A/n: Hey! It's me again! So this is my next crossover ya'll! It's a combo of White color, Psych, and NCIS which just so happen to be three of my fav TV shows of all time X3 I've had this sitting around for a while but I felt like I didn't go into too much deal so I set it aside for a while. But heck, it's the first chapter, so just enjoy it will ya? Yeah, I don't have much to say about it right now…

Disclaimer: I, unfortunally, do not own the master pieces that are White collar, Psych and NCIs… sigh… I want to meet Micheal Wetherly….

Chapter 1:

The fading street lights flickered in the eternal darkness of the night. A soft ocean breeze blew across the abandoned dock. Frothy California waves sloshed rhythmically against the algae covered marina. A single white boat sat in the water, tied to the wooden dock and bobbing with each tiny roll of the sea. The dull thud of the crafts hull against the pier hung in the silence of the air, joining in with the symphony of sounds.

Two aging building squatted in front of the nearly empty docks, forming a single path way between them; illuminated by the dulling lights. The trees surrounding the secluded area were cast into shadows, and darkness seemed endless.

A single figure paced the pier anxiously, glancing between the buildings every few moments before stomping a foot in frustration and continuing to pace. He glanced down at his watch and huffed, glaring at the boat tied to the dock beside him. If the man he was told to deliver the crates to didn't show soon, he would be out of options. How else was he going to come up with the two million dollar ransom money by the end of the week? Someone had taken his wife, and it pained him to think that he would never see her again.

He got that feeling enough when he was on duty, he didn't it when he was on leave. He looked up as he heard footsteps come towards him in the darkness. The occasional flicker of a street light revealed a tall man dressed in a business suit headed toward him.

"You're late" The man on the pier snapped as he waited for the other to reach him.

"Fashionably so, sailor." the figure said smoothly as he stopped; glancing at the ship. "So you have it?"

"Of course, it's all on the boat."

"All of it?"

"Yes all of it. Now where's my money?"

The man chuckled and reached into the jacket of his suit. He shook his head slightly as he pulled out a pistol, cocking it as he pointed it at the sailor.

"Oh, I'm afraid our deal ends right here."

An earsplitting crack cut through the silence, followed by a dull thud of a body hitting wood. The man 'tsked' and stepped over the body and onto the boat. He ran his hands over the many crates crammed onto the vessel, a smile touching his lips as he moved. He lifted off one of the lids and gazed fondly down at the masterpiece staring back at him.

"Now won't this be exciting." He whispered to the bobbing sea. "Let's play, shall we?" Without another word the man beckoned with a single wave of his hand, waiting patiently as a dozen men seemed to materialize out of the shadows. "Load this on the truck, be careful not to leave any evidence."

Turning his back to the now frantically scurrying men, the man carefully stepped out of the boat and disappeared down the dark road.

xxXXxx

The small seaside office was silent as rays of sunlight peaked through the window. The workspace was cluttered with bizarre objects and random trinkets. The hum of the TV hung about the room, drowning out the drowsy snores of the work spaces two dozing occupants. The phone rang, and the duo was jerked out of their sleep.

One of said occupants rolled, startled onto the wooden floor. He gave a strangled yelp and pulled himself into a sitting position against the foot of the rooms couch. He sleepily reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell, putting the green cased phone to his ear.

"What's up chief?" he asked groggily.

"Spencer. I have a job for you, be down at the marina as soon as you can." Chief Karen Vicks voice replied.

"Alright. On it chief." He replied, hanging up. "Gus. Gus. Get up. C'mon buddy, we got a case." He slapped the leg of his sleeping partner. He got to his feet and ran a tanned hand through his short brown hair. Rubbing his chocolate brown eyes as he yawned; he readjusted his plaid button up shirt and turned his attention back to his still unaware companion. The pair had fallen asleep, sprawled on the offices couch; watching old movies until the late hours of the morning.

"A new case?" Gus finally mumbled, placing a dark skinned hand over his face.

"Yeah. The chief wants us to meet her at the marina, so get up." Shawn replied.

"You know, if this was any other day, I'd be trying to get you to get up." Burton Guster replied, sitting up.

"C'mon. We're already dressed lets go." Shawn urged, tossing his friend the keys and heading outside.

Burton Guster sighed and pushed himself to his feet. On his way out the door he grabbed his brown coat before locking the office behind him and following Shawn out to his car.

It only took about ten minutes for the tiny blue car to reach the marina. They pulled into the lot and the two companions leapt out and hurried to the line of yellow police tape in the distance.

