White Collar - Know When to Fold Them, or Not
Title: Know when to fold them, or Not
Rating: PG, Gen
Characters: Neal, Mei Lin
Warnings: Some language
Summary: Missing scene for "All In." Just what did Neal for those six hours with Mei Lin? Not beta'd but edited like crazy.
Know When to Fold them, or Not
“Tiles of Fire,” Neal said flatly. He gave Mei Lin a funny look. “Seriously?”
Mei Lin replied with a long and level stare, not really a glare yet still promising to shoot Neal if he so much as snorted in derision.
Neal hunkered low against his corner of the couch. “Tiles of Fire it is.” He supposed he could survive another viewing. After all, that's why God invented daydreaming, and what Neal daydreamed about was a bucket load of information leading him right to the man with the ring and Kate, then him and Kate sailing away into the sunset on a yacht. But when Neal went into the cabin to get a bottle of wine, a Chinese man with an eye patch was sitting at the table in front of a pile of dominoes, laughing and calling Neal farmer boy.
Neal snapped awake with a jolt. He rubbed his face and blinked blearily at the TV. According to the commercial that followed two minutes later, tonight was to be a Tiles of Fire marathon.
“Wow,” Neal said. “You weren't kidding when you said you didn't plan on sleeping. Did you know there was going to be a marathon?”
“Yes,” Mei Lin said, succinct.
Neal gave her a brittle smile. “So tell me again who it is Lao said to make comfortable?”
She pinned him with “the look,” only this time promising to shoot then eviscerate. Contrary to Mozzie's popular accusations on Neal's issues with impulse control, Neal did know how to pick his battles.
“Have fun,” he said. “I'm going to bed. Unless you'd think I'd be more comfortable on the couch.”
“Bed's all yours,” Mei Lin said. It didn't really feel like a win, probably because Mei Lin didn't give that much of a damn about Neal and she had a gun. The not giving a damn Neal was quite content with, because right now he wasn't liking her much, either - again, mostly because she had a gun, and he was getting rather tired of guns.
Neal eased his slightly aching body from the couch in a shuffle to the bathroom. As much as he prided himself on his self-control he couldn't stop every natural bodily response, and nearly being shot three times had tensed his muscles into knots. Knowing that there was still a weapon in the room didn't help. Neither did the growing ache in his back. Trying to get to sleep was going to be a lesson in annoyance.
Neal stripped to his boxers, hanging each article of clothing neatly on the hangars the hotel had provided. He wrapped in one of the hotel robes on his way to the bed, slipping out of it only when he was within reach of the covers and sure Mei Lin's focus was occupied. Contrary to Peter's accusations, Neal did have his modest moments. Even with Mei Lin turned away, wearing only boxers was making Neal feel rather vulnerable. He didn't even want to imagine how much that would ratchet up if Mei Lin decided to glance his way before he was safely in bed. Neal practically dove into the covers.
Then lay there, staring out the large windows at the city's glow.
A conflicted conscience wasn't much help when one was trying to sleep, either. Botch the operation, let Lao walk and get Kate. Or botch the operation, an agent remains missing, a man terrorizing a neighborhood continues terrorizing it, and Peter's so pissed he sends Neal back to jail.
Don't botch it, and Kate is once again beyond reach.
Neal had never been one to concede to rocks and hard places. There was always a win/win solution if he just looked hard enough, thought hard enough. There had to be a way to stop Lao and get the information Mei Lin had on Kate.
Sudden lethargy coaxed Neal into closing his eyes. He'd been wrong about not being able to sleep. Now that he was prone, his body took that as it's cue to finally stop the production of adrenaline. Most of his tension melted from his body, the alcohol having given him enough of a buzz for his mind and muscles to relax... mostly. He dozed off to the cheesy chatter of a crappy movie.
In his dream, he was back at the table, dominoes organized in front of him. The dealer had an eye patch but still wasn't talking, so Mozzie seated on the right did the talking for him and was a little too happy about it (he too kept calling Neal farmer boy). Peter was on the left, shaking his head in warning. Behind the dealer was Mei Lin, pistol in hand. Behind her a man in shadows - all Neal could see was his ring. Behind him, Kate.
“Fold and she's yours,” said Mei Lin.
“Fold and Lao gets away,” said Peter. “We don't find our missing agent, and you go back to jail.”
“Fold, or lose her.”
“Fold, and that's it, we're through. Do the right thing, Neal.”
Neal looked desperately at Kate. “But she's in trouble.”
“Do the right thing.”
“What is the right thing?”
Neal opened his eyes with a small gasp. Early morning daylight poured in all it's gray glory through the windows right into his face. Neal rubbed his gritty eyes one handed, slowly propping himself up on his elbow. He looked around, but Mei Lin was gone, a note tape to the flat screen TV. Neal forced his stiff body from the bed (and, damn, his back still hurt) and shuffled to the note. It told him that the hotel had a great breakfast buffet, and to remember their deal. It wasn't signed.
Neal dropped his forehead against the TV screen and groaned.
But there was still time. He didn't concede to rocks and hard places, and he wasn't going to concede now. He just needed to figure this out, and he would.
Neal pushed away from the TV. He got dressed, enjoyed the hotel's breakfast buffet that he chased with a couple of Ibuprofen for the lingering tension ache in his back, then got a ride from the nice agents stationed outside.
