A/N: Hello, my dears. This chapter is a bit of set up for some big events coming up in Occupational Hazard. It is so much fun, I'm having an absolute ball with it, and I'm glad to hear you guys are enjoying it, too. :)

Chapter 11

When it came down to it, Neal had to admit that it could have been a whole lot worse. An extra week to dry out wasn't that bad, and while Elaine was right: the withdrawals were even worse the second time around, that wasn't what he truly struggled with. The hardest part of all of it was making those little adjustments in his life; having to tip-toe around things and focus very clearly on today and today alone was not Neal's comfort zone. A man who likes to grab life by the horns and tackle things head-on has trouble taking baby-steps. Put simply, it felt like a big step in the wrong direction.

He survived it, though, and after assessment, was allowed to return to work. Peter was skeptical. At first, he had allotted the four days as what he thought was a good amount of time, but here, now, in the office, he's beginning to doubt that decision. The entire team is around the table, throwing out ideas, and all Peter can focus on is Neal, sitting at the other side of the table. He has his elbows up, resting his forehead against one palm, the other squeezed tight into a fist, resting on the tabletop. His eyes are squeezed shut, but the way he's holding himself is the only indication that he's struggling. A very light tremble runs through his fingers, but beyond that, the color has returned to his face, his eyes have a little more light, and he doesn't look or feel ill every minute of every day. But he's still struggling. Peter knows it.

"Neal, what do you think?" Peter ventures, leaning back in his chair. Neal glances up, then shuts his eyes for a brief moment before sitting up completely, stretching his arms up.

"I think… we need to get to the guy pulling the strings when it comes to the patients. The middle man. This guy is putting the fear of God into these people, and if they don't pay with their wallets, they'll be paying with their reputations."

Peter presses his lips together, considering. "That could work. Get me more on that," he orders, raising his eyebrows at Neal, who simply nods distractedly while looking at his watch.

"Yeah, no problem, but I gotta run," he murmurs, standing and pulling on his bag. Peter raises his eyebrows again.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Neal stops, suddenly aware of everyone in the room staring at him. He lowers his eyes and voice, muttering when he explains. "I have a meeting, Peter."

Peter nods, looking down, and waving him out. Diana glances up at Peter once Neal is gone. "Meeting?"

"AA," Peter explains, clipped and terse, tapping his pencil on the table. Diana raises her brows.

"I thought he wasn't going."

"Elaine's having him go this week, see what he thinks."

She considers, and shrugs, returning to work. As much as Neal stresses about what his coworkers think, they honestly don't give it much thought. He's still Neal. He's still the same genius man they've worked with all this time. That hasn't, and never will, change.

The stained glass casts distorted shapes of colored light across the floor and over the chairs set up in a circle. Neal knows it's meant to be beautiful, and perhaps in a certain light, in a certain setting, or in a certain circumstance, it is, but for some reason all he can think of is a psychedelic circus. He isn't sure what to do; a few people are milling about, some having conversations, others reading, others just standing looking as uncomfortable as he is. He wanders over to the coffee, and pours himself a cup, jumping when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He glances back.

"Hi there, I haven't seen you here before." The voice belongs to a woman, maybe a bit younger than Neal, and he's stunned into silence when he sees her, and notices how much she resembles June's granddaughter Cindy. "Is this your first time?"

Neal turns all the way around to face her, and smiles, extending a hand. "It is." He pauses. "Nick. Nick Halden. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name?"

She gives him a firm, solid handshake, one of the first things he looks for in a woman, and she flashes a row of white teeth behind her violet lipstick. "Sisley."

He tilts his head, smiling, as though to urge her on. "Do you have a last name, Sisley?"

She glances over her shoulder, then back to Neal. "We don't use last names here, Nick." She looks down and smiles. "But it is very nice to meet you. Welcome. Have a seat, we're about to start." She flashes him one last smile, then turns and crosses to a table at the other end of the room, flipping through a binder, and speaking quietly to another woman. He stares after her, then sighs, looking down at his coffee and stirring it while he wanders over to a seat. He's bouncing his knee, sipping the coffee, and keeping his eyes down. He struck it lucky on that first encounter, he's not sure about the rest of these people.

Once the majority of the group has shuffled around and settled into their chairs, Neal finds himself settled between a 75 year old woman with big, bright teeth (probably dentures) and a man about Neal's age, also dressed in a fine suit. They glance at each other and double take right as the leader stands.

They begin with a prayer. Neal's sure he knew it growing up but has no clue what it's called or what the words are now. The fact that several other people don't speak along with the group is not lost on Neal. He's relieved. She then asks if anyone needs new chips. Several people stand, and they each announce their name, and some significant amount of time. Days, months, years clean.

"Is anyone new here today?" Several people raise their hands. A handful of others look down, around, anywhere but the speaker's eyes. Neal figures they're new too, but don't want to bring attention to themselves. Neal doesn't move either, but he can feel Sisley's eyes studying him from across the room. A few chips are handed out to the First Meeting members.