"What do you think this is about?" Gus asked as they pushed their way through the gathered crowd.

"My guess is a body." Shawn replied cheekily.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I don't know."

"Aren't you supposed to be psychic?" Detective Carlton Lassiter asked as the duo joined him on the dock. His dark brown hair parted neatly down the center and he regarded them with pale green eyes.

The new arrivals glanced briefly at the pale body of the dead marine sprawled on the dock as they stood next to the officer. A pool of blood formed around the man's head and his eyes were wide with shock and horror. Gus turned his head away as Shawn looked around for clues. Seeing only a slight shoe print next to the body and what looked like a hair being put into an evidence bag.

"Hey Lassie-face!" Shawn exclaimed, clapping a hand on the less- than- estatic man's shoulder.

"What exactly are you doing here Spencer?" the detective snapped, narrowing his eyes.

"The chief told us to meet her here." He replied. Carlton opened his mouth to retort, but froze as chief Vick walked toward them, the low heels of her shoes clicking on the dock. Her short blonde hair whipped around her head in the seaside breeze and her dark brown eyes flickered between the detectives before her.

"Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster. Thank you for coming. I need to know anything you can tell us about this man, as soon as you can. Two outside agencies will be working with us on this case and I expect your full cooperation." She ordered, her voice crisp.

"Outside agencies ma'am?" Juliet O'hara asked as she walked up to the small group, her long blonde hair tucked neatly into a bun on top of her head.

"Apparently this marine was involved in something big. A government agency specializing in Naval crimes has been looking for him and will be sending out a team of agents. Regarding the paintings that were found, a FBI team will be coming out from New York. I want all of you on your best behavior, understand?" she snapped.

"Absolutely." They chorused.

"Good. Now get to work, they'll be here tomorrow." Without another word she turned and walked off, leaving the four others to stare after her. They exchanged nervous glances before they scurried around the crime, scanning for evidence.

xxXXxx

The White Collar office in New York, New York, was quiet. The few agents in the building were focused intently on their work; pouring over case files and making calls. Known criminal Neal Caffrey lounged at his desk, his deep blue eyes mercilessly scanning the papers in front of him. His dark brown hair was neat and wavy and his face was clean shaven. If Neal Caffrey was anything, he was not sloppy; in anything he did. His feet were propped up on the work space and a case file sat open on his lap. He sighed and slapped the folder back onto the desk before picking up another.

"Mortgage fraud too boring for you Caffrey?" Jones asked as he passed the ex- cons desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied with a cheeky smile.

"Right. Anyway, Peter wants to see you."

Neal nodded his thanks before getting to his feet; flipping his signature black fedora onto his head before making his way over to peter's office. The man's glass walled office was across the room and up a small set of stairs; the layout of the floor was now a familiar sight to the conman.

"Sit." The FBI agent ordered as his charge walked into the room. Neal sat in one of the chairs facing Agent Peter Burke's desk; leaning forward as he awaited an explanation.

"We got a call this morning on a very large art heist in Santa Barbra." Peter explained, setting a blue file in front of his partner.

"California? Why would we get a call from California?" Neal asked curiously. "Isn't there a White Collar unit there?" He picked up the file and leaned back in his chair as he flipped through it, glancing up at Peter with a raised eyebrow.

"well… yes. But…"

"But what?"

"But they don't have the… expertise… that we do. We need to know who is going to fence the remaining paintings and who forged the ones that we found."

"Oh, so they found paintings? It says here they found a dead marine…"

"Yes. They think he was selling someone else a portion of the paintings."

"When our murderer killed him, why didn't whoever they were selling the painting to take the rest?"

"The rest were locked in a nearby warehouse belonging to the dead marine."

"And they need us to go all the way to California to look at these paintings?"

"Yes."

"Can't someone there do it?"

"The people there aren't you."

"Oh, Peter, are you saying you need me?"

"Don't get full of yourself kid. Go pack a bag, we leave in two hours."

"Two hours? But-"

"No buts. Two hours. I'll pick you up at June's."

"Fine. Two hours." Neal flashed a dazzling smile and slipped out of the room, already dialing his phone as he reached the elevator.

"Mozzie." He greeted as his friend picked up the other line.

"Hey man." The tiny bald man replied.

"Listen, Mozz, Me and Peter have to go to California."

"California? You being ordered around by the Man?"

"You know I have to Mozz."

"'A desire to resist oppression is implanted in the nature of man.' Tacitus."

"Again with the fortune cookie commentary."

"My pleasure."

"Hey, do you think you can ask around if anyone knows about someone trying to fence forgeries in California."

