Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Have some angst and paranormal banter from me.
"I know what this is. This is a punishment."
Peter dragged his eyes away from the screen to look towards his consultant, who was bouncing a rubber ball against the sides of the stakeout van. Neal was fidgety, twitchy, and it was driving up his blood pressure. "And why do you think that?" he replied finally, hoping to distract Neal from being his usual self by playing along.
"You know I hate the van, and you're pissed that Counterterrorism stole your case. So by placing me in a situation of extreme discomfort, you're venting your inner rage." The words rolled off Neal's tongue almost poetically, but didn't stop it from sounding ridiculous.
"Nice observations, Dr. Phil. If you break something in here I'm putting you back in prison." Peter motioned towards the rubber ball, that had resumed its persistent thudding against the floor.
"At least I'd be occupied. I mean, how long has Diana even been in there with that guy?"
The guy was Jack White, a rich businessman recently paroled. He'd been charged with embezzlement, but now the feds were reopening the case after new evidence had been brought to light. He was laying low - trying for good behaviour - so they couldn't tempt him with a business deal. Their next option was Diana, who'd been sent in the meet with White on a date after discovering the man had several online dating accounts. They were going to see where that took them.
"Diana is doing her job." Peter told him. "Now you do yours and watch the screen." He swiped the ball mid-throw from Caffrey and passed it off to Jones, who pocketed it. He too had grown tired of his twitchy CI's boredom-fueled antics.
A few minutes later, Neal perked up again. "You could have at least let me go in. You promised I could go undercover on our next case. How am I supposed to access my full potential if I'm not allowed to do what I'm best at?"
"Stealing?"
The quip made Neal huff, and he leaned back in the chair, falling silent. It felt like they had been in the van for days, but it couldn't have been more than a hour. Even Mozzie had refused to come and entertain him, saying that 'he'd rather wander the earth eternally than voluntarily enter the Suitmobile.'
Peter knew exactly what it was that Neal was trying to achieve with the silent treatment, but it still worked and Peter eventually felt guilty. "Look, I'm sorry okay? I know I promised, but we couldn't approach this guy from the business angle. He's careful, but he's also lonely and single, which is why we sent Diana in to charm him-"
"Diana can be charming?" Neal looked up, wondering why - if that was true - he always got the cold shoulder.
"You'd know that if you didn't pull every string to get on her nerves all the time."
"I only borrowed her pen," Neal argued.
"Several of her pens, her spare change, and her watch, all of which you 'misplaced' in your drawer," Agent Jones chipped in, subconsciously checking the location of his own watch, as if the comment had reminded him.
Peter frowned. "Is that true Neal?"
"I returned them the second she asked for them. I need to keep my talents sharp; all this written work and no action is mind-numbingly dull."
"Dammit, Neal, you really need to be careful and not burn your bridges. Right now there's a lot of tension in the office after our last case. You need to give people a reason to not blame you." Peter was grilling him with that serious 'this is really important so listen to me' look, and it made him edgy.
"Because they think I helped Lorenzo escape and foiled the case." Neal slid a sly glance at Jones, but the agent was focusing intently on the monitors - so intently Neal imagined he was eavesdropping. No help there.
"Some people are just a little uncertain right now. I don't think they are quite sure what to believe, but give them time. Rather than stealing their stuff, you should give psychic readings or whatever the hell it is you do, which would work better in your favour. Give them a reason to believe you, and then work on getting them to trust you. It will make the next four years much easier. Don't forget you're one step away from being the center of an investigation into the case."
Peter tried to be easygoing with his advice - after Neal's absurd and still unproven claims of psychic abilities, everyone in the office was on edge, and at the very least skeptical. Most of the agents were giving Neal some space, but Peter ensured they weren't also giving him a hard time.
"Peter's right; we've yet to see any proof that you are in fact psychic," Jones spoke up. "Don't forget we're all people that go by facts and hard evidence. I do want to believe you - having a psychic in the office would be pretty darn cool. But People are looking for someone to blame right now because we all have no idea how the hell such a simple case went up in smoke. Talk to a few spooks or something and you'll have the whole office under your thumb."
Neal nodded, fidgeting uncomfortably and suddenly finding his hands quite interesting. Of course, nobody knew just how this 'psychic' thing actually worked, but whenever ghosts came into conversation he always winced. "I know. But it's just not something I like to put on display. Plus, I can't really control it, or explain it. It's just there..."
Neal was saved from having to evaluate further by movement on the screen. Diana and the perp had briefly stepped outside the restaurant for a smoke, and Diana must have taken the opportunity to plant the bug upon receiving the cigarette, because they now had full audio along with the visuals.
