Details: Hello Faithful readers! I love you all so very much, it is insane! :) BIG thanks to all you reviewers! Keep it up! Please I am begging you! :))))))
Summary: While working on a case involving a human trafficker, Peter gets and unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of everyone's favorite con, fun sized.
Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own White Collar, I just enjoy playing with their characters.'
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Peter leaned over the file for what seemed like the millionth time that morning. With his jacked removed and sleeves rolled up, Peter tackled the utterly important task of bringing his child home safely. Dark brown eyes poured over the disassembled manila folder looking for some clue, any tiny indication as to where his boy could be hiding. He shut his eyes, and allow his mind to be taken over with possibilities.
Come on Neal. Show me the way. He thought, putting his hands onto his hips, looking skywards towards the concrete ceiling overhead.
His team had created a white-board official list in green marker, yet none of the places seemed plausible for a kidnapper's lair. He slammed a fist against a nearby pole in frustration, welcoming the pain of the hit as a reminder of his idiocy. He unfurled his fingers.
His eyes returned to the table and the neatly typed, black lettered documents in front of him.
He sighed, mentally kicking himself again for leaving the little boy unattended for even a moment. I'm so sorry buddy, I let you down. He rubbed his weary eyes, and cleared his throat. No time to dwell on past mistakes, I need to focus on finding you. He blinked the bleariness away.
He had barely been able to keep his constantly drooping eyelids open as dawn pounded it's shiny fist through the parking lot slats, despite the constant companionship of his trusty sidekick, coffee. Empty Starbucks cups littered the white hardtop tables as everyone from the office seemed to be feeling the fog of early morning tiredness. Even Diana had fallen asleep leaning against Jones' shoulder, whom had a droplet of drool slipping down his chin. The agents seemed surprisingly at peace, and Peter wanted to give them a moment to rest up. He would certainly need them later.
Other members of his team had set up lawn chairs, murmuring incoherently as they discussed possible take down tactics amongst themselves. Hand motions and low, monotone voices captured Peter's attention. His eyes wandered from the papers, and towards the seated agents.
Peter was so overcome by the numerous distractions that he barely registered the fact that his cellphone was demanding his attention, irritatingly. He flicked it open with out looking at it, and pressed send.
"Agent Burke." He said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat quickly, and rubbed his nose.
There seemed to be no one at the end of the line, so he pulled back his phone, and stared at the tiny illuminated screen.
The words, "Unknown Caller" flashed across it's display. He quickly put it back to his ear, and snapped in front of his agent's sleeping faces, acquiring their attention. Diana's head immediately snapped up, eyes opened and alert. Peter made a motion with his fingers to indicate to her that she needed to trace the call. She nodded in recognition, and took out a laptop from a nearby brief case. She powered it up, swiped her fingers deftly across the key board a few times, and nodded to Peter again; she was ready.
"Hello Agent Burke. I assume you already know my name." The man, in his cocky arrogance, hadn't even bothered to disguise his voice.
"Josef Atlin, just the man I wanted to speak with." He said, putting the phone down onto a piece of paper and pressed speaker. He laid a finger to his lips as other agents gathered round in curiosity.
"You are already have agents tracing this call, do you not?" He asked. Though his name seemed outrightly Russian, he spoke with no accent.
He froze. "Every precaution is necessary." He spoke carefully.
"No need to. I will just give you my address." He stated. "I am at an abandoned warehouse, just outside of the city. It is located 5 miles behind a gas station named Watson's. Ask for Steve and he will lead you right to me. Come alone, unarmed with not so much as a buck knife on you. Follow these orders to a T or the boy dies." He said, disconnecting the call.
Peter's phone remained opened as Diana's computer dinged. She nodded for the third time. "He wasn't lying boss. It is a warehouse out in the middle of nowhere."
Peter run a hand over his face. He hopped up onto the chair. "Everyone suit up. I will be going alone on this one, but I want a team just outside the gas station. I want EMTS on hand, and listening devices undetectable by even Neal. Let's go."
