A/N: So, explanation required. The prompt word is in this. Once. Sometimes I read the word and just one sentence flashes into my mind and I write a story around it. Like here. This one is different; a little depressing. Let me know what you think. The last line is oddly fitting, as today I begin the first of my three years of high school. We'll see how that goes.
Neal Caffrey held onto both sides of the small silver sink in his cell, hands shaking slightly. Resolutely not looking at the clock. Not glancing at the calendar.
One year.
He closed his eyes. He had to resist the urge to collapse.
One year since he'd held Kate.
He heard the sounds of lights being flicked off in the distance and knew that it was getting late. As it had been when he'd been arrested.
One year since he'd heard the sounds, seen the sights, felt the air of New York City.
Neal released the sink and sat down on the cot, keeping his breathing steady. Images flashed through his mind; Kate, Mozzie, Agent Burke. He ached with longing to see the first two, and felt a twinge of resentment for the third.
One year since the game of cat-and-mouse had ended.
Still, he didn't feel as angry as he'd thought he would. Just... hollow, shut away, and horribly lonely.
One year since he'd had a conversation that wasn't monitored and timed.
The sharp footsteps of the guard echoed toward him and leaned back as he faked nonchalance."Lights out," the guard snapped. This particular guard was unpleasant, meaning that many of his precious few social interactions were unpleasant.
One year since he'd had the freedom to govern his own actions.
The guard moved on and Neal picked up a red crayon with still-trembling hands and marked another line. He flicked off the light and laid down on the hard prison cot, staring at the cold, white ceiling.
One year since his life had been changed forever.
Three years to go.