Prompt from Anonymous: I know that you usually write how Dick-secretly-is-Neal, but what about having the League Of Assassins trying to recruit Neal (Damian) back into their messed up murder fest?

Author Notes: So, this didn't really go the way it was meant to... instead of Damian attempting be to recruited back, an older Damian just took them out (through family and the bonds of friendship!). I was focused on creating a universe where Damian was Neal and it kind of makes sense.

Also, I totally didn't mean to disappear with no updates for days. If it helps (because you just gotta know why sometimes), my sister is sick and I spent the weekend looking after her as the parents had a weekend work trip they couldn't cancel. She's still sick, doctors aren't sure what's wrong with her, although Mum realised Tuesday that my sister's quirks matched the ones she has when she got tonsillitis as a kid so the doc gave her meds to help with that kind of sickness. But yeah, she's spent the last couple of days stuck on the couch, without the energy to move. She's started moving today but is still sick and sleeping on the couch. Mostly I just lost track of time, it's a little fluid right now.

Unexpected Past

It was well known that if you put pen and paper into Neal's hands, he would draw something with it. Sometimes they were just scribbles, like anyone might do when bored. Peter had certainly spiralled his pen across the page while working on a crossword once or twice. Although, Neal would just look at him, 'tsk' and make a grumpy face if he ever compared the two in front of him. After all, sometimes, quite often really, Neal would draw what could be a masterpiece.

'Why create forgeries when you can do art like that?' was the thought that many an agent had while looking at the images Neal scratched onto the side of the case notes or meeting agenda or just the spare paper Peter made sure was always present in the meeting room and his office.

Peter kept every picture he could which sported his face. El just loved seeing the different sketches Neal made of him. The one with Peter standing at the end of the meeting table with his hands on his hips, badge on his belt and a 'get it together agents' look on his face was Peter's favourite.

Usually Neal drew people who Peter knew. But sometimes people he didn't. Those were the ones Peter paid attention to.

"Who's that?" he asked one meeting. Neal had sketched a person with a round, but adult, face. Some stubble was present but the eyes caught Peter's attention first. They were somehow filled with such warmth that Peter thought he might like to meet this person in real life.

Neal startled, like he hadn't realised Peter was there. He scribbled over the face and it vanished underneath pen. "Nobody," he responded.

Peter was being followed. He felt something the moment he left for work but the feeling had vanished while in the office. The moment he stepped outside for lunch, he instantly felt it again. The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise.

Was that the glint of binoculars across the street or a sniper taking aim?

He shook his head, trying to get the image out of his mind. He was just being paranoid.

"Get back inside, Suit!" Mozzie called out, running over to him. The little guy actually shoved Peter along until they were inside.

"What? What's going on Mozzie?" Peter questioned.

"Assassins!" Mozzie hissed, looking outside. Peter didn't see anything. "They were following you this morning-"

"You were the driver of that cab!" Peter said. Apparently the cab following him had really been following him. Peter had thought it was just a coincidence when it didn't pull in at the FBI like he did.

"Of course I was. I was following the car in front of you, the one which had been following you."

"Following me... from the front?" Peter knew it was possible but difficult. Now that he thought about it, the car had made a couple of turns in different directions, only to reappear later. If Mozzie was following them and just happened to end up following Peter at the same time... "why were you following them?"

"Neal had heard that they were here and needed to know who their target was."

"Who's 'they'?" Peter asked. He was slightly sceptical of the little conspiracy nut. This sounded like his usual conspiracy rant.

"I'm not allowed to say," Mozzie said. "Besides, they say they'll know if you speak of them-"

"They're not the Court of Owls," Neal said, causing both of them to jump. What was the Court of Owls?

"When did you get here?" Mozzie questioned, glaring at his taller friend.

Neal grinned. "A while back." Peter had no idea there was more to what Neal said but Mozzie thought about it and seemed to realise what Neal was really saying.

"You put a tracker on me!" Mozzie immediately started trying to find it.

"He'll never find it," Neal whispered to Peter. Peter wondered if Neal really had put a tracker on his friend. It was strange behaviour for Neal but also, where would he find a tracker? "Peter, you should go get Diana or Jones."

