Title of Fic: Pressure
Rating: PG
Brief Plot Summary: George realizes he may be going to jail.

George Fraley stares at the computer screen in front of him. He sits calmly; his hands for what seems like in an eternity are not touching the computer keyboard. On the desk in front of him is the cheap computer, and a small black phone.

A young man in his twenties, with black almost Italian-like hair sits in the background, smoking a cigarette watching him; he is propped against a table almost a foot or so away from the small desk where George is sitting. "So, what is the problem? Falcon lose his wings?" The man laughs a loud, braying sort of laugh, as he makes another crack at one of George's screen names. He uncrosses his legs, and walks towards George where he is almost a centimeter away.

George can feel the man's hot breath on his skin, and can smell the left over scent of onions, and tomato sauce from the man's lunch. "Leave me alone, Tim." His brown eyes concentrate on the computer screen in front of him. Besides the fact that he is beginning to find Tim annoying his mind is starting to go blank, realizing what he did. One word keeps flashing in front of his mind, Leavenworth. A place he doesn't want to go to. He didn't like Minnesota there is no way in hell that he is going to like Kansas, he isn't going to like it even more now that he is starting to realize he could go to jail for this. Besides the last transaction everything had been fun, he had felt guilty about moving the money. A few of the times before it had been pretend money, they said they had been testing him. They wanted to see what he could do. It had all been fun in games, until today when that cocky Atlanta PD had stopped him when he was getting groceries. "We have our eyes on you, little man." He had said in a negative tone.

Tim touches George's shoulder, and he jumps. "You're mighty jumpy today, thinking about my offer little one." He gives him a smile.

"What offer?"

"Don't play like that little newbie…You know what offer, I asked Burton, he said it would be okay if I borrowed you." He begins to massage George's shoulders.

"Actually…I think I am going to turn myself in."

Tim backs away for a second, shocked. "What? You play with little zeros and ones most of the time. What are you going to turn yourself in for, that you aren't exactly living up to your potential?"

George swallows hard. "I can't do this anymore. It's not fun anymore. I won't get you guys involved, only the bare minimum. I will act like I don't know as much as I did…I just can't stay here anymore, it is constricting."

Tim laughs. "Poor little mouse. We all get stressed at one time and think we want to go to the cops." He pats his shoulder. "You'll get over it." He gives him a soft concerned smile.

"Yeah." George says softly, and it comes out a bit unconfident. "I will get over it."

"I have to go…Think about my offer." Tim walks out of the room.

George looks back at the computer. "Bye." He calls to Tim. "Hope next time I see you in hell." He mumbles under his breath. He picks up the phone next to the computer, and dials a number he had been made to memorize in case it ever came across his caller id in his apartment. The phone picks up after two rings. "Atlanta Police Department, how can I help you today?"