Fair Warning - there be spanking in this fic. If that's not to your liking, then seriously, you have to ask yourself why you ever clicked on the story to begin with. ;)

Author's Note: I wrote this fic almost two years ago and didn't end up posting it as I always intended to write a sequel first, but...well, it's been almost two years and still...no sequel. Maybe one is better than none?

Many thanks to my good friends Peppe and Dippy for their help with this story. :)

A number of excepts in this story are taken directly from the series. Thank you to the writers of White Collar and for their ongoing inspiration.

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Especially for Casey and her encouraging refresher course in Sharing 101 :)

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"Somebody want to tell me what this is? Anybody? Great! Where's Diana?"

"Here boss."

"Diana-" the look on the young woman's face stopped Agent Peter Burke's train of thought and instead he inquired, "What?"

"Neal Caffrey escaped again."

Damn it! That stupid kid! It was Caffrey's third escape since his initial arrest. How could someone with combined intelligence of all the junior agents in the room be so damn reckless when it came to impulse control or, hell, whatever it was that compelled the kid to pull the boneheaded stunts he did?

…Agent Burke, senior agent in charge of the FBI's White Collar Division had first arrested a young Neal Caffrey eighteen months before. The kid had been his most difficult case to date, taking him from one corner of the country to the other, following leads in the aftermath of a multitude of crimes ranging from simple B&E's, to forgery of masterpieces at grandest scale. They'd originally tagged the suspect with the title, James Bonds due to his penchant for forged bearer bonds, but after discovering that a seventeen year old delinquent was responsible, Junior Bonds soon became a more appropriate moniker. But Peter Burke was nothing, if not persistent and the kid ran out of steam well before the older man did, tripping up and eventually yielding to the superior skills of the seasoned FBI agent.

However, the arrest at an abandoned warehouse wasn't nearly as satisfying as Agent Burke had envisioned. As he slapped the cold metal cuffs onto the skinny, undernourished wrists of his young opponent, he felt more like a school yard bully than a law enforcement officer. The kid he held effortlessly in his hands was just that – a kid. In fact, the boy he marched back to his vehicle was roughly the same age as his own son and the parental instinct screaming out inside was yelling how wrong it was to drag this boy off to process through the court system when what he probably needed more than anything was a good kick in the butt.

Unfortunately that wasn't how the system worked and the kid would need to pay for his misdemeanors. So, without too much of a backwards glance, he had deposited Junior Bonds at Central Booking, passed on the paperwork to his underlings to file away and moved onto other, less challenging cases. At the time, Agent Burke thought it would be the last he'd ever hear of young Neal Caffrey, but as it turned out… fate had other plans.

# # #

The day after the young con was sentenced to eighteen months at a juvenile detention centre, Agent Clinton Jones marched into his boss's office and announced, "Peter, you're not going to believe this but Neal Caffrey has escaped."

"What? You've got to be kidding me!" Peter shook his head as he pushed up from his chair, "How can he have escaped? We only just caught the kid?"

# # #

And so began yet another round of cat and mouse. This time however, the game had different rules. It seemed the young crim had only one intent and purpose – to stir the crap out Senior FBI Agent Peter Burke. The kid's antics soon became an embarrassment for the older man. Peter would receive flowers at work, hand delivered by the youngster – the agents would cringe as they watched the replay of Junior Bonds waving to the security cameras as he delivered the package to the front desk. Peter Burke received birthday cards and holiday wishes in his Brooklyn townhouse postal box – the absence of postage stamps, evidence that once again, the boy had planted the envelopes himself.

And to top it all off, one morning Peter had walked into his office to find a Polaroid propped against his file tray. It was a close up of the delinquent himself, sitting at a desk clearly identified as belonging to, none other than Agent Burke. Peter's face had deepened several shades as he tossed the photo across the room, hitting the far wall before landing softly on the carpet. "Jones!" Burke had bellowed. "Get me the security camera footage from last night!" Then while he had stood there and waited, Peter had vowed, if he did nothing else in his career, he was going to make it his mission to apprehend this impertinent juvenile who was making a mockery out of the law.

And he did. Agent Burke set up a trap for the cocky young man and carried out a textbook perfect arrest, when Caffrey attempted to deliver a bottle of champagne to the surveillance van. However, despite being caught in the act, the kid didn't appear the slightest bit perturbed as Peter grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards the Taurus. In fact, he happily filled the agent in on his thoughts about how he suspected this round would come to a close soon. 'This round?' Peter had cringed. Did the kid have no sense at all? Had all this been nothing but a game? Peter knew the boy was having a jolly time, giving him the run around, but surely he also had been able to see the seriousness of escaping custody and the subsequent consequence of being admitted to a facility with greater security?

