Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show

Claimer: Damon is mine

AN: A special thanks to peppe1951 for beta'ing all my DAMON II & III chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.

DAMON III (1)

As soon as the Burkes left the morning after the Adler incident was concluded, Damon was up and moving. He had successfully convinced Agent Burke that he was tired so he would let him be. Damon was emotionally drained, the last few days had been a nightmare, but Agent Burke had said those key words, 'it's over' and put his survival instincts in high gear. He would have time to rest when he got settled. If he let them send him away first, there was a good chance he would lose his stash and that was imperative to his plans.

Damon had an unbalanced fear of the foster care system. The only foster kids he ran into where runaways and most kids do not run away from good homes. Those that do run away from a decent home make up false stories so they have an excuse for their actions. Damon heard many a horror story, but rarely anything good. His logical mind should have rationalized his reactions, but he was young and paranoid.

The night before he had taken his oldest pair of jeans and an old T-shirt and ripped them in strategic places. As soon as he was sure the Burkes were gone he took them down to the washer, threw in an extra amount of bleach and washed them. He needed the rips to fray and the bleach to fade the clothes so he could better blend into his new environment.

While the clothes were washing he quickly packed his backpack with the items he needed. He would only be taking the one set of 'old' clothes he would be wearing, those could be replaced easy enough, and the rest was the upgraded style that Mrs. Burke had introduced him to. One thing he did learn while living with the Burkes was clothes were important to get near the marks. Dress poor, only the poor marks don't notice you, the rich one's not only notice you, but remembered you when they noticed their wallet missing. Dress decent, put on a big smile, they might remember you, but not when they notice their wallet missing. They do not remember the innocent well-groomed boy; they search their memory for the poorly dressed persons that got near them.

So he packed his bag full of stylish clothes, hesitated a moment, and then packed the suit that Adler had had tailored for him. You never knew what doors that suit could open, and he could never afford to buy one of his own.

Once the jean outfit was properly frayed he changed into them, got his stash and hid it in several different spots on his person. He quickly wrote his note and placed it under the phone, adding his ID, library and homeschool cards. Damon P. Henderson no longer existed; he was just Damon once more. He grabbed his backpack and headed out the door at about noon.

He knew exactly where he was going. He had a long walk from Burke's neighborhood toward the inner-city slum district. He became a chameleon en-route. If he passed a park, he stopped and spread dirt on himself and his backpack. If he passed a dumpster, he rubbed his person to include his head and his pack against it to pick up the grime and the odors. The further he went, the nastier the dumpster, the more it transformed him into the homeless street kid that first entered White Collar over a year ago. The smell was overpowering, but he figured he would get used to it again.

About the time Peter arrived home, Damon had reached his first destination; a large overpass with plenty of usable space underneath. It had a cheap liquor store close by so it was a favorite site for many homeless alcoholics. Damon had spent many a night there in his past.

He carefully picked his way through the residents looking for someone he might recognize, someone who would work for his plan.

He spotted Mac and immediately avoided him, he was a mean drunk, he moved on. There was Simon, no, sometimes when he got drunk; he had looked at Damon with hungry eyes. Damon continued searching. He spotted Jake. Perfect. He had hoped ol' man Jake would still be there. He moved up beside the sleeping wino.

"Hey Jake, wake up." He shook the man's shoulder.

"Wa? Wa? Wach ya wan?" Jake looked like he was recovering from his last bottle of cheap wine.

"Jake it's me, Damon. Wake up. I want to talk to you."

"Dama? Dama? Were ya been, boy? Havn' seen ou in lon time."

"They caught me Jake. But I'm back now.

"Ou ga a ha dog for me?"

Damon laughed, "Of course Jake. Don't I always?" He pulled a bag out of his jacket, removed the hot dog and handed it to the man, hoping it would sober him up enough to talk.

"Ya aways wa a goo boy Dama." Jake quickly sat up and ate the hot dog.

"Jake, I need to talk to you. Let's go over to that diner and have a cup of coffee."

"You ga money, boy?"

Damon sure didn't want to talk about money in front of the other drunks, "Enough for a cup of coffee. Come on, Jake." He reached out to help the old man up.

Jake let Damon help him up and guide him to the diner. He had long ago lost the will to resist.

As they entered the run down diner, Damon tried to ignore the cockroach that ran under the counter, welcome back, he thought. He guided Jake to a booth and they sat down facing each other. A crabby waitress saw their appearance and came over to ask if they had money, she didn't want any homeless bums taking up space just to get warm.

Damon dug in his pockets and found three crumpled one dollar bills that he had planted to make him look poor, and requested two cups of coffee. She frowned and said he needed more change, and he made a show of digging for pocket change to pay her. She took the money and then got the coffee.

Damon didn't want any coffee but he knew refills would be hard to get and he wanted to sober Jake up as much as possible.

He leaned close hoping others couldn't hear him, "Jake, I got a proposition for you. How would you like to get out of the streets for the winter?"

The hot dog and coffee were starting to sober Jake up, "I'm not gonna go ta a homeless sheler, they won le me drink."

"No Jake, I'm talking about you and I getting a place. Nothing fancy, but you'll be off the streets and maybe even have heat."

Jake eyed him suspiciously, "You ga money?"

Damon leaned in close so only Jake could hear, "I can get money. I'll take care of the money, Jake."

Jake gave him a crafty look, "You buy my wine?"

"Jake, when I have enough extra, I will buy you wine." He wasn't going to give Jake all he wanted; Jake would drink himself to death.

"Why do you wan me?"

Damon smiled, "Jake, I'm sure you noticed I'm a little on the young side. I need an adult to live with. We'll say you're my grandpa."

"Granpa?"

"Yes Jake. What do you say? It'll get you off the streets for the winter."

"You buy my wine?"

