Another one-shot based on prompts. I'm really just trying to experiment with different povs and stuff like that.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I still dont own White Collar or the characters.

Hope you enjoy.

Neal was supposed to be impressing their baddie of the week. Everyone, except undercover agents who were posed as civilians, was moved away from the site. Neal was supposed to be setting a fire in an old apartment building, a small one on the top floor so it would cause minimal damage. They had it approved by all the higher ups and everything was going according to plan. Until Neal came sprinting towards Peter. "Why are you running? What did you do?"

Neal smiled a guilty smile in response, "I might've got carried away. We should probably go."

Neal led him through an alley and on to the street in front of the building where about a dozen agents and a fire truck were sitting, ready to put out the fire but trying to look inconspicuous. The fire truck was a little bit of a give away but Peter was focused on the agents that were supposed to be in the lobby so it looked like Neal wasn't afraid if a few got hurt. Instead of milling around inside they were lined up on street eyes trained on the building. Peter slowly looked up at the building then at Neal who looked giddy, "Where's the fire Neal?"

He held up a finger, "Wait for it..."

BOOM!

Peter instinctively threw himself over Neal protecting him from the debris raining around them. Almost immediately Neal pushed him off and stood back up, "Calm down there James Bond."

Peter was livid, "Calm down. Calm down! Small fire Neal! I said to set a small fire! This is not a small fire!"

"Well technically it's not on fire at all."

"That's because you blew it up!" Peter ran a hand through his hair, "Hughes is going to kill you. He's gonna kill both of us."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad. The building was in desperate need of a remodel anyway."

Neal would admit he was wrong. If he thought Peter was upset then Hughes was off the scales.

"What were you thinking Caffery! We barely got it approved to burn down one floor and we said we'd pay for its renovation."

Neal was just about to defend himself when Peter spoke, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

He figured he was in enough trouble as it was and aggravating Peter wouldn't be worth it. So Neal spent the rest of the 'briefing' nodding along in silence. Mostly it was the usual, 'I should send you back to prison,' or 'You crossed the line,' blah blah blah. So it really shouldn't have surprised them to find that by the end he'd completely tuned out.

"You listening Caffrey."

"What? Yeah, of course I'm listening. What else could I be doing?" Thinking of lies to tell them about how he got the stuff to make a fireless bomb for one thing.

"Alright then. Tell us what you were thinking when you decided to blow up a apartment complex."

"Half."

"What!"

"I only blew up half the apartment complex."

"Caffery." Hughes let out a deep breath, "I'm damn near putting a bullet in you."

Neal swallowed and looked at Peter who didn't look to be in a much better mood. "Okay then. I was thinking that a guy like Mathias wasn't going to be impressed by a small house fire."

"And you just happened to be carrying explosives with you? Which, by the way, I'm guessing are against your parole."

"No well actually I was thinking about it last night so I..."

Hughes sighed, "Go home Caffrey. And for the love of my sanity don't be late tomorrow."

"Yes sir." Anything to get out of this room.

Jordan was a lot of things but naive wasn't on of them. So when the blue eyed man strutted in with the confidence of a king she knew he was a fed. Well, that's not entirely true. In fact had she not been majorly checking him out she admittedly wouldn't have noticed. But she was, so when he flipped the transmitter in his watch off to pass the guard she noticed.

He didn't waste any time though. She had just walked into the bosses office to warn him when he knocked.

"Boss don't..."

"Come in."

She sighed as he cut her off. When this guy screwed them over it was her ass that was going to get blamed.

The brunette held out his hand to her boss , "Good to finally meet you Mathias."

"Finally?"

"I've heard a lot of rumors, and done some digging."

"Yes? Well I've done some digging myself Chris."

Well that was bs. He didn't do anything but interrupt and yell at her to get him coffee.

"Well you obviously saw something that intrigued you."

"Yes you have a very, colorful, past. But what really sold me was your work yesterday."

"Yesterday? I don't think I know what your talking about. I was in Italy yesterday." A thoughtful look passed over his face and she had to admit, he was good. "But, if you're referring to the building that got blown up well, wasn't that a remarkable feat?"

Her boss threw his head back laughing and she had to fake a cough to avoid snorting in disgust. Chris, or whatever his real name was, glanced at her with those piercing blue eyes and smiled like he knew exactly what she was thinking. "This room is completely safe. You don't have to beat around the bush."

"Yes? Well you'll forgive me if I prefer a more, neutral, territory to discuss business."

The boss looked at her and flashed those disgusting teeth, "And he's smart! He's just the full package." His attention shifted back to Chris, "All right then. We'll be in touch."

With a nod of her bosses head the bodyguard, she called him tiny for irony and the fact that she didn't know his real name, opened the door to let Chris leave. As soon as the door latched shut she spun to her boss. "You can't trust him he's a fed."

He shook his head like she was just being a silly child, "Feds don't blow up apartments Jay."

She hated when he called her that. It reminded her how things used to be when she could call him dad instead of boss. That wasn't the main reason she hated it though. She hated how with that small word he could rope her back in. As soon as she convinced herself that there was no trace of the father she knew he called her Jay. Just like he used to before everything. She supposed that's why he did it, manipulative bastard. "I'm gonna regret this."

