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s2309Title: Without You Around
Characters (Pairings): Neal Caffrey
Rating: G
Word Count: ~290
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin’s brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: Five days to go before the anklet comes off.
Author’s Note: This was written as birfday fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rabidchild Happy late birthday!!
Title from What'll I Do by Lisa Hannigan
He has five days before the anklet disappears forever. Not quite like a bad dream - there's too many scars for that. Not like it never existed either - it's worn rather prominent callouses into the tender skin of his ankle. But like an anchor that held him in place, being pulled up once and for all.
He has no idea what to do.
He's oddly euphoric for a man at a crossroads.
He's aware that he's allowing himself to be lost in daydreams, and he doesn't mind at all.
He's gazing down roads that feel just inches away, captivated by sounds and sights and colours outside the two mile radius that was his world. There's the slow, sultry rhythms of Colombia (ideal for a whirlwind romance), the faint aroma of melting cheese from Paris (if he wants to put on weight, that is), and the enchanting aura of India (he so dearly wants to get completely, thoroughly lost and not have a safety net).
There's another road, hidden at the back of his mind, that seems to go the wrong way but actually doesn't. It's not quite as alluring.
It's gray like a vibrant metropolis. It has many little anchors that he isn't too fond of. But it has sights and friends and June. And an anchor at DeKalb Avenue that he may not want but might just need once the anklet isn't weighing him down.
He knows that the difficult road is there; he's avoided it for most of his life. He knows he may even want it now. But right now, it's carefully screened off by castles in the air and carefree abandon, because that's what he needs right now.
The truth can wait.
Characters (Pairings): Neal Caffrey
Rating: G
Word Count: ~290
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin’s brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: Five days to go before the anklet comes off.
Author’s Note: This was written as birfday fic for
rabidchild Happy late birthday!!Title from What'll I Do by Lisa Hannigan
He has five days before the anklet disappears forever. Not quite like a bad dream - there's too many scars for that. Not like it never existed either - it's worn rather prominent callouses into the tender skin of his ankle. But like an anchor that held him in place, being pulled up once and for all.
He has no idea what to do.
He's oddly euphoric for a man at a crossroads.
He's aware that he's allowing himself to be lost in daydreams, and he doesn't mind at all.
He's gazing down roads that feel just inches away, captivated by sounds and sights and colours outside the two mile radius that was his world. There's the slow, sultry rhythms of Colombia (ideal for a whirlwind romance), the faint aroma of melting cheese from Paris (if he wants to put on weight, that is), and the enchanting aura of India (he so dearly wants to get completely, thoroughly lost and not have a safety net).
There's another road, hidden at the back of his mind, that seems to go the wrong way but actually doesn't. It's not quite as alluring.
It's gray like a vibrant metropolis. It has many little anchors that he isn't too fond of. But it has sights and friends and June. And an anchor at DeKalb Avenue that he may not want but might just need once the anklet isn't weighing him down.
He knows that the difficult road is there; he's avoided it for most of his life. He knows he may even want it now. But right now, it's carefully screened off by castles in the air and carefree abandon, because that's what he needs right now.
The truth can wait.
