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Psychic in the City (Chap 1/2+7)

Title: Psychic in the City
Fandom: Psych, White Collar
Characters: Shawn, Gus, Peter, Neal, El, Mozzie, Diana, Jones with cameos from Henry, Juliet & Lassiter
Word Count: 1407
Rating: PG-13
Overall Summary: Shawn tags along when Gus goes to New York City for a convention. He takes the time to look up old friends.
Chapter Summary Shawn is witnessed calling in a tip and gets hired by the FBI to help track down one Neal Caffrey
Notes: I honestly don't know the inspiration for this but I wanted to have the two meet as teens after leaving home. There are many conflicting dates regarding when Neal was born, but one of them only makes him a month younger than Shawn so I used it. I'd also like to thank my three betas snowflakie06, slytheringurrl and the_moogie

First Prologue Second Prologue

FBI White Collar Division, New York 2013

Shawn opened the door to the White Collar office. “Gone eight years and everyone is still in the same spot.”

Heads turned and Shawn was happy to see Jones and Diana who came over to welcome him. He was surprised considering how he had left them all that time ago and said so.

“Peter told us why you walked out,” Jones said. “You couldn’t turn on a friend. We understand.”

“We were pissed as hell,” Diana added. “But we understand.”

“What’s going on out here?”

Shawn looked up to see Peter step out of his office, a younger man in a suit with him. No way!

“Shawn?” They declared in unison. Neal and Peter then looked at each other as if to say “You know him too?”

Shawn held out his arms. “’Course it’s me. Does anyone else have hair this good?”

“Not since Judd Nelson.” Neal hurried down the steps and hugged Shawn. “You look great! I can’t believe it’s been almost 20 years!”

Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Shawn. Good to see you again.”

“Yeah. Someone’s got to explain the ‘again’.”

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked, ignoring Neal.

Shawn checked his watch. “Isn’t it time for lunch with El?”

“You always knew how to get yourself a free meal,” Peter said with a laugh. “She’ll love to see you.”

“And you can fill me in on how you two know each other.” Neal pointed at Shawn. “You never said a thing.”

They walked to the restaurant a few blocks away and Elizabeth was sitting at an outside table, basking in the early summer sun. Peter motioned for Shawn to hold back, to prolong the surprise. Shawn grinned in response and waited with Neal as Peter walked over to his wife.

“Hey, hon.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry about being late.”

“What happened? Where’s Neal?”

“We met an old friend of his and they got to talking and he sort of invited himself to lunch.”

Shawn knew that to be his cue and sauntered over to the table. “Hey, El.”

“Shawn, my God!” El stood and wrapped him in a hug. “How wonderful to see you! You have to come by for dinner tonight.” She looked at Peter. “Don’t you agree?”

“Sure. We were just talking about it on the way here.”

“All right, then.” El smiled and regained her seat.

She didn’t see the money from the bet they had made on the way over make its way into Shawn’s pockets.


“Shawn, I’m not sure about this.”

“C’mon, Gus. You’ll love the Burkes and Neal.”

“I don’t know these people and before today, you haven’t seen them for eight years!”

“Neal is closer to 20.”

“That’s my point, Shawn.”

“What point? We’re almost there.”

Shawn didn’t know why he was feeling so anxious. He had just seen them at lunch. The again, Gus was now in the mix. It was his California life meeting his New York life and he just wanted both sides to get along.

Shawn was out the door before the taxi came to a full stop in front of the Burkes’ house. Gus paid the fare and followed at a more sedate pace, trying to make a good impression.

Shawn rang the doorbell and El welcomed him with a hug. “Shawn, this is unexpected. You’re on time,” she added at his confused look.

“Of course he is,” said Peter as he came up beside his wife. “There’s food involved.”

“That’s only part of it.” He jerked his head to Gus standing at his side. “The rest is all down to my time-keeper. Gus, Elizabeth and Peter Burke.”

“More like full-time keeper. Burton Guster.” He shook their hands.

