warning: graphic depiction od strip search

Once they entered the biggest building of the Sing Sing Correctional Facility, all the gates slamming shut behind him and Peter escorting him towards the guards who were supposed to pick him up and take him into processing, it took all Neal's willpower to relax and stop his very strong urge to bolt. For a moment, he considered masking his feelings with his practiced conman bravado, but eventually, he opted for acting calm and impassive, schooling his facial expression into something he hoped looked blank and void of emotion.

(If Peter noticed his jaw tightening and his eyes getting this wider-and-bluer-than-usual look, he didn't say anything. Small mercies.)

What he did, though, was tightening the grip on his arm a bit, as if he wanted to restrain Neal, make sure he won't run.

Neal's reaction was to flinch.

Feel betrayed.

And that Peter noticed for sure, because in a split second, his grip loosened again, and Neal heard his handler murmuring quiet "It's ok", something only for him to hear, as opposed to the guard who just came through the gate, apparently to escort him.

Which lead to conclusion that Peter tighteting his grip on his arm wasn't about restraining him, but about reassuring him.

Damn, he really allowed this place to condition him, didn't he? And now it was all coming back, flooding his mind.

(The sound of the gates slamming shut being something that he particularly couldn't get used to.)

"Agent Burke, right? And this is Neal Caffrey?", the guard said as a way of greeting. Neal didn't recognize this one. Didn't look like a newbie, so maybe he was just moved from a different block. Or he had worked in a different prison before.

"Yes, that would be us", Peter answered, calmly, and Neal, as much as his cuffs and the grip on his arm allowed him, raised one of his hands and gave the guy something resembling mockery of a wave, adding his trademark Caffrey grin to that, wide and bright. It was quick, though, because he really didn't want to push it. Not yet.

"Lucas Montgomery. We were informed about your call, agent. Is he going to cause trouble? ", the guard asked, ignoring him.

"He's non violent, but he's also a confidence man, which means he preys on trust and impressionability. You can expect he will try to manipulate you", Peter answered, his voice all calm and professional. It made Neal feel… awkward.

He wondered how often Peter discussed him like he was a pet to be trained.

He understood it was a part of the job, hell, now it was just a part of undercover mission, but still, it felt a bit… disturbing?

The feeling of betrayal came back, but only for a moment.

It's not like their relationship had ever been easy or normal.

Or, the other way around. Maybe their relationship was TOO easy, given the circumstances.

"You're saying that he can charm me into submission?", the guard asked, laughing, Peter didn't laugh in return. He didn't even smile.

"I am saying he can and he will", he answered in this tone he used everytime he tried to talk some sense into people, all serious, a bit annoyed, very convincing, with hints of hostility to indicate that there was no lost love between Burke and Caffrey these days.

"Alright. I guess I can take him from here", the guard said, at last, and then, there were different cuffs and a different grip on his arm.

(Hinged cuffs. Nice.)

After finishing some initial required paperwork, signing forms and all (which, by the way, extremely annoying things to do if you are wearing handcuffs), and the anklet being taken off (the moment it was taken off, he almost missed the familiarity of its weight on his ankle), Neal was on his way to the intake room.

(The number of forms was limited, at least. He was a new inmate, after all, just one returned from the work-release)

Once on his way to the intake Neal realized, to his surprise, that he really hoped to see Jones there.

Yes, it felt particularly humilitating to be ordered around like a dog and strip-searched by someone who he came to consider his teammate and maybe even friend, not to mention someone who usually saw him in different circumstances, vintage suits, fedora, self-confidence and all, but since previous night, Neal really managed to get used to this thought and even made his peace with it.

And it's not like he didn't consider some of Sing Sing COs his friends, or, at least, something close to that. Of course, it was different, because with the COs it was their dynamic from the start, but…

…but wasn't his first meeting with Jones about the agent putting cuffs on him (right after confirming his suspicion that the van really sucks)? Not to mention, Jones usually was the one to put on and take off his tracking anklet and Neal hardly paid attention anymore, nor he gave a damn. Standard procedure, nothing more.

Hell, it was all messed up. But it was his life and more often that not, he could live with it and even treat it with healthy amount sense of humour, turning difficult things into nothing more than just mild annoyances. Often, he even appreciated all the irony and ridiculousness.

Luckily, as they were nearing the intake room, it indeed Jones who showed at the door, apparently to pick him up.

