Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar or anything affiliated with it. The story below is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made.

As soon as he saw the dead body on the floor, he knew. It was not going to be a good day. He didn't like dead bodies. Just as much as he didn't like guns. For the same reason, too, but that was another story. No, he didn't like dead bodies. Excuse him for wanting to get away. But, Peter wouldn't let him go. And then of course, Peter solves the murder, just like that. And why couldn't he have done that before Neal got there? This was definitely not in the FBI custody agreement he had signed up for. He'd read it through several times and he was one hundred percent sure he'd seen no reference to dead bodies. But, now he was sharing a room with one and Peter was talking to him and asking him questions. So, Neal decided he would look at everything other than the dead body to try and figure out what happened. If only Peter (murder was not Neal's forte) had figured it out a little sooner, then maybe there wouldn't be a killer thief on the loose. He just knew his day was only going to get worse.

Peter had the worst timing of anyone Neal had ever met. He'd finally been getting through to Alex. He knew he was just this close to convincing her that he wasn't really on the FBI's side, that he was playing his own angle. And it still may have worked, if Peter hadn't blurted out that he was FBI. Irritating old man did it on purpose too. Granted, he wasn't supposed to know that Alex was anything other than an old acquaintance he occasionally hooked up with. But still, didn't the frantic hand gestures and mouthing of "no FBI" mean anything? It wasn't like he couldn't use that to impress a girl.

Later that night, Neal lay staring at the ceiling. His mind was running, filled with thoughts of Alex, the music box, Kate, that code he'd swiped from evidence, and how on earth Elizabeth ever got any sleep. He turned his head and glared in the direction of the couch. He'd never known a man could snore so obnoxiously. It wasn't that it was loud, per se, but there was a certain rhythm to it that made him want to hurt something…preferably Peter, but he'd settle for ripping off his own ears if he had to. Needless to say, he didn't sleep well that night. Which, of course, just guaranteed that the following day would be just as bad, if not worse than the previous.

All joviality disappeared quickly that morning. Everything for the rest of the day was forced, every smile, every witty remark, all of it. Peter was getting on his nerves. Yes, he'd invited the man to stay with him if he wanted, but he'd never for one second thought that offer would be accepted…much less taken up on. Then he met Dan and saw what Dan had in his house. If Peter hadn't forcibly restrained him from leaving, he never would've had to suffer through seeing all of those priceless artifacts being used so callously. The real clincher though, was what happened later that night.

All day he'd been rubbed the wrong way. The two careless remarks, one each thrown out by Hughes and Peter, about him not being an agent got under his skin. The way they said it, with disdain and condescending amusement, was degrading. It was as if they were reminding him that he wasn't as good as them…that he was somehow less and unimportant…like an afterthought. He really hated being treated that way. To some degree he could take it, and most days he did. But he was already in a foul mood, and those remarks only served to fuel his darker thoughts. No, those comments hadn't helped one bit. The fiasco at the bar only made things worse.

"I welcome you into my home and you run a file on my friend?" Neal really did feel betrayed. He always viewed his residence as a safe place, a sort of neutral zone where FBI and criminal didn't exist. But they did, and Peter brought them in with him. Peter had not only ensured that Alex would never trust him again (which was probably what he was aiming for), but he put Neal in a really bad position. If Alex was mad enough, she could spread the word on him. Granted, the information that Neal was working with the Fed's wasn't exactly hidden, but some people wouldn't know as long as they didn't go looking. Now they just might. He had to run damage control…make sure Alex didn't leave with any vengeful feelings.

"You can't trust me? After everything?" He didn't know what to feel about that. The mere idea of Peter not trusting him now…it baffled him. Sure, at the beginning of their working relationship he could understand the lack of trust. But now, after all they'd been through? Had Peter somehow forgotten about the tape he'd erased for him? Or the time he'd given him the mini oxygen mask and subsequently almost suffocated? Did it not matter that he hadn't run when they'd removed his anklet in the past? Or that, instead of running, he'd gone to Peter when he was falsely accused of stealing that pink diamond? Did none of it matter? How many more times would he have to prove himself? Did he even want to?

"You tell me. I know you're looking for the music box. Maybe you're looking to pawn the jade too. You let Pierce walk because you're playing your own angle?" Peter's words hit Neal like physical blows. Did Peter really think that little of him? It hurt Neal more than he thought it would…to know that Peter still only saw him as a criminal and nothing more.

"There were three of them, Peter." Indeed there were. Three really big guys too…the type that could kill him with their bare hands. He wasn't a fighter, how on earth did Peter expect him to get away from those guys? The way the agent was speaking to him now he was surprised Peter hadn't just run after Pierce himself and left Neal with those goons.