Whenever Neal started asking things like that, it meant that he was contemplating something illegal. "If you think I'm leaving you to whatever this is, think again. Whoever's after you-"

"They're not after me," Neal interrupted with steel in his voice. "They're after you." That gave Peter pause. "I don't know why but someone must have put a price on your head." Neal glared off into the darkness. "Isn't that right?"

Out of the darkness came two ninjas armed with blades. Peter muttered a curse while Mozzie pushed them both behind Neal. Neal, who wasn't the least bit concerned that ninjas armed with blades were coming at them.

Peter reached for his gun, holstered at his waist but Mozzie's hand covered his.

"Don't. Let Neal handle it."

"What? Do you see them?" Peter questioned. He pulled in an attempt to get Mozzie to let go.

Moz gripped him harder and glared. "Trust Neal. He can handle this."

Peter looked over at the ninjas. Could Neal really talk them out of attacking?

"Imagine my surprise when I learn that the League of Assassins is in the city," Neal started and Peter's heart stopped. The League of Assassins was far, far above their pay grades. They were Justice League business, not the business of White Collar agents.

"Neal Caffrey," the ninja to the left responded in a deep, accented voice. "Our mission is to leave you unharmed."

"That will make kicking your butts easier," Neal countered with a grin. "Not that I need it to be easy."

"Our mission is to kill the agent behind you. Cause you pain. We'll take the other one as well. Only you can know we were here."

Cause Neal pain? Peter brightened at the implication. Confirmation that Neal actually cared for him never failed to make him feel good. It boded well for Neal's rehabilitation.

"Why do you want to hurt him?" Peter demanded to know.

"Grandfather wants me back, doesn't he?" Neal growled. His voice was gravelly, a warning to these ninjas that he was serious. "With father retired and my sister in the cowl, he wants me to come back to them."

"To fight for your rightful place."

"My place is. Right. Here!" Neal said, rushing forward. He flipped and aimed a kick at the ninja's face from a handstand. "You can tell Grandfather that!" He used the momentum to spin on his hands and sweep a kick at the other ninja's feet. The movement flowed into a crouch which he then sprung out of with a fist aimed at the first ninja.

Peter stared in shock as Neal flipped, bounced, punched and kicked until the ninjas had enough. Even with swords, they hadn't been able to land a blow. The ninjas didn't stop though. They didn't fall, even when Neal kneed one in the gut and then punched him across the jaw.

Even Mozzie winced at that one.

After a couple of moments, it seemed the ninjas had enough. They moved back into the shadows.

"You think he's going to stop?" the one who spoke taunted. "He wants you back."

"And grandfather must always get what he wants," Neal said in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes. He turned to Peter. "So, I can explain."

"Of course you can," Peter said. "Now preferably."

"I would like to know about the assassins too," Mozzie said. "This is worse than that time Deathstroke tried to kill you."

"-tt-, he didn't try to kill me. He was hired to kill me. He knew he hadn't been paid enough to actually kill me."

Peter had heard of Deathstroke. He really should have been surprised or horrified that someone hired a mercenary to get rid of Neal but, Neal could rub people the wrong way. It wouldn't have surprised Peter if Ryan Wilkes or someone like him had been behind it.

"But it is worse. I was rather hoping that grandfather wouldn't bother me."

"And who is this 'grandfather' of yours?" Peter asked. Maybe he would actually get an answer about Neal's history now.

"My mother's father. Not a nice guy."

"Obviously," Mozzie huffed. "Normally you run if you think he's anywhere near you."

"Neal," Peter said in warning.

"Sorry Peter, but Mozzie's right. It's too dangerous for me to stay, especially if grandfather wants you dead because of me." That part did worry Peter a little. As far as the law was concerned, Neal belonged to the FBI. This grandfather of his had better accept that.

"Not happening," Peter responded, crossing his arms. "We'll put you into protective custody if we have to."

"Weren't you listening, Peter? You're the one in danger."

"Upstairs, now."

Neal sighed but complied.

