Escapism, a White Collar fanfiction
Jun. 17th, 2013 06:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
s2309Title: Escapism
Characters(Pairings): Neal Caffrey, Danny Brooks
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~700
Spoilers: Forging Bonds (S02E11), Diminishing Returns (S04E03)
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin’s brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: How Neal Caffrey became Danny Brooks (in a matter of days) and nearly lost himself.
Author's Note: Preseries. Written for the prompt "Lost Childhood" on my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo card.
“Neal,” he said, because that was who he saw reflected back at him. “Danny,” he didn’t say, because that was who he really wanted to see, but couldn’t.
They were going to have to meet at some middle distance somehow.
“Deal,” he tried, even though it wasn’t a name, because it was one step away from Neal, one step closer to Danny. And after all, being Danny Brooks was a deal he was trying to make with Neal.
Neal didn't seem too happy, but the face in the mirror seemed okay with Deal, for now.
-:-
“Dean,” he said the next morning. It was a name he’d read three days ago in one of those odd rolled up papers that a boy left on their doorstep every morning. Except it wasn’t their doorstep anymore. It was someone else’s, and there was a new doorstep and a new boy who wasn’t nearly as nice as the other one and never gave Dean toffee from his bottomless back pocket.
He shook his head. This was going too slowly. It might take three more days to get to Danny, and there was no time. Mum said that so often now. We’ve got no time to lose.
“Dan,” he said, which was about as close to Danny as the face in the mirror wanted to be today. He shrugged. It could pass as a nickname.
It occurred to him, as he said “Danny” the next day, that Neal would need a place to hide.
Danny wasn’t like Neal. Danny didn’t draw or paint or hug a little blue teddy bear when he slept. Danny was brave. “Just like your father,” Mum said, staring into his eyes in a way that would have been scary if it had been Mrs. G two doors down.
The closet was too obvious, so was the basement. Mum would find Neal too easily if he hid in a kitchen cupboard. A treehouse wouldn’t do for Teddy – he liked being indoors.
Under the bed. He could hug Teddy and be Neal under the bed.
No one would ever find him when he was there, mostly because there was such little space that he could barely move around. But Neal wouldn’t mind.
Danny left Neal under the bed, like a monster that might burst out and haunt him at night. He could barely fit in the tiny space now.
Danny made little moments for Neal in his life, because Neal was trapped under the bed and couldn’t do anything about it.
In art class, where Danny would’ve jumped and talked and generally been a nuisance, Neal drew the most beautiful pictures a boy his age could.
“You need to get some more practice at home. Your shadows could use a little work,” the teacher said. Danny just shook his head.
At night, when Danny just couldn’t fall asleep, Neal hugged a pillow. It wasn’t Teddy, but then, what was?
Danny’s sock drawer was always neat, even though the rest of his cupboard was a mess.
Danny forgot about Neal like he forgot about all the games he played with his once-bright fire engine.
The sock drawer held no socks, only old T shirts.
Art class became like all the rest, secretly taking in every detail, outwardly collaborating to make it as difficult for the teacher as possible.
He forgot about Neal, trapped under his bed. Neal, who couldn’t do anything if Danny didn’t do it for him.
He never let Mum trade up the bed, though.
Danny eventually found Neal, held together by a few loose threads that happened to find their way to the underside of his bed, thanks to Ellen.
Or rather, Neal finally shed a skin he’d had on for most of his life and never wanted.
It took him a long time to stop being Danny and start being Neal again.
He went to New York, because that’s where everyone’s alone and completely clueless but also in the crowd together. He painted replicas and forged bonds and scammed scammers running a Find The Lady con so that he could have pizza every day, every meal and not cook. Never cook.
Danny used to cook every single meal.
Characters(Pairings): Neal Caffrey, Danny Brooks
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~700
Spoilers: Forging Bonds (S02E11), Diminishing Returns (S04E03)
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin’s brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: How Neal Caffrey became Danny Brooks (in a matter of days) and nearly lost himself.