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Peter took a deep breath before approaching the eerily lit door to the gas station. The air smelt faintly of gasoline and firewood, as night fell into the New York sky. Cigarette butts were crushed under foot as he made his way quietly towards the beat up metal door handle. He paused before reaching for it.
He coughed, covering his mouth before saying, "Everyone ready?"
Agents mumbled various acknowledgments into their mics, signaling Peter that all was a go.
He pulled the door towards him, and stepped inside.
He paced the aisles and scanned the shelves as if he was looking for something, but his eyes locked with his target behind the counter.
He walked forward, and rested his hands onto the counter. "Nice night isn't it?" He asked, making small talk before reaching the point of his visit.
The man snorted, not even bothering to look up.
"Is Steve on duty this evening?" He asked somewhat casually, adjusting the sleeves on his red sweater before shoving his hands into his jean's pocket.
The man stared back at him. "Depends on whose askin." The man grunted in reply, eyes dropping to the dirty rag that cleaned the counter.
"A friend of mine asked me to stop by. A man by the name of Atlin." Peter said, eyes narrowing.
The man's gaze met Peter's in scrutiny. "We was wonderin when you would stop by Mister Burke." He said, stepping out and taking Peter's arm. "Follow me."
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Peter trudged through what seemed like miles of endless forest as he attempted to keep up with the odd looking man. With an untrimmed beard, and wild green eyes, the man looked as though he had just escaped from prison. But Peter asked no questions as he trekked behind him. Twigs snapped and owls hooted in the creepy canopies above. Every small noise sent Peter on edge.
"So where are we headed?" Peter asked, watching his feet to ensure that he wouldn't trip.
"I well tell you, once we get there." The guy replied in a deep southern accent mixed with poor grammar, as he adjusted his Red Sox ball cap. He pulled a weed from the earth, and stuck it into his mouth, chewing on it noisily.
Peter muttered something under his breath about the man being a whackjob. His back ached, and his feet hurt. He just so desperately wanted Neal home again, safe.
He nearly crashed into the man's flannel clad back, not knowing that he had stopped. He caught himself just in time. He stepped next to the man, and looked straight ahead.
A darkened outline of a large, rickety building loomed just a mere three yards in front of the man. The door opened suddenly and out came a figure, blurred by the nighttime. Peter tensed, and waited for the other person to make his approach.
"Agent Burke, I take it?" He called out, boots stomping on the dirt. As he neared Peter and the cowboy, Peter took notice of the weapon and silencer he had neatly clipped to his belt, concealed by his black leather jacket.
"Yes." Peter replied shortly. "I did everything that you asked." He held out his arms and legs for inspection. "I'm alone."
Atlin patted Peter down quickly, missing the speaking device planted neatly in his collar button. "Yes, you're clean. Surprising for a man as yourself."
Peter shrugged. "Hostage is a co-worker. We'd like him back in one piece."
Atlin nodded slowly. "Well you will be happy to know that Neal is in fact still alive." He gestured towards the warehouse.
"Can I see him?" Peter asked.
"In due time, Agent Burke. We have to make a deal first." He said, eyes searching Peter's.
"Well, let's have it." Peter said, crossing his arms.
The man took a breath. "I want a lighter sentence, in exchange for your little friend. I want the death penalty taken off the table, and also charges for trafficking gone. I will take a four year sentence for forgery, yet nothing more."
"Mr. Atlin, I have no control over that. Perhaps you should've asked the DA's office to come down here." Peter said.
"No Agent Burke." He removed his weapon from it's holster and aimed it at Peter, voice rising in frustration. "I asked for you, Burke. I know you can make that happen, if you want your little friend to live." His tone became quieter, voice softer.
From his pocket he pulled a small box, with a tiny antenna attached to the top. A green light blinked through the darkness. "You see, I arranged for a sort of "insurance policy". If you do not get me a lighter sentence, I will make sure your kid's blown to pieces." He shook the box.