The End
Rating: PG, Gen
Characters: Neal, Mei Lin
Warnings: Some language
Summary: Missing scene for "All In." Just what did Neal for those six hours with Mei Lin? Not beta'd but edited like crazy.
Know When to Fold them, or Not
“Tiles of Fire,” Neal said flatly. He gave Mei Lin a funny look. “Seriously?”
Mei Lin replied with a long and level stare, not really a glare yet still promising to shoot Neal if he so much as snorted in derision.
Neal hunkered low against his corner of the couch. “Tiles of Fire it is.” He supposed he could survive another viewing. After all, that's why God invented daydreaming, and what Neal daydreamed about was a bucket load of information leading him right to the man with the ring and Kate, then him and Kate sailing away into the sunset on a yacht. But when Neal went into the cabin to get a bottle of wine, a Chinese man with an eye patch was sitting at the table in front of a pile of dominoes, laughing and calling Neal farmer boy.
Neal snapped awake with a jolt. He rubbed his face and blinked blearily at the TV. According to the commercial that followed two minutes later, tonight was to be a Tiles of Fire marathon.
“Wow,” Neal said. “You weren't kidding when you said you didn't plan on sleeping. Did you know there was going to be a marathon?”
“Yes,” Mei Lin said, succinct.
Neal gave her a brittle smile. “So tell me again who it is Lao said to make comfortable?”
She pinned him with “the look,” only this time promising to shoot then eviscerate. Contrary to Mozzie's popular accusations on Neal's issues with impulse control, Neal did know how to pick his battles.
“Have fun,” he said. “I'm going to bed. Unless you'd think I'd be more comfortable on the couch.”
“Bed's all yours,” Mei Lin said. It didn't really feel like a win, probably because Mei Lin didn't give that much of a damn about Neal and she had a gun. The not giving a damn Neal was quite content with, because right now he wasn't liking her much, either - again, mostly because she had a gun, and he was getting rather tired of guns.
Neal eased his slightly aching body from the couch in a shuffle to the bathroom. As much as he prided himself on his self-control he couldn't stop every natural bodily response, and nearly being shot three times had tensed his muscles into knots. Knowing that there was still a weapon in the room didn't help. Neither did the growing ache in his back. Trying to get to sleep was going to be a lesson in annoyance.
Neal stripped to his boxers, hanging each article of clothing neatly on the hangars the hotel had provided. He wrapped in one of the hotel robes on his way to the bed, slipping out of it only when he was within reach of the covers and sure Mei Lin's focus was occupied. Contrary to Peter's accusations, Neal did have his modest moments. Even with Mei Lin turned away, wearing only boxers was making Neal feel rather vulnerable. He didn't even want to imagine how much that would ratchet up if Mei Lin decided to glance his way before he was safely in bed. Neal practically dove into the covers.
Then lay there, staring out the large windows at the city's glow.
A conflicted conscience wasn't much help when one was trying to sleep, either. Botch the operation, let Lao walk and get Kate. Or botch the operation, an agent remains missing, a man terrorizing a neighborhood continues terrorizing it, and Peter's so pissed he sends Neal back to jail.
Don't botch it, and Kate is once again beyond reach.
Neal had never been one to concede to rocks and hard places. There was always a win/win solution if he just looked hard enough, thought hard enough. There had to be a way to stop Lao and get the information Mei Lin had on Kate.
Sudden lethargy coaxed Neal into closing his eyes. He'd been wrong about not being able to sleep. Now that he was prone, his body took that as it's cue to finally stop the production of adrenaline. Most of his tension melted from his body, the alcohol having given him enough of a buzz for his mind and muscles to relax... mostly. He dozed off to the cheesy chatter of a crappy movie.
In his dream, he was back at the table, dominoes organized in front of him. The dealer had an eye patch but still wasn't talking, so Mozzie seated on the right did the talking for him and was a little too happy about it (he too kept calling Neal farmer boy). Peter was on the left, shaking his head in warning. Behind the dealer was Mei Lin, pistol in hand. Behind her a man in shadows - all Neal could see was his ring. Behind him, Kate.
“Fold and she's yours,” said Mei Lin.
“Fold and Lao gets away,” said Peter. “We don't find our missing agent, and you go back to jail.”
“Fold, or lose her.”
“Fold, and that's it, we're through. Do the right thing, Neal.”
Neal looked desperately at Kate. “But she's in trouble.”
“Do the right thing.”
“What is the right thing?”
Neal opened his eyes with a small gasp. Early morning daylight poured in all it's gray glory through the windows right into his face. Neal rubbed his gritty eyes one handed, slowly propping himself up on his elbow. He looked around, but Mei Lin was gone, a note tape to the flat screen TV. Neal forced his stiff body from the bed (and, damn, his back still hurt) and shuffled to the note. It told him that the hotel had a great breakfast buffet, and to remember their deal. It wasn't signed.
Neal dropped his forehead against the TV screen and groaned.
But there was still time. He didn't concede to rocks and hard places, and he wasn't going to concede now. He just needed to figure this out, and he would.
Neal pushed away from the TV. He got dressed, enjoyed the hotel's breakfast buffet that he chased with a couple of Ibuprofen for the lingering tension ache in his back, then got a ride from the nice agents stationed outside.
The End