Neal thought he knew what to expect when he started working for the FBI. But what he didn't expect was the unending amount of paperwork and mortgage fraud files. Each day he would come in and Peter would have another stack of files ready for him. And whenever he would complain, Peter would tell him to "cowboy up" and that this was what being a consultant was all about. Peter would continue that not every case would be exciting and involve fieldwork. Neal's eyes would glaze over and he would nod and agree just to get Peter to stop talking!

It actually wouldn't be so bad if Neal had a proper place to work. The bullpen was full and there were no available desks so Neal would work in the conference room or Peter's office until he was kicked out. He would then have to gather up and lug all the files to search for an empty space to work. One time he even worked at the little table at the coffee station. He was like a nomad, searching for a place to hang his hat (so the speak).

After a particularly busy day of moving around the office, Neal was getting ready to vacate the conference room (again), when Hughes walked in.

"I'll be out of your way in just a sec Sir." Neal said nervously as he started to gather up his files. Truth be told, Hughes intimidated him and he didn't want to get on his bad side.

"Hold up Caffrey." Reese noticed how Neal was displaced the last few weeks. He had seen Neal lugging around files working wherever he could find space.

"Burke, come in here."

Peter walked into the conference room. "Sir?" he questioned.

"What's wrong with this picture, Burke?" Hughes asked.

Peter felt confused. He looked around and nothing seemed wrong. Neal was standing there with an arm full of files and a confused expression on his face. "Good, at least he wasn't the only one who had no idea what was going on," Peter thought.

"I'm not sure I follow, Sir." Peter said.

"Get Caffrey a desk!" Hughes said exasperated. "If he's going to be on the team, he needs a proper place to work. Put him at Johnson's desk. I know he just transferred to the Atlanta office."

"Sure thing," Peter replied. "Neal, go put your stuff at Johnson's desk."

"Okay." Neal said as he lugged his files down the stairs to Johnson's-no, his desk.

He started to unpack his box of files and organizing his desk the way he liked it. He adjusted his chair, his computer monitor and re-arranged his pencils and pens. He even spun his chair around a couple of times. Finally, he placed his rubberband ball on his desk with a smile. He had found it around the office during the Dutchman case and had claimed it as his own. When he was stuck on a case, throwing it up in the air helped him to focus. When he was finally satisfied with the way everything was arranged, Neal couldn't help but think that this was working out better than he thought. He needed to become indispensable to the FBI, so there would be no reason to send him back to jail. Being in middle of the bullpen, Neal could keep a better eye on Peter.

Peter watched as Neal organized his desk. He couldn't help but think to himself that this was working out better than he thought. With Neal in the middle of the bullpen, he could keep a better eye on him.

Neal looked up and saw Peter watching him from his office, shaking his head. He shrugged and gave Peter his million dollar smile. Yes, this was working out better than expected both men thought.

END