Wow! What an awesome response. I'm so glad you all enjoyed my story. It might be a little slow in coming as I have a lot of assessments at the moment. But here it is. Thank you everyone for you reviews 3
JimChou: thanks! I'm glad you liked it, I went through and fixed the name mistake. I didn't really think about that, so thanks for pointing it out.
Barb: Thanks, I'm going to try too, here's the next one now.
sBlack78: Ahhh thank you
Chapter 2
"This is a tricky case and we're going to need some help. He could be very useful. You've read his rap sheet. You've seen what he can do. He has talent. Maybe a second chance is just thing he needs. Hell, maybe even a first one I'm not sure anyone even gave him that."
"You sure you know what you're getting into Burke?"
"No. But if you stick him in prison he's just going to break out again. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was best for the precinct."
"Okay, you have my permission. But I'm keeping him on a very tight rope."
"You and me both, sir."
Okay so juvie sucks Neal thought as he walked around his cell. He could've run. He had a few promising opportunities. But he was safe here. Keller couldn't get to him. Trapped, and caged, yes, but safe. Here's a thing about prisons; there pretty secure. There made to be hard to break out of... or into. Anyway, Keller wouldn't waste time trying to reach him in here. The man may hold a grudge but he wasn't stupid. Neal wasn't an immediate threat and Keller wasn't on a suicide mission. No one in their right mind would break into jail. Especially when they were a wanted felon. Then again, Neal was never sure what state of mind Keller was in, sane or otherwise. No, don't think like that. Wait out the storm. Keller will forget about this whole fudge up soon enough. Then Neal would be free to crack any crazy escape plan he pleased.
That all sounded good in theory, but it meant staying here. Neal happened to have taste for luxury, and this was the opposite. The people here weren't exactly friendly. Luckily Neal had a lot of practice dealing with unruly neighbours. At least they let him draw. Which is what he had spent most of his time doing… for the past two weeks. He may not have wanted to admit it, but Neal was scared. And alone. Two things you'd think he'd be used to by now.
The door cracked open revealing a security guard, "Neal Caffrey?".
Well this was surprising. There hadn't been a stray from schedule the whole time he's spent here.
"Yes?" Neal answered, curiously.
"You have a visitor." Huh, that's odd. Maybe Mozzie got a heads up on his situation and came to check in. Though it would be unlike him to enter freely into any kind of government run facility, let alone a prison. Even one for kids. Aww, Neal didn't know he cared so much.
Neal followed the guard through a series of hallways. Left, two rights, then left again. The guard lead him to a door, which he then held open. Neal walked inside. It was a square room, in the centre of which was a table and long bench seats on either side. Sitting on the seat facing him, was no other than the Agent who arrested him; Peter Burke.
Neal walked in carefully, not sure what to expect. Burke smiled when he saw him.
"Hey Neal, how are you?" He asked. Weird. The last time Neal saw Burke, he was with two other agents and a gun. What's with the sudden Mr Nice Man?
"Just perky." Neal replied as he manufactured a smile. A small one, with just the right amount of pleasantness, as if he were entertaining a party. Act like you were expecting this. Don't let any surprise show. Neal took the seat across from Burke, studying him closely. What's his play?
"How do you like it here?" Peter asked. What? Did he come here to gloat? Neal wouldn't have pinned him down as the type.
"Oh it's nice enough." Neal drawled, as he leaned back causally in his chair. "The foods not quite to my standard but the beds are surprisingly comfortable." Neal smiled, his classic Caffrey, trust winning smile.
"I have a proposition for you." Agent Burke started.
"Thank you Peter, I'm flattered but I don't swing for the other team, if you catch my drift." Caffrey smirked.
Burke brushed away his frustration. "A work proposition."
Neal straighten, interested. Not here to gloat then. Probably to trade for information. Neal wouldn't give away his friends and he didn't want any more trouble with Keller. But he lied when he said the beds were comfortable. If he was going to be in here for the long haul it would be nice to get some stuff.
"You may know," Peter continued, "the FBI occasionally work with criminals of a certain skill set, to help them solve crimes. We call them consultants. I hear you've been sentenced with four years of sub-standard food and 'comfy' beds. I happen to have a particularly tricky art forgery case on my hands. You were right, by the way, about the paintings. They were a fake. We could use someone like you. This is a onetime offer and you'll be under extremely close scrutiny. You could work with us for a trail period, see how it goes? You'll be under constant surveillance of course, an unbreakable tracker attached to your ankle." Peter reach down the seat beside him and pulled out a paper file and placed it on the table.
Neal's eyes narrowed, suspicious. "What's in it for you?"
