Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.


Unexpectedly, it was Jones who was the first to react. He pushed his chair violently behind him as he stood up. It hit the wall beside Peter's desk, before toppling to the carpet. As he strode across Peter's office his foot hit the remote that had slipped from Peter's hand, sending it ricocheting from the door to the wall and finally the leg of Diana's chair, before coming to rest only a short distance from where it had started. He pulled the door open so forcefully it dented the wall behind it, bounced shut, and then slowly swung open again in his wake. The agents in the pit below looked up with shocked expressions as he descended the stairs and continued past them to the elevator.

The unfortunate intern didn't stand a chance as he came out of the elevator; arms piled high with case files. No sooner had Jones slammed his fist on the 'Down' button than the doors opened and the intern unwittingly stepped out and bounced off the agent's torso. He yelped in surprise as he fell straight back into the elevator. Files cascaded from his grip as the doors shut and the two of them disappeared from sight. A lone sheet of type written file notes wafted back and forth like the final autumn leaf before slipping silently along the floor and settling in front of the criminal consultant's desk, transfixing everyone in the now hushed room.

In complete contrast to Jones' cacophonous exit, the other two occupants of Peter's office had yet to utter a word. Diana had jumped from her seat when Jones exploded from his chair but had sat down again when he left the room and was now quietly weeping into her hands. Peter had remained standing and other than for releasing his grip on the remote, had stayed motionless since stilling the picture on the television screen in front of them. He had not even flinched as Jones swept past him. All color had drained from his face as he stared in horror at the frozen scene.

Fifteen or so inmates filled the narrow walkway. Bunk beds and chairs spilled out from the cells and were piled up in a haphazard way, blocking the guards who could be seen at either side, pushing them over the railings as they closed in on the rioting felons. Amidst this mêlée was the chilling form of a slight figure in an orange jumpsuit hanging from the front bars of the center cell. His hands appeared to be tied behind his back and his head was jarred back against the bars and skewed sideways as if he were looking up at the floor of cells above him. The noose looked to be a twisted bed sheet and what wasn't tied around his neck draped down behind him, like a macabre super hero cape.

Despite the strange angle of the head preventing a clear view of the unfortunate inmate's face, there was no doubt in Peter's mind, or his agents' as to whom he was. They all knew that what they were witnessing was the execution of Neal Caffrey.


I have a couple of options as to which way I am going with this. Your feed-back is appreciated, and (per Mozzie) will be taken under advisement!