"Good morning", he started politely, to which Neal answered with equally polite nod. ''It's Mr Caffrey, isn't it?''

"Correct", Neal answered, opting for polite, calm and as neutral as possible. He hoped they'd sell this we don't know each other act well.

"My name is Clinton Edwards and I am the Correctional Officer responsible for your intake process. From what I heard, you're familiar with the procedure?"

"I am", Neal answered, again choosing the shortest and straight to the point answer. It was how he acted when he was in Sing Sing for the first time – calm, poised, polite, not causing trouble. Obeying all the orders automatically and without hesitation, not taking anything personally, just treating everything as nothing more than standard procedures and trying not to make COs' jobs difficult. Once he got comfortable with someone, he allowed himself some jokes and snark, but never crossing the line of rude or, as he hoped, too annoying.

There were also moments, albeit rare once, when he opted for turning to his infamous self-confidence and self-assurance if it was safer for him to look like he was in control of the situation.

Or using manipulation or even forms of intimidation, if it was necessary.

(You don't need to be known as someone physically dangerous to intimidate people. Sometimes it's enough to let people know how smart you are and how easy it'd be for you to screw them over without them being able to predict when it hits them.)

Sometimes, it was all about some charm, offering emotional suport and letting the right people know that it's more beneficial to them for you to stay in one piece, because you're the best chess partner they can find on the block.

"Good. So we should finish quickly. Let's go", Jones said, using his best ex-military voice.

Neal compared it to the mental imagine of all these times when Jones did or said something extremely goofy and hell, commanding ex-military Jones suddenly felt almost ridiculous.

It helped Neal relax a little, as he was entering the dreadful room.

White walls. Blinding light. Smell of chemicals that he couldn't really put the finger on.

"Mr Caffrey, the first part of procedure will be conducted with assistance of CO Montgomery here", Jones pointed at the guy who escorted him. "It's necessary to ensure you don't have any weapons on you. We will check you with a wand and conduct a throughout patdown. For the duration of the procedure, you will remain cuffed", Jones explained, patiently, professionaly. Neal had to hold back his smile. If it was any guards he knew, they would just say something like 'let's go, Caffrey, you know the drill, gonna do the patdown first'. But of course, Jones, or rather, CO Edwards, was new to the job, not to mention, he was meeting Neal Caffrey, inmate he absolutely had never met nor heard of before, so he had to stay professional.

(Maybe the 'never heard of' part was stretching it. After all, Neal was known for achievements such as escaping from a maximum security prison, so it was possible that the guards were gossiping about him during the lunch break. He wondered why he hadn't asked Jones yet.)

"Understood?"

Neal nodded.

"Understood"

"Do you have any weapon on you?"

"No"

"Sharp objects?"

"No"

"Drugs?"

"I don't do drugs", Neal answered, testing Jones' reaction.

"That's not what I asked", Jones answered, sharply. Good. They could sell it.

"No, I don't have drugs"

"Alright. Soon I will give you a box to put your personal belongings in, together with your clothes. You will be able to retrieve them once your sentence is over. But before we do that, can you please tell me what objects do you have on you now?"

"Just my wallet"

"What's inside? "

"Only my ID and credit card, some cash"

"Nothing else? Are you sure?"

Neal felt like shrugging, but even small movement like that were dangerous when you were in a room with two guys who took into consideration that you could try to strangle them any moment.

(Or at least that was something they were supposed to consider.)

"Things I want in my cell I've already left to be checked out", he answered simply.

"Before we let you reach your pockets, we have to check it", Jones answered, at last, reaching the wand that so far rested on the metal table placed in the middle of the room.

"Step on the yellow line, please. Spread your legs. Don't move unless you're instructed to", he ordered, pointing at thick the line painted on the floor, a bit to Neal's right. Neal complied, positioning himself on the side of the line opposite to Jones, with his back to the wall, tiptoes touching the yellow, his legs spread slightly.

Yes, he knew the drill.

His face stayed blank when Jones ran the wand over his body, taking his time, checking him inch by inch. Neal had to say his was impressed, Jones really did this CO in maximum security thing well. Or maybe he just wanted to annoy him. Anyway, it was just the beginning and it already felt like forever.

"Alright, done", he said, finally, as he turned around to retrieve a medium size plastic box from the white cabinet, which took up the space of the whole wall the Neal was facing now.

"Please, put your wallet here", Jones ordered.

