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elrhiarhodanTitle: Things Aren’t Quite As They Seem
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Rating: PG - for language
Characters/Pairing:Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Blake (Probie from 2.04)
Fandom: White Collar
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Blake, one of the new probies in the White Collar division, gets to know Neal Caffrey a little better. For a prompt fromgyzym: "Neal, Peter - scintillating." It went kind of sideways.
_____________
Blake had been with the White Collar division for three weeks when Neal Caffrey returned. Only he didn’t know that Caffrey was returning. One day, the desk in front of him, the one that no one was allowed to use, was empty. The next day it was filled with all sorts of interesting stuff: a small Rodin sculpture, a rather architecturally significant desk lamp, an aggressively impressive rubber band ball. When he asked Agent Jones, who was both kind and extremely intimidating, about the desk, all he said was “Caffrey will be back tomorrow.”
Who the hell was Caffrey?
He tried asking Agent Berrigan, but if Agent Jones was intimidating, she was downright frightening and his voice tended to squeak and his throat to close up whenever she passed by. It didn’t help that she was very close to Agent Burke, the biggest, baddest, smartest motherfucker in the office. He cringed at mentally calling Agent Burke a motherfucker, but there really was no other adjective to describe the man.
It was really kind of unfair. He, Blake, was a Harvard graduate, summa cum laude, Dean’s List, and a Wharton MBA with full honors. He was at top of his FBI training class, too. But these agents were the brightest stars in his personal firmament, and although he wasn’t the type of person who ever felt inadequate or inferior, they were so sparkling in their intelligence, in their teamwork and they make him want to be part of this magic circle so badly that he ached with longing.
When Neal Caffrey (“Call me Neal”) came back to the office, the dynamic became completely different. Jones and Berrigan, smart as they were, seemed to take a back seat to Neal. This guy was a genius. Unconventional, surely, but definitely a genius. Watching him and Agent Burke talk about a case or even banter back and forth about nothing, was like looking at a pair of binary stars orbiting each other, or maybe two flints striking sparks. Whatever it was, the two of them were near blinding in their brilliance.
Despite that, and unlike Agents Jones or Berrigan or Burke, Neal was friendly and he went out of his way to be kind to him, the new guy. Neal was fun. And nice. And definitely not intimidating. Blake couldn’t help but admire his style, too. Of course, no one told him that Caffrey wasn’t an agent, and he labored under that misapprehension for the better part of a week. It may have gone on a little longer, except that Neal was sitting on the end of his desk with his legs crossed, revealing a big block of plastic with a green light on it.
“Ummm, Neal?”
“Hmmm?” Neal was flipping through a case file.
“What’s that?” He pointed at the anklet with his pen.
Neal lifted his leg and looked at the thing like he’d never seen it before, or maybe like it was something so familiar that he didn’t even see it anymore. “This?”
“Yeah.”
Neal’s face lost all expression and that friendly voice was a trifle cold. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Blake wasn’t sure what was wrong. “Is that like a health monitor?” Then he remembered a picture of that actress, the one who kept crashing her car and getting into fights. “Oh, man. I didn’t realize. No one told me you had been in rehab. But I though ... don’t you have to wear those things next to your skin?”
Neal looked at him like he just grew a second head. Then he smiled and laughed. Neither the smile nor the laugh were particularly nice.
“No one’s told you, have they?”
Blake didn’t like the feeling that was building in his stomach. “Told me what, Agent Caffrey?” He took refuge in formality.
Neal gave a short, bitter bark of laughter. “I am not, and never will be ‘Agent Caffrey,’ Blake.”
“What do you mean? You work with Agent Burke, and one of the clerks said you were his partner.”
“Yeah, there’s that. But I’m not an FBI agent. I’m a consultant.”
“Consultant? I don’t follow.”
“I am a paroled felon on work release. Peter’s my handler.”
Blake froze and everything became clear. “You’re a CI.”
“Yeah.” The look in Neal’s eyes was undecipherable. He dropped the file back on Blake’s desk and went to sit in his own chair. “Don’t worry, it’s not catching.”
Blake was pissed. Not at Neal, though; the man had no idea that no one had told him. He was pissed at the rest of the office, who probably thought it was really funny that he was so chummy was Neal. Or that he thought that Neal was just another agent. Blake felt like an idiot, too. How did he miss the most obvious of clues - he never saw Neal’s badge or gun.
At that moment, Jones and Berrigan stopped at his desk and asked him to join them for lunch. He was surprised that the invitation included Neal, who turned it down with a scintillating little quip and then got up and left with Agent Burke.
Blake thought about turning down the offer to go to lunch. Ten minutes ago, he’d have been thrilled at the invitation. Now, not so much; he felt like the butt of a bad joke. But he accepted just the same, if just to have the opportunity to give them a piece of his mind. In a respectful sort of way.
