Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. : Criminal Minds is the property of CBS, the actors, producers, and writers of the show
Claimer: Damon is mine
AN: A special thanks to peppe1951 for beta'ing all my DAMON II & III chapters, and her encouragement and input to help keep my story going.
WARNING: Discipline of a juvenile delinquent is used. If this bothers you, DO NOT READ. This is a fictional story, an offshoot of a fictional show.
DAMON III (9)
For Damon, the weekend drug on forever, but Monday morning came at him like a freight train. It meant he had to go to work with Agent Burke; he had to face Agent Hughes again. He trembled at the thought of standing before the senior agent.
Peter informed him on the way into work that his first duty was to report to Hughes. While they were at the offices Hughes was his primary handler and Peter was just a hair above the other three disciplinary agents.
Peter gave him instructions, "When you arrive, stand outside Hughes door, knock once and wait for permission to enter. When he tells you to enter go stand in the exact spot you stood the last time you were there. Just do what he tells you and you will be fine." Peter gave him a squeeze on his shoulder to reassure him.
Damon tried hard to control the shaking as he waited outside Hughes door, he swore Hughes was purposely making him wait longer than necessary, but he waited. When given permission to enter, he went to the spot Peter told him to stand in. He was wearing a ball cap to hide his one inch length hair.
Hughes sat back, watching him. "Boy, there are certain rules you will adhere to when you enter my office." He paused,
"Number one, you will not wear a hat in my office."
Damon still stood still…
"Take your hat off!"
Damon had forgotten he was wearing the cap and jerked it off his head quickly, exposing unruly hair that was never designed to be worn short.
"Number two, you will look at me."
Damon swallowed hard and then lifted his head to look at the stern agent.
"Number three, you will address me properly."
Damon hesitated, what did he want? Then, "Y… yes Sir."
"Better. I will not repeat these rules again. You will adhere to them and every morning you will report to me first thing. Now, you will write a report on your first, what do we call it, escapade? And bring it here to my desk. Any problem with that?"
Damon's voice was so small, "No Sir." He turned to leave to fulfill his assignment.
"BOY!"
Damon froze.
"You have not been dismissed!"
He returned to his proper position, "S… sorry Sir."
"I have set up a desk in the bullpen for you to work at. You will not talk to Caffrey! Is that understood?"
Damon had to fight to keep his head up, "Yes Sir."
"Dismissed! Get to work."
Damon fought the urge to run as he left the office.
***WC***
He found his 'desk', a small table sideways to the wall; the chair was facing Peter's office, his back to Neal and surrounded by agents. He was at the far back edge of the window, but at least when he rose up, he could look out it. The table was scarcely big enough to put a chair under it, writing paper on top; no computer or word processor.
He sat down and started writing his first report.
***WC***
Peter called a meeting of his three agents with disciplinary powers. He had considered Hughes unexpected mandate over the weekend and wanted to discuss Damon's situation with them. He knew they would be hesitant if given orders to discipline Damon if they thought it would offend Peter and he did not want them torn between loyalties.
He explained how he thought it would actually be in the best interests of Damon to have this extended family to watch over him. He had no problems with deserved corrections. He went on to explain that it would free him up to leave the office for field duty. At least one of them would remain in the office at all times when Damon was there.
Since they would all share in Damon's rehabilitation, he wanted them to understand some of the basic psychology behind some of the probation restrictions. Damon is an adrenaline junkie. He spent six months changing his lifestyle and habits to find newer and more exciting ways to feed his craving. First step was to change his habits back to a more normal lifestyle that did not feed the need. A basic premise to start; because all humans are not alike, and all habits are not alike, it is just a base point to begin; it is the 30, 90, 365 rule.
In thirty days you can establish a new habit, it doesn't require a lot of willpower to continue your change, but problems might easily offset it, like the need for a rush.
At ninety days any change should be neutral where running the habit is no more difficult than not running it. Peter also had heard that it takes three months to break a pattern. So they had three months of work/house arrest to basically get Damon's mind and habits back on the straight and narrow, not where he would be fully trusted, but with continued supervision, he could reestablish a more normal life.
But it takes one year to make the new habits a true way of life. Of course a therapist would have to address the emotional side of the addiction.
All four agents joined forces in the best interests of the child.
***WC***
Damon finished his first report in less than an hour, but was reluctant to return to Hughes office, so he messed around, pretending he was writing, or spending time hiding in the restroom. He tried to hide behind file cabinets, out of sight of the agents to get Neal's attention, but Neal wouldn't look at him.
Finally, Hughes left his office for lunch and Damon rushed up to place the report on his desk while he was gone.