Neal slowly reached his pocket, retrieved the wallet and put it in the container that Jones held out to him.

"Thank you. Now we're moving onto the patdown. Face the wall, please. Leave your feet on the yellow line"

Neal nodded in understanding, then obeyed the order, really regretting that Montgomery was still here. Given the way that the cameras were positioned and the fact that there is was no audio, he could talk to Jones and no one would be able to tell what they were talking about based on their facial expressions or using lip-reading techniques.

Jones approached him from behind and Neal heard the sound of the latex gloves.

He could never understand while they insisted of wearing gloves even for the patdowns.

"I am starting the patdown", Jones announced and Neal had to force himself to relax his muscles. Because, even though he was still wearing clothes, it was already invasive. It was more than light touch on the arms, waist and legs, as in the movies are as it was done in the places that didn't require as much security. The fact he had to be checked 3 times for the same thing could feel ridiculous for him, but he knew that in a place like Sing Sing, guards who weren't careful enough could get killed.

When Jones landed his hand for the first time, groping the area of his arms in a manner that felt both rough and invasive, it threw Neal off-balance.

Literally.

Because he was used to be a bit handsy with Jones, pats on the arm and all, but that was nothing like that. And he got seriously unaccustomed to how these searches in maximum security felt like.

He was felt himself falling face-first towards the wall, cuffs not allowing him to put his hands in front of him to stop the collision, he felt a hand catching his arm to steady him. Initially, he thought it was Montgomery, since Jones was probably too preoccupied with the search to notice, but the other guard was just there, observing the situation and not giving a damn that inmate's nose could get broken without said inmate's fault.

"Sorry, man", Jones murmured, a bit awkwardly, still keeping the steadying hand on his arm instead of continuing with the search. "You ok?"

"Yeah, just got startled. I grew a bit unaccustomed to those and the cuffs don't help", he explained calmly, a sardonic smile forming on his face. He wasn't sure whether he was saying it to CO Edwards or agent Jones now. Maybe to both.

"It's alright. And don't worry about the cuffs, if everything is alright, they go off quickly"

Together with my clothes and dignity, Neal thought.

Though after almost hitting the wall face-first, Neal felt like his dignity had been lost already.

"Is it ok if I continue?"

"Sure, go ahead, and I promise not to make your job more difficult by breaking my face on your watch", Neal joked, turning around slightly to give Jones a crooked smile.

"Don't worry, man. It's my job to ensure that nothing like that happens", Jones answered, and once again, Neal wasn't sure whether it was the agent or the CO speaking.

He hoped that Montgomery won't part of this exchange suspicious.

For all he knew, Montgomery could be one of the jerks they had to hunt down.

The rest of the search went without issues, though Jones hesitated slightly when his hands reached Neal's genital area. Only after a moment, he continued, after all, they were being watched and it's not like Neal didn't have to go through it before. Neal also noted how careful his friend slash guard, as if he tried really hard not to startle him again, while at the same time, he managed to make it look professional and thorough. His hands still felt rough and probing, but not more than it was necessary.

"Alright, we are done", he announced at last, taking step back. "Take off the cuffs, so far, he's clean", he added, adressing Montgomery. As CO took off the cuffs, Neal massaged his wrists.

"Can I turn around?", he asked, his voice nothing but polite.

"Sure, sorry, should've told you", Jones said, from his spot next to the table. When Neal turned around and relaxed a little, he saw that Jones was going through some forms.

"I am gonna go", Montgomery said, attaching the cuffs that Neal had previously worn to his belt. "In case he causes trouble, you know what to do, right?", he asked Jones, apparently remembering that he was dealing with a newbie in the team.

"Caffrey, are you going to cause trouble?", Jones asked, not taking his eyes off the form.

"Nope", Neal answered, still massaging his wrists. There were some red lines on them. These handcuffs were put on particularly tight.

"See, he won't cause trouble. You can go", Jones said, dismissively. Montgomery just snorted, probably thinking something along the lines of 'may you be in for a surprise, naive asshole', and left, basically slamming the door behind him.

The moment the door slammed shut behind the guard, the atmosphere in the room shifted.

"That wasn't smart", Neal noted, this time rather pretending to still massage his wrist rather than really doing it out of necessity. This way, he was sure that he wasn't facing the camera.

"He was pissing me off", Jones answered simply, handing Neal the form and the pen.

