A/N: This fic has been written intended as a sequel to Know your Suspect- but it can stand alone- I was encouraged to continue in that 'verse by my generous reviewers. I want to thank Shalimar for his/her encouraging (heart string-tugging) review because he/she was anonymous and thus I could not thank him/her in a PM. This fic will be longer because I can't stand writing short stories.

The first chapter is mostly a set up.

This fic is an AU and a Pre-series.

This fic is not Beta'd; all mistakes are my own.

I do not own White Collar or its characters.

Let's go hunting...

Chapter 1: Date Night

Peter Burke was stuck in traffic. He glanced at his watch again and sighed resisting the temptation to honk. It was already nearing six-thirty. Elizabeth had –almost patronisingly- told him what time the movie started when she first checked it online (seven o'clock), then had taken to reminding him at various intervals; before bed, at breakfast, during a call late that morning, at the cafe at lunch and on another call just before he left work. Peter didn't think he was that bad with remembering things but Elizabeth wasn't taking any chances. Tonight was their first night in over a month where neither of them was busy with work. El had no events to plan or execute and Peter had no stakeouts rostered; Neal Caffrey was believed to be out of the country at the moment.

The traffic moved forward raising Peter's hope that he might finally get somewhere, but the hope was dashed as the traffic in front of him ground to a halt again.

He was only ten minutes away from home, but already he had been sitting here for fifteen minutes with the exception of moving forward a few meters. He wondered if there had been a crash somewhere up ahead; the traffic seemed to be moving up one car at a time.

It was at a quarter to seven that the traffic finally began to move forward and Peter was able to turn off the road. He felt the anxiousness melt away as he checked the time; he'd arrive home and change then he would take his lovely understanding wife out to the movies. He still had time.

Neal Caffrey stood in the shadows cast by the setting sun. He drew back as the man he was watching cast a nervous look around before disappearing into the building. Neal scanned the building; it was old, one of the kind that might have once been a hub of various businesses; imposing yet obviously derelict. It was standing in what was once a thriving neighbourhood but had since been taken over by the uglier aspects of society.

Neal remained stationary; now that he knew where these men were meeting he might have a chance after they left to do some snooping. He needed to know what they were up to. Neal thought back to the previous month when Lake had first caught his attention. Philip Lake, Neal thought scowling, really needed to be brought to justice. Lake had contacted him for a job but he had been otherwise occupied (Neal smiled at the memory of his latest crime) and so as courteous as he was Neal had offered to refer Lake to another highly sought after high-end thief. Neal didn't often work with others but there were a few exceptions; Blake Connors had been one. Connors had an efficient and professional way about him- on the job that is- after the job he had turned into a larrikin, interested only in fun.

Neal now regretted his referral. Connors had accepted Lake's job proposal and so the two had worked together and had successfully absconded with a few rare paintings from the British Museum then Lake had promptly killed Connors rather than share the profit.

It was approaching seven o'clock when Neal spotted Lake leaving the building with two other men. Neal felt a momentary spike of concern for the two men; they had unwittingly taken Lake on as a partner in their own scheme to relieve the Met of something valuable. Neal didn't know what it was they were targeting or when they intended to implement their plan but Neal had no intention of letting the heist go through; the last thing he wanted was two new bodies to turn up so he needed details.

Neal watched as the three men entered their respective cars and drove off. From what he had seen Neal guessed their supplies were still in the building; they hadn't been carrying anything. He hoped so anyway, he'd just let Lake drive off to who-knew-where on the off chance he would find the information he needed here in the building.

Neal waited five minutes. Ordinarily he might have waited longer, but he knew there was a chance he'd be pressed for time once he found the information he wanted.

He reached the door and almost snorted in derision. He picked the lock in less than ten seconds and slipped into the lobby. He glanced at the elevator just out of habit and headed to the stairs. It probably wasn't operating anyway. Neal didn't bother looking into the first couple of floors. This building had eight floors; therefore he guessed the thieves would be hiding out on the fourth one. Being half-way up the building gave one a choice on whether to escape to the lobby or the roof in an event of an incursion. Neal was right, though he'd begun to reconsider; these thieves might not have considered the fourth floor like he would.

It was immediately obvious though that he was in the right place. There were small signs of recent activity on this floor; food wrappers, muddy footprints, tables that weren't dusty. Neal shook his head then moved about the room; at least they'd hidden the plans.

They were disappointingly easy to find though. There was a small safe located in the floor beneath a draw in a desk. All he'd had to do to find it was pull out the draw from the desk completely (not to mention simply moving the desk). It might fool a small town cop but nobody else.

