Story description: Can the White Collar series finale be fixed? Sure! Just bring in the Leverage Crew, a de-aging plot, and a little time travel! Or, as the Leverage team would say: Let's go steal the past!

Content warnings: references to terminal cancer (but no one dies)

The Fix-It Job

Parker still wasn't used to enjoying herself at things other than heists, much less hanging out with other people, but tonight wasn't bad. It was nice to hear the voices of Nate and Hardison in the background as Hardison tried to convince Nate they needed to acquire yet another piece of tech.

Parker sat on a sofa between Eliot and Sophie, watching Top Chef. Eliot made notes about the recipes, while Sophie listened carefully to the accents of several contestants. "I'm a bit rusty on New Orleans," she said, in what sounded to Parker like a perfect New Orleans accent.

They told Parker that she would like this episode because of the flambe challenge, and they were right. She and Eliot had already decided to make Cherries Jubilee tomorrow.

Sophie's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, raised a brow, and then slipped away to a far corner of the room to answer the call. "June," she said, "so lovely to hear from you."

"Should I pause the show?" Eliot asked, just as Sophie said, "Neal Caffrey?" and Parker hissed, "Yes!"

Parker nearly grabbed the remote herself before Eliot could hit the pause button. It never occurred to her that they shouldn't eavesdrop. Listening in on each other's conversations was second nature due to the way they worked.

"Only by reputation," Sophie continued. She listened to the caller and then said, "He's joining the Pink Panthers?"

"The cartoon?" Eliot muttered at the same time Parker protested, "He wouldn't do that!"

"Enough, Sophie," Nate said. "You have our attention."

As the crew gathered around a table and Sophie put the call on speaker, Parker asked, "You scripted the call for us to overhear?"

"Exactly," said Sophie. "This isn't our usual kind of case, because June isn't our usual kind of client. I needed to introduce her to you the right way."

"Bypassing me and our vetting process," Nate grumbled.

"With good reason," Sophie said lightly. "June is one of us, a grifter."

"Retired," came June's voice from the phone. She explained that she lived in Manhattan, where she rented a loft in her home to Neal Caffrey.

"He's one of us, too," Parker said. "Thief, forger, con artist."

"And an FBI consultant," June added. "Unfortunately that's turned against him. It was supposed to be a few years of working for them while wearing a tracking anklet instead of returning to prison after he escaped. But they keep finding excuses to extend the sentence. Recently he made a desperate bargain: his freedom if he can help them arrest the leaders of the Pink Panthers."

"I knew he wouldn't really join them," Parker interjected.

"Today he..." June paused. "He didn't say he was going to disappear, but it was clearly a goodbye. I pushed for answers, and what I heard has me deeply concerned." She explained what she had learned about his plan.

"We can't let him do that," Sophie insisted, looking up and meeting each person's eyes, one by one. They all nodded — even Nate.

One week later...

"I'm glad you told me," Peter said. But he didn't look glad, and he didn't sound glad, either. He was very stern and serious.

"I'm bringing you in, but that doesn't mean the plan changes," Neal insisted. "Faking my death, leaving the country, and changing my identity is the only way I can escape the Pink Panthers after you arrest their leaders. And it's the only way that you and my other friends will be safe from retaliation."

"I don't agree," Peter said. "The drugs to slow your heart and convince people you're dead are too dangerous. You might never wake up. You could suffer brain damage."

"So what's my option? Mozzie's de-aging formula?" Neal shook his head and paced the deserted storefront Peter had pulled him into for a private chat. "Become a child with the fingerprints of a felon? Should I fake a new ID for myself as my last act as an adult? And who's going to raise me?"

"The formula is permanent?" Peter asked.

"It can be. It would have to be, in my case. I need to disappear permanently. You've already made it clear I've been a significant burden on you and the FBI over the last few years. Now you have a baby on the way, and the last thing you need is to take on another kid for the duration. And I don't particularly want to endure having you constantly wondering if my criminal tendencies are about to resurface."