***WC***
"BOY!" Hughes voice might not be that loud to the agents, but to Damon it sounded like a clap of thunder. He jumped. "Y… yes Sir?"
Hughes gave him the two finger point and Damon knew what that meant, he ran up the steps and hurried to his office. He stood outside the door waiting. He was not sure if he should knock and not sure if he should enter.
"Get in here boy!"
Damon moved to his assigned spot and in the nick of time remembered his hat and hastily took it off, "Yes Sir?" He met Hughes eyes and saw he was upset.
"You entered my office without permission?" Hughes asked, knowing the answer.
Damon fumbled his words, "I… ah… the report… ah…"
Hughes growled, "Spit it out boy."
Damon took a deep breath, "I… delivered the report like you said."
"Rule number four. You will NOT enter my office without permission! You will NOT enter my office unless I am here! Is that understood boy?"
Damon hung his head, "Yes Sir."
"Look at me!"
Damon lifted his head back up, "Y… yes Sir."
"You will hand deliver your reports. That means from your hand to my hand. Is that understood?"
Damon swallowed, "Yes Sir."
Damon waited while Hughes read the report and then threw it on his desk in front of Damon. "I can read this out of the newspaper. What part of a thorough report don't you understand, boy?"
"I… I…"
"I want everything. I want to know why you selected this target, how you cased it, how you did it, and how you got away. Is that understood?"
Damon swallowed; how I selected it? "Y… yes Sir…" He waited, too scared to move without permission.
"Get out of here and do it right!"
Again, Damon did his best not to visibly run.
***WC***
Jones had noticed Damon's bruised knuckles and went to discuss them with Peter. "Peter, I take it Damon has anger issues?"
Peter grunted, "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"Well I just ask because I have a punching bag stored in my closet I don't use anymore. It might save some wear and tear on his hands. You are welcome to it."
"I have one in the basement he uses." Peter thought a second, "You know it might be a good idea to have one in his room also. That's where he does the damage. Are you sure Jones?"
Jones laughed, "I don't need it anymore, I've got my anger under control. I'll bring it over tonight, if that's alright with you."
"That'd be great Jones. I'll tell El to expect you for dinner."
***WC***
Damon was only half finished rewriting his report when the sand man caught up to him. Peter had made him stay up all day every day, and the night's power had cut into his sleep time. He laid his head on his table and dozed off. Agent Blake woke him up,
"Hey kid, I wouldn't do that. I don't think Agent Hughes would be too happy to see you sleeping." Blake was a probie and Hughes still scared the heck out of him.
Damon got up to go get some coffee to help keep him awake.
Diana walked into the break area and frowned at him, "Damon, are you allowed to drink coffee?"
"I drink it all the time." He did when he lived on his own.
"You didn't answer my question, Damon." Diana knew a Caffrey deflection when she heard one.
El had caught him trying to drink a cup and told him no, he avoided Diana's eyes.
"You just answered my question. Pour it out. And Damon, remember I have authority to correct you if you try to pull something over on me again."
Damon poured the coffee out, "Yes Ma'am." He was not happy with the direction his life had taken.
***WC***
He finished his report before the end of the day but decided since he had to report to Hughes first thing in the morning anyway, he would save it until then.
Finally Peter came to collect him to go home and he felt a wave of relief as he left the offices.
When they got home Damon changed and went downstairs to work on the basement, Peter checked on him about thirty minutes later and found him half asleep on the couch.
"Get up Damon, what did I tell you about sleeping in the daytime?"
Damon mumbled and rolled over exposing his backend to Peter. Peter thought 'well if you insist' and gave him a sharp whack on the rump.
"Owwww!" Damon jumped up and gave Peter the evil eye.
"No sleeping in the daytime buddy. Get to work, watch TV, or read a book, I don't care, as long as it keeps you awake."
Damon chose to stay in the basement, so Peter decided to take his case files down to there to work on so he could keep an eye on the boy and make the couch unavailable.
Jones showed up before dinner with the punching bag he had promised. It was the freestanding kick/punching bag design similar to the one in the basement. While the men manhandled it upstairs, Damon set the table and helped El where he could.
After dinner the two men went into the living room to discuss cases and whatever, Damon had to do his homeschool assignments. While Damon was gone, Peter had kept creating math homework assignments for Damon, he wasn't sure why, maybe by doing so he could keep the conviction going that someday Damon would come home. He was thankful now; he had weeks' worth of pre-planned homework for him. El had gone to the library and secured her selected coursework for him as well.
Damon was not happy with his situation. He was sleepy and he was tired of being told what to do. He wanted to sit on a rooftop and watch the world go by below him, king and master of all he saw.
