Yes, I'm finally posting after my terrible writer's block, but don't worry! I got over it (obviously) thanks to MrsRobertPattinson. Everyone thank her – or is it a him? Look at me keeping the mystery alive ;) – for her very obvious and helpful solution. Oh, and on a completely unrelated note I'm going to not do something to see if a particular science experiment between me and Junior is a success.
"I'm hungry," Agent Clark complained. Peter Burke snapped out of his reverie to turn and stare incredulously at the agent, wondering how he could even think about food right now. They were being held hostage by a madman who might put a bullet through all of their heads on a whim and Clark was thinking about food? Not to mention that they were in this particular nasty situation because a certain 'reformed' white collar criminal betrayed them for nothing more than a few million dollars. Peter's growling stomach interrupted his steadily darkening thoughts. He grimaced. Alright, maybe some food would be good, especially deviled ham and a warm mug of Italian roast coffee. Peter's mouth watered slightly at the thought.
"Well, I want a shower, but you don't see me whining about it," Agent Cruz snapped. Peter sighed. Agent Cruz had a temper on the best of days and this day didn't even come close to being referred to one of those.
"Don't hear you either," Jones muttered under his breath. Definitely not one of the better days if Jones is turning into a cynic. Peter hid a sigh as Agent Cruz glared at Jones. Better stop this argument before it begins.
"Well, they have to feed us," Agent Phillips, a veteran agent, said, saving Peter the trouble of interrupting the potential argument. Phillips and Peter used to be partners actually, but their styles didn't mesh so it ended after a couple months. Phillips was a good agent nonetheless. "They wouldn't want their hostages to starve to death."
"Even though you von't starve after missing just one meal," a calm voice chimmed behind them. The federal agents all turned to stare at Badeni. Someone likes to make an entrance, Peter thought. "You Americans do seem fond of your food." Badeni's gaze lingered over Phillips protruding stomach.
"We Americans would also appreciate a bathroom break," Hughes said.
Badeni gave a heartfelt sigh. "I suppose I can't have your bladders bursting"—Peter rolled his eyes—"Boomer, vhy don't you escort our group of fine law enforcers to the bathroom."
"Sir!" Boomer saluted. Peter saw a flicker of annoyance go across The Crazy Austrian's face before he gave a nod and turned to the computer hacker, who was still working on the laptop that contained the FBI's 'most valuable information.' "All right agents! You're going in the bathroom in groups of five. Women are going to with Terminator" Boomer gestured towards the masked man with an Arnold Schwarzenegger body and Peter quickly identified him as Thomas Holdings—the main suspect in the Museum of Ancient Antiquities robbery, "over there and the men are staying with me."
"But the Director is staying vith me," Badeni added almost as an afterthought. "Ve have…things to discuss."
"No," Peter said. Then he blinked in surprise. He hadn't meant for that to come out.
Badeni narrowed his eyes slightly before delicately raising an eyebrow. "Vhat gives you the impression that you, a hostage, have a say in…vell anything that goes on here?" His henchmen snickered.
"Well, if you're going to take him away without saying anything then we'll all assume the worse and things vill…get difficult," Peter said, not allowing himself to even smirk at Badeni's reaction to his slight mocking.
"Vhat's your name, agent?" Badeni asked.
"Peter Burke."
Badeni snorted. "Of course you are," he murmured to himself. "Vell, I can assure you that I von't be killing the Director…it's not convenient to me for him die just yet." The agents stared at him in appalled shock.
"Right," Boomer said with the ease of someone who was used to not-so-empty threats coming from the madman he called his boss, "So you five, come with—"
"Hank! Tommy! Steve! Get back here!" a voice carried from the FBI break room.
The gunmen froze.
Boomer and Terminator shared a look.
Badeni snapped his fingers at some of his henchmen. "Take the Director to the interrogation room," he spat. "I have some business to take care of." Badeni turned his heel and marched out the door.
Peter had no idea who the moron who yelled some of the gunmen's names was, but he was prepared to send a bouquet of flowers to his funeral.
