English is not my first language, but I am trying :)
When he heard the knock on the door in the morning, he was all dressed and ready to go.
(As much as he ever would, at least)
He was sitting on his terrace, admiring the view and lazily enjoying the best Italian roast and French toast that Valerie, June's maid, could ever prepare.
It was the last good breakfast that he would have for a while.
(No, he couldn't allow himself to think this way)
The day before, before Jones came over, he had said his goodbyes to June and Mozzie. Both felt understandably wary about this certain operation and how it could affect Neal. They didn't try to coddle him, at least, more like expressed their reservation about the mission and most of all, they simply were there for him.
(Mozzie had especially a lot of reservations, worrying that it may be some elaborate ruse to put Neal behind bars again, created by feds too worried that Neal may make run for it during the transportation. His little friend made it clear that he was absolutely ready to hunt the suits down in case Neal stayed in prison more than it was necessary and was already preparing some jail break plans, for the very same reason)
"The door is open", Neal shouted, wanting to stay on the balcony for just a little while longer. Just a moment later he heard the door being open and then, Peter appeared in front of him.
"So, I guess your dream has finally come true", he said, giving Peter his trademark Caffrey grin. "Coffee?"
"Yes, everytime I land you in prison our chit chat gets a tad bit longer, so I guess it is only fair we have coffee now", Peter answered, sarcastically, though there was no humor to it. He sounded tired, like he had slept very badly the night before. Neal wondered briefly if it was because of him.
He just gave him another grin, not as bright this time, and a bit more crooked, as he poured Peter his coffee.
Good he told Valerie to bring two cups.
"And for what it is worth, throwing you in prison feels hardly rewarding, when you are just sitting here, waiting for me", Peter added, after a moment, which earned him the most mocking "s-e-r-i-o-u-s-l-y?" stare he has ever seen.
Yeah, of course. It may not be the first time when Neal is 'just sitting and waiting for him'.
"Oh, stop giving me that look. You know what I mean", Peter groaned, which, in turn, made Neal give out a small chuckle.
"Jones told me he talked to you last evening. To be fair, I wanted to come as well, but he insisted it is better if it is just the two of you. And well, he pointed out we would see each other for the ride anyway"
"For the ride. Once again. Won't they find it suspicious that these are not the marshalls bringing me in?"
"We went over it. You're non-violent, you don't pose a physical threat, and as for your flight risk issues, until you step behind the prison gates, you are wearing a tracking anklet. For you, it is harder to get out of than leg irons. They will buy that".
At least about that, Peter sounded self-assured.
One thing down, thousands to go.
"Good", Neal answered, absent-mindedly, the black of his coffee suddenly too interesting for Peter's liking.
"Neal, are your nervous?", Peter asked suddenly, his voice softer than before, fatherly almost.
Neal sighed.
"Of course I am nervous, I would be stupid not to. A lot of things can go wrong during this one and the back up won't be as close as it usually is", he answered, matter-of-factly, not bullshitting Peter and all. "But you know that challenge and adrenaline is what I like and that I am the best man for the job", and, after a moment. "We've been over it, Peter"
"You know we are not leaving you there, right?"
"Unless I misbehave?", Neal raised his brow, the look he was giving Peter now screaming 'challenge'.
"You always misbehave. Have I thrown you back to prison yet?"
Another 'seriously?' stare.
Peter groaned again.
"I mean, for misbehaving. Not because you were framed, sent there for an undercover operation or for any other reason that I can't consider misbehaving"
(Like the plane with a girl you used to consider a love of your life blowing into flames right in front of you)
"You are saying, despite the threats you make at least three times a day, you will never throw me to prison for... Misbehaving?"
He looked at Peter expectantly, his smile too smug.
"There is a difference between misbehaving and actively commiting crimes"
"You are no fun"
"Cowboy up"
They exchanged smiles, but there wasn't much humour to it. It looked more tired and forced, than anything else. Bickering felt nice and familiar but it was nothing more than a welcome distraction to a difficult and stressful situation.