"They're going to add to your eighteen month sentence you know," Peter had informed the younger man once they'd reached the vehicle.

"Whatever," Caffrey had shrugged it off like it was no great loss and certainly nothing to lose any sleep over.

Peter had tightened his grip on the kid's arm in frustration and it had taken him all his effort not to turn him round and whack him several times across his butt. Given the way his hand was twitching, it wouldn't have taken much at all. But, it wasn't his place to beat some sense into the boy, it was his job to make the arrest and send him off for the courts to take care of. And, as erroneous as that felt, it was all he had so with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, he had handed the kid over and continued on with the job - one that had many more complexities than he'd ever envisioned.

# # #

The second time the boy escaped, Agent Burke had not been informed. For some reason, the alert had gone out to another department and Peter's team were non-the-wiser. That being the case, it came as quite an unexpected surprise for the senior agent when he arrived home from work one afternoon, kissed his wife and opened the back door to greet his puppy, only to discover one wayward delinquent curled up on his back porch, resting his sleeping body against the warmth of Satchmo's fur.

The older man had rubbed a frustrated hand across his face and scratched the side of his ear before reaching down carefully and gently shaking the youngster awake. The boy had reacted with guarded uncertainty at first, and then relief upon registering the familiar face. Once alert, Peter had dragged him back into the house where Elizabeth had showered him with hot tea and cookies. While the kid was being fattened up, the agent had paced back and forth across the living room floor trying to get his head around why he allowed this young man to turn the tables each and every time they met and also how it made him question the way young non violent criminals were dealt with by the courts. For the life of him, Peter couldn't comprehend why he hadn't reached for his cell, called NYPD and had the boy whisked back to the detention center. Instead he had asked, "What are you doing here, Neal? Why did you break out? You've only done four months of your sentence. There's still a long way to go."

The kid had looked up at the older man with pitiful puppy dog eyes and Peter had great difficulty pushing aside an overwhelming feeling that made him want to wrap the boy up in his arms and tell him everything would be alright. But he was an officer of the law and once again a crime, or two if you counted trespassing, had been committed so he asked once more, "Why?"

The young con had explained how he was unable to take any more of the centre. According to his recount, the warden had thrown him into solitary confinement on numerous occasions and it had been the case that he was spending more time in a small windowless cubicle than he had been in his secured room. He continued to explain that he was due to be given yet another week in the hell-hole, so he had 'simply walked out the front door.'

Peter had been furious upon hearing the news and had immediately contacted the detention centre. For sure, the boy was a felon and had committed some serious acts of delinquency, but he was still a minor, and as such he should have been treated accordingly. The way Peter saw it, tossing someone into solitary with the spirited love of life this youngster exhibited, just wasn't right. When Agent Burke got the warden on the phone, he told him so…. Which had made it so much more difficult when Peter had to rescind his words a short time later after the Warden had rattled off a list of offenses committed by the wayward juvenile sitting on his living room couch - offences that included tampering with the intercom so the inmates and staff had to listen to non-stop Frank Sinatra music for fifteen hours while passwords and firewalls were reset; stealing personal items off several security staff including credit cards which were subsequently used to order a Chinese banquet for the entire 'high flyer' wing where Caffrey was residing; and one to rub salt in the wounds of the warden - the young man had broken into the warden's office and painted a masterful mural on the wall. The mural had attracted a lot of attention, and for all the wrong reasons. The young con had discovered a photo on the warden's desk and used it to paint a naked picture of the warden's ever so prim and proper wife. The warden had hit the roof and ordered the painting to be removed immediately, while at the same time threatening each and every one of his staff that they'd find themselves behind bars if a photo of the 'masterpiece' appeared on Facebook.

Peter's head had been spinning with the unbelievable trouble, 'his' wayward charge had caused in such a short time. Young Caffrey had been sent away to do his penance, not to have the time of his life. Sensing that the cat was out of the bag, the kid had pushed himself up off the couch, thanked Mrs Burke for the drink and cookies and had been edging his way to the front door when the strong arm of the law had seized its mark. Peter had dragged the kid across the living room and deposited him beside the table while reaching for his belt buckle. Elizabeth's surprised reaction had caused the agent to hesitate in the removal of his belt and reconsider his actions. Every part of his being wanted to bend the boy over so he could dole out a sound thrashing and after listening to Warden Jefferies on the phone tell of the young delinquent's antics, he had deserved nothing less. But where would he go from there. It would be poor form to give the boy a hiding then return him to the detention centre. It didn't sit well with the agent's conscious to punish Caffrey as a child only to turn around and lock him up as an adult. An unquestionable double standard would emerge and it would no doubt send mixed signals to the already troubled teen. Neal, who'd had his back to the agent when he reached for his buckle and therefore was unaware how close he'd come to getting his butt whipped, turned with blissful ignorance and looked questioningly to the older man as to what he had wanted him to do.