Neal sat across from Peter in his office while Peter tapped his pen on the desk and thought. Neal tapped his feet on the ground and looked around, feeling the itch to move and run.

"So Neal, are you doing to explain?" Peter asked.

"Nope. Just take me back to June's." Neal would be gone by morning and Peter would be none the wiser.

"If you don't explain, I'm going to have to put you under a 24 hour watch."

"You've got to be kidding! Peter!"

"No. Explain or 24 hour watch. Decide."

El looked between her husband and his CI. Neal was under 24 hour watch in Peter's custody. Neither looked particularly happy. She had gotten the story out of both of them and still didn't get why they were so frustrated with each other. It made her feel a little dirty that she would rather Neal run than get her husband assassinated.

The thought of living without Peter made a chill go down her back.

"Isn't there something else you could do?" she asked Neal. "Someone you could call in to help?"

Neal paused, as if the idea hadn't occurred to him. Then he made a face which said 'do I have to?', his nose scrunching up as he gazed off into the distance. It was for El after all. She deserved to have her husband safe and returning home to her.

"Fine," he said, coming back to himself. "There might be... someone I can call."

"Why does that not fill me confidence?" Peter wondered out loud.

Neal pulled out his phone and called someone he grumbled to. "Look, I know you're usually the last one I contact but this has to do with grandfather. No, I will not steal another Raphael for you. The last one caused me enough problems. You have father's money, why don't you just buy it? Oh, I see, you'll buy high powered cars or enough coffee to sink a ship but not priceless paintings? Heathen. Yes, you are a heathen. I'd give you my forgeries if you didn't get everything I give you appraised right away. Focus Drake! Grandfather. FBI. Peter. Use that big brain of yours and do something." Neal hung up and glared at his phone for a couple of moments before turning back to them. "There. Consider the problem solved."

Peter and El shared a look. Peter was confused and worried while El was curious. How was the problem solved with one phone call?

Peter received part of the answer the next day. It came in the form a young, blue eyed kid smiling in his office. Neal took one look at the guy and stiffened. Peter knew they knew each other, the man was a dead ringer for the picture Neal had once drawn and scribbled over.

The man, Wayne Private Security according to the badge on his uniform jacket, pounced on them the moment Peter opened the door to his office.

"Hi, my name's Dick Grayson and I've been hired to be your guard."

"No," Peter said without hesitation. He was an FBI agent, he could look after himself.

Dick's smile didn't falter for a moment. Peter felt a niggle of familiarity in it. "I've already spoken with Reece Hughes, who was pleased to hear that I would be accompanying you for the foreseeable future, on my company's dime. He hadn't heard about the altercation in the parking lot yesterday, which is strange but the moment I told him about it-"

"Grayson, stop laying it on so thick," Neal commented from the door. Dick took his hat. "Hey!"

With the hat on his head, Dick said, "explanations are important, little brother."

Peter looked between the two. They could certainly be brothers. Neal even reacted like a little brother, frowning and crossing his arms like Dick had wronged him by taking his hat.

"You need to call me Neal Caffrey here. You just gave Agent Burke everything he needs to figure out who I am."

"Maybe it's about time he did. You do want to go honest, don't you?" Dick questioned. Peter decided that it might not be a bad idea to keep Dick around. Even if Neal's silence was telling in a disappointing way. "Well," Dick flipped the hat off his head and onto Neal's. "I guess step-mum will be proud of you."

Neal raised his chin. "Of course," he said in a haughty tone. The same tone Neal used when he confirmed his talent to some doubter, often in a showy way.

It took Peter only a little under an hour to fully confirm Neal's identity as Damian Wayne.

"This is a PR nightmare," he groaned. He was lucky that Wayne Enterprises hadn't come after them for arresting his kid.

"Nah, Neal's not going to tell anyone. For starters, it means admitting that he's a confidence man and, while good for business, it's not really something he wants spread through the family," Dick commented. He was sitting on what was usually Neal's spot, playing a game on his phone and swinging back and forth on his chair like a kid in the classroom. "Although he might be a little late for that one. Tim knows," Tim Drake-Wayne, Damian's older brother and probably the guy he called last night. Peter wondered how he would approach an investigation into Drake's acquired art pieces. "And what Tim knows could spread throughout the community in a day if he wanted it to. Less, if it's juicy news like Damian getting a girlfriend or something."