"You know you're not supposed to hand me the pen, right? According to the security regulation, I could kill you with that by stabbing you in the eye", Neal said casually, pretending to look over the form and actually read it.

It was good that the camera was behind Jones' back, because he look seriously dumbfounded.

Neal smirked, filling the form. At least this wouldn't take long, given he didn't have a lot of personal items with him.

"You're messing with me"

That wasn't a question.

Neal smirked again.

"And here I thought you were stressed. You've finished it?", Jones asked, pointing at the form.

"Yeah, here", Neal handed him the form and Jones had to take a few steps to reach it, because, to his surprise, Caffrey refused to move even an inch from the yellow line. Even though Jones was aware that it was simply a part of the protocol and that even though they were alone, they were still closely monitored, it still made him feel uncomfortable.

As he placed the form on the table and turned to face Neal, he hesitated for a moment. He really didn't want to embarass Neal, he wanted to be as professional and straight to the point as possible, but no matter what, Neal was a friend and Jones was no fool – this situation had to be extremely difficult for him.

(It's not like Jones thought that Neal didn't deserve prison, whether it was the actual facility or just the anklet. Neal has broken the law repeatedly, just because he could and he showed over and over again, than he felt zero remorse, he was even proud of it. But Neal also had his back during operations, sometimes at the expense of his own safety. Neal listened, when Jones needed someone to listen. Neal made him laugh and patted him on the back and he was a friend and teammate and now he was probably in distress and he deserved some support. Not to mention, Jones was also a human and it's not like he's never shown sympathy towards distressed criminals in their custody. He even showed a lot of sympathy to Caffrey, when they arrested him for the first time)

"Are you ok?", he asked after split second that felt like forever. He didn't look at Neal, though. He looked at the yellow line.

Neal sighed.

"I'm fine. I know what you're thinking. I am not supposed to move, I mean, you have baton and I know how they work", he said, casually, and it took all of Jones' willpower not to look at him in alarm. He always imagined that Caffrey was a model prisoner, except for the part when he escaped, of course, so what did he did to deserve…

"Sarah has one of these", Neal said, after a moment.

Bastard.

"She also has cuffs"

Jones wanted to retort that so does he, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in", Jones shouted, a hint of surprise in his voice, as he saw a young guard entering the room.

"Edwards", the guard greeted. "Neal", he added.

First name basis, interesting.

"Hi, Rick", Neal answered, casually, giving the guy a small wave.

Jones looked between them.

"You two know each other?", he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

The guard, García, or, as Neal called him, Rick, gave out a small chuckle.

"Be happy that you didn't work here when our friend here made run for it, or rather, casually walked out of the front door. What he pulled off makes shows like Prison Break look ridiculous. He was the first one in years, a lot of us were seriously afraid for their jobs after that"

To Jones surprise, Neal looked almost.. remorseful? Or he acted remorseful, at least.

(Neal was exceptionally good at acting remorseful, when he wanted to.)

"Sorry, guys", he said.

"At least we had something to talk about", Rick answered, smiling.

"That's why you came here? You think that since he is a flight risk, I may be in need of assistance? ", Jones asked, making it sound casual, though in fact, he was worried. He didn't want Neal to go through this ordeal with someone else in the room.

"No, I am not going to assist you, but you're right about a part of it. Since he's a flight risk, the warden requested precautions. As long as he behaves, he is not going to the Special Housing Unit, but we have to search both him and his cell more often than usual. He also request full manual instead of only visual"

Shit.

No SHU was a good news. Good for the operation, anyway. Because if Neal was supposed to go to solitary, they would just pull him out of here, which, in light of new revelations, could be better for him.

Jones allowed himself to look at Neal and to his surprise, he found Neal looking oddly… Calm? Not surprised. Not nervous. Not shocked.

"Alright, is there anything else?", Jones asked, using his perfect military facade to make sure that nothing showed on his face.

"No. That's all. You know the procedure, right?"

"Sure"

"Good. I am leaving you guys, then"

"Hey, Rick"

It was Neal this time. The guard stopped.

"How is Nat?", Neal asked, his tone both friendly and genuinely curious.

Who the fuck is Nat.

Rick looked a bit awkward.

"We broke up", he said, after a moment of hesitation.

"Sorry about that"

"Life"

Neal chuckled bitterly.

"Yeah, you know, if you need to talk, I kind of have a lot of time now"

It was Rick's time to chuckle.