"Seriously, Neal. We have your back there, it is only an undercover operation, this time it is not real"
Nor deserved., Peter wanted to add, but he knew better than to stroke Neal's ego too much or try to coddle him. Instead, he got up and put a hand on his' CI arm, the gesture both familiar and reassuring.
Neal allowed himself to relax into it for a moment, then he got up himself, realizing it was time to go.
"I know, Peter. I am fine, really. Don't worry, I am as much on my game as always, I won't screw it up"
"Good. Good"
If Peter thought that Neal not being on him game wasn't the only thing that was worrying him, he didn't let it show.
"Ready?", he asked, once again.
(He will probably ask in the car, as well. And then right before handing Neal over)
"Yeah, sure", Neal answered, leading him to the door. He grabbed the duffel bag waiting for him on the table – nothing more than some cigarretes, to use as a currency, and a sketchpad to keep himself occupied during the long hours of his cell being locked.
(Perks of maximum security, Neal hated how it was going to slow him down, but then, it was also a challenge).
Right in front of the door he stopped and turned around to face Peter once again.
"Cuffs?", he asked, calmly, not putting his hands out yet, but surely looking like he was ready to.
(Neal hoped Peter will cuff him in front, as he usually did. Not only it'd feel more dignified, but also being cuffed in the back for over an hour long ride didn't seem like the most comfortable thing in the world)
Peter's first instinct, on the other hand, was to make some sarcastic comment about Neal being able to get out of any cuffs within less than 30 seconds anyway, but then he paused and thought better of it.
"Later", he answered, his voice sharp and matter-of-fact, but his gaze soft.
There is no point of doing it now. They're just for the show. I just need the guys inside to see tchem, were comments left unspoken.
Neal nodded in understanding, appreciating the gesture, even, if it felt like a pragmatic thing to do.
Because if it was, say, Jones, posing as inmate, no one would even think about cuffing any earlier than it was strictly necessary.
"Yeah", Neal answered, reaching the handle and opening the door, trying to look like it didn't take all his willpower to get his body to move.
"Let's go, then"
...
"Are you sure you have the plan of the building, including all the camera blind spots memorized?", Peter asked, as they were reaching the huge building complex that was Sing Sing. Lots of giant concrete walls and all. Home, sweet, home, Neal thought drily.
"Yeah, Peter", Neal asked, really hoping that his frustration was showing. "I was the one that drew the plan for you and showed you these spots, remember?"
"Have I mentioned that I find your knowledge of the security system in the building that was technically supposed to hold you frightening?"
Neal chuckled.
"Within last few weeks? At least fifty times. Also, 'was supposed to hold me'" is a good choice words"
That's how the ride has passed, disscusing details of the operation once again, all straight to the point and professional, with occasional snark thrown here and there.
(The most snark showed everytime Peter felt obliged to once again remind Neal about something, that Neal either had already heard about at least fifty times more, or, which happened significantly more often, Neal was more expert on to begin with.
But then, there were so many unknown variables in play, so many things to be careful about, not to mention, Neal's particularly precarious position was also a cause for concern, so Neal couldn't blame Peter for being more stressed than usual.
In fact, he felt touched.)
"Almost there. Ready?"
"How many times will you ask?"
"As I said, we're almost there, so most probably, I won't have a lot of opportunities left", Peter answered, reaching for his cuffs. "Put them on", he ordered, making it sound casual, as he handed cuffs to Neal, his eyes still on the road.
"Not wanna do the honours? I am hurt", Neal answered, sarcastically, as he snapped the cuffs on his wrists, trying to make it look as casual as possible, like he wasn't bracing himself for it or anything.
He reminded himself that he was the one who put them on and that, indeed, he could take them off.
And contrary to what Peter thought, it would take MUCH less than 30 seconds.
