Avalon

•12•

Struggles

***************************

The work was chaos. Neal looked up from his desk and peeked around. There was papers and maps and blueprints all over the place and even bunch of pens strewn across several desks. He had notes covering his own desk and one of his few rubber band balls was trying to find a place to sit.
Neal grabbed it and walked over to coffee machine.

The reason for all this bunch was a case that was now leading them towards the Gala event.
Somebody had been stealing high class original paintings and selling their forgeries to black market. Also it was known that often enough it was accompanied by massive jewelry theft. Sometimes something more followed.

This thing was that even if it wasn't exactly the same as it had been on Earth the most basic parts were just like that. Yes, Neal wasn't familiar with the new world's valuables and couldn't exactly tell the masters of art apart, yet, but he did know crime and the baseline for doing art theft or jewel burglary.

However, another part came in this time. Something they didn't have to worry about before.
It was the transportation devices robbery. Somebody pretty masterfully got their hands on the patron's machine and completely recalibrated it's all computing efforts and ability to resist being stolen. Also they just sold them to highest bidder who then took the thing and completely redone and sold to the next person roughly same they paid to its kidnapper.

That somehow was one portion of the deal that was not Neal's cup of coffee this time. He never really knew that much about cars let alone computers. He could only analyze the job itself from his own perspective and give the pointers to men in black.

One of the things that held the ex-con on edge. He kept stressing over the possiblity some day the bureau will decide they had no use of the guy so he will be put back into cell and be done with. It was a legit, real fear that land its roots freaking deep and gave Neal nightmares like no tomorrow.
Every single day he came in with trembling heart and hitching breaths until he got assured one more day of time. Not that it ever gave him feeling of safety.
It was at first they told him all was shiny and things will hold up well. Promised not to put him behind even if his work turned out futile or the division ceased to exist. It was even put on paper and signed. Legit.

The fear crept in few months later after initial acclimation process was deemed to be done even if for Neal it felt never be done fully. He always carried the confusion and fear. His stress levels about himself hit the roof on day one and nothing changed months after.
He almost never worried about each mission coming together or getting hurt. He constantly and deeply internally panicked over being put in prison if his efforts weren't enough.
So Neal did all his bestest to beat it. Every single day.

He exhausted himself more often than not. Each night he fell onto his bunk and promptly passed out until Peter woke him up and took into center. He never had that much of time for anything else once he started his desk job.

While the man still liked it almost to same level as before it never felt the same and most times he ended up self doubting than confident. It came to realization soon that he never again felt confident of a single thing. He just didn't.

Yet he was doing great. They might didn't need his help or Peter's. Hell they never even needed any of them. They happened to fall onto their heads and got adopted because what else you did with a group of elite FBI agents in a world so different from theirs?

They was thrown into a division most closest to what they already had and got introduced with all the stuff they needed to know about the job.
He was never threatened though. Unlike he expected they did just say if his services deemed unnecessary in future he will not require to be in prison.
Neal wouldn't be Neal if he ever believed that.
He merely crossed his fingers each morning coming in.

Peter, on the other hand, never doubted a single thing. He did his best, learned the way around, consulted if needed, investigated by his best standards and moved on. Almost like they were still back home. But that was Peter. Neal couldn't and wouldn't expect any less from the man. He simply cowboyed up and lived his former life.
Well, he had El. That lady was just as fierce and stubborn and diligent as ever. El even put up her new business and from that point she basically ruled the whole catering part of the city. Because that was El. And Neal wouldn't and couldn't imagine anything different.
They even still had Satchmo who was the same lazy dog as he'd ever been. Neal never held any doubt he'd be any way different either.

It was only Neal who had once again fallen into same old traps and led himself to early dementia by his constant struggle.
That was Neal. Why could he be suddenly different?