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crack_van2010-10-08 04:56 pm
an-sceal.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2010-10-08 04:56 pm
Entry tags:
Always Starts the Same, With a Boy and a Girl by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lightgetsin
Fandom: WHITE COLLAR
Pairing: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth, Neal/Elizabeth
Length: 22,000
Author on LJ:lightgetsin
Author Website: LightGetsIn on AO3
Why this must be read:
Summer, 1998. Neal Caffrey robs the gallery where Elizabeth O'Dell is working late, and comes away with a lot more than art. Agent Burke has no idea what's about to hit him.
This is probably one of the most well-executed AU's I've ever read, because it doesn't just take the same characters and place them in a different setting. Instead,lightgetsin does a masterful job of taking the same characters and stripping them of ten years of experience, ten years of time together, and ten years of all the ways, small and large, that they would have changed for each other. Peter is a little less sure of his position with the FBI, Elizabeth is a little more wild and impetuous, and Neal isn't quite Neal Caffrey: Criminal Mastermind yet, but he will be, one day.
This story doesn't just ask "what if", it answers it in the most entertaining of ways.
"What'd he do now?" Peter asked, looking up.
"Somehow got into Hilson's, little gallery on the Upper East Side," Wayne said. "Stole two sculptures by some Canadian guy, Bouvin, Boufin, something like that, and left an origami swan."
"Bouvin," Peter murmured, pursing his lips. Sculpture, that was new. Was there anything this guy didn't like?
"Whatever," Wayne said. "That part's your problem. But this guy also may have stolen her, and that's ours." He flicked another photograph down the table. Peter put a hand out to break its slide and found himself staring down into the smiling face of a beautiful blue-eyed woman. "Elizabeth O'Dell," Wayne said. "Assistant manager at the gallery. She didn't show up this morning. Her roommate says she was working after hours last night and never came home."
"Oh," Peter said, weirdly surprised. From art theft to abduction in one night, that was one hell of a leap. And a strange leap, for a guy who had once reportedly spent fifteen minutes lighting cigarettes for a tied up security guard and talking with him about the cost of good veterinary care these days.
"Peter was the one to realize we had a repeat offender," Rivera put in. "When I saw the swan, I thought of this guy."
"Seven cases," Peter said, recognizing his cue. "A stock sales scam, three painting forgeries, two residential thefts by false pretenses, and a commercial paper scheme. We're not a hundred percent sure it's the same guy, but we do have the similar descriptions and there's a certain . . . style to them. He's left origami figures twice now." That had been the first thing to tip him off, before he'd even compared witness descriptions. The two thefts were planned to the letter, precise, a little playful. And the commercial paper scam was as slick as they got, with a twist of brilliance to finish it off. Peter had started working back from there, sitting for hours on the floor in the file room reading cold cases, sniffing out any trace of that same flamboyant intelligence at work.
Wayne looked unimpressed. "You got any known associates?"
Peter kept his wince internal. "No sir. He's a loner, at least according to the few witness reports. He does one job every few months, takes lots of time to plan. He seems to be trying a bit of everything. And he's escalating, upping his take every time." The check scam was the earliest Peter could find, and had netted just under ten thousand dollars. Eighteen months later, the guy had probably pulled two hundred thousand in a night. "This is the first hint of potential violence," Peter said. "I don't know what he might do."
"Girl's still alive," Wayne said. "Or she was three hours ago. She left a voicemail for her roommate. One of my guys is bringing the tape. You don't have any leads for us?"
Peter shook his head. "He's a skilled painter," he said. "And a document forger. He's reported to be warm and friendly, the kind of guy you can trust. Women like him. Small children like him. Everyone likes him. He'd rather con a museum employee into opening a door for him than drill a hole through it. He drinks expensive imported coffee. He wears a men's size eleven. He can pick locks and pockets. Other than that . . ." Peter spread his hands helplessly.
The NYPD tech arrived, knocking on the doorframe as he came in, and handed a tape player to Wayne.
"Here we go," Wayne said, and hit play without ceremony.
Elizabeth O'Dell's voice was warm. She spoke clearly, though quickly, and there was a faint tremble to her words. Tears? "Hey, Ames, listen," she said. "I'm sorry to do this, but I have to go out of town for a while. Maybe for good. The rent is paid through the end of the month. Don't worry about my stuff, I won't be needing it. Just, um, it was really fun living with you, okay?" She paused, and there was the murmur of a man's voice in the background. When she spoke again, the quiver was stronger. "Don't worry about me. I'm all right. And kill the MCAT, you hear?"
"We can try and isolate that, see what he's saying." Wayne knuckled his forehead, grimacing. "It's weird though, why have her make the call in the first place. He knew she'd come up missing today no matter what."
"Play it again," Peter said.
Wayne did. Peter listened, leaning far forward across the table to hear.
"Have you background checked her?" he asked when it was over.
"Working on it," Wayne said. "Why?"
"Because I don't think she's scared," Peter said. Those weren't tears he was hearing. "I think she's excited. She sounds like she just won the freaking lottery."