This is awful. This is absolutely awful.

"Today we'll be discussing step four: to make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves."

He doesn't know how long he can handle this.

"Where, in yourself, are the emotional flaws or deformities in personality that took away from your ambitions, passions, and desires for success and happiness in life?"

Neal is one big emotional flaw and personality deformity. He's a thief. A ruthless thief, liar, con artist, and forger, with an absolute heart of gold that he gives out far too easily. There is a difference, he's always insisted, between installing trust in someone, and giving out one's heart. Kate didn't even know Neal's real name, and he gave her all. All he had to offer, he gave to her, until the bars he was locked behind didn't allow him to give himself away anymore. That was when he lost her.

"Take stock of those flaws, hand them to God, and humbly request that He rid you of these."

Here, God. Here are my problems. You worry about them.

"Now take stock of your positive traits. What can we find in you, to build you up, to be the absolute best you can be? What skill can we nurture during your recovery?"

He's good at stealing things. He's good at lying to people. He's really good at royally fucking his life up.

"Do you have those things in your mind? Use them to feed your soul."

Neal doesn't have a soul. His died a long time ago. Over time, life will do that to a person. It broke him down until he became a shell of the man he once was.

By the time the meeting is wrapping up, Neal is completely overwhelmed. He feels sick, he can't keep his thoughts straight, and he can't sit still. He can still sense Sisley staring at him, and he has to consciously focus on not looking over at her.

When the leader finishes with the closing Serenity Prayer, he pushes himself up, adjusting his jacket and flipping his hat before pulling it on. He glances up at he wrong time and accidentally locks eyes with her again, and she crosses over to him. "What did you think, Nick?" He plasters on a smile, faking his way through it.

"Very interesting. Glad I came."

She returns his smile, but there's something in her eyes. Something that says, I know your secret. "You can be honest. You've been hiding your whole life, I can tell. You don't have to hide here."

He blinks, then shifts his weight, visibly relaxing. "Have you been reading minds for long?"

She smiles again. "No, I'm just a member of this elite group: sick and misunderstood." She pauses. "It allows me to see absolute truth."

A mischievous smirk plays on Neal's features. "What does my absolute truth say?"

She studies him, and her eyes flicker up and down his figure for a moment. "You're a liar." He raises his eyebrows, shifting his weight. "A liar of epic proportions. You don't know who you really are, and you don't really want to know, so you make sure no one else tries to find out."

Neal presses his lips together, nodding and slipping his hands into his pockets. "Impressive."

She raises her brows. "Thanks, Nick." When she shifts her weight, the colors of the stained glass cast over her, distorting her beauty, and for a moment, it catches Neal off guard. She glances at her watch. "I do need to be going now, lots of work to do, but it was very nice to meet you, Nick Halden." She flashes a smile before walking away, and he turns, staring after her. Interesting.

"You have to go back."

"I'm not going back there, Peter. It was no help at all, by the end of it I needed a drink."

"You don't need anything, Neal." He sighs, and evens his tone. "You're under orders. If you want to work for us, you go."

Neal throws his hands up, groaning. "It's counter-productive. It was absolutely pointless."

Peter crosses his arms, lifting one to hold two fingers to his temple. Neal and his absolute stubbornness always get in the way.

"Neal," he starts, then just sighs, looking down. "I want this for you. But it's never going to happen if you don't want it, too. These aren't difficult things. They're just things you have to commit to."

Neal interrupts him here. "Peter, I know how it works. I don't need the speech. I've got this." He pauses. "I just have to believe this isn't the only way."

"I understand where you're coming from, but you just need to work on what's tried and true, before you try anything else. Learn the rules before you break them."

"I'm not really a rules guy, you know that."

Peter frowns and stands a little taller, firm. "I do know that. And look where it's landed you. It may do you some good to follow rules for once."

Neal's eyes are wide, and he blinks and looks down, swallowing. Look where it's landed you.

He nods, after a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, okay… Peter."

Peter sighs, his hands finding his hips, and he shifts his weight. "That's not-"

"No, I got it." He backs up, hands raised in defense. "Obviously my way doesn't work, because…well, look where it's landed me."

With this, he whips around, adjusting his hat and sauntering out the door. Peter collapses back into his chair, exhaling sharply.

Neal reaches out to catch the elevator right before it shuts, spinning around to face the front once he enters. He shoves a thumb into Elaine's floor number, then leans back against the wall, slipping his hands into his pockets, feeling them shake against the fabric. After all this time, he had imagined it would have gotten better by now, but it still feels like it's getting worse every day.

"How did the first meeting go?" Elaine asks once Neal takes his seat on her sofa. He shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "You don't want to talk about it?"

There's got to be some benefit in talking about, and continuing to attend, the meetings, even if Neal doesn't see it yet. He shifts on the sofa. "It's fine. It was overwhelming."

"That's alright. It's okay for things to be overwhelming, we just need to build up the skills you need so that you can handle it in a healthy way."

