A/N: I love Neal- his imagination knows no bounds. So when people say he never thinks things through, I look at all of his (alleged) accomplishments and say "Really?" So I decided to make up little ficlets about what Neal thought was going to happen. There's no real order, they span from pre-season to S3- basically anything with a reference is up for grabs. Pretty heavy on Kate, but that's kind of to be expected with their history.

A/A/N: I'll try to reference the episode that inspired the chapter, just so you can trace my train of thought (if that helps).

A/A/A/N: Still don't own White Collar- color me surprised.

The night was cool and crisp as Neal stirred from his sleep. His feet were already on the ground, gripping the floorboards and sliding his body from the warm sheets before his mind caught up with the source of his awakening: the beginning sounds of fussing traveling through the monitor beside his bed. He quietly finished standing, careful not to wake the sleeping brunette beside him as he slipped through the hallway.

"Hey, sweet girl," he cooed, scooping up the tiny form from its crib and into his arms. He rocked the bundle gently, whispering soothing noises as he made his way toward the window and attempted to lull his daughter back to sleep.

Neal Caffrey looked out into the city and smiled in contentment. Alex had offered them the world after they found and fenced the music box—the three of them had made quite a team. But Neal and Kate were ready to live the life they'd always talked about, with more money than they could have imagined, just as Alex had originally promised. They'd jumped the next morning's flight to France, and made their way to the Cote d'Azur, quoting multiple lines as Cary Grant and Grace Kelly (although Grace could never hold a candle to Kate). They made a life for themselves for two years, traveling in style and in love as they lived out their dream.

Neal probably would have stayed forever, but when he caught Kate talking wistfully about life in New York, he'd promptly packed them up and bought two one-way tickets to JFK. And he never regretted it—it was their city, and their park, and their not crappy townhouse within blocks of their violinist that they filled with touches that made it home: original paintings of both of their memories, photographs that caught their eyes, and an excellent wine list.

The former con man took up a job as a freelance consultant, moving around the city to give his expertise to those he used to view as targets. He proposed to Kate the way he'd always dreamed: in their park, with the perfect (not quite stolen) ring, and she'd agreed. Neal gave up the bonds and forgeries and heists. The only cons he pulled were the ones to get the better table at their favorite restaurants and shows; so they never heard or worried about FBI Special Agent Peter Burke again.

Mozzie, of course, had originally opposed all of Neal's plans of domesticity and retirement; however, especially after Lily had been born, he'd quickly become accustomed to the new "Uncle" addition to his moniker. After all, who could not become enamored with such a girl with Kate's beauty engraved into her every feature—except for that smile; that classic Caffrey smile.

Neal'd finally gotten it all, and he smiled again as the tiny girl's cries subsided and he tucked her back into her covers, kissing her forehead gently as she slid her thumb into her mouth and grabbed the plush turtle with a security camera tucked into its bowler hat (Kate would have protested harder against Moz's present, but Lily had fallen in love with it instantly, thereby securing its place by her side). He took one last glance around the room before sneaking back down the hall and slipping under the covers, smiling as the soft hand of the half-sleeping woman next to him entwined with his own.

As the soft light of the quarter moon shone through their window, the only thoughts that floated through his head were of his life's perfection.

Suddenly, Neal was jostled awake as he hit his head against hard plastic. He opened his eyes groggily, trying to regain his bearings. The dim light around him shone on cushioned seats, lined in rows with various middle-aged persons either sleeping or tapping away on laptops.

A woman in a pressed navy cotton-poly blend uniform approached him. "Do you need anything sir?" she asked, smiling sweetly as she lowered herself to his eye level.

"No; thank you," Neal replied, reciprocating her smile with his own classic expression.

"We should be landing in about an hour," the flight attendant informed him kindly, straightening and walking toward the next row, glancing back once more at the charming man sitting alone in first class.

Neal straightened himself, blinking as he glanced out the window into the night. He'd be arriving in Copenhagen in an hour.

He wished he hadn't left things so badly with Kate, but she would understand. He'd meet up with Alex, and they'd get the music box. Then he'd find Kate, and they'd make up and have everything they'd dreamed of. Everything was going to work out—he just knew it.