Neal was enjoying the last glass of good wine he may have in a long time, when he heard the knock on the door.

"Coming", he shouted towards the door, having pretty good idea of who may be on the other side. Though the actual view surprised him, but only a little.

"Jones", he said, hoping that the disappointment wasn't showing on his face. He knew that for a conman, he sometimes had issues with keeping his emotions hidden.

"Caffrey. I thought we should talk, before... Tomorrow. I hope it is not too late?", he asked, looking at Neal expectantly.

"No, it is fine. Sure. Please, come in"

"Thanks"

Jones entered the flat, looking around. His eyes stopped on the bottle of wine standing in the table, half empty now. He looked at Neal, something resembling worry in his eyes.

"I hope you're not liquoring up because...?"

"Because tomorrow I am going back to prison where, technically, I belong?", Neal asked, drily.

Suddenly, Jones looked the most awkward he'd ever seen him.

Neal sighed.

"Relax. I just like having a glass of wine before sleep. Please, have a seat. Do you want some?"

"Do you have beer?"

"Yeah, I should have something", Neal answered and mumbled something about FBI agents and their outrageously bad taste for liquor. Then he went to his fridge, procuring a bottle of beer after a moment. "Any update on the case?" he asked, as he handed the beer to Jones together with the bottle opener.

"Nothing. For now, I am just sniffing around and try to make my cover look credible", the agent answered, his eyes on the bottle of beer, recognizing the brand immediately. "Is it...?"

"Peter comes over often", Neal shrugged, sitting down. "If there is no update, then what do you want to talk about?", he asked, straight to the point.

"So, yeah, uhm", he paused, "tomorrow. I have a shift, when you are going to be brought in. And probably, I will be the one to...", again, the awkwardness.

Neal's stomach twisted and Jones awkwardness made it even worse.

It also surprised Neal. He doubted that even Peter would be this awkward and he was much closer with him that Jones has ever been. Neal liked Jones and he believed that the feeling was mutual, maybe they were even friends. They had each other's back during the operations and cared about each other's safety. Occasionally they snarked at each other, but it was nothing more than harmless bickering. Usually Jones was friendly, respectful and professional, though Neal lived under no illusion that Jones didn't allow himself to forget that Neal was a convict and a criminal, doing his time and not exactly to be trusted.

So why suddenly Neal felt like Jones was so awkward about something, that while it made Neal nervous, was nothing more than a standard procedure for every convict? A convict that he still was, even, if it was sometimes easy to forget, for him and the people around alike.

"...to process me", Neal finished, looking calm as he took a sip of his wine. He needed to keep his calm facade intact. No cracks. Maybe some bad joke here and there. "Including the strip search and everything", he continued, without missing a beat. "You can be blunt, I am familiar with the procedure", he finished, drily.

Which made Jones look even more awkward.

"So, you are okay with that?"

"It's like I have much of a choice", Neal answered and before Jones could protest that this time he had more of a choice than usually, he continued, "I mean, honestly, I'd rather it was conducted by a total stranger, but in the end, it's just what I said, a standard protocol procedure. I will be fine", he finished, still seeming calm, but then, his stomach twisted again, thinking about what was going to happen the next day. He looked at Jones, sitting at his table, in his nice apartment, drinking beer with him like an equal. Tomorrow the same guy will give him order to strip and shove his gloved fingers in his mouth.

And he will be able to do nothing, but just stand there helplessly, and obey.

(Though, he may at least snark at Jones, once or twice. At least he knew that whatever Jones' idea of retaliation was, it varied from amusing to annoying, instead of frightening)

Neal wondered if Jones would be delicate or his no-nonsense military attitude would win and he would go all rough and commanding on him.

Neal wasn't sure which option he hated more.

Yes, obviously, technically it was an undercover op and it was all a part of the show. Except, it wasn't. Because Neal was coming back where, technically, he should be stuck for years and the treatment he would get was exactly the one he should be getting now. He was going there as himself, not under any alias and he was expected to act as, well, himself, just with a slight, FBI-induced twist to it.

