Peter tried to be subtle, pretending to focus on the stop-and-go New York City traffic, while sneaking glances at his much too silent passenger. But despite all the training hours he had logged at Quantico and all the times he had gone undercover in the field, there was no fooling a con man.
"I know what you're doing, Peter," Neal finally spoke, deliberately looking down at his lap. "I'm fine. You can stop checking up on me."
"Hmm?" Peter grunted, still feigning innocence.
Now the consultant attempted to make eye contact with his driver. "Really?" he asked, his voice full of sarcastic disbelief. Peter knew he was caught.
"You're too quiet, Neal," he responded. "When you get like this, you start thinking up cons, and that's what gets you into trouble." He put his right hand on the younger man's shoulder in a reassuring gesture, and gently squeezed. "I know you don't always like doing things my way-"
"No, I don't," Neal interrupted calmly.
"I just hope you understand that, in the long run, this is for the best. You can thank me later." The agent's words rang with sincerity and wisdom. He removed his hand and placed it back on the steering wheel as he flicked the right turn signal with his other hand.
Neal didn't feel any better about this whole situation, but a voice in his head reassured him. He's only trying to help, he realized grudgingly. He made an obvious attempt to relax, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. "How much further?" he asked.
"Two blocks," Peter answered. "Start looking for parking spots – midtown's crowded this time of day and I don't want to have to pay for the parking garage."
Neal began to scan the road for spaces large enough to parallel park in, grateful for the excuse to turn away from Peter. He stealthily removed his phone from his pocket and sent a single text message. Moz – SOS! With any luck, his loyal friend and accomplice could get him out of this.
His phone vibrated. What have you gotten yourself into, Neal? was Mozzie's reply.
Neal typed back, Peter's taking me to the doctor and I'm not even sick. You gotta get me out of this.
Another buzz. Why's he doing that?
It's his backwards way of getting me to a shrink. Looks bad to the Feds if you just go to one without a medical referral, he texted back quickly.
"See any spaces?" Peter asked, distracting Neal's attention from the cell phone.
"Umm… yeah, on the right up ahead there," he recovered swiftly, before his handler could notice the plan being hatched.
Finally the phone buzzed back. Sorry man, but the Suit may be right about this one. Just go along with it.
Neal pocketed the phone just as Peter shifted the Taurus into park. "You alright, Neal?" he inquired, giving his partner the opportunity to open up.
The expression on Neal's face was a mixture of betrayal, disappointment, resignation, and nervousness. "Fine," he replied, extending a shaky hand to open the car door. "I just wish there was another way to do this that didn't involve…" he trailed off. He was sure Peter could finish his thought by now.
"If I had known how uncomfortable this would make you, I would've made Hughes a different excuse." Peter gestured towards the doctor's office suite. The two men walked up the street and went inside.
The office was painted a faint yellowish tan with soothing gray-green carpet and crisp white trim moulding. There was a large framed print of Van Gogh's Room at Arles hanging on the wall to the left that was complemented by the abundant plant life placed around the waiting area. It was reasonably well decorated, to Neal's tastes; I could have made a better forgery of that Van Gogh, though, he mused to himself.
Peter checked his consultant in with the receptionist. Apparently Hughes had called ahead and dropped a sufficient quantity of influential names to allow them to obtain a walk-in appointment.
Neal was snapped out of his head space when a nurse came out to greet them. "Agent Burke, mister Caffrey, please come with me." He read her name badge: Shauna Reynolds, L.P.N.
There's no getting out of this now, he thought, temporarily filled with a surge of panic. He tried to compose himself as they walked down the corridor to an empty exam room.
"First things first – I almost forgot!" Shauna exclaimed. She placed a clear container in the con artist's hands and made an apologetic smile. "Urine sample. Bathroom is right next door."
Neal closed the bathroom door behind him and turned on the sink for background noise. He grabbed his cell phone one last time and dialed. "Come on, Moz," he muttered as it rang and rang, "I need you to pick up."
"Neal?" Finally, Mozzie answered. "I thought you were-"
"Yeah, I am. I need you to get me out of this." There was a tinge of panic in the con man's hushed tone. "Listen, if you hack into the FBI, fax the blank forms over here and I'll intercept them. Then all I have to do is check all the right boxes in his handwriting-"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down!" his friend cut in. "Why do you need to get out of there so badly?"
"Moz…" he sighed, "I – I just don't want to."
"Well, that's not a good enough reason for me to hack the FBI! What is going on with you?" Something was obviously not right, and it was unusual for him to keep his closest ally in the dark at times like these.
"I can fool a voice stress analyzer, and I can stretch the truth around Peter… but I can't control my sympathetic nervous system." Neal's voice was but a whisper with his confession.
There was a knock on the door. "You alright in there, Neal?" Peter's voice was genuine with a hint of concern.
"Is that the Suit?" Mozzie asked.
"Yeah, I'm supposed to be peeing in a cup," the con artist muttered.
"Give the people what they want," his friend's voice responded. "Breathe slowly, find your happy place – try meditating."
"Moz!"
"I'm serious. I have to go." The line went dead and once again Neal was alone. Resigned to his fate, he undid his pants and relieved himself of what used to be coffee a few hours before.
"My apologies, Peter," he said, opening the door and handing the nearly full container to Shauna, "I didn't really have to go – and then I couldn't decide which waterfall I wanted to imagine." The nurse smiled at his humor. "I bet you hear that a lot."
"Actually, no, not that much," she corrected. "Let me drop this off in the lab, and I will meet you back in exam room two in a minute to get started." She pointed back to the room with the door open and walked off in the other direction.
Peter looked at Neal. "Do you want me to wait with you, or would you like privacy?" the agent asked.
"I might try to run," the consultant replied. It was the closest he could come to yes, don't leave me alone without explicitly saying it.
"Okay," the agent said simply, and followed him back into the exam room.