A/N: This wraps up my story. I hope you enjoyed it. Big thank you to all who read, fav'd, followed and commented on the chapters. My gratitude goes to Catherine Schlein, my beta and to Sharon and Ellie for their advice during the writing of this fic.

I'm busy working on developing auxiliary chapters for Tigeress79's awesome story,"Animula." She has kindly allowed me to use her AU world. /11291157/1/Animula

Chapter 6

On Saturday evening, Jeffrey Carboni was scheduled to attend a private gem display at the business of one of his affluent clients. The showing would be comprised of merchandise from several local dealers and his own stock, including a stunning green Kashmir peridot from Pakistan and a rare Uruguayan amethyst.

Fairly confident the location would appeal to the tight-knit theft ring, the White Collar office set plans in motion. A surveillance van was established in the area, Neal would arrive late as the decoy, fitted with concealed microphone, and Peter would be attending the function as a guest.

In the van, Agents Jones and Berrigan were to monitor outside activities in a small parking lot several hundred yards from the business. Other agents were stationed up and down the street.

Most of the guests had already arrived when Neal finally pulled up in Carboni's rented sports car. Parking behind the building in a small alleyway, he hopped out slowly, carrying an aluminum attaché case in one hand. Wearing a dark fedora, and light overcoat, his silhouette mirrored the merchant.

"Here we go," he whispered softly. "I don't …"

Within seconds of uttering his first words, he was violently shoved to the ground by several men. He looked up and saw a pistol pointed at him.

"Don't move," said one scruffy individual as he yanked the case from Neal's fingers.

Hiding his surge of anger, Neal tried to appease his assailants.

"Hey … you don't have to point a gun at me. I'll do whatever you say." He sat up slowly raising his hands in a non-threatening motion.

Come on, Peter. Now's a good time to show, he thought. Times like these were moments he wished he didn't abhor firearms.

"Let's go," commanded a smaller man, standing back in the shadows. "And be sure to slow him down; give him something to remember us by."

Neal scrambled to his feet. "Wait a−"

A blur of moment.

Something solid and heavy hit him across the back. He fell forward as his body exploded with pain.

"FBI! FBI! Throw down your weapons." Voices echoed across the parking area. "Hands up where I can see them."

Rolling to one side, Neal stared up and around. There was a melee of bodies in action. Some fleeing; others in hot pursuit. He managed to sit up, blinking in dazed confusion.

His arm was grabbed by someone stepping directly behind him. Yanked to the left, Neal started to tumble backward when he felt a strong arm cushion his fall.

"You okay? Neal, are you hurt?"

Neal relaxed when he heard that voice. Even on one knee, Peter Burke seemed to tower above him. The agent slowly released his firm grip and stood up, using his body as a shield. Standing protectively over him, a Glock raised menacingly at the assailants in the throes of being apprehended by numerous agents, Peter sporadically glanced down searching for signs of injury.

"I'm okay. Just sore," Neal groaned, as Peter lowered his weapon, helping him to his feet. "What happened?"

Peter edged closer. "I'm sorry, Neal," he said softly, his brow deeply furrowed. "Seems your mic stopped working the moment you pulled into the parking lot. You got jumped before we could react. It took everyone a few minutes to arrive on scene."

"Is Caffrey all right?" asked Jones, approaching the two men.

"I can speak for myself, Jones. I'm right here and, aside from some major bruises forming, I'm okay." Neal's movements were sluggish and awkward.

"I'll get Diana to drive you to the hospital. You need to be checked out," ordered Peter.

Rubbing his sore back, Neal shook his head. "No hospital. I got knocked down; that's all. Fill me in. Did we get them all? And who was the shadow man in the back, giving orders to the rest?"

Diana stepped over to join them. "You just happened to meet, Raul Diaz," she said. "I had the pleasure of cuffing him, Caffrey. He has an interesting scar on his right wrist. By the way, he wasn't happy with my procedure."

She smiled.

Neal took her at her word. Diana could be painfully forceful when the situation required it. His team, he liked that sound, protected their own.

"Come on, Neal", said Peter. "I'll drive you back to the office and we'll start the paperwork. One of the agents will return Carboni's car."

Neal sighed with dramatic exasperation and nodded. "Right. My anklet's off."