"I know where to find you", he said and then, he left.

After the guard, Rick, had left, Neal didn't waste his time as he started to unbutton his shirt.

"A friend? ", Jones prompted.

"You could say that", Neal answered casually, focusing on the buttons. "He was ok, so was his girlfriend. She also works here, or worked, at least"

"You weren't surprised"

Neal didn't pretend not to understand what the comment was about.

"Standard procedure for the biggest flight risk. I expected that. In fact, I am surprised the notified you only now, I thought you knew"

"You ok?"

"I will live"

He handed Jones the shirt, and Jones put it in the box, after running his hands over that.

"The undershirt", he said, when Neal didn't hand him another piece of clothing. He wanted to make it sound casual, but somehow, it came out as an order, harsher than he intended. It had to be something about these circumstances.

"Sorry", Neal answered, and proceeded to take off his white undershirt. Jones kind of hoped that Neal would keep going without him having to bark orders at him, but maybe it'd be more natural and less awkward and simply easier, if he just walked him through it.

One shoe, the other.

Socks, the same way.

(Neal shivered slightly when his bare feet hit the cold tiles).

"Ok, pants", he said, hoping that his voice sounded at least a bit gentle. Neal hesitated just for a moment, and then proceded to unbuckle his belt.

"You're supposed to give me orders, you know. Imagine we're in conference room and you tell me, step by step, what to do during the op", he said calmly, his eyes trained on the pants he was taking off. He was really good at this avoiding the camera and making it sound natural thing.

"You telling me you're ok or you're teaching me how to work a con? "

Tiny, lopsided smile showed on Neal's face and Jones that that was all the answer he would get.

"Alright, take off your underwear", Jones instructed at least, with a slight sigh, but Neal was already on it, at first taking it slow, but once he pulled the boxers down his knees he went faster, as if he wanted it to be done and over with as soon as possible.

The moment he handed over his boxers, he shivered, slightly.

"Alright?", Jones asked, without looking at Neal, reaching the plastic container once again.

"Fine", Neal answered, and when Jones looked at Neal again, he was surprised to find him relatively relaxed. He didn't even try to cover himself, something that was first instinct of a lot of people subjected to strip search.

Then, it wasn't Neal's first rodeo, so it was logical he wouldn't see the point.

The only sign that Neal wasn't completely at ease was the way he was tightening his jaw, a tell that Jones had noticed long time ago.

As Jones put the last piece of Neal's clothes in plastic container, he schooled his expression into something that he hoped resembled neutral and professional, hoping that it may be easier if he stays cold and clinical, instead of acting friendly. Maybe it will allow Neal to forget who he was dealing with and it would make things easier for both or them.

Direct approach. Getting into roles.

Much easier than balancing the thin line between the roles they were appointed and the people they actually were.

(Jones wondered briefly if it was how Peter felt, having to balance his role as Neal's friend and Neal's handler.)

"You know what's going to happen now?", he asked, making his tone sound professional, harsher than before. In the meantime, he snapped another pair of gloves.

"Yes. You're going to perform full manual body search in order to make sure that I am not in possession of any contraband concealed on my body", Caffrey answered, sounding calm. Something along the lines of a small, sardonic smirk appeared on his face.

(They both knew that out of the two of them, it wasn't Caffrey who would smuggle the contraband)

Inside joke or not, the way Caffrey spoke meant he also assumed the role. Good. It could make it easier.

"Alright. I will start from your hair"

"Sure"

He ran his hands through Neal's hair, slowly, repeating the movements a few times. Then, using a small flashlight, he checked his ears, both inside and behind. After that, came his nose.

(Honestly, how can you smuggle something inside your nose?)

Neal had to admit that Jones' movements were professional, methodical. He smoothly moved from one part of his body to another, always making sure to name the place he was about to check.

After his hair, nose and ears, came his mouth.

Neal didn't like this part.

(Back when he was in prison, at some point it turned into nothing more than a mild annoyance. Now, he realized that he was bracing himself – feeling latex in his mouth always made him feel like throwing up.)

"Open your mouth, please", Jones instructed. "Wider, please", he added, after a moment. Neal forced himself to relax his jaw.

"Alright, that must do", Jones said, finally, firstly using to flashlight to check inside his mouth.