"Well, you would be my consultant. Work for the FBI." Burke explained. "Your under aged so we'll have to find you a family to live with." He said, almost to himself. "You'll help me solve cases."
Is that it? That can't be it. It's too good to be true.
"Seriously?" Neal asked. "I'd get to solve cases with you? Work with the FIB? Instead of going to jail?"
"Yes." Peter answered.
Neal's puppy dog simile widened to cover the majority of his face. "Yes, defiantly yes!"
He seemed to catch himself. "I mean, sure, I'll take that offer."
Peter grinned and slid the legal papers across the table.
Working with the FIB. That'd be an adventure. He'd always been on a certain side of the law. It would be very interesting to see how the other functioned. He'd seen movies of course; everyone loves a good crime show. But he didn't think it'd be like that. Neal had lived to long to expect life to pan out like a movie. He'd be out of jail, free to explore the world. Or part of it. Did Peter say he'd be living with a family? His smile dropped. Just a little. It'd be too soon to go back out there. If you make a deal with Keller, you follow it though. He'd find him. It'd be dangerous for whatever 'family' he was assigned too. And for him. Besides, working with the FIB isn't exactly lying low.
"What wrong?" Burke asked.
"Where would I be living?" Neal asked.
"Well," Burke replied, "We don't have anyone lined up, so you'll stay with El and I until we can find other arrangements."
Neal's confidence returned. He'd be safe with Agent Burke. Keller is far too smart to get directly mixed up with a FBI Agent. His excitement returned. No long haul wait. No farfetched escape plan. Neal couldn't believe this was happening.
"I expected you to deliver, Keller. When I employed your services I was assured secrecy, subtlety not the item of interest in the hand of the FIB!" the man entering the room. His voice was as quick as his steps. He stood tall, his shoulders held by his sense of self-importance.
The ornate room was contrasted by a scraggy couch and TV set probed up dead in the centre of the shiny floor. The man was looking directly at Keller, who lounged on the couch, his feet propped up by a footstall. Keller's attention wandered from his phone to the visitor. The room décor was an odd mix of expensive styling and neglected furniture.
"Chill, sit down have a drink. I'll get you another diamond necklace, there's more fish in the sea." The words dribbled from his lips. He rose his scotch drink to his mouth.
"Did you ever consider that just maybe I had a plan? That maybe I need that particular necklace for a reason? No!" The well-dressed man continued in his fire of fury. Keller looked on amused.
The man continued "I already gave you my money in good trust! I expect you to follow through with your promises!"
"Why?"
The customer stopped, startled by Keller's question. Keller took the opportunity, letting his words out in a sing song fashion.
"Why should I continue to help you?" He played with the words, changing the tone on each one as a child would.
"Why should…?" The man spluttered. "I'm paying you! You're the one who screwed up the deal. This is all your fault!" Keller chuckled, his attention had returned to the phone is his hand.
"Will you take this seriously and look at me!" The man shouted is growing frustration.
"What? It's a video of a cat chasing a red dot on a wall." He laughed again, "Ha, never gets old."
The visitor stepped forward in anger. His footsteps fell heavy on the polished ground.
"You think this is a joke?" His voice rippled with ire.
Keller waved his hand nonchalantly. "Oh this is a joke."
He turned towards his client.
"This is life buddy! What else do you think life would be other than a Big. Fat. Joke?" Keller articulated, his attention now for the first time focused on his flustered client.
The man shifted uncomfortably, realising that the power in this situation may not lie with him. 'The customer is always right' doesn't seem to be a policy that applies when dealing with thieves and assassins. Keller stood, abandoning his phone on the couch and began to walk towards the man.
"Your jewellery is of little importance to me." Keller drawled, as he flicked open his jacket revealing a gun strapped around his waist and a knife tucked up his sleeve.
"In fact, it holds about the same amount of importance to me as your life. But you possess a perverted notion that they are of some value, so I suggest that you choose now, which one you value most." Keller drew out the end of the last word into a small hiss. He was standing less than a meter away from the customer. He flicked his knife into his hand.
The man's eyes were fixated on the knife. He sifted, his pervious confidence scattered across the spacious room. He gulped.
"I, uh…"
"You what?" Keller's face melted in a smirk, carelessly waving his knife in his hand, weaving it through his fingers.
The man was beginning to sweat. His face contorted into fear.
"Listen," he said, failing to keep his voice even. "It wasn't that, uh, important anyway, you could -".
He was interrupted as a chuckle came from Keller's lips which soon grew into full blown laughter. The man began to laugh along uncertainly, wary of the man he had unwittingly hired. He's insane. He must be.