~O~
The Federal Agent relaxed their grip on the detonator as the computer hacker stretched and got up from his seat. The Agent had been watching the hacker closely, waiting for any sign that the hacker succeeded. It was the hacker's job to break through the laptop's security, and the agent personally didn't think that Badeni would react well if the hacker failed, but the agent also had orders. Orders to make sure the laptop's information wasn't tampered with using any means necessary. The Federal Agent felt a small feral smirk play across their face. The agent knew one thing for certain: that they could accomplish their job much easier than the hacker could ever accomplish his.
~O~
"So," Don began with forced patience, vainly trying to get Neal Caffrey to focus on his job, yet again. Badeni had them on a schedule after all and Caffrey was making them, or more specifically, him behind. God, he could honestly say that he never expected to babysit a drugged up legend. Don scowled. At least, he used to be a legend, until he started helping the Feds. "What would you do next?" Don fought a groan as Caffrey continued to ignore Don in favor of his doodling. He was beginning to regret giving the conman that piece of paper. Originally, he gave it to him so that Neal would be able to draw his ideas down and help him focus on the forgery. Bad idea. Don hid a sigh as he, once again, walked Neal through the forging process. "Do you need to make the ledge?" Don gestured to the stand that the golden dragon was perched on. "Neal!" The conman looked up blankly from his paper, which he was now somehow turning into a swan. "Do you," Don repeated slowly, "have to make a ledge?"
"Well," Caffrey began with a frown. Don allowed himself a small grin. Finally, he was responding. "You need to really start thinking about taking anger management. You know it's unhealthy to bottle up your feelings like that, right?"
"I'm not keeping my feelings bottled up," Don snapped. The pet-convict's eyes danced at Don's outburst. "Besides, I'm not an angry person."
"Exactly!" Neal exclaimed, waving a triumphant finger in front of Don's face. "It's entirely unnatural for someone to be this calm when they're working for Badeni." Don's eyes grew narrow. "Actually," the conman continued thoughtfully, "it's unnatural to be that loyal to Badeni. Not even his mindless henchmen are as loyal to him as you are and they get paid more."
"Do not," Don interjected.
Neal grinned at him. "Wanna bet?" Don shook his head. He really needed to stop arguing with a high Neal Caffrey. Don could feel a migraine sneaking up on him. "Anyway, back to the anger management thing. You were right. You're not a naturally angry person, but you overcompensate the anger you feel whenever the Crazy Austrian talks to you on other people because you're scared of Badeni and his milk curdling ways. That's my theory," the conman finished happily.
Don's fist clenched. "You've been hanging around the Feds too much," he hissed. "You always assume that your theory is right and you just plow your way through until you get an answer."
Inexplicably, Neal Caffrey broke into a fit of giggles. "Did you just compare me to a plow?"
Don groaned. Just when he thought that Caffrey was over his little high spout. You'd think that after half an hour that the drugs would be out of Caffery's system, Don thought with a shake of his head. When did Hank give Caffery the pain killers, anyway? They shouldn't be lasting this long…
"Hank!" Don yelled out the door. "Steve! Tommy! Get over here!" The forger waited a moment to hear a response. None. Sighing, Don turned back to Neal, who was still giggling.
"You do realize," a not-very-amused voice said from behind him. Don jumped as he whirled around to stare at his silently fuming boss, "that the FBI agents have a very good chance of hearing you yell the names of the people currently holding them hostage?" Don tried unsuccessfully not to gulp as Badeni stared at him evenly. "So, vhat is the reason you deemed vorthy enough to blow three of your friends' covers in a middle of a heist?"
"Well, you s-see—" Don stammered. Oh God, I sound like Steve. He cleared his throat as Badeni watched him in cold disdain. "You see, Caffrey is still high off the pain killers they gave him and I was wondering when they gave the meds to him because he's still high and—" Don stuttered to a stop as Badeni held up a hand and turned sharply around to glare at Caffrey.
Don tried not to gawk as Badeni began to slowly clap. "Bravo, Neal. Vonderful performance." Don gave Neal a startled look that soon gave way to irritation. He did not like the idea that Neal had been conning him all this time. "Acting high to avoid vorking. I have to say that is a first." Badeni continued to smile as he strolled over to the now alert conman and pulled out his cigarette lighter.
"What can I say?" Neal shrugged helplessly. "I'm a born slacker."
