elrhiarhodan

Title: This is Where It Begins
Author:

elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Original Female Character
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Beta Credit: None
Summary: Peter has one more hurdle to jump over before his life really begins.

A/N: Written for

sinfulslasher, who – for reasons - needed another interview fic.

__________________

Nervous and impatient, Peter resisted the urge to sniff himself. He'd brushed his teeth – twice – and gargled with both the green and the red mouthwash. He'd showered, applied deodorant, was wearing a brand new undershirt AND a brand new button-down. His tie was new, his socks and shorts were new, too. In fact, the only other time he'd worn either the suit or the shoes was for his thee other interviews with the FBI – two in D.C. and one at the Academy in Quantico.

This interview was at the FBI Field Office in the Federal Building in New York City and it was supposed to be it, the very last hurdle before the powers that be made their decision. He'd taken a polygraph test last month, and his friends and family had been interviewed for his security clearance. He'd passed the physicals and the FBI application exams with flying colors. Hell, he'd already had gone to three different interviews.

But this gauntlet – for lack of a better word - wasn't all that unusual. According to everything he'd read, everything he'd been told, applicants could be required to attend up to six different interviews. The FBI was a culture of excellence and this was one of the ways they ensured that only the best and the brightest made it through to the Academy. His full ride to Harvard might have gotten him to the head of the list – no three years of professional experience required – but he still needed to jump through all of the hoops like everyone else.

"Peter Burke."

He stood up at the sound of his name and wiped his hands on his trousers before holding his hand out to the woman who came to fetch him. She gave him a comforting smile and a limp handshake. "Nothing to be nervous about."

He followed her through a warren of cubicles and into a conference room.

"Would you like a cup of coffee or some water?"

"No, but thank you." Peter actually did want the water but he was afraid he'd end up spilling it all over himself.

She left and Peter sat and waited. And waited some more. Just as he was starting to get irritated, the door opened. He stood up as if he'd been goosed.

All of his previous interviews had been with men. White men. The person who came in was African-American and a woman, and there was no mistaking her authority. He didn't need to see the badge on her hip to know that he was meeting with someone who was in charge.

"Peter Burke - I'm Special Agent Samantha Corbin." She held out a hand to him and he took it. Her grip was firm and the handshake strong, but brief.

"Ma'am." Peter thought his voice squeaked, but he didn't clear his throat. He waited for her to sit, and when she did, he took his seat again, keeping his back straight, his shoulders up (he'd developed a tendency to slouch after his shoulder surgery).

"Nothing to be nervous about, Peter. This is just a formality."

He swallowed. "But it is important."

"True. And it's good that you appreciate that." She opened the folder she'd brought in when her. He didn't have to know how to read upside down to realize that this was his application file. "So, tell me - why do you want to be an FBI agent?"

Peter had answered this question a dozen times, from the first time he'd met with a recruiter at Harvard, to his interview with the government security officer for his clearance application, to just last week, when he'd met with a group of probationary agents who were supposed to check him out. He'd become so accustomed to this question that his answer almost tripped off his tongue. But before he could say anything, Agent Corbin held up a hand. "Don't give me the canned answer – that you want to help uphold the law, that you are committed to justice, blah blah blah."

Peter felt the burn of embarrassment on his cheeks. That pretty much was his answer, word for word. Agent Corbin must have realized this – she was smiling, but that didn't take the sting from her words. He regrouped, thought for a moment, and then spoke. "I could go work on Wall Street, make a lot of money, and become rich and powerful. I've had offers from banks and consulting firms with starting annual salaries and guaranteed bonuses that are more than my father made in total in the last decade. That seems too easy."

Agent Corbin seemed intrigued by his answer, "You don't think you'd work hard for that salary?"

"My father worked hard, he still does. And what he does equals certain things in the real world. The pursuit of justice is hard work and there's probably very little glory in it, but it's a lot more important than knowing what stock to short."

"That's an interesting perspective, Peter. There are a lot of applicants who look at the FBI as a stepping stone to greater things - a career in business, politics, law. You seem just the opposite - you have a perfect GPA, you could have been a professional baseball player. Some people would think that by working for the government, you're settling."

Peter couldn't disagree more, "The FBI isn't settling. It's important work. It's hard work."

"And you like hard work, clearly."

Peter nodded.

"I usually take some time before making my decision." Agent Corbin signed something in his file, "but not today. I can't say I've ever interviewed a candidate more suited for the FBI than you. Good luck, Mr. Burke."

Peter let out a small sigh of relief. "So, I'm in?"

"You'll get your letter in a week or so. But you've got a long way to go before you get one of these." Agent Corbin touched the badge on her hip. "Think you worked hard at Harvard? You're going to long for finals week when you get to the Academy. Spring training will be like a day at the beach."

Peter couldn't stifle his grin. "I can't wait."

FIN