"You're absolutely right," he admits, settling in and leaning his elbows on his knees. "It's just an adjustment." Pause. "It's definitely a commitment, I don't think I'll have the time to go every day."

"You can make the time. You made the time to drink every day."

Neal studies her at this. Of all of the things that bother Neal, people challenging how he handles his own business is at the top of the list. She somehow manages to take everything he says and flip it on its side. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

Elaine tilts her head. "How is work going?"

Neal sits up a bit straighter. "Difficult. I'm struggling to stay focused, I'm not on my game."

"That will get better with time. Your head is used to being in a fog, it will take some time for that fog to lift."

"It's not really convenient."

"Neither was the way you were living."

"I know." Pause. "When can I move back home?"

"Once your treatment is over."

"Which is when?"

"When you are able to handle the things that come your way in a healthy manner, without turning to a bottle. When, no matter how difficult the cravings may be, you can resist them because you know you deserve better in your life."

This sparks a thought in Neal. Does he deserve better? A life well lived deserves a job well done. Is his a life well lived? The simple knowledge that the work he does now is helping people doesn't change his history, and the things he's done.

When he's back up in the white collar office, tapping his pen against his desk as he flips through the profiles of the former patients now working for Wilcox, these memories continue to nag at him. They're reaching into his brain, flipping it around, handling it with their fingers, pulling apart threads and thoughts. He's so distracted he doesn't even notice Peter wander up to his desk.

"Neal." He finally glances up, shaking out of the distracted fog.

"Yeah."

"Conference room. Now." Neal nods, pushing himself up and following Peter's heavy footsteps with his own relaxed, swaying gait. The rest of the team is already gathered, their low murmurs of discussion amongst themselves putting Neal on edge. They settle when Peter shuts the door, awaiting his words.

"Alright, kids. We've got our in." Neal looks up at this, and Diana takes over.

"The organization that runs the clinic is hosting a charity event this weekend, and Wilcox is on the guest list. Word has it he's looking for a new numbers guy, a good amount of his senior staff got the boot when the clinic closed to new patients. They're up and running again now, and this is a grand re-opening of sorts. If we can get one of our own into his inner circle, we're made."

Jones cuts in. "No patients will be in attendance, it's clear this guy likes to keep work and play separate. Can't risk any one of them dropping the ball."

Peter nods. "Once we're in, we can figure out how he's manipulating such a mass amount of money under the table. That's what we'll use to bring him down."

"Who's going in?" Neal asks, obviously already considering himself as a candidate. Peter just narrows his eyes.

"Not you. No high-risk work during treatment."

Neal throws up his hands. "This is right up my alley, Peter. I can do this."

"I'm sure you can, but this isn't a good time for you to go undercover, Neal, you know that."

"But I-"

"No, no protests. You know as well as I do this wouldn't be a good idea."

Diana clears her throat, and Peter looks up at this. "Boss, can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

Peter sighs, and motions out the door. They both step down the hall a bit, and Diana lowers her voice.

"I think Caffrey is more than capable in terms of completing this assignment."

Peter shifts his weight, crossing his arms. "Is that so?"

She maintains herself. "He's doing much better, and I think he's our man for the job."

"Diana, he's so incredibly unstable right now, and this is something that hits so close to home for him. It could make the whole thing that much worse."

"I think that's exactly why he should do this: he cares passionately about what these people are going through. When Neal cares about something, nothing gets in his way. He'll do this and he'll do it right."

Neal is leaning back in his chair, casually glancing over at Peter and Diana, trying to figure out what's happening. When the pair return, Diana has a straight face, but Peter's features are tight and contorted, clearly trying to hide some sort of emotion. He doesn't look at Neal when he speaks to him.

"Neal, you're going in," he announces through his teeth, clipped and terse. Neal glances over at Diana, raising an eyebrow. She just sits, not giving him a reaction.

"What changed your mind?" he ventures.

Peter tilts his chin up, and studies Neal.

"You're the right man for the job."

In truth, Peter knows this. He knows Neal is absolutely the right man for the job, but his crippling fear of losing or further harming this man that he has found himself so deeply attached to is what holds him back. As odd as it may sound, aside from Elizabeth, Neal is probably the most important person in his life. The confidence he has instilled in Neal over time has broken down with every incident: every time Neal sent Peter's calls straight to voice-mail because he was just too drunk to handle talking to his boss at that moment, every time Peter caught a light whiff of whiskey when Neal breezed by him in the office, every time he had to repeat himself once or twice to get Neal to snap out of it... it was all building up to what finally broke him down. The damage done to their relationship was not irreparable, but it was going to take a lot of work to get things back to the way they were.

Beyond all of this, beyond Peter's lack of trust in Neal right now, is a deeper fear. He does struggle sending Neal on this mission due to their breakdown in trust, but more than anything, he doesn't want Neal to get hurt. This will be emotional for him, it will be difficult to stay the course and not let his feelings get in the way. It will be pressure, pressure he knows Neal isn't equipped to deal with in a healthy way right now. But Diana is right.

Neal is the only man for this job.