Author's Note: Preseries. Written for the prompt "Lost Childhood" on my
hc_bingo card.“Neal,” he said, because that was who he saw reflected back at him. “Danny,” he didn’t say, because that was who he really wanted to see, but couldn’t.
They were going to have to meet at some middle distance somehow.
“Deal,” he tried, even though it wasn’t a name, because it was one step away from Neal, one step closer to Danny. And after all, being Danny Brooks was a deal he was trying to make with Neal.
Neal didn't seem too happy, but the face in the mirror seemed okay with Deal, for now.
-:-
“Dean,” he said the next morning. It was a name he’d read three days ago in one of those odd rolled up papers that a boy left on their doorstep every morning. Except it wasn’t their doorstep anymore. It was someone else’s, and there was a new doorstep and a new boy who wasn’t nearly as nice as the other one and never gave Dean toffee from his bottomless back pocket.
He shook his head. This was going too slowly. It might take three more days to get to Danny, and there was no time. Mum said that so often now. We’ve got no time to lose.
“Dan,” he said, which was about as close to Danny as the face in the mirror wanted to be today. He shrugged. It could pass as a nickname.
-:-
It occurred to him, as he said “Danny” the next day, that Neal would need a place to hide.
Danny wasn’t like Neal. Danny didn’t draw or paint or hug a little blue teddy bear when he slept. Danny was brave. “Just like your father,” Mum said, staring into his eyes in a way that would have been scary if it had been Mrs. G two doors down.
The closet was too obvious, so was the basement. Mum would find Neal too easily if he hid in a kitchen cupboard. A treehouse wouldn’t do for Teddy – he liked being indoors.
Under the bed. He could hug Teddy and be Neal under the bed.
No one would ever find him when he was there, mostly because there was such little space that he could barely move around. But Neal wouldn’t mind.
-:-
Danny left Neal under the bed, like a monster that might burst out and haunt him at night. He could barely fit in the tiny space now.
Danny made little moments for Neal in his life, because Neal was trapped under the bed and couldn’t do anything about it.
In art class, where Danny would’ve jumped and talked and generally been a nuisance, Neal drew the most beautiful pictures a boy his age could.
“You need to get some more practice at home. Your shadows could use a little work,” the teacher said. Danny just shook his head.
At night, when Danny just couldn’t fall asleep, Neal hugged a pillow. It wasn’t Teddy, but then, what was?
Danny’s sock drawer was always neat, even though the rest of his cupboard was a mess.
-:-
Danny forgot about Neal like he forgot about all the games he played with his once-bright fire engine.
The sock drawer held no socks, only old T shirts.
Art class became like all the rest, secretly taking in every detail, outwardly collaborating to make it as difficult for the teacher as possible.
He forgot about Neal, trapped under his bed. Neal, who couldn’t do anything if Danny didn’t do it for him.
He never let Mum trade up the bed, though.
-:-
Danny eventually found Neal, held together by a few loose threads that happened to find their way to the underside of his bed, thanks to Ellen.
Or rather, Neal finally shed a skin he’d had on for most of his life and never wanted.
It took him a long time to stop being Danny and start being Neal again.
-:-
He went to New York, because that’s where everyone’s alone and completely clueless but also in the crowd together. He painted replicas and forged bonds and scammed scammers running a Find The Lady con so that he could have pizza every day, every meal and not cook. Never cook.
Danny used to cook every single meal.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-06-17 01:07 pm (UTC)Thank you for sharing.
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Date: 2013-06-17 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-17 01:22 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for posting this.
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Date: 2013-06-17 04:55 pm (UTC)I thought it made sense, in a crazy, twisted way, for the first person Neal conned to be himself.
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Date: 2013-06-17 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-18 05:52 am (UTC)Thank you so much.
no subject
Date: 2013-06-18 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-18 05:54 am (UTC)Thank you for reading.
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Date: 2013-06-24 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-27 07:38 am (UTC)