FIN
Well, not really FIN...the story continues in a WC100 Ficlet - A Correction
Author:
elrhiarhodan Rating: PG - for language
Characters/Pairing:Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Blake (Probie from 2.04)
Fandom: White Collar
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Blake, one of the new probies in the White Collar division, gets to know Neal Caffrey a little better. For a prompt from
gyzym: "Neal, Peter - scintillating." It went kind of sideways.Blake had been with the White Collar division for three weeks when Neal Caffrey returned. Only he didn’t know that Caffrey was returning. One day, the desk in front of him, the one that no one was allowed to use, was empty. The next day it was filled with all sorts of interesting stuff: a small Rodin sculpture, a rather architecturally significant desk lamp, an aggressively impressive rubber band ball. When he asked Agent Jones, who was both kind and extremely intimidating, about the desk, all he said was “Caffrey will be back tomorrow.”
Who the hell was Caffrey?
He tried asking Agent Berrigan, but if Agent Jones was intimidating, she was downright frightening and his voice tended to squeak and his throat to close up whenever she passed by. It didn’t help that she was very close to Agent Burke, the biggest, baddest, smartest motherfucker in the office. He cringed at mentally calling Agent Burke a motherfucker, but there really was no other adjective to describe the man.
It was really kind of unfair. He, Blake, was a Harvard graduate, summa cum laude, Dean’s List, and a Wharton MBA with full honors. He was at top of his FBI training class, too. But these agents were the brightest stars in his personal firmament, and although he wasn’t the type of person who ever felt inadequate or inferior, they were so sparkling in their intelligence, in their teamwork and they make him want to be part of this magic circle so badly that he ached with longing.
When Neal Caffrey (“Call me Neal”) came back to the office, the dynamic became completely different. Jones and Berrigan, smart as they were, seemed to take a back seat to Neal. This guy was a genius. Unconventional, surely, but definitely a genius. Watching him and Agent Burke talk about a case or even banter back and forth about nothing, was like looking at a pair of binary stars orbiting each other, or maybe two flints striking sparks. Whatever it was, the two of them were near blinding in their brilliance.
Despite that, and unlike Agents Jones or Berrigan or Burke, Neal was friendly and he went out of his way to be kind to him, the new guy. Neal was fun. And nice. And definitely not intimidating. Blake couldn’t help but admire his style, too. Of course, no one told him that Caffrey wasn’t an agent, and he labored under that misapprehension for the better part of a week. It may have gone on a little longer, except that Neal was sitting on the end of his desk with his legs crossed, revealing a big block of plastic with a green light on it.
“Ummm, Neal?”
“Hmmm?” Neal was flipping through a case file.
“What’s that?” He pointed at the anklet with his pen.
Neal lifted his leg and looked at the thing like he’d never seen it before, or maybe like it was something so familiar that he didn’t even see it anymore. “This?”
“Yeah.”
Neal’s face lost all expression and that friendly voice was a trifle cold. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Blake wasn’t sure what was wrong. “Is that like a health monitor?” Then he remembered a picture of that actress, the one who kept crashing her car and getting into fights. “Oh, man. I didn’t realize. No one told me you had been in rehab. But I though ... don’t you have to wear those things next to your skin?”
Neal looked at him like he just grew a second head. Then he smiled and laughed. Neither the smile nor the laugh were particularly nice.
“No one’s told you, have they?”
Blake didn’t like the feeling that was building in his stomach. “Told me what, Agent Caffrey?” He took refuge in formality.
Neal gave a short, bitter bark of laughter. “I am not, and never will be ‘Agent Caffrey,’ Blake.”
“What do you mean? You work with Agent Burke, and one of the clerks said you were his partner.”
“Yeah, there’s that. But I’m not an FBI agent. I’m a consultant.”
“Consultant? I don’t follow.”
“I am a paroled felon on work release. Peter’s my handler.”
Blake froze and everything became clear. “You’re a CI.”
“Yeah.” The look in Neal’s eyes was undecipherable. He dropped the file back on Blake’s desk and went to sit in his own chair. “Don’t worry, it’s not catching.”
Blake was pissed. Not at Neal, though; the man had no idea that no one had told him. He was pissed at the rest of the office, who probably thought it was really funny that he was so chummy was Neal. Or that he thought that Neal was just another agent. Blake felt like an idiot, too. How did he miss the most obvious of clues - he never saw Neal’s badge or gun.
At that moment, Jones and Berrigan stopped at his desk and asked him to join them for lunch. He was surprised that the invitation included Neal, who turned it down with a scintillating little quip and then got up and left with Agent Burke.
Blake thought about turning down the offer to go to lunch. Ten minutes ago, he’d have been thrilled at the invitation. Now, not so much; he felt like the butt of a bad joke. But he accepted just the same, if just to have the opportunity to give them a piece of his mind. In a respectful sort of way.
FIN
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-26 11:32 pm (UTC)This is great, the emotional balance is perfect, well done!!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 12:57 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for the great feedback.
ETA - That little drop turned into a fill for this week's WC100, and you can find it here: A Correction