"Yeah," Peter paused and smiled. "Need to keep an eye on you." He placed a possessive hand on Neal's shoulder and motioned him forward. The two men walked off, comfortably side by side.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Before heading back home to Charleston, Jeffrey Carboni stopped off at the Manhattan field office. He was overjoyed to find all the people he wanted to thank. Clustered in the bullpen area were Burke, Caffrey, Jones and Diana, all huddled over the computer monitor on Neal's desk. They looked up and smiled as he pushed through the glass entry doors.

"I'm delighted to see you in one spot," he said. "Makes my job much easier." As they looked at him in a quizzical manner, he stepped closer to the group. "Before I leave New York, I wanted to be sure and personally thank y'all. The prosecutor's office got in touch with me; they mentioned some of the arrests and charges being filed, here and in Virginia." His glanced briefly at each individual. "You took down the Martinez Gang."

"Not quite," clarified the head agent. "This has been a combined long-term operation involving several federal and state agencies. Virginia ATF, U.S. Immigration, local police and others have long been investigating this ring. Cases like these are multi-jurisdictional," Peter explained. "We just added a nail to the coffin."

"Oh … I think you're downplaying the crucial role your office played."

"I agree," declared Neal, flashing his trademark grin, definitely enjoying this conversation. "Peter is just being his usual self-effacing self."

Nodding agreeably, the jeweler turned to Peter. "You shouldn't be so modest, Agent Burke," he stated.

Glancing at each other, Jones and Diana unsuccessfully hid their amused grins.

"And you, Mr. Caffrey, the star of the show, saved me from serious injury and the loss of a few exquisite gems. As much as I wanted to be a part of your sting operation, in retrospect, it would have been foolhardy. I tried to offer you a reward, but Agent Burke told me it's prohibited."

Neal couldn't hide his momentary surprise, although Peter suspected he wanted to. His handler's gaze focused on him, lips quirking in a crooked grin.

"Tell me," continued Carboni. "Did Martinez, himself put up much of a fight?"

"No, we picked him up a block down in the get-away car no less. He's remaining silent, on advice of counsel," Peter went on. "But a few of his group are eager to strike a deal. They've talked and implicated the inner circle, including Martinez and his lieutenant, Diaz, on armed robbery and assault. It's only a matter of time before we have enough evidence to indict them all."

The salesman glanced at his watch. "I'd better be heading out. Thank you, once again." He quickly shook hands and turned around to leave. Feeling an odd mingling of regret that he hadn't played a bigger part in the take-down and was heading back to his old routine, Jeffrey Carboni made his way out to the hallway elevators.

Neal sighed in frustation. "A reward, Peter? Really? What'd he offer?"

Burke regarded his CI for a long moment, delighted at the opportunity to annoy him.

"Maybe you shouldn't tell Caffrey," said Diana with a grin, as she and Jones walked away.

Sitting down on the corner of Neal's desk, Peter looked up. Casually picking a piece of lint off his pants leg, he spoke slowly. "I've been thinking about the discussion we had back at The Palace Hotel's horticultural exhibit─where you accused me of not having a romantic bone in my body. Well, I'll have you know, El differs with you. She's thrilled with the Moonflower fragrance I surprised her with."

He leaned back and quoted from memory, "It begins with a heady aroma of white flower and lime blossom with hint of spice, and develops into a lady-like floral scent of sheer elegant jasmine and melon."

Peter picked up a case file and began to read avidly. Very deliberately, he began to turn the pages, reading it slowly and silently.

Returning to his desk, Neal sank down in his seat, picking up an apple he was saving for lunch. He took a bite and chewed slowly, fixing his partner with a level stare. "Cruelty doesn't suit you, Peter."

After a few moments, Peter put down the folder. "I'm glad you recognize that." The agent leaned closer and whispered, "Carboni wanted you to visit his showroom in Charleston and have you pick out a small piece of merchandise."

"As in small gem?"

"That's about it."

"Does the FBI have a symposium, once a year, in South Carolina?"

"No."

"Joint Task Force meeting?"

"No."

"Rare news conference?"

Peter shook his head.

"Upcoming terrorist training? Crime Statistics confabulation? Boy Scout roundtable?"

"Neal! You know you can't accept a reward."

Peter stood up and headed for his office; Neal at his heels.

"What kind of gem? How small?"

Bounding up the stairs, the agent refused to answer.

"If Elizabeth likes perfume, I know the best place to shop! We can visit Donna Karan New York. Peter, they unveiled the world's most expensive perfume! Listen, there's a depiction on the bottle of the Manhattan skyline in diamonds!"

Peter waved the CI to back off. Neal refused, dogging his steps all the way.