"Is that why the Suit's going out there?"

"Yeah, Peter said that a marine was fencing them."

"A marine? I'll look. I'll call when I find something."

"Thanks Mozz, talk you to later."

Neal slipped the phone back in his pocket as the cab he'd hailed pulled up in front of Junes house. He stepped out and hurried up stairs to the room he was currently occupying. Although he wouldn't show it, he was apprehensive about working for another government agency. He trusted Peter, and he worked well with Jones and Diana, but he was still a criminal. The last time he'd had to work for someone other than Peter, he'd been kidnapped, tazed, and held at gun point.

Two hours later, Peter pulled up in front of the elegant sprawling house and cut the engine, waiting patiently as his criminal partner loaded his suitcase in the back and got into the passenger seat. He flashed a toothy smile, his blue eyes bright. He adjusted his designer suit and leaned comfortably back in his seat.

"When we reach the airport, you're going to have to wear handcuffs." Peter explained as he restarted the car and set off down the road. Caffreys smile faltered as he looked at his partner.

"Isn't the anklet enough?" he asked.

"It's protocol Neal."

"But the handcuffs?"

"Don't want you to steal anything,"

"Your distrust is flattering Peter." Neal replied sarcastically, messing with the buttons on the cars dashboard.

Peter just smiled, choosing to ignore his friends typical behavior. He would have preferred to avoid using handcuffs on the kid but Hughes had assured him that that was what they had to do to get the ex-con on the plane. Otherwise, he was actually feeling good about their new assignment. They would meet Jones and Diana at the airport, and as long as Neal could keep himself out of trouble they could be back to New York in no time. As soon as they solved the case the sooner he could return to his dinners and lunches with El and Satchmo.

xxXXxx

The Bullpen of NCIS headquarters in Washington D.C. was a bustle of activity. An Israeli woman with long curly hair scribbled furiously on a pile of papers in front of her. A large duffle bag sat on the floor by her feet, much like those at near the desks of her coworkers. In the desk opposite her, a man with short brown hair and emerald green eyes typed hurriedly at his computer, occasionally picking up the phone as it rang. In the other occupied desk a tawny haired man also typed away at his keyboarded, furiously clicking his mouse and glancing nervously at the elevator doors across the office.

All three NCIS special agents froze as the familiar ding of the elevator rang out.

"Boss!" "Gibbs!" They all exclaimed as the grey haired man strode towards them, steaming coffee in hand. A suitcase was slung over one shoulder as his blue eyes shifted suspiciously between the members of his team.

"Dinozzo, you file your reports yet?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked as he reached his desk and looked over at the senior field agent.

"Almost, Boss. I'm on it." Very special agent Anthony Dinozzo replied without looking up from his computer. The sleeves of his dark blue stripped shirt were rolled up to his elbows and the collar sat haphazardly around his neck.

"David?" Gibbs asked, turning to the single woman in the team, seated across from Dinozzo.

"I am now Gibbs." Ziva replied, laying down her pen. She tugged absently at the fabric of her light green blouse, adjusting gun holstered at her hip.

"Mcgee?"

The other male, Tim, gave one finalized click of his mouse and looked up at the lead agent. "All finished boss."

"Good. Dinozzo, ya done yet?"

"I am now boss." The agent replied hurriedly as he looked up.

Gibbs gave the members of his team an appraising look before grabbing his chair and dragging it to the center of the bullpen.

"Campfire." He ordered. Ziva, Tony, and Tim pulled themselves and their chairs to join their boss in the center of the squad room to join their boss in a small circle. "I already told you all that we're working a case in California. I want the three of you to be on your best behavior, ya got that?"

"Of course boss."

"Absolutely."

"As always Gibbs." The agents replied, their voices overlapping one another.

"Good. We're investigating the death of a Petty Officer Jean Lyndon. He was found murdered on a Santa Barbra dock this morning at 0500. The Petty Officer went missing over a week ago." Gibbs explained.

"And why are we going all the way to California? I mean don't they have people for this?" Tony asked.

"Because Dinozzo; he's the main suspect in our case. The Santa Barbra police replied to the BOLO we sent out. Apparently he's involved in something much bigger."

"So I take it we will be working with the local authorities?" Ziva asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Yes, and I want all of you to behave, understand?" Gibbs asked, looking over the three agents. Each of them nodded or a nod of the head before Gibbs pushed himself to his feet once again. "Alright; Mcgee, go get Abby. The rest of you, gas the truck and get your things in the back, we have a plane to catch."