The safe was a basic one; maybe a B-twenty-five-hundred. Neal found himself embarrassed on the thieves' behalves. Connors would never have been this sloppy. Neal sighed; this safe could be bought online for goodness sake.

He had it open another fifteen seconds later. Neal smiled drawing out the plans. He carefully scanned them, recognising the blueprints for the Met; he'd already memorised those so he cast these aside and looked for the maps; hopefully they'd have the details and they did. Neal held them up triumphantly. He stood laying the maps over the desk and scanned them quickly. He felt himself tense as he read when they planned to implement the plans; it was tonight. At nine-twenty to be precise, right before the shift change. Neal raked his hair debating whether or not to take the maps with him. He decided against it in case they came back; it was only seven o'clock.

He packed the plans away once he'd read and memorised their routes and where in the museum they planned to strike.

He wasn't sure what it was they were after but he had his suspicions. In the wing they had targeted there was only a handful of European paintings; and they'd written 'the l.p. VdB'. Neal was reasonably sure this referred to The Lute Player by Valentin de Boulogne. He wasn't sure why they'd targeted that painting.

Paintings weren't actually –despite popular misconception- often worth stealing. There were only two reasons to steal a painting- well three actually.

The first was for profit, but you have to have a buyer interested in the painting before stealing it otherwise all you'd end up with was a hot painting and the fence world shut in your face. Neal thought this was the most likely reason that the painting was being stolen for.

The second reason was a personal one. You steal a painting because you like it. Neal had stolen a few pieces for this reason. These acquisitions were never intended to be resold. Neal had locked his up in various holdings around the world.

The third reason was one not often used in the thief world but Neal had; many, many times. He thought of Peter Burke's frowning face and smiled. You steal it, because you can.

With the room exactly the way he'd found it Neal left the building and headed straight back to his car. He needed to move fast; the heist was going down from nine-twenty. That was a mere twenty minutes after the museum closed Neal realised; it was a Friday night.

As Neal headed towards New York proper he thought about what he would have to do next. He only had one plan in mind to stop Lake. He smiled, it was a plan he liked very much. He only hoped it wouldn't backfire on him.

Neal frowned. He was at the movies. He looked back at the Movie length; two hours and twenty-one minutes. It had started at seven o'clock. That meant it wouldn't be over until twenty-one minutes past nine. Neal might have smiled at the coincidental time line if he wasn't nervously imagining the face of the agent once he interrupted his date night.

"Can I help you?"

Neal looked down at the young girl working behind the counter with an expectant smile on her face.

He smiled back at her, "One ticket to 'Catch me if you can' please."

Neal smirked at the movie poster again. He'd have to ask the agent who had chosen the movie.

Neal thanked the girl and moved away then steeled himself and passed down the hall towards the theatres. He ducked into the theatre showing 'Catch me if you can' and walked towards the seats.

He stood in the gloom looking around subtly; he wanted to see the agent before he was seen.

He spotted them over to the left of the theatre. Agent Peter Burke- the man who was chasing him- was cuddling his wife Elizabeth with a slight frown on his face. Neal looked at the screen. He was late to the showing so he wasn't entirely sure what was happening. He watched for a few minutes; a young boy was talking to a bank teller- a young woman. Neal smirked; no doubt this was the stage during which the boy had learnt the ropes of becoming a con artist.

Neal looked at his watch; it was seven thirty-nine. He didn't want to interrupt the date night this soon. It was still early so he walked up the stairs to the back on the left where he had a clear view of Peter and his wife.

Despite the genre of the movie Neal found himself watching Peter and Elizabeth more than the movie itself. He could only see the backs of their heads but Neal knew Peter intrinsically; he knew what expression he'd have at what part of the movie. Each time he caught the minute shake of the head Neal knew whether it was exasperation or disbelief that would be on Peter's face. He smiled along with Peter's snorts of amusement and smirked when Peter gritted his jaw at the scene in which young Frank conned Agent Hanratty.

Neal almost lost track of time. It was at eight twenty-six that Neal saw an opening that he knew was perfect timing. An hour was less time than it might seem; Neal had yet to ask Peter for his help.

He watched as Peter suddenly stood up extricating himself from his wife's cuddles. Neal sank in his seat as Peter murmured to El before heading out. Elizabeth turned back to the movie so Neal stood and slipped out following the Agent's footsteps. He took a deep breath before leaving the theatre and looking around for where Peter had gone. He spotted the Agent disappearing into the bathroom.

Neal moved over to the bathroom door pausing monetarily to smile at a passing woman who was looking at him with a cheeky grin.

Then Neal Caffrey pushed open the door and went in.

A/N: This Fic could go in any direction (though I do have a general plot in mind). I was thinking something borderline serious/humorous, but I'd like to know what other people think.