"Right, we're up," Jones commented, turning back to the screens along with Peter. All talk before had been forgotten. Neal contemplated lifting the ball from Jones, but decided he'd already exhausted the potential amusement there.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and startled, glancing off towards the corner of the van. He saw a familiar face. Both agents noticed the sudden flinch and looked at him for explanation. "Just thought I saw something..." he muttered, turning back to the unseen intruder.
"Hah, your hilarious, Caffrey," Jones rolled his eyes, apparently seeing the demonstration as a way of mocking his idea of giving proof of his abilities.
Neal saw the opportunity to play it off and took it. "Yeah, well you wanted proof, I'm starting to sense something. I think - wait, someone is trying to contact us," he brought a finger to his head and frowned in concentration, and it was apparently enough for the agents to laugh it off and go back to their screens. Finally free from the scrutiny, he turned back to the ghost who had taken up residence on one of the spare chairs.
Sorry, he mouthed, and then broke into a smile. Once he left the Supermax, he thought he'd never see the serial art thief again.
"Neal, long time no see." Chase greeted the consultant in his heavy accented English. "You should have visited. But, I know how eager you were to leave that place." He paused, but realising that the criminal would not be able to reply, he continued. "Anyway, I come bearing bad news. Actually, about your current case, since your strange little friend informed me that was what you are doing these days. Your agent is in danger."
"Who, Diana?" Neal spoke aloud, then grimaced, realizing how quiet it was in the van. He turned back to the two agents to clarify. "How's Diana?"
"So far so good," Peter replied. "They've gone back inside, but we still have audio. I think they're ordering the shrimp."
"Great," Neal replied without much enthusiasm, turning away.
"Is that her name?" Chase went on. "Either way, she is in danger. Your man, he knows about the operation. He knows she is FBI. He was in the same prison as you, but he is dangerous. He is a good man deep down, just way in over his head." Chase began to explain the intel he'd gathered from the prison, Neal nodding along much to the amusement of the van's occupants.
Chase's features darkened. "He took a blade to a man in prison but evaded the guards."
Neal swore suddenly, causing Peter to eye him strangely. "Diana's in danger," he blurted out, trying not to think about the consequences.
Peter sighed in exasperation, while Jones asked agents on the inside what was going on. Apparently, they were still musing over the menu. "Neal, I told you two seconds ago she was fine. What could possibly make you change that?
"Our guy's from the Supermax right? The one I was in?"
"Yeah, sentenced to six years for embezzlement. He's never done time for violence."
"He knows that Diana is an agent. Someone tipped him off in prison a few days before he paroled that the feds were going to re-open the investigation. He's never been caught for violence but that's because he's good at hiding it. He shived a guy in prison-"
"Hold on, Neal, that was never reported. Where are you suddenly getting this from?"
"That's because he was never caught. We need to pull Diana out, Peter," Neal pleaded, but the look on Peter's face told him he'd played his last chance card. He understood though - Neal wouldn't even believe himself. He sounded crazy with these wild stories. He looked around but Chase had gone, and neither agents believed him.
The silence stretched out agonizingly. Neal could see Peter was going through many different approaches in his head. "I'm sorry, Neal, but this is beyond believable now. I want to trust you. Really I do. But you can't do this. Your going to get yourself put back in prison and I won't be able to stop it. I'm going to call you a cab...I suggest you go straight home." He paused, the next few words necessary but agonising to say. "And...I also think you should consider going back to that therapist-"
Neal didn't want to listen anymore. He got up and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. Why him? Why did he have to receive all this knowledge if he couldn't do anything about it? What had he done to deserve the torment? It had ruined his entire life in every aspect - all because the dead couldn't just stay dead.
He didn't call a cab. He didn't even start walking home. He was expecting Peter to go after him, but perhaps he thought it was best to leave him be. He didn't care anymore - if they weren't going to do anything, he would just have to do it himself. He strode off towards the entrance of the restaurant, but before he could get to the door it seemed all hell broke loose inside.
Peter sighed, wincing as the door was slammed shut. He wished that could have gone better. But there was no way he could possibly believe Neal could suddenly pull a fountain of case-related knowledge from his head in front of them, without being somehow involved. Believing this psychic cover would put him in early retirement and Neal back in prison or someplace worse. Yet he still couldn't help feeling like he'd betrayed Neal. He just hoped he would go straight home, and not do anything stupid. He began to fumble for his phone to find out where his CI had gone to.
Jones must have sensed his agitation. "Hey, Boss, you did the right thing. We were both here the entire time - this psychic thing can only go too far before you have to question his motives."
