me excuses?"

Shauna shouldered past Neal. "I'm fine."

"But..."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing." But if he was suspicious, he didn't show it. He walked back to his desk as Shauna ascended the stairs, stalked past Peter into his office, and slouched down in the office chair.

Peter closed the door. "You're just as good of an actor as Neal. Makes me wonder what else you have up your sleeve."

Shauna smiled and said absolutely nothing.

Peter folded his hands on the desk. "So now that we've caused a scene, I'd love to know what it is you wanted to talk to me about."

"Keller."

"What about him?"

"I don't like him."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "I don't like him either, and neither does Neal. But we can't arrest a man just because we don't like him. That's the problem. That's why Neal's recreating the Franklin bottle..."

"No," said Shauna. "It's not."

Peter waited for her to complete the thought, and when she didn't, he said, "Explain yourself."

"Keller is playing Neal." She swallowed and risked a glance down at the first-level office. Neal was at his desk, bent over his research. "I don't know what Keller is doing, or what his plan is, but he's got something up his sleeve. He's...dangerous."

"I think we're aware of that," said Peter wryly.

"He's dangerous and brilliant," continued Shauna. "He's smart, Peter. Neal wasn't kidding when he said Keller was his blue-collar version. Keller isn't your average crook. He's got brains."

"Neal has more." Peter shrugged confidently, as if Neal's brains could get them out of anything, and then he locked his gaze on Shauna. "Doesn't he?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. He does."

"Then what are you so worried about?"

"Keller's got guns." She waited for a response, but she didn't get one. "Neal doesn't do guns, which means that Keller has the advantage..."

Peter cut her off. "Neal hates guns because he says they're for the unintelligent. If he's right, don't you think you could be overrating Keller?"

"Neal hates guns because they kill people," said Shauna flatly. "There's nothing more to it than that. And because he won't use them and everyone else will, well, it makes him have to work twice as hard to get anything accomplished."

Peter paused. "You're saying that everything Neal does, he does with one hand tied behind his back. His dangerous hand."

She thought about it, then nodded.

"That should worry me." Peter stood up and talked while he stacked an already pristinely stacked pile of papers. "But Keller here doesn't mind killing people, and he's almost as smart as Neal. Which makes him dangerous."

"Almost as smart just means that he's smarter than most," Shauna reminded him, standing up also. "No one holds a candle to Neal."

"You're biased."

"I'm right." She walked to the door, then turned back, her hand on the door handle. "And I'm right about Keller. He's playing Neal. I'm sure of it. I know him."

"I'll look into it. You have any idea of what he's planning?"

"Me?" She rolled her eyes and opened the door. "I'm not the genius here." Which was technically true, because here also included Peter and Neal. Not that she wouldn't have passed for genius in any other company.

On the lower level, Neal jumped out of his chair and hurried to the foot of the stairs when he saw her exit the office. "What was wrong?"

She pushed away all thoughts of Keller and guns and Neal's dangerous hand tied behind his back. "Oh, you know Peter. Always blaming one of us when something goes wrong."

He laughed a little. "That's what happens when you're a Caffrey."