Told ya it would be up soon! xxx

Jerome's smile was almost worth it.

Fabian walked in, fiddling with his grey suit, but the smile on Jerome's face as he walked into the bright room, still dressed in the orange uniform was almost worth it.

"You came," he whispered.

Fabian nodded, sitting opposite him on the table. He dismissed the guard with a nod of his head, so they were left alone. "What is this about, Jerome? They've given you another four years. I can't help reduce your sentence, even if I wanted too,"

"That's what it's about," Jerome said eagerly, he pushed forward so leaflets, and Fabian frowned. "I can be released, right now, into your custody-"

"N-"

"Hear me out." Jerome begged. "Look, right, I would have to wear this anklet around my ankle all the time, so you could track me. And I would have to always be within a two mile radius of you. And I could work for the FBI, I could be a CI, I could be a consultant,"

"A criminal consultant?" Fabian clarified, staring at him incredulously.

"I helped with the Canadian thing didn't I?" Jerome begged. Fabian stared at him, stared at this man who was the same age as him, yet they were entirely different.

"Jerome, if I did that," he shook his head "You would break out of the anklet, and run free. And we'd never find you-"

"You can't." he persisted "You can break out these anklets, only you'd have the key, and-"

"You broke out of the maximum security prison. Are you telling me, you couldn't break out of this anklet?"

"Read it," Jerome licked his lips with eagerness, pushing the leaflets even further forward. "Please. I can't be in here anymore, Fabian. I can't."

Fabian's shoulders slumped "You want to work for me?" Jerome nodded. Fabian sighed "I'll have to do some background," Jerome nodded eagerly "And you can't run off, looking for Poppy or stealing famous art works?" Jerome laughed, and it made Fabian smile slightly. "I'll see. I'll think about it,"

"All I'm asking," Jerome smiled. He leaned back, shaking his head. Fabian watched him curiously. "Just five minutes of talking to you, and I feel completely rested. Talk to anyone in here for five minutes and your either being strangled or punched,"

Fabian stood, tucking the leaflets into his pockets "Prison doesn't suit you."

"Did you think it would?" Jerome asked, standing too. "When you were chasing me, were you ever thinking what it would be like for me in prison?"

"You're not getting hurt," Fabian stated dumbly

"I know," Jerome nodded "But…it hasn't been good for me,"

Line Break

3 WEEKS LATER

Fabian leaned against his car, watching as the prison gates opened, there stood Jerome Clarke. In normal clothes, trousers and a black jumper. "You wearing it?" he called. Jerome lifted his left trouser leg, and around his ankle, was a thin, black tracking anklet.

As soon as he got near enough, Jerome hugged him, tightly. Fabian shook his head, opening the car, and they slid in. "Thank you," Jerome whispered, nodding "For…letting me out,"

"I didn't." Fabian reminded "You're still in custody."

"Right," Jerome grinned

"And you're still serving your sentence."

"I know." He was still smiling. "But no more curfews."

Fabian laughed, starting the car. "No more curfews," he agreed.

Line Break

"You'll be staying with me," Fabian sighed, unlocking his front door. "It's more convenient with the radius, and I've recently converted the attic. It'll be like your own little apartment," His house wasn't huge, but it was larger than average. Jerome looked around, examining everything.

Fabian waited for the biting comments. He knew Jerome, Jerome had lived in villas, stolen much finer things. Like thousand year old wines and ate caviar off gold spoons. But he didn't. "Thank you," he said again, more quietly "It must have been a sacrifice,"

Line Break

After showing Jerome his room, and letting him unpack the little he had. And now, it was the afternoon, and Jerome came down the steps, to see Fabian eating a sandwich, and watching a documentary on Egypt. It felt slightly foreign to him, he wasn't use to things being so…cosy.

"Aren't afraid I could rob you?" Jerome asked, startling him. Fabian laughed

"There's pasta in the oven," he said instead. Jerome took some, sitting on the arm chair. Fabian watched him, frowning "And no, I've got nothing worthwhile to steal, Jerome." Jerome smiled vainly. He turned his attention to the TV. But Fabian had now lost interest "Why? Why did you need to see your sister so bad?"

Jerome said nothing, swallowing the pasta. "I…I guess I thought I could persuade her to wait."

"What was the plan, Jerome?"

"Find her, tell her to…" he sighed, "I didn't really have one," there was a silence between them. Jerome cleared his throat "You're not married?"

"No," Fabian shook his head

"Why not?"

"The job keeps me busy, I guess," he sighed, and looked into the distance for a while. Jerome decided to change the subject

"So…when can I buy some new clothes?"

"You get £700 a month," Fabian stated, Jerome's mouth dropped open. "Don't argue with me, that's how much it costs to house you in prison."

"Jeez," Jerome sighed "I'll only be able to buy one suit with that,"

"What kind of suits do you buy?" Fabian exclaimed "The one I'm wearing costs £20!"

Jerome wrinkled his nose "I can tell."