“Come in.” Elizabeth ushered them into the house, closing the door behind her.

Shawn walked into the living room followed by Gus. Neal was sitting on the couch next to a shorter, balding man with large glasses. He was obviously comfortable with his surroundings which meant he was a long-time friend.

Neal stood when they entered, setting his wine glass on the coffee table. “Hey, Shawn. And you must be Gus.” He shook Gus’ hand. “Shawn’s talked quite a bit about you.”

“Really?” Gus looked at Shawn. “That’s interesting because he never mentioned knowing you.”

“Gus, what can I get you to drink?” asked El.

“I recommend the house red,” said the little guy. “They have a decent cellar.”

“Thank you, Mozzie.” El looked to Gus.

“Red will be fine, thank you,” Gus replied and El left for the kitchen.

Shawn heard the back door open and then scrabbling claws on the floor before he was attacked by a four-legged ball of golden fur. “Satch!” The dog wagged his tail so violently, his whole body moved. Shawn knelt down and scratched him behind the ears. “He’s gotten so big. Haven’t you, boy?”

Peter rejoined them and held out a bottle of beer to Shawn. Shawn stood and took the drink. “I see you’ve met Neal’s friend Mozzie.”

“Not properly,” said Gus.

Shawn and Gus sat in a couple of chairs facing the couch. Satchmo lay down at Shawn’s feet.

“Mozzie, this is Shawn and his friend Gus. Guys, this is Mozzie. We met up when I first came to New York and I out-conned him.”

“We were running Find the Lady and he palmed a queen from another deck.”

“And thus a partnership was born,” intoned Peter.

El returned with wine for Gus. “I’d like to know how Neal and Shawn met.”

“Me, too,” agreed Gus.

“I stepped on his foot,” Shawn said, not wanting to elaborate on the location.

Neal, of course, had no such aversion. “It was the Monet exhibit at the Institute of Art in Chicago.” He looked at Shawn. “August ’95?”

Shawn nodded.

Gus nearly choked on his wine. “You were in a museum looking at art voluntarily?”

“It’s not so bad when it’s not being shoved down your throat,” he defended.

“What next? The opera or symphony?”

“Bite your tongue. The only classical music I need to know I learned from Bugs Bunny.”

Neal continued the story and Shawn threw in little tidbits. Neal glossed over his reason for leaving so abruptly, but Shawn would get him to explain at some point before he left for California.

“What irony,” remarked Mozzie. “The one who wanted to be a cop became a criminal and the one who didn’t now works as a detective.”

“I might have shared a few of your cases with him.”

Peter was smiling. “Neal was the one who told you how to spot forgeries.” He snapped his fingers. “You did see something on the bonds.”

“I told you it was there, Peter.” Neal looked at Shawn. “So you used what I taught you against me?”

“To be fair, I didn’t know it was you. When I found out, I left.”

“So, now we know how you left the FBI, how about telling us how you started,” demanded Gus. “Curious minds want to know.”

“Oh, that was me!” El was excited. I was picking up coffee around noon when I saw a guy call in a tip to the police just from watching a news report. I told Peter at dinner and when we saw the news that night, it was reported that the man Shawn called in had been arrested.”

“The next day I checked with the NYPD and learned that Shawn had solved around a dozen cases. I ran it past Hughes, got his approval, and Shawn joined White Collar as a consultant.”

“An interesting four days.”

“You were only there four days?” Neal was amazed. “How close did you get?”

“Another day or so and we might have had you.”

“You would have made a worthy adversary,” commented Mozzie. “’Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.’ Euripedes.”

“Hey, Peter, since we don’t have a case right now, do you think I could have the day off?” asked Neal. “I was thinking we could hit the Met or MOMA.”

“I don’t think you should use the word ‘hit’ when you want to visit a museum. I’ll let the Marshal’s office know you have permission to be there. You change your plans, you call me.”

The oven timer beeped and Peter went to the kitchen. Shawn heard the oven door open. “Dinner’s ready, people!” he called.


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