(Tongue up, tongue down, stick your togue out, please, thank you)

Then, he put his fingers inside, slowly yet firmly, warning Neal about what was about to come beforehand. He ran his fingers over Neal's gums, both in front of his teeth and behind. Neal noticed that Jones tried to be gentle, with the way he was probing his mouth, but he wasn't man particularly known for being delicate – still, it could be worse.

And even though the fingers weren't that deep, Neal felt his gag reflex kicking in.

He focused on breathing through his nose. It's going to be over quickly.

The moment Jones withdrew his finger, he gasped for air. It felt like coming to the surface after diving in some deep, stinky waters.

"I really forgot how I hate the taste of latex", he mumbled to Jones, who looked at him sympathetically, nodding in understanding.

"You ready to continue? ", he asked, his tone rather neutral, no indication that he was rushing him. Neal nodded.

"Alright, spread your arms", Jones instructed in response.

As he did so, Jones ran his hands along his torso, and back. Then, his arms, armpits, fingers and the area between them.

Then, Jones went lower. Again, he hesitated a bit before checking his penis, and after Neal gave him a slight nod and spread his legs a bit more to give the other man easier access, Jones checked all the required area in a way, that could be described as nothing but clinical.

(Some guards, especially ones who've worked here long and already turned frustrated and bitter, as opposed to idealistic, liked to make some derogatory comments while doing this part. At first, Neal felt humiliated. Later, he learnt what to say to make them shut up without risk of facing retaliation)

Most of them were ok, though. Professional, even friendly. There was a time, when Neal was perfectly used to going for a small talk while undressing.)

After checking his legs, feet and toes, Jones told him to turn around.

He wasn't looking at him.

"Face the wall, legs spread", he instructed.

Neal complied and, facing the wall, awaiting the inevitable, which felt like forever.

Finally, he felt Jones standing right behind him. He heard another snap of gloves.

"I'm going to perform anal cavity search now", he announced and all Neal could think was oh, really.

"The first phase is visual. Please, bend forward a little and use your hands to spread your cheeks for me. I will use the flashlight to check your anal cavity"

Neal did as he was told.

"Now squat and cough"

Again, Neal complied without a word. This part was still something he could do automatically, even after two years break.

"Alright, now hands against the wall. I will perform the manual part. It may feel a bit cold. Try to relax. Ready?"

"Yeah"

He heard Jones sigh.

"Alright"

He felt the touch on his entrance, the gloved finger wet and cold. Gentle, yet firm enough.

He took a deep breathe, forcing himself to stand still.

The finger slowly made his way inside, the touch nothing but clinical.

He probably clenched his muscles without realizing it, because the intrusion caused more discomfort than it was supposed to. He felt Jones stopping for a moment, as if he noticed that too.

He forced himself to relax again.

After all, it wasn't the first time he was subjected to the procedure and what kind of a conman would he be if he couldn't control his responses of his own body?

He could cheat the lie detector test, damn it.

Jones kept going.

A few seconds later, he felt the finger being withdrawn and he felt empty again.

Finally, he relaxed completely.

"Done. You can stand up and turn around. I will give you your uniform and then you can get dressed", Jones said, as Neal turned around.

Having discarded the gloves, Jones handed him a box of wet wipes.

Neal nodded and took them without a word, then, he wiped himself off, grateful to Jones who stayed facing the cabinet on the other side for a little longer than it was necessary.

Then, he was handed the whole set of prison clothes, including the dreadful orange jumpsuit.

"You can get dressed", Jones said, simply, handing him the clothes.

"Thank you", Neal answered, politely, and started dressing up, looking at every piece of clothing with the biggest disgust he could muster.

"Not your usual style, huh?", he heard and when he looked up at Jones, he saw that the other man was staring at him in amusement.

"How did you figure it out?", Neal asked, sarcastically.

"Observational skills", Jones answered, casually. "I could say that I learned from the best".

And to that, Neal had to smile.

Since Neal wasn't technically entering prison, just coming back from the work-release, Sing Sing kept his paperwork and all the formalities were reduced to minimum.

Good.

(He got the same number assigned to him - one thing that couldn't be changed. He was told that he would get a different cell this time, even, if the block was the same)

There was still quite a lot of thing to do before he could start enjoying his stay in the cell, though.

The check up with the prison nurse went quick. It was more of an interview, than medical exam, in fact. The nurse was clearly in hurry to get it over with and that was fine.