***WC***
Damon again woke to the song of the night siren. No matter how tired he was, she could always lure him with her tune. As he rested his forehead on the window he thought of Neal; Neal would know, Neal would understand. He needed to talk to Neal, to make sense of this, to understand the call. He snuck downstairs to the phone. Peter had refused to give him his cell phone back so he went to the house phone and dialed Neal's number….
Of course, Neal had caller ID, "Peter, do you know what time it is? What's wrong? Is Damon alright?"
Finally Damon spoke, "Neal? It's me."
"Damon! You know you're not supposed to talk to me. What are you thinking?"
Damon pleaded, "I just wanted to talk to you. I don't understand why I'm not allowed to. I need to talk to you Neal."
"No Damon, it's not the best thing for you. Trust me. Trust Peter. I'm going to hang up now, not because I want to, but because it's what has to be. Trust Peter Damon." With that, the phone went dead.
"Neal? Neal?" Damon stared at the dead phone. He waited awhile and then reached to redial Neal's number
Neal hung up with Damon. Neal hated being responsible. He spent all his life making sure he was responsible for no one but himself, and that was sometimes questionable. Why didn't he just take the kid with him and Moz? The kid would love it on some tropical island chilling in the sun. He heaved a sigh and called Peter.
Peter came down the stairs after Neal had called him and removed the phone from Damon's hand. "No, Damon."
Damon was angry and shouted, "Why not? Why can't I talk to Neal?"
"What do you want to talk to him about?"
"About… about…"
"What Damon?" Damon couldn't answer, Agent Burke wouldn't understand.
"You want to talk about your robberies with him? About how it felt?"
Damon licked his lips, how did he know?
"Do you want to relive them Damon with someone who understands how it felt? Do you want to re-experience the thrill of it?" Peter could see the tension in Damon's body.
"YES!" Damon was starting to tremble, "YES!"
Peter walked up to Damon and put his free arm around him, "That is why you can't talk to him for now, Damon." He started to guide him back toward the staircase, "Now go back to bed. You need to get some sleep." Peter watched him leave; he knew he would try soon, probably tomorrow or the next night at the latest. He took the phone with him to his room.
Damon went back to his room, but he did not go straight to bed. He had a bag in his room now so he could beat on it to wear himself out so he could sleep.
***WC***
The next morning Damon reluctantly took his report up to Hughes office, he knocked once and waited quietly outside the door with his hat off, he didn't want to give Hughes any reason to yell at him.
"Get in here boy."
Damon went to his spot and handed Hughes the report, "Here's my report, Sir."
Hughes eyed him, "Why didn't you turn this in yesterday?"
"I… I just finished it when it was time to go."
Hughes didn't believe he had 'just' finished it, "Boy, rule number five, you will deliver reports to me as soon as they are completed. Understood?"
Damn I can't do anything right in his eyes, "Y… yes Sir."
Hughes took the report and read it. He tossed it back at Damon. "A little better, but still not what I asked for. Everything in here I can get from an FBI file or the gallery's blueprints. I want what no one but you knows, boy. I want what was going on in YOUR head when you did this. Every thought since you first heard of the Belenky Brothers to when you put the necklace in storage. Am I making myself clear, boy?"
Damon did not want to give that much information, where he first heard of them? He tried to think how he could get around some details...
"Boy! Is that clear?"
Damon jumped, "Y… yes Sir."
"Get out of here."
***WC***
Damon was tense, he was tired, and he felt like he was on the edge, so he headed to the men's room to hit the stall doors a few times to help calm down. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He sat down on the floor in the far corner of the restroom until an agent came in and sent him back to his table. He tried to write the report several times, several times he tore up what he had and threw it away. He had read an FBI file, that's how he knew about the Belenky Brothers. He was afraid of what Hughes would do if he found out he had been reading files.
Peter saw the boy's tension on the ride home. He tried to talk to him, but Damon was withdrawn. Peter believed he would try that night.
Again, Damon chose to work in the basement and again, Peter took his files to down there to work on them to insure Damon stayed awake. Damon tried to concentrate on the finishing work and later his homework, but his mind was in turmoil, he needed a fix.
***WC***
That night when the call came, Damon was ready to answer it. It had been over a week since his last heist and he needed a high, he needed to feel alive; he needed to fulfill his need.
He didn't have his lock picking tools anymore, of course they were confiscated, but he had learned a lot about locks and electronic security. Since the locking mechanism of his anklet was facing away from him, he got a hand held mirror to study it. He sat on the floor and set the mirror to reflect the ceiling light to the anklet lock, it looked like a pretty basic setup. He got some improvised tools and started to work on the lock.
***WC***
##### 'Till the next chapter #####
