I just finished rewatching Season 1 for like the 14th time, because my brother had never seen it and I wanted to get him caught up before the Season 2 premiere. (Only a few days away! Can't wait!) Anyway, as he sat there in shock after the ending of Out of the Box, I decided I really wanted to post a White Collar fanfic. This is my first fic posted in this fandom, though I have several other ideas jotted down. Depending on the reaction to this one, I may start writing out a few more.

My challenge for this one was to write about 1500 words entirely in second person without using any names. I decided to do something like a character sketch and a recap of Peter and Neal's relationship (not slash). Spoilers for Out of the Box and some vague references to other parts of Season 1.

I only just typed this and it hasn't been edited at all, so please let me know if you notice any typos or things that don't quite line up. Don't forget to review! :)

After all this, after everything you have been through together, this is not supposed to be the way things end. As you reflect on the last several months working with the man before you, you find it hard to reconcile this broken and screaming mess with the man you have come to know. He's supposed to be suave, cool, collected, and always in control, not the sobbing wreck pulling desperately against your hold.

When he first suggested this consulting arrangement you knew that it was a ruse, a way of getting out of jail to look for his lost love. Despite this, you found yourself admitting that you liked the kid and could certainly use his help on a few cases. Since he joined forces with the bureau you've been solving cases at an unprecedented rate, and despite some of his wilder schemes, the department's costs have actually dropped.

Ever since you let him out of jail – demanding to see the anklet because you know all-too-well the capabilities of this convict – you have been keeping a semi-constant eye on him. You review his tracking data on a daily basis (the monitoring information is, in fact, your homepage), fully aware that this whole thing could potentially be just another con.

He can cut and run at any time and there is nothing you can do to stop him. You both know that the tracking anklet is a joke, because the five minute response time of the FBI and Marshals is over four minutes more than he'll need to disappear forever. Even so, it provides a sense of security. It is a way for him to pretend that he has no choice but to stick around, and the way you convinced your boss to let him out of jail in the first place.

Back when you were chasing him, before you caught him for the first time, you sometimes caught yourself admiring the younger man for his audacity. He was the first criminal you had ever pursued who possessed the sheer brilliance to send food to a surveillance van and to conduct his shady business practically right under your nose without revealing enough to merit arrest.

The challenge of matching wits with him was something new and exciting, and you found yourself actually enjoying the interaction. Once he was in jail you went back to life as it had been before he came into your life, albeit with a slightly more over-affectionate wife (not that you were complaining), having been neglected far too often throughout the three year chase.

You hadn't realized you'd missed the old challenge until he escaped nearly four years later. During this second, albeit much shorter, chase you felt all the old adrenaline again, the rush of the recognition that you had met your match. When he requested a meeting with you back in jail you agreed, if only for the purpose of rubbing it in his face that you had caught him again.

His suggestion that he could help you solve crime was almost laughable, but some small part of you was able to see that he would be a truly valuable asset to the department. If you somehow found a way to channel his brilliance in a more constructive direction, solving crimes rather than committing them, it would be one of the best moves of your career – apart from catching him in the first place, that is.

Despite his criminal record and lengthy list of "alleged" crimes, he is one of the best men you have ever met, especially compared to other criminals and even most cops. A heart of gold lies beneath a thousand-watt smile, and a genuine desire to help people is overshadowed by his love of the game.

This felon sees unbreakable bonds and impossible forgeries as a test, a challenge, and from all you know about the man you know that part of why he did what he did was to show off his admittedly admirable skills. Despite your hopes, you doubt he will ever completely leave his former line of work.

If he would only begin to realize that his cons hurt people, you're sure he would see that he could do a lot more good by working with the FBI. His undercover work has already served to recover multiple valuable paintings and artifacts, as well as saving several lives.

You alone can tell that the sparkle in his eyes when he completes a case is more because he was able to help people than because he is proud of himself for pulling it off. Others in the office may associate it with vanity, but you can tell that he has a deeper desire to please people than to be admired by them, though admittedly that is a part of it.

These past months have brought about a change in the way you relate to the convict. After three years of chasing him, you had thought you knew everything about him, but now nearly every day brings a new discovery. Now instead of learning about him as a felon, from his shoe size to what time he wakes up in the morning, you are learning about him as a friend, his soft spot for dogs and kids and how he likes his coffee. You also now know about his childhood in a rough part of town, with an absentee father and clinically depressed mother, and are able to identify more with the man's need to please.

This has to be part of why his girlfriend's betrayal hurt so much. He doesn't have any sort of ability to put a damper on his emotions; he's good at hiding what he's feeling, but only from those who don't really know him. In his line of work, the ability to project real emotions is an asset because it makes him more believable, but unfortunately it also serves to make him more vulnerable.

You've gotten better at telling when he's telling the truth and when he's feeding you a blatant lie, which is part of why, through your anger, you were so satisfied when he didn't bother trying to hide the fact that he was going after the music box a few days ago. You almost smile remembering the helpless shrug he'd offered you, coupled with a, "You're wrong," that sounded more like a question than a statement. A month ago he would have fed you a complicated lie about why his two "friends" were in his apartment, but now you realize that he actually trusts you enough to no longer enjoy lying to you.

Ever since you let him out of prison you have been telling him to stay away from the girl, that chasing after her would lead to nothing but heartache in the end. Once you found out what she wanted, you warned him against stealing it. You have spent the past several months badgering him constantly to stay on the straight and narrow.

Last night when you went to his apartment you were almost relieved that you didn't have a badge. He knows that if you did you would have arrested him for stealing the box, yet doesn't blame you for it. He knows how much it would break your heart to have to put him back behind bars after everything you have been through together.

This is why it hurts so much to realize that he was willing to give up everything to be with the one who betrayed him. Even though he knows you don't want to put him back in jail, he also knows that you would if you felt it was necessary.

When he finally admitted that you are the only one who could change his mind, you had a vague thought that you might finally be getting through to him. You might, after all this time, actually be a deciding factor in his choices, for better or for worse. When he turned around to confront you for the second time, you couldn't manage to squash the hope that he might actually choose to stay here and make something good of himself.

Then the explosion came, rocking both of your worlds. He was thrown forward toward you from the blast and you immediately leapt to his side, preparing to shield him from a secondary blast if one came. Before you knew it you were holding him back with all your might, preventing him from running into the wall of flame even as you marveled at the strength of his attempts. He finally collapsed into a heap by your side, too spent to continue.

As you cradle your trembling companion, you can think of no comforting words. What kind of comfort could mere words offer? After all this, what more is there to say?