Neal slunk into the White Collar Division offices with a stealthy gate, glancing around him furtively. He noted that Jones and Dianna were working steadily at their desks and didn't notice his entrance, which suited him just fine and dandy. Casting a subtle eye to the office of Peter Burke he thanked his lucky stars the elder man wasn't there.
Neal was late. He was oh so very late.
His tardiness made for the third punctuality issue that week, and if Peter found out, he would not be happy. Dropping his bag at his desk, he made his way over to the coffee station in a probably vain attempt to wake himself up a jot.
Sighing in disdain as the machine predictably produced lukewarm brown water; he made his way back to his desk and plopped down behind it, setting to work on the cases that were piled on it, patiently awaiting his attention. For once, he was grateful of the tedious work. It would keep his mind off of…well; it would keep his mind occupied….
Peter entered the communal office area just as he opened his second file of the day and shot him a hard look, clearly indicating that he knew full well that the young CI had not been on his desk when he was supposed to be. Jerking his head silently, he communicated the unspoken command to follow him and stalked through the bull pen at a brisk gate.
Sighing in reluctance, Neal obediently stood and made his way up the stairs after his irate handler already counting down the minutes it would take for the agent to issue his tongue lashing and he could escape. He closed the door behind him as he entered and Peter was taking a seat behind his desk, no need for the whole world to hear Peter's thoughts on his timekeeping.
Wasting no time, Peter leaned forwards on his desk and glared up at the slightly rueful looking Neal.
"What the hell has gotten into you lately Caffrey? This is your third time this week, swanning in and out of here as you please. What do you think this is some kind of holiday camp? Do the rules not apply to you?" the team leader barked.
Neal winced, both at the use of his surname which always spelt trouble, and the clipped tones that the normally placid Peter was using. Plastering on his most winning smile but feeling the now all too familiar strains of exhaustion, he held his hands up in what he hoped was a calming gesture.
"Yes, the rules apply to me, I'm sorry Peter. It won't happen again" he offered simply, hoping that the elder of the two would let it go at that. In hindsight, he would admit that this was a particularly foolish hope.
"Didn't you tell me that it wouldn't happen again, two days ago?" Peter ground out in response, feeling thoroughly fed up with his maddening charges complete disregard for boundaries.
Surprisingly, Neal didn't retort with a witty come back or an extravagant loophole. Instead, he merely dropped his gaze to his shoes and nodded his head, his tousled black locks bobbing slightly as a result.
"Yes, I did" he readily admitted in a soft voice, whilst still conducting his pretty thorough examination of his pristine shoes.
Slightly wrong footed by this immediate admission, Peter floundered for a moment.
"Well, do you have an explanation that you would be so kind as to give, Neal?" he eventually asked in his still agitated tones, starting intently at the shuffling CI in front of him.
"No Sir" the young man replied in the same quiet tone, knowing that Peter expected his people to address him properly when they were in his bad books. Which he clearly was right now.
"I've just…allowed myself to become disorganised, I'll get it together from here on in" he added, looking up slightly before promptly returning his gaze downwards.
Sighing at this obvious misdirection, Peter restrained himself from rolling his eyes.
He cast an appraising eye over his young ward, the results of which quickly elevated his gaze into an x ray stare.
Neal was slightly dishevelled looking; his usually meticulously pressed suit was slightly wrinkled and hung somewhat on his slight frame. Had he lost weight? His usually beaming face, upon close inspection, was rather gaunt and dark circles framed the piercing blue eyes.
Mentally kicking himself for not noticing earlier, Peter addressed the boy in a much softer voice.
"Everything ok with you, Neal? You look a bit…peaky.
The head bobbed up and down immediately.
"I'm fine, I've just been… a bit under the weather" the young CI replied, his dazzling smile once again firmly in place.
Nodding slowly in pretence of acceptance, Peter filed away this additional misdirection. Something was definitely going on with the kid, but he knew from experience if he were to press him when he didn't want to talk, he'd just clam up even tighter.
Sighing, he turned back to the matter at hand. No matter what lovers tiff the boy was having with Sarah, or hysterical fall out with Mozzie, he couldn't break the rules again and again and get away with it.
"You are going to make up all this time you've missed this week. I can't have a part time CI, you are to be here when you're supposed to be here and not when it's convenient for you, that is non negotiable. Is that clear?" he asked, resuming his previously stern tone of voice and watching sadly as Neal winced in response.