"This isn't the time for a nature versus nurture debate. Set up a meet with Mozzie. I want to hear how this de-aging process works."

"What, set up a demo?" Neal sounded sarcastic, but Peter nodded. "Seriously?" Neal asked.

"Cards on the table," Peter said. "Mozzie's been hinting about this formula for months. It's been in the back of my mind, and I have ideas. Some are options for you. Some are for my dad."

"What about your dad?"

Peter took a deep breath. "He called me last week to say he has cancer. They caught it too late to do anything. He's got maybe two months, three at the most. If he could be de-aged, say five years, they could catch it early and treat it — hell, even prevent it, maybe. I'd just... I'd really like it if he could be around for his grandkid, you know?"

"I can't say I know a lot about having grandparents around." Neal shrugged. "Maybe that's the best argument for making sure it happens for your kid."

They walked back outside, both seemingly lost in their thoughts.

Matthew Keller stepped out from behind the door to a backroom. He pulled out his phone and made a call. "I got wind of a demo for something you need to see. Forget millions. We're talking billions of dollars for the people who control it." He leaned forward, watching through the window as Neal and Peter strolled away. "Yeah, I'll get us in."

After Keller left, Parker dropped down from her hiding spot in the ceiling. "He's hooked," she said, knowing the team would hear her. "He really thinks de-aging is possible."

"Well, with Mozzie involved, anything is possible," said Hardison, his voice only slightly tinny in her ear.

"And the fact that Peter pretended to take it seriously it seals the deal," Nate added. "We've got Keller and the Pink Panthers right where we want them."

Three days later...

Keller and a leader of the Pink Panthers hid in the back of a theater, in the room where the lights and sound system were controlled. Mozzie, Peter, and Neal stood on the stage. Keller hoped the choice of location indicated the demo would be dramatic, because he felt a lot of pressure to deliver.

Fortunately their hiding room's equipment delivered crystal-clear sound. Keller had confirmed that fact after he learned Mozzie had chosen the theater for this demo. They could stay hidden while watching the action in comfort.

"I thought it was a formula," Peter said. He ran his hand along an alien-looking piece of machinery on the stage.

Watching through binoculars, Keller thought the device looked like metal, but it also had a vaguely organic structure, like something grown rather than constructed. It formed an arch more than tall enough for a person to walk through.

Mozzie waved a hand. "There was a formula involved in the design, but it's not something you ingest."

It had been so tempting, when Mozzie pulled into the alley behind the theater with a van full of equipment, to dispose of Mozzie and take the van. Only the complexity of the equipment convinced Keller that he needed to see the demo first before taking the expert out of the picture.

So instead, Keller was waiting for the show to begin.

Mozzie clapped his hands. "Places!" he announced. People entered from stage left. They all wore retro costumes.

"What the hell?" Peter said. "I asked for a demo, not a surprise party."

"Setting up the device takes significant preparation and power," Mozzie said. "This isn't something I can do on a whim. Once I activate it, it makes sense to use it for multiple —"

Elizabeth Burke walked over to stand beside her husband, who interrupted Mozzie to ask, "You're in on this?"

She shrugged. "Mozzie arrived at the house and insisted I come with him." She gestured toward where several people were unfolding what looked like playpens. "I assumed it was some kind of baby shower."

"We're doing this in pairs," Mozzie announced. "Suit and Mrs. Suit, your job is to carry each pair to the playpen with their names on it. When the light on the playpen starts flashing yellow, you have two minutes to return them to the arch before the process reverses itself."

Neal and Parker went first. Keller recognized her name, even though he hadn't worked with her. She was notorious for preferring to do her heists alone.