"Kate?" Peter questioned. It was a mistake as Dick's eyes lit up and leant across the table like an officer conducting an investigation.

"Kate? Tell me all about this Kate."

"She needed my help," hiding from the League of Assassins, Neal silently added, "so, Grayson, don't be crass."

"Little Neal had a girlfriend," Dick said. "An almost fiancée! I bet Bruce would have loved her!"

Neal smiled sadly at the thought of Kate and his father meeting. She would have needed Neal's insistence that he wouldn't unleash some hidden 'Bat-powers' or the like.

"Drake would have liked her more." Kate had been brilliant.

"You know he'll get the League off Peter's back," Dick said, changing the subject. It was good to talk about those gone but not good to dwell on it. "Anyway, I came to ask about the ring. How'd you get your hands on a McNally Solitaire with that kind of value?"

Neal glanced over and frowned at the grins Diana and Jones were sending his way.

"What?" he questioned.

Diana answered, "it's like seeing Neal get out-Nealed by another Neal."

"More entertaining than the van," Jones said.

Dick laughed and Neal grinned.

"Oh, it's on."

Dick paused. "Come on, you can't be serious."

"No comment."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

Dick rolled his eyes but he was totally up for the challenge.

"It was the maid, cleaning the library, stashed the icon in a hollowed out book with the intent of retrieving it when the chaos dies down," Dick declared, placing the file onto Neal's desk. The agent the case belonged to quickly jumped onto the phone to get the library searched.

"Must you make it sound like a game of Clue?" Neal questioned. He placed another file on top of Dick's. "A forged painting cold case. Solved in thirty minutes. See the list of who had the skills and known work matches closely and cross-referenced with those in the vicinity of the crime at the time."

"Who wants to solve this mortgage fraud case?" Diana asked, bringing over another file.

Neal groaned. "Why, Diana?"

"Boring," Dick announced. "Can't you just analyse the signatures?"

"I don't know. Can you?" Diana countered, dropping the case onto the desk.

Dick's phone rang at 3pm, in unison with a ding from Neal's phone as an email came through. Neal sighed in relief. Drake had done it, Peter was safe. Neal even had a signed contract from his grandfather, stating that no assassin would go after the life of Peter or anyone in Peter's inner circle, excluding Neal.

Neal could live with that. He also sent a message to Mozzie, informing him that it would be beneficial if he wormed his way into the Burke circle of friends.

Dick was on the phone, "that's good news! Excellent work, little bro. I'm sure our mutual little brother is pleased with your work."

"It was… satisfactory," Neal said, slipping into the way of speaking Drake was familiar with.

"See? Pleased," Dick said into the phone. "And I'll take that flight back into Gotham tonight. Get the private jet ready."

"You're leaving?" Neal asked sadly.

"Yeah. But I'll come back this weekend and hang with you. I want to see all the art you've been working on."

Neal smiled softly. Dick was one of the few people he enjoyed showing his original pieces to. Dick had good things to say about all of them, even though Neal didn't always like them.

Dick climbed the stairs to Peter's office two at a time and poked his head in to say good-bye.

Neal was glad that day was over with. Peter took him home with him as El had called to say Mozzie had come round for dinner.

"Don't leave me alone with him and my wife," Peter had insisted.

In the car, Neal had to ask, "about me being… me, are you going to tell everyone?"

"Do you want me to?" Peter asked.

"No. Believe it or not but Neal Caffrey's enemies are fewer and less intense than Damian Wayne's. As much as it chafes sometimes, I'm safer like this for now."

"I don't like that. It means if you go back, I'm going to be worrying about you all the time," Peter said.

"I can handle myself."

"Doesn't mean you should," Peter countered. He looked over at Neal. "My door is always open, okay?" They both knew that if Neal ran, he wouldn't be able to take that offer. Peter would uphold the law and take Neal in, even while making sure he was safe. It was both frustrating and something which made Peter Burke someone Neal could put his faith in.