"Yes Sir, it's clear" the young man murmured in response.
"Good. You can make it up tonight then; I'm working late as well so I can keep an eye on you. You can budget for an eleven pm finish."
The head snapped up.
"Tonight?" Neal repeated, his face falling heavily.
Rubbing his eyes in irritation, Peter felt twenty years older than he actually was. No one pushed his buttons like this kid.
"Yes Neal, tonight" he answered tersely.
"But….but I have to be…"
"You have to be where?" Peter interjected crossly, not in the mood for Neal's whining.
"I had… plans" Neal answered, somewhat lamely and with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
Leaning back in his chair, the elder agent fixed his ward with a piercing glare.
"Oh you had plans did you?" he repeated sternly.
"I had plans too, now that you mention it. I had plans that involved my CI coming to work and doing his job on time and on a daily basis, with some kind of degree of dependability."
"Funny how plans change isn't it?" he added grimly.
Neal had the good sense and grace to look abashed and to drop his borderline sulky gaze.
"You don't get to have your punishment arranged to accommodate your hectic social life, Neal. Besides, a curtailment of your extracurricular activities might just do the trick in getting you to work on time" Peter scolded.
The sad nodding of the tousled head brought the lecture to an end.
"Alright Neal, get back to work and don't let me catch you slacking off today, for your own good. I'll see you later on tonight, I expect you in my office at five to collect some files to work on, is that clear?" Peter concluded.
"Yes Sir" Neal replied quietly, before obeying the get back to work order and making his way back to his desk, his stomach churning with the burgeoning feelings of panic.
The team leader watched him go, feeling the familiar pangs of guilt he always felt when he had cause to discipline his CI. As the usual dilemma of whether or not he'd been too hard on the kid began to rattle around his brain, he reassured himself that the best of course of action had been to nip Neal's extreme tardiness in the bud. Otherwise, Hughes would notice and things would eventually become substantially more complicated.
As the hours passed, the feelings of anxiety that trundled around Neal's body increased. He stared blankly at the reports on his desk, only barely conscious of the fact that when Peter asked for them he wasn't going to be overly impressed with the distinct lack of progress.
When his phone rang, the young man visibly flinched and his heart began to pound. Glancing at the caller ID, he closed his eyes in the childish hope that it would simply go away. When the phone continued to shrill, he reluctantly flicked it open, grateful that Jones and Dianna had since vacated the bull pen.
The cold voice on the other line made his blood stagnate in his veins, as it always did.
"The usual place. Five thirty. Don't be late" it intoned, seemingly indifferent to the effect it had in its recipient.
Glancing at the clock on his desk, Neal saw that it was ten to five. It was ten minutes before Peter expected him to be in his office, and it was forty minutes until the caller expected him to be where he so desperately never wanted to see again. Both parties expected a service from him, a service that would take several hours to discharge.
Grabbing his jacket from his chair, he snapped the phone shut and closed his eyes.
I'm sorry Peter he murmured to himself as he dashed out of the FBI building, as quickly as possible so as to avoid any interactions with anyone along the way.
The weary Agent Burke entered the last notation on one of a long list of reports and glanced tiredly at his watch. It was quarter past five.
Caffrey he growled, to no one in particular and stood to gaze out his window in the sky that oversaw all of his people's desks, ready to let a roar out to the suddenly incapable of punctuality, Neal.
When he saw the hasty signs of departure evident on the kid's desk, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
Neal's jacket was gone. His cell that usually lay perched on his surface top was gone. His Fedora was gone.
He was gone.
Running a hand through his hair, Peter felt the all too familiar anger begin to burn inside him.
Grabbing his phone, he punched in a number with more force than was necessary and waited impatiently for the connection. Barking orders down the phone to the highly affronted lady that worked in the corrections department, he was satisfied when he heard the ping that let him know Neal's tracking data had been transferred to his mobile.
Closing his eyes for a moment in a vain attempt to get a handle on himself, he took in several deep steadying breaths.
Hope you're enjoying sitting wherever you are Neal, because it's the last time you're going to be able to comfortably for a long, long time….
With this grim thought making the rounds through his mind, he stormed out of the federal building with anger dancing in his eyes and a twitch jumping in his palm.
…..
TBC