The pair of thieves stepped under the arch as adults, and stepped out as toddlers. "That's your cue," Mozzie yelled to Peter and Elizabeth, who hustled to carry the children to a playpen. Every few minutes, another pair walked through, becoming children, until the Burkes had the equivalent of a daycare going on, filled with kids who wanted food or toys or whatever. Even Mozzie himself walked through the arch, turning into a tot in glasses.

###

"That wasn't just a magic trick," El said as she placed a blonde little girl in a playpen while Peter added a toddler with Neal's dark hair and blue eyes.

"It's really them," Peter confirmed. "More than thirty years younger." They scrambled to collect the next set of kids, placing them in the playpen labeled "Eliot and Diana."

El turned around to see Parker climbing out of her enclosure, with Neal following her lead. El picked them up, placing them in the playpen again.

Next they carried children to the playpen labeled "Nate and Sara." This version of Sara Ellis was an infant, with just a hint of downy red hair. "But to be changed back to themselves as kids..." El shook her head. "Why aren't they screaming in pain? Or at least exhausted by it?" She turned around in exasperation to see Parker and Neal had again escaped. Why couldn't they have been turned into babies who couldn't climb yet?

After returning Parker and Neal to their place, it was time to carry Hardison and Jones to their playpen. And then to chase after Neal and Parker again. "Can we get something more secure for these two?" El asked. "It's like trying to wrangle kittens who've learned to climb."

"Almost done," Peter promised, as they carried little Sophie and June to their playpen. "We can keep an eye on them after the last pair goes through, and they'll be the first back."

Last through the arch were Mozzie and Reese Hughes, truly an odd couple, and as children in their playpen they frowned at each other distrustfully.

After chasing down Neal and Parker one more time, Peter and El sat on the stage with the children on their laps.

"Couldn't we just show them a movie to keep them entertained?" El begged. "My phone's in my purse. We could stream something."

"No exposure to technology from beyond the early 1980s," Peter said. "We can't risk them remembering it."

Satchmo, who had been tied to a chair offstage, got loose and ran over. He turned out to be the best babysitter. Little Neal and Parker hugged the dog enthusiastically and then played fetch with him.

"Why does it matter what they remember?" El asked.

"Because this isn't de-aging. It's time travel," Peter explained. "When the present version of themselves traveled to the past, their past version was displaced and sent here. After they're done completing their tasks in the past, the process reverses. When these two kids return to where they came from in the 1980s, we don't want them to bring back knowledge from our time."

###

"Time travel?" repeated the man with Keller.

Keller glanced at him and asked, "Weren't you wearing a suit?" The guy was in jeans now.

"Your shirt was gray," the man replied.

Keller looked down to see that his shirt had turned green. He blinked at the guy beside him. What was his name? Why didn't he remember the guy's name? He was important.

"They're doing something to us... Changing our past!" the important guy gasped. Then he blinked out of the room entirely.

Keller rubbed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He was alone, but he shouldn't be. Hadn't there been someone else with him?

He looked back at the stage when he heard Peter Burke say, "That's the yellow light! Get them to the arch." Peter carried one of the kids to arch, and his wife carried the other. Moments later, the kids stepped through to be replaced with the adult versions of Neal and Parker.

That's when Keller blacked out. When he woke up, he was in prison, and he'd never heard of Neal Caffrey.

Eight days earlier...

Hardison placed a hand reverently on the arch. "It's a TARDIS," he said.

Mozzie beamed with approval. "It moves people in time and space, yes. There are limitations, however. You can't go into the future, and you can't go back before you were born. This version of time travel displaces your past self in order to move to that point in your timeline. Your younger self is pulled to the arch until you trade places again."

"Where did you get it?" Nate asked. Parker paid attention now, wondering if there were more things like this she could steal, because it sounded like having one of these would make Hardison very happy.

"Aliens," Mozzie answered. "They brought it a year ago and showed me how it worked — they took me back in time, allowed me to change one aspect in the past, and then let me experience and monitor the repercussions through to our present day."