"Yes Jake."

Jake agreed to the deal, and as they left, Damon slid a $5 bill under one of the coffee cups, maybe that'll make the waitress be a little bit nicer to the next bum that comes in. Damon guided Jake to a dive hotel nearby, Jake protested saying he wanted his wine, and Damon had to explain they had to get the room first. Jake reluctantly allowed Damon to pull him into the hotel and up to the counter.

Damon spoke up. "We need an efficiency apartment for a month. How much?"

The clerk looked at Jake, "Six hundred up front buddy."

Damon spoke again, "We need two beds."

Again the clerk addressed Jake, "I'll throw in a rollaway for an extra twenty a month."

Damon dug in different stash points to bring out the required money. The clerk looked at him suspiciously.

Damon explained, "If I let Grandpa hold the money, he'll just drink it up."

One look at Jake and that obviously made sense. The man had Jake sign the register and gave him the key. Damon requested a second key and was informed this wasn't the Carlton Hilton. No duh, Damon thought. He gently took the key from Jake and tried to guide him to the stairwell.

"No Damon. You said you would buy me wine!" Jake whined.

"Right, Jake. Let's go get your wine."

He took Jake to the liquor store and back to the hotel, he knew Jake would most likely wander off if left to his own devises, and finally got the both of them to their room before dark. Damon still had about $400 of his stash left and really wanted to get off the streets with his backpack and money before he lost it all to some mugger.

When they entered their room Damon had to remind himself that this was his life now, it was better than the streets, and told himself to suck it up and handle it as he stepped on a cockroach. Damon had never been to Neal's first assigned residence, the Empire Hotel, if he had, he would have thought the Empire was a luxury hotel compared to this one. But Damon had to live in a place that didn't question Jake being his grandpa, and didn't question when they saw Damon was not going to go to school. They had to live in a place that just didn't care about anything, as long as they got their money.

Damon glanced around the room and quickly surmised what they meant by an efficiency. It had a small counter with an electric burner and a small sink. Beside that was a dormitory size refrigerator that needed a thorough cleaning before he would even let Satch have food out of it.

Damon planned a shopping trip first thing in the morning to get cleaning supplies so he could touch the small counter and use the bathroom without cringing. He gave Jake the twin bed and he took the rollaway. He'd have to get laundry soap to wash the sheets too. He didn't even want to think what might have been done on those sheets and never washed out.

He reminded himself several times it was better than the streets, usually after he stepped on yet another cockroach.

They slept with the glaring ceiling light on to help keep the mice and cockroaches at bay.

***WC***

Damon had lived too long with his mom and El to tolerate unnecessarily filthy conditions. He shoplifted what he could fit in his coat, bought what didn't fit and got the supplies to clean the grimy place. When he got done, it didn't look clean, but the surfaces were touchable and refrigerator was useable. Good thing winter was coming; maybe it could keep the food cold then.

He also 'acquired' some hair bleach. First try he turned his hair orangish and was stunned. He acquired more and tried again. Eventually, he turned his hair into a dirty blond but it was somewhat frizzy. Great. He decided maybe he should read the directions better next time. He purchased a Wicklow driving cap with his 'ten fingered' discount to hide the roots as they started to grow.

As Damon had expected, and desired, he was in charge. He took care of Jake. He made him take showers, he made sure he ate, and always ate with him, semi-subconsciously remembering how the Burkes always pushed him to eat. He saved Jake's old wine bottles and when Jake got new wine, he split it between four bottles, added water to fill and rationed them out to the old man. He liked Jake and saw his health was failing. Eventually, Damon realized Jake never would have survived the winter on the streets.

But Damon not only needed Jake for an adult presence, but the company. Jake had interesting stories of a better life in his past. He had been in the military, he had been an architect, and eventually owned his own construction company. The tales helped fill in the hours. A couple times Jake had let it slip that he had had a wife and kids, but then he went on a drinking binge. Damon got the impression they were dead and that's probably what drove Jake to the bottle and eventually the streets.

Damon slept during school hours; he could not take a chance on being caught. When school let out he hit the streets. Sometimes he went to 'work', which meant taking a change of clothes in his backpack and heading for the wealthier side of town. Somewhere during the subway ride, he would step into a restroom as a bum, and exit as a middleclass bright, friendly preppy type boy more than eager to help folks in need as he lifted their wallets. He never looked at ID's, and he never took any more than the cash they carried. He could not figure out a safe way to return their wallets, so he made sure they were buried beyond reach of any other thieves. He did not want their charge cards used or their identity stolen, he just wanted their cash.

Somewhere during his ride home, he transformed back into a street bum.

Damon never felt any guilt for his stealing. He never stole what he didn't need, so it was a matter of survival. A man cannot feel guilty for following a basic instinct.

Sometimes he went to the library. He had found a couple poor ones on the outskirts of the slums; ones that could not afford the detection devices in the regular check-out books. He had no ID so he could not get a library card, but he could 'check out' small to medium sized books and 'return' them when he was done. He couldn't hang out in the libraries as he had in the past just in case they were looking for him.

Damon used his prior knowledge and what he had learned from Neal that was applicable, lots of Neal's knowledge related to adults. For example, an ID card, what good would an ID card do for him if they had to contact the parents anyway? And he didn't trust Jake to keep his cover. Also, he knew Neal had many underground contacts and, just in case he was looking for him, he avoided those contacts.

He did not believe the Burkes were looking for him. He believed they had transferred custody to the state and now he was a ward of the state. He held no animosity, they had been great. But if they wanted a kid, they would have had one. And he knew they definitely would not even consider wanting him now that they knew he had Adler blood in his veins, Agent Burke had had enough trouble with his Caffrey blood.

***WC***

##### OK, let's see how it goes with Damon. Hope I can keep up with expectations! #####