Chapter Three
Once Agent Rice had veered from her route, Neal had for a time enjoyed the scenery along the Parkway, awash with the splendor of autumn color. The reviews he'd read had not exaggerated its well-lain course highlighting some of the best views in the Hudson Valley. He loved the city and the amenities it provided but Central Park was as close to the countryside as he'd seen in quite awhile and there was something about wide open spaces that simultaneously pleased and pained him.
Bittersweet was the answer when the phrase both pain and pleasure was a clue for a crossword and he supposed it was an adequate description of how he felt whenever he gazed on a landscape, either in real life or in a painting, that was outside his reach.
As pleased as he had been for a chance to travel outside the usual two-mile radius he hadn't been keen on taking the Thruway upstate. It wasn't that I-87 didn't offer some excellent, albeit incidentally achieved, views of open spaces but Neal had taken it before; courtesy of the New York Department of Corrections. He didn't like to think about what the ride had been like that day, or what he'd been like, half in shock and scared out of his mind. It was not his finest hour, to say the least, and he remembered nothing about the view. He'd been shackled hand and foot, herded like an animal and treated like one as well. His fellow passengers, sensing weakness and smelling fear, had entertained themselves by taunting him, giving crude and vulgar descriptions of what he had to look forward to upon his arrival at Sing Sing.
It wasn't a day he cared to remember and he knew a trip along the thruway would bring it all back to mind. He hoped taking an alternative route would help, and it had for awhile, but then the memory of that ride had flooded back, occupying his mind and dimming the view until Agent Rice's sudden inquiry shifted his thoughts back to the present.
She'd asked if he was sick and he'd said no; he hadn't really lied. His stomach was churning a bit but it wasn't her driving that had caused it. Although he knew the Agent didn't like him, she was still a better companion than those which had accompanied him on his last trek through upstate New York and at present, even better company than his own thoughts.
Now that she's broken the silence, he couldn't help but seize upon the welcome distraction to gather a little intel about what lay ahead in Albany.
"So, have you worked with Agent Bevins before?"
If riding with Agent Rice had been his first cause for concern and taking a familiar trip upstate had been his second, working with a new agent was definitely the next on his list.
"No I haven't," she answered. "Why?"
"Since you're going to be handing me over to him," he kept his tone lighthearted, "I just wondered what his stance on CI's was."
"His department doesn't mind using them or they wouldn't have requested you."
"I'm well aware people don't mind using me." His reply was sharper than he'd intended, her phrasing striking a bitter chord with him. "It's just the attitude they sometimes have when they do that I have a problem with."
"Look, Caffrey," she countered with equal sharpness, taking offense that he'd taken offense. "I don't like you any more than you like me and I'm sorry you got banged up a little on the Gless case, but that is what you signed up for when you traded in leg irons for that cute little ankle monitor." Her sarcasm, like her disdain, was apparent. "And I did apologize," she added.
Banged up a little meant being tased and having four bruised ribs. She had apologized, sort of, for him getting hurt and also that Wilkes had slipped through her net in the first place. But she hadn't apologized for what had bothered him most about the whole ordeal; not that she'd used him as bait and almost gotten him killed, but that she'd treated him like a thing instead of like a person.
A tool in her belt, she'd called him.
It was insulting and demeaning and yet she'd seen nothing wrong with it, she still didn't. Unfortunately, her attitude wasn't the exception but pretty much the rule; even Peter somewhat subscribed to it. Neal was often reminded he was FBI property and could be used in whatever way Peter deemed necessary. But at least Peter treated him with some respect, like a person and not just an asset. In fact, he did it so well there were times when Neal forgot he was a criminal on work release. That was when he did his best work and when he enjoyed it most; when he didn't feel like a tool being used but like a part of the team.
He'd told Agent Rice he worked better that way but she hadn't cared. She didn't care how he and Peter did things, she'd told him, she only cared about how he and Agent Rice did them.
Working with someone new was always stressful and he wondered what to expect from Agent Bevins but there was no way to know. No one at White Collar had ever worked with him. Neal dreaded the awkward introductions. Usually, Peter handled those and he was always good to put Neal in the best possible light. He also believed in leading by example, not only Neal but other agents as well. He treated Neal with respect and expected others to do the same thing. Neal appreciated that but he'd never told him. He wouldn't have that this time, he wouldn't have Peter at all. He would only have Agent Rice and she didn't like him. Yet her opinion would carry weight with the other agents.
But it would be fine, he told himself. Even if they didn't respect him, they must respect his skills or they wouldn't have asked him to consult. Whatever their attitude, good or bad, he could handle it; after all, he'd survived Agent Rice. It was just a week, and then he'd be back at White Collar where he belonged. Whether he belonged there or not, if Peter really considered him part of his team or if he just knew that was a way to get more out of him Neal didn't know. And he didn't want to know. He felt like he belonged, like part of the team, and that was good enough.
Sometimes, in spite of what Mozzie would say, ignorance was bliss.
He wanted to do a good job in Albany, not just to earn brownie points but to make his team proud; to make Peter proud. Why that mattered more than impressing Hughes or Agent Bevins Neal didn't want to contemplate. He settled it in his mind by reminding himself that pleasing Peter kept him out of prison. Part of pleasing Peter meant not irritating Agent Rice.
Well, any more than was absolutely necessary.
With that in mind, he decided this wasn't something worth arguing with her about. She'd never understand nor did she want to.
"I know you did," he replied with resignation, turning his gaze back to the passing landscape. Maybe in silence was the best way to travel after all.
He thought she'd be pleased to let the conversation, as limited as it had been, die but apparently not.
"And I meant it, Caffrey," she said after a moment. "I am sorry you got hurt." She almost sounded sincere. "I just wanted to get the girl back and thought that was the best way to do it."
"Getting hurt wasn't the problem," he said quietly, keeping his eyes averted. "It was that whole speak-when-spoken-to, a Tool-in-my-belt attitude you had."
"Well, Caffrey," her tone was dry, "you are a CI and-"
"I know that," he interrupted irritably. "But I work better when I know what's going on."
"I told you what you needed to know," she stated flatly.
"You didn't tell me I was the ransom," he pointed out, feeling his face grow hot. Again, he reminded himself he needed to let this go. It was a pointless discussion. "If you had, I'd have been better prepared, that's all."
Her pause was slight. "You still would have been willing to meet with him?" She asked, her tone a mixture of surprise and skepticism.
"If that's what it was going to take to save Lindsay, of course, I would have," he told her. "I wanted to get her back, too."
When she didn't immediately respond, Neal thought she, too, had decided silence was a preferable way to pass the time. But she must have just been processing because, after a few moments of silence passed, she again instigated conversation.
"So when you said you wondered about Agent Bevins's stance towards CI's," she ventured, sending a curious glance in his direction. "You wonder if he'll be like Agent Burke or like me?"
"I don't expect anyone to be like Peter," he admitted. "He knows I've broken the law but he knows there's more to me than just that." He frowned slightly, hoping that was true. "But no matter what I do, or how hard I work, there are some people who only see me as a criminal. If Agent Bevins is one of those..," he shrugged.
"It will be a long week," she finished.
Neal was surprised to hear understanding in her voice.
"Yeah."