"For real?" Hardison asked. "Real aliens? Like, we're living in a Doctor Who episode right now?"

"Indeed. They inspired the show with a goal of opening our minds to the concepts they wanted to introduce," Mozzie agreed. "They also influenced Gene Roddenberry and George Lucas."

"I..." Hardison held up a hand. "I'm going to need a moment." He lowered himself to the ground, sitting where he could still touch the arch.

Parker sat beside him. "Deep breaths," she advised.

"They left the device with me, but I can only activate it once," Mozzie continued. "They've given me one chance to prove that humanity has the intelligence and wisdom to use something like this to make a significant difference in the world. Think of it as a test. I've spent months studying key moments in history, deciding what to change. My next step was going to be selecting a crew of people I can trust to send into the past for one glorious attempt to fix things that we got wrong."

Neal asked, "What did you change when the aliens took you into the past for your training?"

"I fixed the United States' failed attempt to convert to the metric system in the 1970s."

"But it didn't fail," objected Eliot.

"Exactly," Mozzie said. "Do you remember the song 'I Can't Drive 55'?"

"It's 'I Can't Drive Drive 85.' That's..." Eliot trailed off. He reached for one of his favorite recipe books and opened it to a bookmarked page. "The baking temperatures are all in Celsius. They've always been Celsius, but now that you mention it, I remember this one being 350 degrees Fahrenheit."

"That's how it works," Mozzie told him. "You retain an echo of a memory of the original timeline, but you're only aware of it if someone points it out."

"Why did you select that change?" Sophie asked.

"Using metric is much simpler. It reduces mental stress here in the U.S. and decreases the stress on countries who want to engage in trade with us. This one change sped up the space shuttle program by a year, improved math and science scores in high school students, and resulted in a slight improvement in mental health."

"Two miles," Neal muttered. "I had a two-mile radius with the tracking anklet the first time around. And now it's four kilometers."

"Operating systems," said Hardison. "That's what I'd change. Prevent the near-monopoly on computer operating systems. With more competition, we'd have more options, giving us amazing new features and better usability. We'd finally —"

"Damnit, Hardison," Eliot interrupted. "We don't have time for this."

"Theoretically, we have all the time in the world," Mozzie said. "But practically speaking, we need to have a plan in place quickly."

"So we go back in time, stop the Pink Panthers, and save Neal?" Parker asked, with a glance toward her fellow thief.

"You can't use the time machine to help just me," Neal objected. "That's not what it's here for. And I'm not..." He took a deep breath. "I'm not worth it."

"Don't say that!" Parker insisted.

"If I understand this correctly," Sophie said, "we can only change the outcome for Neal if we change the outcome for society as a whole."

"Correct," Mozzie confirmed, launching into an explanation about the elasticity of time and the inefficiency of attempting to change the timeline of just one person.

"Well," said Nate, "let's go steal the past."

Early 1980s...

Neal and Parker stepped through the arch, leaving behind the theater to find themselves in an alley. Parker could still hear the echo of Mozzie giving instructions to the Burkes.

She wondered if she'd remember playing with Neal as a child when this was over. Would they get along?

"Are you okay?" Neal asked, and she told herself to focus.

"Yeah. Let's do this."

They were still in New York City, but it was the middle of the night in the early 1980s. They had big hair, and Parker's shoulder pads felt weird, but they blended in with the other people around as they walked toward their target.

Security systems of thirty years ago seemed ridiculously simple. They were inside the office building and on the fourteenth floor so easily that Parker asked Neal why this job needed two people.

Then they reached the vault.

"Now I get it," she said, reaching into her padded shoulders to pull out the tools she would need. Neal was pulling even more tools out of the many pockets in his parachute pants. Working together, they opened the vault in under ten minutes.

Sorting through the files inside the vault took longer. It was nearly fifteen minutes before Neal said, "Got it."

Then they found a copier and made a copy of the files before returning the papers to the vault.