Always Starts the Same, With a Boy and a Girl
Pairing: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth, Neal/Elizabeth
Length: 22,000
Author on LJ:
lightgetsinAuthor Website: LightGetsIn on AO3
Why this must be read:
Summer, 1998. Neal Caffrey robs the gallery where Elizabeth O'Dell is working late, and comes away with a lot more than art. Agent Burke has no idea what's about to hit him.
This is probably one of the most well-executed AU's I've ever read, because it doesn't just take the same characters and place them in a different setting. Instead,
lightgetsin does a masterful job of taking the same characters and stripping them of ten years of experience, ten years of time together, and ten years of all the ways, small and large, that they would have changed for each other. Peter is a little less sure of his position with the FBI, Elizabeth is a little more wild and impetuous, and Neal isn't quite Neal Caffrey: Criminal Mastermind yet, but he will be, one day. This story doesn't just ask "what if", it answers it in the most entertaining of ways.
"What'd he do now?" Peter asked, looking up.
"Somehow got into Hilson's, little gallery on the Upper East Side," Wayne said. "Stole two sculptures by some Canadian guy, Bouvin, Boufin, something like that, and left an origami swan."
"Bouvin," Peter murmured, pursing his lips. Sculpture, that was new. Was there anything this guy didn't like?
"Whatever," Wayne said. "That part's your problem. But this guy also may have stolen her, and that's ours." He flicked another photograph down the table. Peter put a hand out to break its slide and found himself staring down into the smiling face of a beautiful blue-eyed woman. "Elizabeth O'Dell," Wayne said. "Assistant manager at the gallery. She didn't show up this morning. Her roommate says she was working after hours last night and never came home."
"Oh," Peter said, weirdly surprised. From art theft to abduction in one night, that was one hell of a leap. And a strange leap, for a guy who had once reportedly spent fifteen minutes lighting cigarettes for a tied up security guard and talking with him about the cost of good veterinary care these days.
"Peter was the one to realize we had a repeat offender," Rivera put in. "When I saw the swan, I thought of this guy."
"Seven cases," Peter said, recognizing his cue. "A stock sales scam, three painting forgeries, two residential thefts by false pretenses, and a commercial paper scheme. We're not a hundred percent sure it's the same guy, but we do have the similar descriptions and there's a certain . . . style to them. He's left origami figures twice now." That had been the first thing to tip him off, before he'd even compared witness descriptions. The two thefts were planned to the letter, precise, a little playful. And the commercial paper scam was as slick as they got, with a twist of brilliance to finish it off. Peter had started working back from there, sitting for hours on the floor in the file room reading cold cases, sniffing out any trace of that same flamboyant intelligence at work.
Wayne looked unimpressed. "You got any known associates?"
Peter kept his wince internal. "No sir. He's a loner, at least according to the few witness reports. He does one job every few months, takes lots of time to plan. He seems to be trying a bit of everything. And he's escalating, upping his take every time." The check scam was the earliest Peter could find, and had netted just under ten thousand dollars. Eighteen months later, the guy had probably pulled two hundred thousand in a night. "This is the first hint of potential violence," Peter said. "I don't know what he might do."
"Girl's still alive," Wayne said. "Or she was three hours ago. She left a voicemail for her roommate. One of my guys is bringing the tape. You don't have any leads for us?"
Peter shook his head. "He's a skilled painter," he said. "And a document forger. He's reported to be warm and friendly, the kind of guy you can trust. Women like him. Small children like him. Everyone likes him. He'd rather con a museum employee into opening a door for him than drill a hole through it. He drinks expensive imported coffee. He wears a men's size eleven. He can pick locks and pockets. Other than that . . ." Peter spread his hands helplessly.
The NYPD tech arrived, knocking on the doorframe as he came in, and handed a tape player to Wayne.
"Here we go," Wayne said, and hit play without ceremony.
Elizabeth O'Dell's voice was warm. She spoke clearly, though quickly, and there was a faint tremble to her words. Tears? "Hey, Ames, listen," she said. "I'm sorry to do this, but I have to go out of town for a while. Maybe for good. The rent is paid through the end of the month. Don't worry about my stuff, I won't be needing it. Just, um, it was really fun living with you, okay?" She paused, and there was the murmur of a man's voice in the background. When she spoke again, the quiver was stronger. "Don't worry about me. I'm all right. And kill the MCAT, you hear?"
"We can try and isolate that, see what he's saying." Wayne knuckled his forehead, grimacing. "It's weird though, why have her make the call in the first place. He knew she'd come up missing today no matter what."
"Play it again," Peter said.
Wayne did. Peter listened, leaning far forward across the table to hear.
"Have you background checked her?" he asked when it was over.
"Working on it," Wayne said. "Why?"
"Because I don't think she's scared," Peter said. Those weren't tears he was hearing. "I think she's excited. She sounds like she just won the freaking lottery."
Always Starts the Same, With a Boy and a Girl
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