Caffrey

A White Collar Fan Fiction

Disclaimer: White Collar and its characters are the property of Jeff Eastin and the USA Network. I'm just using them for fun.

Pushing the door shut with her hip, Sara Ellis drops the heavy box of case files onto the small table in the entrance to her apartment. Turning to lock the door, she reaches blindly behind her to drop her purse on the same table. The bag hits the edge and tumbles to the floor, spilling it's contents onto the gray slate tiles.

"Damn!" The single word echoes hollowly in the empty apartment. She stoops down to retrieve her belongings: wallet, day planner, keys, lipstick... Her hand closes on a slender leather case. She hesitates for a moment, her hand unmoving. Why is this still in her purse? She swallows once, twice, then stands and throws the item fiercely across the room. The case bursts open as it collides with the opposite wall, spilling slender silver tools on the floor where they land helter-skelter, like pick-up sticks.

Sara bursts into tears.

"Damn him, damn him, damn him!" Angry sobs catch in her throat as she carelessly shoves the lock picks back into their case. Abandoning the item to a shelf in the book case, Sara straightens her shoulders and wipes tears from her face. She has work to do; this is no time for a childish tantrum. That's all this is, she tells herself, pique at allowing herself to be conned by one of the best, nothing more.

After depositing the file box on the low table in front of her sofa, she goes into her kitchen in search of a drink. Taking a wine glass from the cupboard she reaches for the bottle of Syrah standing on the counter. Her hand hesitates as she touches the cool green glass. This is the wine she bought for the night she and Neal were going to christen her new, remodeled apartment. The apartment she bought because, well, because it was within the two-mile radius of Neal's tracking anklet. God, what a fool she'd been! What a fool she was still being, as she realizes her hand is caressing the bottle.

Shoving the wine to a remote corner, she exchanges the wine glass for a tumbler she fills with ice and scotch. A much better choice, she acknowledges, for someone who needs to concentrate on the present and the future, not a past already colored rose by romantic memories. Those golden moments are all lies, she reminds herself, perpetrated by a man who's life is one huge lie. Damn you, Caffrey, she thinks, for sucking me in. And shame on you, Sara Ellis, for allowing yourself to be lied to.

It is late evening before she looks up from the files spread around her on sofa, chair and floor. The scotch has taken the edge off her anger and leaves her feeling almost mellow. Exhaustion loosens the tight knot of hurt in her chest. No, those moments with Neal were not all lies, she realizes. She remembers the times that were real. The times they laughed together and conned together. She laughs aloud at some of the things they did: the extravagant shopping spree to catch the hacker, the seven-man con to catch Julian Larrsen. She remembers other times, too, when they were alone together, when his hands, his beautiful artist's hands, moved along her body...

She loves him, Sara realizes. He might even love her back. But Caffrey is Caffrey. He's crossing a line she won't cross, a line she can't cross, because once it is crossed, there is no coming back. She smiles sadly, wishing him safe, but not wishing him different. If he were different, he wouldn't be Caffrey.

The warble of her phone startles her out of her reverie. It is the land line, which she hardly ever uses. Then it occurs to her that her cell phone is turned off. It must be work, she assumes, though she can't see anyone from Sterling Bosch calling at this late hour.

"Sara Ellis" she says into the instrument.

"Sara," the familiar voice answers.

"Caffrey, I don't want..."

"Sara, no, don't hang up. Please!" The tension in his voice stops her before she can sever the connection.

"Sara." He says her name again, as if to hold her still. "Keller took Elizabeth. He kidnapped El." His voice is filled with sorrow and guilt. "Peter needs you." A pause, a breath. "I need you."

The connection is barely broken before she is out the door.