Title: Tired of Running
Author: TeeJay
Whitecollar100 Prompt: #26 Glass
Genre: Het
Characters: Neal (and some Kate, but not really)
Word Count: 300
Summary: After the events of 'Out of the Box', Neal is lying in his prison cell, trying to figure out what he wants to do. Triple-drabble written for the whitecollar100 LiveJournal community prompt #26 "Glass".
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for 1x14 'Out of the Box' and 2x01 'Withdrawal', and a little bit of emotional Neal whump.
Author's Note: So lately I've been wondering about the time between season one and season two. And it's just too tempting to not go back to that time and go McPunisher on Neal. I mean, you gotta hand it to the guy, he's an easy target. (And, yes, I'm sorry about that, but only a little.)
Also, I usually don't write in the second person, but sometimes you wanna experiment with new things. Hope this turned out all right. If not, constructive criticism is very welcome. And, darn, 300 words just isn't enough. I could have written way more than this. :o)
Disclaimer: White Collar, its characters and its settings belong to Jeff Eastin and USA Network. And, guys? Your characters are not only welcome, they're wonderful. I'm just borrowing, I promise.
You lie on the lumpy mattress in your cell, watching the shapes that the moonlight casts on the ceiling through the window pane opposite your iron barred cell door. You briefly wonder if it's made of glass—not that it matters.
There's a feeling of déjà vu tingling at the margins of your consciousness. You've been here. Not in this moment, but a semblance of it. Different time, different cell block. Different life, almost.
You're afraid to close your eyes, because when you do, the images come flooding back. Fire, heat, noise, havoc, desolation. "Peter..." it escaped your lips, there in the hangar. You were about to tell him you were tired of running. It still churns at your insides that you were ready to turn your back on Kate. But were you really?
And you're back where you didn't want to be. You see her standing in the plane's door, smiling at you. That million dollar smile that could melt your heart in a second. You raised your arm to wave at her, your heart leaping in your chest at the happiness that your reunion was going to bring.
And then it was all gone in a flash, like a click of a finger, and your life lay in shambles. Now you're not sure what to do. Go back to work for the FBI, confined to life in a 2-mile limbo? Sure, it would beat a six by eight prison cell. Mozzie's checked into other alternatives, and you're no closer to making a decision than you were when Peter offered you the anklet back.
You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut, blocking out pictures of her face, her blue eyes, her full lips. Maybe this is your punishment, and it occurs to you that maybe it's what you deserve.