(He was a bit disappointed when the nurse he saw wasn't Deb – middle-aged, snarky, no-nonsense woman who worked here during his previous stay in the facility. He used his best Caffrey charm to convince the new nurse, Kimberly, her name tag said, to tell him what happened to Deb. Turned out, Deb still worked here, but currently, she was on a sick leave)

The conversation with the psychologist was another formality. And another disappointment. Neal expected to see Lucy, his previous psychologist. Lucy had this energy about her that made the place less dull, which made Neal enjoy talking to her, even, if he didn't really feel like he needed any form of therapy. Lucy was nice and respectful and full of energy and enthusiastic about her job, but she also enjoyed challenge and good puzzle. She was sharp and intelligent and Neal enjoyed playing some sort of a mental ping-pong with her. Sometimes he felt like she was Peter's substitute. Other time, she reminded him of Mozzie or Alex.

But she didn't work here anymore and the new guy was dull and clearly bored with his job. His interview with Neal was basic, done just for the sake of being done.

Neal wasn't impressed.

He also wondered how he missed such a huge shift in the staff.

(When he got out of Sing Sing for the first time, he got tabs on what was going inside all the time. It wasn't his priority back then, of course - Kate was - but of wasn't still one of the things that he had constantly on his mind. What was going on in Sing Sing. What would he do if Peter sent him back. How would he handle the life here and then, how would he run again.

Later, the pressure to keep tabs on his former place of residence grew weaker, so did his creativity for figuring out new escape plans.

Still, no matter how comfortable he became with his role as FBI consultant, how trusting he became with the idea that they wouldn't send him back to prison on a whim, he still kept some contingency plans, most of them shared with Mozzie. He would never be able to play the game of cat and mouse with Peter Burke for so long if he didn't have these.

Also, Moz taught him well.)

The meeting with the counselor was also quick: he was asked if he believed that he could be in danger if placed in General Population.

Neal said no.

The man pointed out his history as the FBI consultant.

Neal said that he worked for White Collar division and most guys here, are not White Collar criminals. He also hinted how anxious the idea of being placed in the protective custody made him feel.

Luckily, the guy didn't press the issue any further.

(Neal thought that it could be because the man was working for the enemy. He couldn't really count this possibility out. )

The orientation...

There was no orientation.

Neal was given the toiletries, bedclothes, spare underwear and prison-issued pijamas (the fabric certainly wasn't soft and certainly didn't smell of lavender) and led to the gates of his old-slash-new prison block. At the gates, he was welcomed by Bill - one of the guards he was relatively friendly with. Bill was in his fifties and he was one of the rough-around-the-edges types. His hair certainly seemed to get even more gray during these two years when Neal didn't seem him, though it didn't get any shorter. Bill had these relatively short curls that definitely needed a good haircut.

He was the tough-love father figure on the block, not only for the convicts, but also for the younger guards.

Most guys respected him. Almost all feared him.

(Nat liked him for not going too soft on her and treating her like he did everyone else - not only Nat was one of not many female COs, she was also quite going, being in her late twenties, and her small frame made her look soft and delicate. Something that made some guys, inmates and guards alike, underestimate her. Their mistake).

Bill was also Deb's husband.

"Caffrey", Bill greeted, a sardonic smile forming on his lips. "I'd like to say I am surprised", he added, somehow managing not to make it sound mean or malicious.

Neal laughed softly, when the older man took a hold of his arm.

"Can say the same. Nice to be remembered, by the way"

It was Bill's turn to laugh.

"Your last stunt turned you into a celebrity here", and then, he turned more serious. "It'd be stupid to repeat it, kid"

Neal was quiet for a moment. Only when they reached his cell, the corridors unusually quiet (everyone was still in the rec room, probably), he decided to speak up. He put his things on the bunk and offered his wrists to be uncuffed.

"I heard that Deb is on sick leave", he prompted, casually.

"She is", Bill confirmed, taking his cuffs off. He didn't elaborate, he just sounded… tired.

Neal decided it may not be the best time to press him.

"Send my best wishes", he said, simply, going for polite and serious, instead of his usual over-the-top charming voice.

A quick nod was all the answer that Bill offered.

"Gotta go. Any questions? Do you remember everything?"

"For now, no questions"

"Good. Behave"

And then, one dreadful sound of a prison gate being slammed shut later, Neal was left alone.

He sat down on his bunk with a sigh, a tiny sardonic smile forming on his face.

Game on.

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