And Jones' role as a CO might be just a cover, but Neal wasn't sure if it felt just like a cover to him.

Because the convict and a guard dynamic they were supposed to play out while undercover? The weight of the tracking a anklet on his leg was a reminder that it wasn't far away from their actual dynamic.

And if he wanted the tracking anklet to be his only problem, he needed to accept that Jones was calling the shots on this one.

(Moderately calling the shots, of course)

"Hey, man. Caffrey. Are you okay? Neal?", he suddenly heard Jones asking, concern showing in his voice. Neal realized he may have zoned out for longer than he thought.

Or maybe his face was more expressive than he gave himself credit for.

"Yeah, sure, just thinking about the op", he answered, which was as much the truth as it was a lie of omission.

"Hey, man. You know you can trust me, right?"

Could he?

Neal was torn between appreciating, even feeling touched by Jones' concern and hating that the agent chose this particular op to stop being his usual, professional, no-nonsense self and act like his babysitter.

It was time to turn the tables.

"I know", Neal nodded. "The real question is if you know you can trust me", Neal said, slowly, watching Jones carefully, examining his reaction, looking for doubt, hesitation, anything.

The agent hesitated, taking his time to answer. Because there was no simple answer to this question. He would lie, if he said "yes", but he couldn't say that it would his thoughts and feelings well if he just said "no".

Neal waited, staring at him.

Jones sighed.

"I trust that you will do your best not to get me killed. And that you want to get out of there as much as I do. Much more, probably. Seems fair?", he said, finally, with a dry, crooked smile forming on his face.

"Seems fair", Neal answered, his smile equally crooked and dry. "But I need to warn you about something"

"That there is more than one way for you to get out of Sing Sing?", Jones asked, only half-jokingly.

Neal chuckled, humourlessly.

"That too, though this time, it is not my plan A. But there is one more thing"

Jones looked at him, expectantly. .

Neal hesitated for a moment, as if he wondered how to explain the issue so he actually gets understood well.

"I spent four years in prison, which means that, whether I liked it or not, I had to adapt to this world", he paused, looking at Jones, searching his face for reaction. The agent just nodded, prompting him to continue, patiently waiting to hear whatever Neal had to say. "It is quite possible that... You won't recognize me there. I may seem like a completely different person to you and not only because you will see me wearing the worst shade of orange human eyes have ever seen", the humourless chuckle, again. Jones joined him this time, probably mocking his usual fashion choices or something. "Anyway, the reason why I am telling you that is because in order for this to work, I need you to remember that no matter what I say or do, I am on your side and if I go off-script, I probably have a plan to get us both out of the situation at hand in one piece. Even, if at the moment it may not seem like it. Especially, since it is quite possible that we will be forced to improvise a lot"

Jones nodded, slowly. For all he knew, what he just heard could also be a part of some grander scheme of Caffrey's, whatever he wanted to achieve this time. He wasn't sure what it could be, but by now, he knew better than to underestimate Neal.

Then, he remembered all these operations when Neal went off-script and everyone was sure that Neal was playing his own angle and in the end, Neal made sure that everyone, including the FBI, came out on top.

Jones didn't feel completely safe with Caffrey around, he knew there were plenty of things he couldn't trust him with, but he felt safer with him than with any other criminal he's ever met.

And, ironically, safer than with at least 50% of law enforcement officers he worked with either.

Maybe even more than 50%.

Much more.

"Clinton, I am serious. In order for this to work, you must trust me. I know this world better than you do", Neal added after a moment, his voice oddly quiet, yet convincing, catching Jones off-guard with the way he used his first name.

"I know we're on the same side, Neal. I hope you know that too"

I hope you don't feel like we take you there as a punishment. I hope you know you're not expendable. I hope you know I will have your back and above all, I hope you're not scared shitless now, because you are feeling like once the door shuts behind you, you will end up being stuck there for years.

Neal gave out one more, humourless chuckle.

"That really will be quite a test, won't it?"

"To the tests, then", Clint answered, raising his bottle.

"To the tests"