They'd just closed the vault when they heard an elevator ding. The doors opened and a security guard stepped out.

Parker and Neal ran with the silent steps of cat burglars. They checked the doors of offices and closets until they found one that was unlocked. They dove under the massive table of a conference room, pulling chairs around them to hide their presence.

While they waited, they read their copy of the files. The formulas didn't make sense to Parker, but the summaries at the end were clear enough. Mozzie had been right. This pharmaceutical company had been on the verge of finding a cure for cancer, and they'd stopped the research because there were more profits to be made from treating the disease than from curing it.

And Mozzie was right about the timing, too. The company's board would vote next week on what to do with the results of the research. In the file's last page, the CEO recommended that all of the findings be destroyed, to prevent word getting out about their decision to put profits over healing people. If any watchdog agency decided to conduct a search, there would be no evidence of the progress they'd made toward developing a cure.

When the security guard completed his rounds, the pair of thieves slipped out of the building. Their next stop was a Kinko's. It was closed for the night, but they broke in to make more copies of the files. They added their own cover letter, describing what the pharmaceutical company had done. Their last step was to deliver the copies to reporters, scientists, and the editor of a medical journal. There would be no keeping the research a secret now.

"How much time do we have left?" Parker asked when the final letter was delivered.

"Almost two hours," Neal said, checking the time-travel-proof stopwatch Mozzie had sent with them. "We made good time." He gestured toward a diner across the street. "Want breakfast?"

Tucked away in a booth at the back of the restaurant, they placed their orders. After the waitress walked away, Parker asked, "Will we still be us? Now that we changed the past?"

"Mozzie told me we'll remember who we were," Neal said. "Although the memories will become vague. I'm sure you'll still be you, someone good at planning things like heists. It's a very specific kind of puzzle that your mind excels at." He shrugged. "As for me, it doesn't really matter. I made a mess of too many things. Hopefully my life improves. If not, at least I'll know I had a part in making the world a better place for others."

"It does matter," Parker insisted. "You're my friend. I don't have many of those, and I don't want to lose any of them."

Neal smiled. "You didn't want to be friends the first time we met."

"That's because you were trying to steal something I wanted." They reminisced about breaking into the same museum at the same time, both planning to take the same piece of art. In the end, they had agreed that Neal could take the original, and Parker took the forgery Neal had created.

They paused their conversation as the waitress brought their breakfast.

"Then there was the Louvre, a month later," Parker mentioned when the waitress left, remembering when she and Neal had again broken into the same place at the same time, but with different targets. They'd helped each other elude the guards.

"And that led to the heist in Rio," Neal added, referring to a job they'd planned and executed together. "Teamwork at its best."

"I'm glad Nate and Mozzie paired us up for this one," Parker said.

"If we're not thieves when we get back, at least we're going out with a bang," Neal agreed.

###

Despite spending hours or even days in the past, the time travelers returned to the present less than an hour after they left, much to El's relief. While little Diana had been an angel — sleeping through the entire thing — most of these kids were not inclined to stay put or to do what they were told. It was a wonder they got all of the children back to the arch at the right times.

When everyone was back, Mozzie advised that they should return immediately to their homes or hotels and go to bed. Entering a dream state would ease the impact as their minds absorbed the results of the altered timeline. He warned that participating in time travel meant you had a stronger awareness of what had changed, which could lead to cognitive dissonance accompanied by a severe headache. "Sleep helps," he promised.

###

When Neal woke up the next morning, he wondered if the time travel had been a dream. He was still in his bed in the loft he rented from June. Had anything changed?

Then the disorientation kicked in, as his knowledge of this timeline and memories of the previous one collided.

He was vaguely aware of the sound of water running. Then the bathroom door opened. Sara walked over, wearing a robe. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down for a quick kiss. "Good morning."

Neal noticed her gold wedding band plus the matching one that he wore, and he reached for her hand. "It blows my mind that I'm lucky enough to be married to you."