"You shouldn't have let her go!" Normally, Neal would see this outburst for what it was. Frustration. But right now he felt gut-shot and defenseless…neither of which he enjoyed. So, he only saw it as another attack on him. Apparently he was supposed to risk getting torn limb from limb just to keep up with a mark…weren't there FBI agents paid to do that exact thing? Where was Cruz? Where was Jones? Why did Peter only blame Neal? He was getting really tired of being the one blamed for everything. He was tired of Peter not trusting him.

"Ok, you know what? You think what you want to think. I'll walk from here." He couldn't bring himself to sit in the same car with Burke. The idea of being in a confined space with the agent was inconceivable. He just wanted to be away from the other man. To be alone. Fight or flight was kicking in, and flight was rising fast.

"Where're you going?" Where did he think Neal was going? Where could he possibly go with that stupid anklet? It's not like he had anywhere else to go anyway. Especially now that Alex had probably spread word that he was with the feds.

"Home. Something you don't have right now. If you don't trust me, you can check my anklet." He was angry and tired and fast approaching the point of not caring anymore. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there and away from Burke. He couldn't stand watching relationships fall apart…and that was what was happening. Their fledgling friend- and partnership was being ripped to shreds.

"I will." Of course he will. He doesn't trust Neal. Apparently Neal's hard work and steadfast trust in the older man didn't count for anything. Were they even noticed? No, he was just a criminal…an expendable FBI asset.

"Do it." He walked away. The fed was free to do whatever he wanted. It was times like this when the electronic leash felt suffocating. Although he was going to be alone, he never really would be. There was always someone watching.

As he reached June's his posture was noticeably slumped, defeated. His thoughts continued on a dark, downward spiral. He was so lost in them, Pierce's presence took him by surprise. The gun went a long way in clearing his mind, however. He knew he had to get someone's attention, let someone know he was in trouble. So he slammed the door. Surely June would hear. And she did. Sending out the morse code message with his anklet was a wild stab in the dark. Peter was the only one who would understand the message. If he didn't get it in time then this was most likely the last night Neal would ever see. Some twisted part in the back of his mind felt relieved at that thought.

"Neal cut his anklet" Peter leaned forward, 'Dammit Neal,' he thought. Had the kid finally run out on him? He didn't know why the thought was so surprising. He kept telling himself that Neal was a huge flight risk…could and would run at any time. But now that it seemed he had, he didn't know what to think. He knew Neal trusted him. Heck the kid had outright told him, even if he was drugged up at the time. He was glad he was the one Neal trusted. The younger man needed a reliable, law-abiding person he could turn to. Someone who wouldn't get him into trouble and thrown back in jail. He just couldn't understand the young con man sometimes. Like now. If Neal had run…why did he do it? Why not come to Peter?

Their earlier argument flashed through his mind. There had been something to the tone of Neal's voice when he'd asked if Peter couldn't trust him. Did the kid really expect Peter to give him his trust? He still saw the criminal in Neal, and it was his job to keep the kid on the straight and narrow. The only way he could really do that was to be vigilant. He knew the younger man was easily distracted by shiny objects and didn't trust him not to fall into old habits. He had no idea the damage he was causing by thinking this way.

Neal tensed as he prepared to be shot. He knew the FBI was on the way, he just didn't know how far away they were. Would they get there soon or only get there in time to find his body on Peter's living room floor? He really didn't want to put Elizabeth through that. He knew, in about two seconds, he was going to die. Maybe they'd finally ruled him as so expendable they would use his murder to take Pierce down. His thoughts only continued to grow in morbidity. In the moment he saw her putting pressure on the trigger his mind didn't turn to Kate as he thought it would. Instead, he only felt a strange relief that the game would finally be over. He was so tired of playing and wasn't sure what his goal was anymore…or if he even had one.

The FBI's timing was impeccable. One more second and he'd be dead, he was sure of it. Turning up the volume had worked as a great surprise tactic as well. Despite anything that may have been running through his mind when he thought he was going to die, his preservation instincts still ran full tilt. He just had to decide if he was happy about that or not.

"Welcome home." He wasn't sure if he was happy to see Peter or not. He knew he should be, since the man did just save his life, but he didn't feel as relieved or grateful as he should. He couldn't forget the things Peter had said to him or the way he'd looked at him over the past two days. It was glaringly obvious to Neal that Peter didn't trust him. Never would. Not completely. That fact hurt more than he expected…and at the same time made him feel so incredibly tired. He didn't know how much longer he could keep playing these games. He was getting desperate for a way out and all fingers pointed to Kate as his escape. He'd started to think it would be hard to leave this life he'd built for himself, now he couldn't wait to get rid of it. If Peter didn't trust him, then there was no real hope of being happy here. No, better to leave as soon as the chance presented itself. He just had to find the music box first.

Peter smiled at Neal's words. It was good to know he was right about the kid. Granted, he'd had his doubts, and he still knew he was up to something, but in this case he was right. Neal hadn't sided with Pierce. He was proud of the kid. He had real potential to do great things that benefited people, if only he would see that. The agent knew Neal was making a good life here, he just had to keep it up. He just had to put an end to all this music box business.