"You should have seen your face!" Keller managed between gasps. "So." Wheeze. "Fucking." Huff. "Terrified."
Keller sighed and straightened. "I don't kill clients. You know, bad for business and all that. Though lucky for you I do keep my deals. I just received information that led me to believe I may be able to retrieve this neckless of yours. But with your bickering and whining I'm not sure I want too."
The man sighed, his eyes on the still waving knife.
"What's the new price?" He asked.
Neal Caffrey was not nervous. He wasn't. He was completely fine. Living with a family. Working with the FBI. Being normal. Well normal-ish. Yup. The picture of tranquillity. Caffrey sat in the front seat of the FBI car next to Agent Burke. Last time he was here he was in the back, in handcuffs. He liked this time better.
The paper work involved in this process was massive. Of course, Neal read the entirety of the 30-page contact before signing it. He needed to know what he was getting into. But that was just the beginning. Getting approved to be let into Burke's custody took weeks of meetings, and a ridiculously uncomfortable tracking device. But finally he was let out the bared gates. Back to the real world. Just not the one he was accustomed too. Neal eyed Agent Burke anxiously.
"Since you'll be staying with us for the first few weeks, I set up a bed and everything you might need in the guest room." Peter looked back at Caffrey
"Well, El did. Not me. She's much better with those things you know. You'll like her."
Neal nodded. They both looked out the window. After a few moments Neal looked back towards Peter.
"So do you have any kids?" he asked.
"What?" Burke replied, confused.
Neal backpedalled "I mean, if I'm going to be staying with you, temporarily, I would like to know if you have any other kids living in the house?"
"Oh, uh. No we don't. Just the two of us." Peter answered.
It wasn't for lack of trying. Peter and El had wanted children for years, but sadly it just wasn't meant to be. They had considered adoption for a while but with both of them working so often it just didn't seem fair.
They continued to drive silently for some time.
Burke tapped his fingers on the wheel thoughtfully, "So since you're living with me and working with me I'm going to lay down some rules." Peter turned towards Neal, his face serious.
Neal raised his eyebrow, waiting.
"No stealing anything. No forging anything. Nothing that's even remotely considered a crime. You have a two-mile radius from our house unless you're with me, El or another FBI agent. Your work with us is compulsory, unless you want to return to prison so I suggest you do as I say. If you want to go anywhere, do anything, you pass it through me. Understand?"
"Yes, sir." Neal smiled in a way that made Peter question whether he was serious or mocking. Burke decided to let it slide.
Neal expected these rules, they wouldn't just set a known thief and criminal free into the world. But he had been living alone for almost three years now. He'd looked after himself, looked out for himself, watched his own back and answered only to himself. This would be an adjustment.
Neal's attention returned to the passing landscape. They had entered a suburban area, the houses stood tall and accommodating, each one differentiated by colour and decoration. The grounds before them were causally kept, not overgrown but not meticulous either. Soccer mums wouldn't be receiving their garden of the year award here. Bikes where left on lawns as children had run inside to receive lunch. It couldn't be more different from where Caffrey grew up. He liked it.
Burke pulled the car up in front of a house, his house.
"Here we are." He said.
Neal hated this bit. This was all too familiar. He had done with many times before pulling up with his social security officer in front of various foster homes. It had never gone well.
"Everything okay?" Peter asked, worry creeping into his voice.
Neal quickly conjured up a smile. "Yeah, of course." He said cheerfully as he got out of the car and followed Peter towards his house.
Its only for two weeks. Why would anyone want a criminal for any longer? Or at all for that matter. He walked through the door. Your only here because they couldn't find another place for you to stay, Neal reminded himself. Don't get too attached.
"Neal!" a women came through into the lounge. "It's so good to finally meet you, the boy who I have been vying with for my husband's attention for the last few years." She tossed a chastising look towards Peter.
Neal grinned "Well, it's wonderful to meet you too."
His room was nice enough, it was small with a long window looking out towards the backyard of the house. Satchmo, the golden Labrador Retriever played on the mown grass. He nudged and chased a ball around the yard. Neal's room contained a bed, shelves with old books, a couple pairs of clothes and a drawing pad, pencils and paints along with some case files to read. The Burke's definitely made an effort to make him feel at home. El couldn't have been kinder, and Peter, despite his serious nature was genuinely welcoming. It made him uncomfortable. He needed to figure these people out. Fast.
Thanks for reading 3 Reviews are life, so tell me what you thought! What would you like to see happen? I'm swamped with work this weekend, so you may not see the next chapter for a while (sorry).