She smiled. "Any chance you'll show your gratitude by making breakfast? I'm starving."

He noticed small changes as he cooked. There were solar panels discretely tucked away on the balcony, and he knew that such panels were common on rooftops throughout the city. Just as he knew that healthcare was much cheaper and easier to access in this timeline, and that there were cures for most forms of cancer. June's husband was still alive thanks to that change.

An hour later Mozzie called to check in. In this timeline, the aliens had made themselves known to the general public in the late 1980s. Tall and lanky, they had a passing resemblance to giraffes, not to mention a great fondness for the animals. Therefore the aliens had built a base for themselves in an African nation that renamed itself Wakanda, which was now the most technologically advanced place in the world. Mozzie lived there, working with the aliens on projects to continue improving life on Earth.

Time travel excursions would not continue, Mozzie explained, due to something he called "the swiss cheese effect" that could result from meddling with the timeline too often. He also confirmed Neal's adjusted memory that the Pink Panthers crime syndicate had never been formed.

A few minutes later when Neal's phone rang again, he looked at the display and told Sara, "It's my sister." He smiled. This was perfect.

"Neal!" Parker said. "I work for the FBI!"

"I remember," Neal said. The FBI now had a Leverage unit that specialized in cases where the overly powerful took advantage of those with fewer resources.

"And Eliot and Diana stopped a bunch of mobsters with their time jump. Your dad..." she stopped, probably experiencing the same set of conflicting memories that Neal was.

He blinked as another aspect of the new reality settled into place in his mind. His mom — Meredith Caffrey — had fallen in love with and married a D.C. Metro cop. Not James Bennett this time, but his partner, Kathryn Hill. James was a long-time family friend who had not gotten pulled into corruption with the Irish mob, thanks to the time travel mission of Eliot and Diana. When Neal's moms decided they wanted to have a baby, James acted as the sperm donor.

And a couple of years later, when they decided to expand their family through adoption, Parker had joined them as Neal's sister.

"So, where are you?" Neal asked, unsure if she would still be in a hotel in New York. She worked in the Bureau's Boston offices.

"I'm at home," she said. "With our moms," she added in a whisper.

Neal chuckled. "Okay, you win. You're definitely experiencing a bigger adjustment than I am."

"I think I might like it," she said, although it sounded more like a question.

"Let me know how it turns out. And you can call me anytime you need to talk."

When the call ended, Sara asked, "What are your plans for today?"

He considered his options. He could work on his proposal for a new course at Columbia University, where he was a lecturer in art history and the visual arts. He could drop by the Frick, where he was consulting on an art restoration project. Down the hall from the loft was his art studio, if he wanted to work on his latest painting.

But there was no pressing need to work. There were no criminal organizations breathing down his neck. No FBI agents pressuring him to prove his worth. It was a glorious Saturday morning, and he could do anything he wanted.

"How about a walk?" he suggested.

Sara agreed, and they meandered through Riverside Park to the Hudson River. They talked about scheduling a return to Paris, where they'd spent their honeymoon last year.

They also compared their time-travel memories. Sara had been paired with Nate, because they knew each other from their work in insurance investigations. They'd leveraged their knowledge of the insurance industry to convince legislators to make a handful of key improvements in healthcare coverage. She mentioned something called pre-existing conditions, which Neal knew had once been a big deal on the old timeline.

He also had shadowy but fond memories of being a child chasing Satchmo, and he and Sara discussed getting a dog. "I really love dogs," he confessed. "I've wanted one as long as I can remember."

That evening, with his new memories settled into place, Neal thanked June for involving the Leverage team and Mozzie to change his mind. His original plan for faking his death sounded ridiculous now. "This is much better," he said.

With a glance at her husband, June responded, "I couldn't agree more."

A/N: I couldn't resist ending my White Collar season finale fix-it with a reference to Paris.