Peter felt as though he had been stabbed in the stomach. Air could not find it's way into his lungs. Anger boiled in his stomach making him quiver with nausea. He was outright furious.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny shadow slip out from the barn door and inch towards the three men slowly. Peter focused on the other two men to ensure that they hadn't seen it. None of them seemed fazed by the silent escapee.
Peter stared at Atlin. The being in the darkness forced an alliance between the men. He needed Atlin to like Peter. "I can get you less time. Alright? All I need is a cellphone. Do you have one?" Peter held out his hand.
Josef tossed the gun to the cowboy, who caught it awkwardly. From his left jacket pocket, Atlin pulled a small Razor phone, and tossed it to Peter.
"No funny business. You try to signal him and I press the button. Got it?" Atlin said, his voice beginning to get nervous.
"Cross my heart and hope to die." Peter said, flicking it open. He quickly dialed Diana's number, praying that she would play along.
"Miss Septem? Agent Burke. I've got a new word on Atlin. Well, I need your help." He said, keeping his voice steady. He hoped she would understand his code.
Diana seemed a bit flustered, but said nothing in return. He could hear them working furtively in the background to analyze his sentencing.
"Sorry to catch you so late, Neal and I have uncovered something that has detrimental affects on your case. A bomb-shell of sorts!" Peter laughed. "Anyways, I was wrong on the conviction of trafficking, isn't him as it turns out." Atlin seemed agitated with his bomb comment, but Peter put his hand over the device and said, "Figure of speech. Your device made me think of it."
Peter put the phone back up to his ear and listened. "Got it boss. We are sending a team to your location now."
"Alright, that's great." He said, smiling.
"She says that she can get you a lighter sentence, with the charges dropped, as long as you agree you won't sue for false conviction." He said.
"Accept it, damn it!" He nearly shouted.
"Atlin will accept your deal. Thank you, Ms. Septem. You have a great night." He said, shutting the phone, he tossed it back to Atlin.
Josef opened the phone. "Just to be sure you aren't lying." He pressed the redial button on the telephone, and put it on speaker phone.
"Stacey Septem, District Attorney's office, How can I help you today?" Diana asked, in a sickly sweet voice.
Josef shut the phone before responding. "Thanks for doing your part Burke. Too bad you won't live long enough to see it through." He said, taking the gun back and putting it back on Peter's forehead.
"Oh I think I will." He said, quietly.
"Really?" He cocked the gun, pressing it to Peter's temple.
"Oh yeah. NOW!" He shouted, slapping the gun from Atlin's hands. He delivered an outrageous blow to his groin, which sent him reeling. Atlin tried to reach out for something, but Peter picked up the gun, and blew his knee cap to hell. Atlin cried out in pain withering into the ground. Peter silenced him with a single blow to the head with the butt of the gun. Peter turned to Steve the Cowboy, and socked him in the nose. The man dashed off with a scared look before Peter could take him down. He fired a bullet anyways. Once both men were no longer in action, Peter took off sprinting towards the gloomy building. He had to find Neal in time.
"Neal buddy? Where are you?"He shouted, eyes furtively searching the darkness, while his feet raced forwards.
A tiny body crashed itself onto Peter's leg and held on for dear life. "I here, I here!" He stated, voice cracking with tears.
Peter crouched down, and looked for the bomb. It didn't seem to be attached to his body in any place.
"Where is it? Where is the blinking thing?" He asked, taking the boy by the shoulders. He stared into watery ocean blue eyes.
He held out the stuffed elephant. "Is here!" He said. "Pwease, Pe-er. Help me." He said, shuddering, sobs overtaking his small frame.
Not knowing what else to do, Peter took the elephant and threw it as far as he could. It landed with a thump on top of the body of the cowboy. He picked up Neal, and ran deeper into the woods. He set him down.
"Get DOWN!" He shouted, before tackling Neal, and forcing him behind a rock. He put his arms around the child, and covered him with his body, just before the device exploded in a hail of fire behind him.
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So I made it extra long! I hope that makes up for the longer time it took! Please R&R! :)))