Badeni laughed humorlessly as he flicked the lighter on. Caffery watched the tiny flame in fascination…or wariness. Don couldn't tell. "Oh, ve both know that isn't true. You're a natural born liar not a slacker." Blue eyes regarded him coldly. "But vhat vould it take to make you admit to our dear friend here" Badeni gestured towards Don, "that you vere fooling him all along?"
"But Badeni," Neal said with astonishment. "I wouldn't think that Don would need me to tell him since you just spelled it out yourself. Didn't realize how much lower your standards for recruits were getting. Besides, I'm sure Don forgives me for 'fooling' him. Ve are friends."
Badeni's eyes narrowed. "Don't mock me, boy!"
Neal looked alarmed. In a mocking sort of way Don noticed. "Vhat? Me and Don do get along, it's high time you start to accept it, old man."
"I am not your old man," Badeni said. Don never understood how Badeni could manage to not sound angry when on the inside he was boiling. He could never do that.
"Sorry," Neal said with a tip of his imaginary hat. The fedora that Neal had been wearing earlier fell off during his walk with Badeni, "elderly gentlemen."
Badeni smiled at the conman. Well, barred his teeth really. "Neal, Neal, Neal, you just never learned did you?" The pet convict watched Badeni's lit cigarette lighter apprehensively as Badeni steadily moved it closer to Neal's bare arm. Caffery eyed the tiny flame lazily as it began to lick the underside of his forearm.
"I think all my teachers would disagree with you," Neal said in a remarkably even voice.
"Really?" Badeni asked with interest as he leisurely moved the flame up and down Neal's forearm. "How so?"
Neal seemed completely ignorant of the fact that Badeni was slow roasting his arm as he continued the conversation. "Yep. They all liked me…except for Mrs. Sparks, but that's one out of…what fifty?"
"You tell me. You're the math whiz." Badeni stopped moving the lighter and stared in fascination as the Neal's skin started to swell into a bright red. Don wasn't sure how much more how much more of this Caffery could take.
"It doesn't take a math whiz to add," Caffrey gasped. Badeni smirked.
"Valid point."
"Stop!" Neal finally yelped. Badeni grinned in triumph. "You're right. I was pretending to be high."
Badeni calmly moved the cigarette higher up Neal's arm. "And…?"
Neal sighed. "I'm sorry that your recruits are getting dumber."
Badeni let the cigarette lighter linger over Neal's burns.
Neal flinched as the smell of burning flesh reached Don's nose. Neal turned to Don. "Sorry for making you think I was high."
Badeni snapped the lid of the lighter close with a satisfied nod. "Very good." The conman glared up at him with his left arm drawn in protectively against his chest. "You do learn. Now, put ice on it and go back to vork," Badeni dismissed. "Make sure he does a decent job and that he doesn't leave this room. Ve can't have him getting a message to the Feds, can ve?" Don shook his head mechanically. Badeni didn't spare Neal another glance as he turned his heel and stalked out the door.
Don studied Neal with his peripheral vision. Neal was currently attempting to pull his sleeve over his burn—not a smart idea. A hiss informed him that Neal discovered that little tid-bit. Don watched as the conman painstakingly rolling his sleeve back up and away from his burns. Neal looked up sharply at Don.
"Are you trying to be subtle?" Neal snapped.
Don stared down at Neal in what he hoped was an intimidating look. "Shouldn't you be doing something that you're not currently doing?"
Neal snorted. "I could do without the Badeni wannabe act though." Don glared at Neal as he studied the statue with a critical eye. "I need a block of oak wood, a carving knife, a magnifying glass, ten century through sixteen century melted down gold, shoe polisher, sand, a spork, and a paintbrush."
Don blinked.
"Unless that's too much for you," Neal added sarcastically.
Don's eyes narrowed. "I can get them."
"Have fun," Neal said without looking up at him as he went back to inspecting the statue. Note to self, don't get on the bad side of Badeni or be around Neal after he gets burned, Don thought as he went on the scavenger hunt to look for Neal's forgery supplies, trying to forget the silent battle between Badeni and Caffrey.
Did you know 'spork' is not a real word? I had no idea. None at all. I was so surprised when the red squiggly line appeared under it.