Line Break

"You look…like you belong." Fabian stated when Jerome walked down the steps. He'd bought himself a suit yesterday. And the difference it made. You'd never guess he was a convict or a con-man, he looked so professional. A slick grey suit with a skinny black tie, white shirt with the top button undone, and smart black dress trousers, Italian shoes. His hair was slicked to the side, he'd spent ages on it, and it looked fantastic. "It's really scary,"

Jerome smiled, "You needn't worry about the anklet," he sighed "I tried breaking out of it last night," Fabian laughed, and Jerome lifted his trousers, it was still there. He nodded.

There was a knock at the door.

"That'll be Mara," Fabian nodded, heading for the door

"Mara?" Jerome echoed, sticking his hands into his trouser pockets and following Fabian to the door. It opened to reveal the most beautiful girl Jerome had ever seen in his life.

Short, with long, straight, silky black hair, which hung loose, yet tamed. She wore a black dress with a blue cardigan, the dress swished softly around her knees, and she wore delicate black heels. Jerome spied the gun in the brown belt around her waist, next to her proudly displayed badge. She was FBI. "Hey Fabes," Mara smiled

"Hey Mars,"

Mara looked up, and spotted Jerome. Her eyes widened in surprise "This is Jerome Clarke? As in…"

"Yep," Fabian turned with her. Jerome smirked

"Didn't think I'd look so suave?"

Mara laughed in amazement "Actually, I didn't think you'd look so relaxed in Fabians house," Jerome nodded, bowing his head. She turned to Fabian "Has he tried to escape?"

"Once or twice," Fabian nodded "Okay guys, let's go."

Jerome walked behind them the whole way. Analysing their relationship. It was clear that Mara thought of them as best friends, and Fabian felt the same way. But by the way Fabian kept turning to her, kept blushing. Jerome had a bad feeling that Fabian liked her more than that.

Which would be a problem. Because Jerome liked her. Well, he liked what he'd seen and heard so far. She walked with grace, held her head up high. Strong, independent, yet she looked delicate and soft.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Jerome took the rest of the walk to look around. Nice, it was inner city, yet had a touch of country side, with trees planted at the end of every corner.

They stopped at a tall building, and Jerome followed them inside. His fingers tingled when Mara held the door, and he touched her hand for a moment.

Introductions were brief, because everyone knew him. He was Jerome Clarke, of course they did, he'd been in the newspapers time and time again, a special feature on the news, he was even a course studied in criminology classes, and he would often appear in their end of year exams.

"Mara," Fabian rubbed his hands together "Would you show Jerome the evidence locker?"

"Sure, Fabes," she smiled. He grinned impishly at the nickname, and wished he'd called her Mars instead of Mara, to show her he cared.

"So uh," Jerome stuffed his hands into his pockets again "You and 'Fabes' then? What's that?"

"That is called friendship Jerome," she said patronisingly. Jerome rolled his eyes. Waiting for more. "We met at University, both interested in catching bad guys-"

"That would be me?" Jerome cut in cheekily. Mara laughed, and the sound filled him with a certain glee.

"That would be you. We came here, he was made the leader of the White Collar division, and was kind enough to make me second Agent."

"Because he loves you," Jerome shrugged nonchalantly. Mara refused to let him get to her, and kept walking. "You're uh…insanely pretty you know, coulda made it as a model,"

"I studied you, Jerry, Dustin, Marcus," she used his most popular aliases. The secret names Jerome went by "I know how you play women. I'm not weak. And you're never coming out of that anklet. I designed it." Jerome's eyes widened, he was impressed.

"Just so you know, Jerry wasn't my first choice, my ex-partner came up with it,"

"Of course," Mara teased. She stopped at a door, and typed in the pass-code, making sure Jerome didn't see. He was very impressed now, impressed and intrigued. He walked in, and gasped, shelves upon shelves, filled with boxes with different names, they weren't in alphabetical order and Jerome's eyes flickered around, trying to figure out the system.

"Wow…" he grinned looking around. He whistled, and the sound echoed around the room. "Must have some pretty rare stuff in here,"

"We do," Mara smiled sadly "Some pretty good paintings. It's a bit of a shame, to let Daga's sit here and gather dust," Jerome arched an eyebrow

"You're a fan of Daga?"

"Yes, the originals. Not forgeries," she gave him a half smile. "I think it's good, Fabian gave you this chance, Mr Con-man Clarke," Jerome nodded, smiling inwardly

"Did you have anything to do with his decision?" Mara said nothing "Well then, I have you to thank too,"

"Please," Mara whispered, stepping forward suddenly, she touched his arm and Jerome's blood ran warmer. He stood, stapled to the ground. "I know, people like you. Conmen. You want to escape, you've already tried cracking the anklet, I saw the signal last night, you were messing with it. Don't Jerome. This is a good thing, here. Don't run away." Jerome stared at her, somewhat awe-struck. "You can either be a con, or you can be a man,"

Jerome pulled himself gently from her grip, and he whispered, in a cool sweet voice into her face "I don't know what you're talking about,"

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