A/N: Well, here we go. I've been working on this story for months – even before I finished my last published fic, "Craquelure" – and I've just now pushed myself hard enough to put the first chapter up. The hesitance is mainly due to my track record when it comes to completing multi-chapter stories, so I wanted to try to finish as many chapters as I could before posting. I have six completed and two more started, so the outlook for story completion is pretty good.

Anyways, this is a semi- follow-up to my previous Chuck/White Collar fics ("Casey vs. the Anti-Suit" and "Craquelure"). I consider it a semi- follow-up because the events of those two oneshots are not so important to this story that they must be read first, but there will be some small references later on. For those of you who have not read "Anti-Suit" or "Craquelure," I will include a note in the author's notes of chapters that refer back to either of the two stories. Right now, all you need to know from both of those stories is that I have a theory on Neal's real identity (and I'm sure quite a few of you have the same idea) that is the basis of this fic.

Thanks again to the wonderful marihun for all the encouragement and convincing me to post. Without the encouragement, who knows when this story would have made it onto the site?

Timeline: Post- "Under the Radar" (the season 2 finale) for White Collar, but goes AU after Peter shoots Adler (meaning neither Peter or Neal knows the treasure is still out there); post- "Chuck vs. the Cliffhanger" (the season 4 finale) for Chuck, but goes AU before Morgan picks up the sunglasses (I'll explain more about the AU part in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or White Collar. Otherwise, my theory would be correct. I also do not own the song featured in the beginning, just a copy of the CD it's on. I just felt this clip of the song went well with the chapter (and because I was listening to the CD while I was writing).

Pieces

Stay, tell me the story again

How it all fell apart in the end

Just when you thought you were too far gone

You're too far gone

- David Cook, "Hard to Believe"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't close this door right now and leave you standing outside."

Peter raised an eyebrow at his consultant's sudden hostility and casually shifted his right arm in an attempt to hide what was in his hand. "Because I'm your superior and I have a gun?" he offered in response.

Neal flinched instinctively at the word 'gun' and a hand flew towards his chest as if he was in pain, but he quickly regained his composure. Narrowing his eyes and painting a frustrated scowl on his face, he grumbled, "I know what you're doing – don't try it."

"Oh, really? Well, then… what am I doing?"

"This is the second time I've found you outside my door with a six-pack of beer and a screw-top bottle of wine. From my experience, this means you want to talk about something I really don't want you to bring up."

"Huh. You do know what I'm doing," Peter mused, pushing past Neal and setting the drinks on the kitchen table. He pulled a bottle of beer out of the package and calmly drummed his fingers on the cool glass exterior. "I guess this means you know what I'm here to talk about."

Neal let the front door swing shut before leaning back against it, crossing his arms across his chest sulkily. "In fact, yes, I do. And no, we are not talking about it."

That earned another raised eyebrow from the FBI agent. "We'll have to talk about it sooner or later."

"No, we don't. I managed not talking about it with you for eight years."

"You were my consultant for just two of those years – the prison time and the time you spent traveling the world while I was chasing you doesn't count. The situation has changed, too. The reason we've never had this discussion before was because I still thought you were just a devious, charming, annoying-as-hell conman. Now, now I know differently."

"Gee, thanks for sharing your personal opinion of me," Neal deadpanned, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the wood floor as he continued to glare at Peter. He stopped mid-motion and straightened before he added, "If things had gone according to plan, you wouldn't have ever found out."

"Even if they had, I still think we'd be having this same conversation at some time or another." Peter took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs before motioning for Neal to do the same. When the younger man didn't budge from his position near the door, Peter shrugged and turned back to his beer bottle.

Silence fell over the two partners as the disagreement faded out and the topic was dropped. Both men gazed intently at their surroundings – Peter at the glass bottle nestled gently in his hands, Neal at the ceiling – waiting to see who would crack first.

Peter had just finished counting to forty-seven seconds before Neal finally sighed, "Why do you want to talk about this?"

Allowing a small smirk of victory to twitch at the corners of his mouth, Peter leaned back in his chair and stretched out his arms. "I just want to know the full story."

Neal shifted his weight onto his left foot. "I've already told you everything I can about how all of this started," he said, calmly running a hand through his hair. "You were there when everything fell apart. You already have the full story."

"Not quite." Peter shook his head and tapped his fingers against the beer bottle before clarifying, "Both you and I only have two-thirds of the story."

"Two-thirds?"

The FBI agent nodded. "We both had our own separate experiences before everything converged. Each of those experiences constitutes a third of the entire story – one for me, and one for you. We both have the third piece." He glanced up at Neal. "You know which one that is."

"All too well." The consultant paused to gather his thoughts. "So your missing third is my side of the story before everything went wrong, and my missing piece is your side?"

"Exactly."

Another sigh escaped Neal's throat. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope," Peter replied, popping the 'p' as he pried the lid off his beer bottle. "I just want to know my consultant better and try to fix that little 'issue' with our mutual trust. You pretty much took a machine gun to it by failing to mention who you really are before that secret blew up in our faces."

Neal grimaced. "I made a mistake, okay? Can we move on?"

"We are talking about this."

"I really wish you'd change your mind…"

"Neal." Peter shot a pointed stare at the conman.

There was another sigh from Neal before he responded flatly, "Peter."

The next statement came out as both a determined declaration and a reluctant groan as Peter and Neal announced in unison, "We need to talk about Bryce Larkin."

. . .

A/N 2: (Of course, I had to add that homage to the end of "Free Fall" with those last lines)

And there's the prologue. Interestingly enough, this was actually the sixth chapter I wrote – the next chapter was originally the first chapter, but I wanted a bit of an opener rather than jump right into the story.

This chapter occurs at an undetermined time in the future, after the end of the story. With that said, the rest of the story is mainly a flashback which plays out as Peter and Neal discuss the events – much like "Forging Bonds."

We'll officially begin the story in the next chapter. I'll probably put it up in about a week, or possibly less.

Until then,

AQotL