She attempted to shove tiny out of the way and when he didn't budge she glared until he stepped aside. Then she took off at a dead run after the blue eyed man. The only hope they had at not being in prison this time next week was if she eliminated the man she was chasing. Then her father, boss, whatever could see she was right. Maybe even start respecting her opinions.

When she finally caught up with him he was in a parking garage talking into his watch. She couldn't hear what he was saying but it was obvious he knew she was there. Which meant that the Feds would probably be there within the next five minutes. She pulled out her gun, pointed it at the back of his head, and cocked it. He turned around when he heard the click unsurprised. "Sorry it has to be like this." And she was. This man was going to die so she could impress her father who forces her to call him boss.

She shook her head and all remorse fell away. She put up a wall. Told herself this was just a target. No life, no friends, no family. She almost pulled the trigger when a strange look passed over his face. It caused her to hesitate just long enough for the Feds to rush in yelling, "FBI! Drop your weapon!"

She thought about shooting him anyway. She didn't really have any reason not to. Maybe if she died for the cause her boss would come to regret how he had treated her these past few years. Or maybe not. Maybe both her and the man who called himself Chris would die for no reason.

With a sigh she slowly sat the gun on the ground and kicked it to what seemed to be the leader of the team. He took the gun, handed it off to one of his agents, and went to slap blue eyes on the back, "You did good kid. Strayed from the plan a little," blue eyes flashed a bright grin that would've caused her to melt were it pointed in her direction, "but good nonetheless."

She felt cold metal wrap around her wrist and she was pushed out of the parking garage. She was right. She did regret this.

It was 1 a.m. when a phone buzzed in the Burke's bedroom. Elizabeth figured it was her husband's and let sleep pull her back down. She jumped slightly when she felt Peter shake her. "Wasn't mine."

She groaned and rolled to check her phone. It wasn't ringing anymore but she was curious about who would call this late. She picked up the phone just as it started buzzing again, "Hello?"

"Mrs. Suit."

"Mozzie? Why are you calling me this early?"

"As much as it pains me to say this, Neal needs Peter."

"Is he all right?" This caught Peter's attention and he gave her a curious look.

"Yeah he's physically fine, but I have to be somewhere and I think he needs some supervision."

Slightly confused she answered with, "Well okay. I'll send him over." She hung up the phone and faced her husband. "That was Mozzie. He said you needed to go over to June's."

Worry flashed in her husbands brown eyes, "What for?"

She shrugged in response, "He didn't say, but you should probably go."

He nodded and quickly changed clothes. He gave her a peck on the lips, "Goodbye hun."

She returned the sentiment and he walked out the door.

By the time Peter got there Mozzie had left. He left a yellow sticky note on the outside of the door, 'He's locked in the bathroom.' Peter shook his head and continued inside, "Neal!" When he got no answer he walked to the bathroom and knocked. He heard some kind of something on the other side of the door but couldn't discern what it was, "Neal, open the door."

"Can't 's locked." He heard the slur and remembered the glasses in the sink. So that was the problem. Neal was drunk.

"Yes, but it locks from the inside. Unlock it."

"No."

Peter echoed, "No?"

"No, mzz said non to."

"Well I'm saying different. Unlock the door Caffery."

"Are you g'nna rest me."

"Maybe, if you don't open the door."

"Kay then no."

"Neal! Why won't you just open the damn door?"

"Tss cooler when you bus it down."

Peter rolled his eyes as he processed what he had said, "Bust it down! I'm not going to bust it down."

"Oh. Why not?"

He didn't expect this to work but it's worth a shot, "Because you were gonna open it."

"Oh? Oh yeah. I wss g'nna open it."

The door flew open and the drunk con stumbled into his arms. "Easy there buddy."

"P'ter!" A loopy grin broke out on Neal's face.

"Wow, you're really drunk right now."

"No mm not, you're jus blurry."

Peter let out a little chuckle. "Let's get you some water." He helped guide Neal over to a chair and poured them both a glass of water. "Why are you drunk Neal."

"Mmm not, you're jus..."

"Blurry, I know. But why?"

Neal sighed, "She pointed er gun at me." He shook his head and mumbled, "I don't like guns."

Peter felt bad for asking but he was curious, "Neal, why don't you like guns. And don't feed me the violence lacks finesse response."

Fear flashed in drunken Neal's eyes, "Mm tired."

"Alright you can go to bed as soon as you tell me why you don't like guns."

"Mm tired. Wanna go to bed now."

"You can if you tell me why you don't like guns." It was building from curiosity to worry as Neal locked his crystal eyes on to his brown ones.

Neal's response was strangely sober, "She had her gun pointed at me. I knew she would shoot me, that she wasn't bluffing. And I knew I should of been afraid ,but I wasn't, I never am. All I feel when I stare down the barrel of a gun is relief."

"Relief?" Peter parroted as a hundred emotions flooded through him.

Neal nodded, "Mm tired, bed now."

Peter sadly looked at the broken man. He pulled Neal's head down into his chest. "Yeah, we'll get you to bed now." Peter helped him into the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. "Goodnight Neal."

But he was already out cold.

Peter went over and sat on the couch the word 'relief' echoing in his head. He doubted Neal would remember a thing tomorrow. He glanced up at his friend and just prayed he wouldn't do anything stupid.

Did you like it? If so review and maybe check out my other fic Death Threats. :)