Peter had taken a deep breath before pointing firmly to one of the dining chairs, indicating for his young charge to sit himself down. Once settled, the agent set about offering the mother of all lectures stating how the kid was his own worst enemy and how his original eighteen month sentence in a low level juvenile detention centre had been upgraded to a longer, more confining facility due to stupidity and thoughtlessness. The agent warned that the reckless, boneheaded stunts where to cease once he returned to detention and the days of going AWOL were to be nothing more than a distant memory.

Satisfied he'd made his point, Agent Burke had called for a vehicle to return the kid to detention, all the while hoping his words were heeded. In hindsight, it shouldn't have been of any surprise to Peter that they were not.

# # #

Less than three weeks later, Agent Burke sat staring at his computer monitor unable to believe the words typed in bold print. Warden Jefferies had sent him a personal communiqué after Peter requested he be informed of any transgressions committed by 'his' kid. What he would do with said information, remained to be seen but at that moment, all the frazzled agent was able to do was simply shake his head while reading the words over and over. Evidently, the boy was being transferred to an adult facility after it was discovered he was forging documents for the inmates, including a release order for one of the detainees who happened to be a good friend of Caffrey's. The release order had been processed, the young man packed up and sent on his way. Unfortunately, for the red faced officials at the centre, the whereabouts of the young criminal were still unknown. All too happy pass on the problem, Caffrey was then transferred the following day and six months were added to his growing sentence which now totaled three years…

# # #

"Boss…I said Neal Caffrey's escaped…again," Diana repeated herself after getting no response from the senior agent.

Peter turned back to the young woman, "Uh…Yeah, I heard…I was just busy mentally shaking my head."

Diana laughed, "What would you like me to do? The DOC contacted the Bureau asking if you wanted to take the lead. I guess they figure you're the best man for the job."

Peter chuckled, "I'm under no misconception here Diana, the real truth is they don't want to go anywhere near Junior Bonds - he's way too much of an embarrassment for them."

"Yeah," Diana was forced to agree, "But it does make you look good that you're the only one capable of catching him each time."

And still… there's no joy in it for me, Peter considered before releasing a deep sigh, "Let's go find the kid…Again."

# # #

Peter and Diana's investigation took them to the Hudson Correctional Center, a medium level security facility for non-violent criminals. After viewing the security tapes, Peter discovered the kid's last visitor had been none other than the young man who had successfully escaped from the juvenile detention center via Neal's forged documents. Peter hadn't recognised Dante Havensham at first. The little guy had obviously disguised himself with a rather thick mop of fake hair and a pair of equally thick-rimmed glasses. After playing back the tape and identifying the mystery visitor, Peter concluded the two friends had inevitably exchanged some type of coded message, resulting in Neal's subsequent prison break less than a week later that involved stealing the director's car.

It hadn't taken long for the agent to track down Mr Havensham's last known place of residence – fortunately, one of Peter's CI's had owed him a huge favour and before he could say, 'parole rescinded,' the senior agent had the address of a Queens' apartment block, room number and front entry key code pin.

As he approached the decrepit building, Peter rolled his eyes upon identifying the director's conspicuous cherry red Mustang convertible parked outside the side entry door. The agent left his team downstairs while he marched on up to confront, possibly throttle his infuriating juvenile delinquent. As he entered the near empty loft apartment, Peter spotted said delinquent sitting on the cold tiled floor, his back resting against one of the concrete support fixtures, holding what appeared to be a postcard of the Eifel Tower. Peter guessed immediately what had transpired.

"I see Dante left without you? He leave you a forwarding address on the back of that?"

Neal sighed, "Nope, it's blank. How did you…" Neal glanced over his shoulder at the older man. "I guess you figured it out."

Peter moved closer, resting his hands on his hips while coming to stand over the young con. "You sent Mr Havensham out first to organize false passports and gather the required finances for your grand overseas trip. You were to follow immediately after but you didn't count on the DOC transferring you to the adult facility so soon after Dante's departure."

"They were in a mighty hurry to get rid of me."

"What a surprise," Peter deadpanned. "Where were you headed?"

"Europe…we were going to look around Paris first."

"But he didn't wait for you?"

"Missed him by two days," Neal shrugged sadly.

Peter was beginning to find himself lulled back to that frame of mind where he felt sympathy for the troubled young man. "Neal, it would never have worked out. You know that."

The young man sighed deeply and dropped the postcard onto the floor, "I guess we'll never know."

Peter shook his head and reached for his cell to notify the agents waiting in the foyer. "They're going to give you another couple of years for this you know."

"I don't care."

No, Peter didn't think for a second he did. What was the matter with this kid? Hell, at the rate he was going he'd be lucky to ever see the light of day again.