He wouldn't even need a paper clip.
"Neal, dammit, tighten them a little", Peter said suddenly, the frustration is his voice slightly-over-the-top, especially given the hints of amusement that he tried to conceal. "These guys will think I am a fool if they see that my personal flight risk, escape artist felon wears cuffs so loose than he could slip them within 5 seconds or so"
Oooops.
Neal looked at Peter with a hint of indignation on his face, and when it looked like Peter wasn't going to change his mind, he sighed and tightened the cuffs.
Only then he realized that Peter didn't even have to look at him to know how he put his cuffs on.
"I taught you too many of my tricks", he murmured, with resignation.
Peter gave him one of his smug, I-am-a-this-smart-FBI-agent-who-caught-Neal-Caffrey-smiles.
(Well, maybe not exactly gave him, because Neal could see only back of Peter's head and a bit of his profile, but he was pretty sure that it was there)
And then, they saw the Sing Sing building complex.
"Home, sweet home", Neal said quietly, trying to ignore the tight knot in his stomach. He had to relax. He had to look at it as a challenge. He could do it.
"Are you..."
"...ready. Yeah, you know the answer"
Peter wasn't sure if it was comforting.
As they entered the gate and looked for a place to park, Neal decided to finally say something that had been on his mind since he first learnt about the op. At first he wanted to bring it up immediately, then he thought about bring it up after the op is done.
Now he felt like if he wanted to go through with this mission, he had to do it now.
"Peter...", he started, quietly. Peter just stopped the engine and turned around, facing Neal, waiting.
"I need you to do me a favour", Neal started, putting extra emphasis on the word 'need'.
"What is it?", Peter asked, calmly, so unlike the usual impatient and exasperated he got everytime Neal wanted something from him. Maybe it was the situation, maybe something about Neal's voice that told him it was serious.
Very serious.
Neal was silent for a moment, playing with the chains between his cuffs.
When he finally spoke, his tone was deliberately slow, calm and quiet, yet somehow – forceful. One of Neal's "convincing" tones.
"When I go there," he started, "if I want to stay alive and if I want the mission to go well, I will have to convince them that I am not working for the feds. In fact, I have to convince them that I was basically forced into working for you"
Peter nodded. He knew it already. They discussed it, a few times. Which means, there had to be more.
So he just waited, patiently.
"As I said before, I can pull it off. I can. The thing is, I can do it only once", Neal continued, quietly, his voice so grave and serious that it made Peter uncomfortable.
Again, Peter didn't interrupt him. Something told Neal that his handler, boss and a friend had similar thoughts on his own.
"I need, and I repeat it, I need you to promise me that if you decide to send me back to prison, it won't be the same one. Not even the same part of the country, preferably", Neal took a deep breathe, as if trying to calm himself. "Peter, we both know I may be many things, but I don't deserve death or years of being locked in solitary", he finished, looking straight in Peter's eyes. There was something about this stare that made Peter feel taken aback. Something about Neal's voice he'd never heard before.
He expected Neal making this kind of request.
He expected Neal to sound either vulnerable, on the edge of begging, or masking his vulnerability, with some entitlement-brat-acting-all-entitled, full of over-the-top bravado act.
But Neal he just heard gave vibes of self assured, on the verge on demanding in a way, that Peter has never heard from him before. It wasn't confidence that was supposed to mask vulnerability. That was confidence coming from a place of vulnerability.
Which made a huge difference and gave Peter a lot to think about.
He could brush it off with some "you could just try this staying of prison thing" comment and keep going, but again, it didn't seem fitting.
"You have my word", he answered, taking his chances and not adding something along the lines of 'but as long as I can help it, you are not going back to prison', hoping, that Neal will read it right and take this as something so obvious, that it is not even worth mentioning.
Neal nodded in understanding, their eyes meeting once again. Yeah. Peter was positive that to Neal, this part was obvious.