Before Peter could find his phone, he glanced up at movement on the surveillance screen, showing the front of the restaurant. Sure enough, his CI was heading straight for the door. "Dammit, Neal." He slammed a fist down on the table, and as he did something came over the audio. "Everyone who doesn't work here get the fuck out. If any feds come in, I'll kill the agent. Move, now!"
Peter watched as the customers spilled out of the doors, with Neal slipping inside. Jones was yelling into his radio to get his teams into position around the building and to get a negotiator in there asap. Neither agent had time to think about how the consultant had been right. "We need to get Neal out of there. Dammit! Why didn't we see this coming? Pass me a headset. I want to know everything that's going on in there now!"
Neal easily let himself into the restaurant. As the crowd began to disperse he could see the perp holding a gun to Diana's temple. Neal became an easy target once everyone had left the building.
"Hey, what don't you understand about get the fuck out of here!" White yelled, pulling Diana in front of him. Her eyes were screaming at Neal to do what he was told.
"Listen to me Jack; it doesn't have to go this way. The feds don't have any evidence on you, so by doing this you're only incriminating yourself."
"Get out of here Caffrey," Diana hissed to Neal. She was going to kill him if their perp didn't get there first.
"Shut up! You're one of them. I said no damn cops!" The man cocked his gun, pressing his arm across Diana's throat to hold her in front of him.
"I'm not!" Neal said quickly. "Let me show you." He moved his hand very slowly down towards his trouser leg, holding his other hand out in a placating gesture. He lifted it to show his anklet, before taking a step forward. "I mean it, I'm not one of them. But I know you don't want to do this,"
The man moved the gun away from Diana and pointed it towards him. "How? You don't know me!" Jack's eyes were erratic, darting from exit to exit. Neal knew that once the he realised there was no way out, they were in trouble.
Neal thought back to what Chase had told him in the van - what he would have told Peter if he'd been given time to explain.
"This isn't what you want to happen. You're a good person, you were just trying to protect someone. Someone made you steal the money from your company, but you knew nobody believed you. I know what that is like. The FBI could get the guy that did this to you - they can look into your case and you can help them prove what really happened."
Diana frowned at the new intel, wondering if the consultant was ever planning to enlighten them with that. It would have certainly changed their case. She let Caffrey continue the negotiation, since he somehow seemed to know what he was doing. Either that or he had a death wish.
"It's too late now. I've lost six years of my life because they didn't believe me!"
"I know and I'm sorry for that. You can't change what happened before, but you can change this. Please put the gun down."
At that moment the doors burst open, and the room quickly filled with agents, lead by Peter and Jones.
"White! Put the gun down!" Peter yelled, the team of agents advancing towards the centre of the large room.
"Back off!" Jack shouted, pressing the gun hard against Diana's temple. "Come any closer and I'll kill her."
"What will that achieve White?" Neal's voice softened, but his eyes remained steady. Their perp was using Diana to his advantage, using her body to obscure his own. Neal knew that if Jack decided to point the gun at him, the FBI would not be able to stop him.
"I don't understand..." Jack now aimed the gun at Neal's forehead, but his hand was shaky. Around them, guns raised and several agents shouted, but none could get a clear shot with Diana in the way. "How do you know all this? You said you weren't a cop, but you know more than they do."
Neal looked straight at the man, ignoring the commotion around them. "It's what I do. Put the gun down. Let them help you."
A silent stand off ensued, but eventually he realized the truth in Neal's words and set the gun down, releasing Diana as the agents moved in to secure him. Not wanting to face Peter, Neal made a quick assessment that Diana was alright before heading for the door, promptly walking out into the cool, night air.
Neal knew Chase was there before he'd even made it outside. He joined the ghost, who was leaning against the corner of the building. If he could smoke, he would have had a cigar to his lips. "She would have died if you hadn't come. Thank you."
"No, thank you." Chase turned to face him. "Sometimes, innocents slip through the system, which causes them to do bad things. He would have got himself killed if you did not talk sense into him. I'm sorry about what it has caused between you and your friend."
Neal sighed, remembering the things Peter had said. Neal wasn't sure if his handler had doubted his sanity from the start, and had just played along all this time. "Don't worry about it. Living people will never understand, which is why I don't tend to be sentimental. I don't think I was ever supposed to have friends."
Chase reached out, his hand resting just above his shoulder. They both knew they couldn't make contact, but the gesture said what was unspoken. "Things will get better for you. Stay strong."
Neal opened his mouth to reply but the ghost was gone, leaving him alone once again. The air had grown bitter, like his mood, so he began to head down the street towards home. He could have called a cab, but despite the cold, a walk would help him organize his thoughts.
At the end of the road, he heard Peter call his name. He paused, and then turned the corner as the first few drops of rain began to fall.
