Fic: Stuck
Title: Stuck (in the metal with you)
Author: Calis_1st
Rating: PG for language
Characters: Neal. Heard only by Neal are Jones, Diana, Peter and Mozzie.
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Rats are mentioned, but never, ever make an appearance.
Word Count: 1300
Summary: You know those metal grates in some New York sidewalks? The ones over the subway tracks? The ones that are perfectly safe to walk on? Unless somebody did something really, really stupid, and you're wearing a tracking anklet.
This is in response to a prompt by dmk0064 on the Freak Accident Fest on the LJ White Collar h/c community. If you squint really hard it might also fill the "captivity" square on my h/c bingo.
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" Good morning, Jones. I've been trying to reach Peter for the last forty - oh, court? He didn't mention - emergency? I didn't realize there was such a thing as emergency testimony - oh, okay, sure. Do you know how long he'll be? Really, that long? No, nothing, I'm just running late today. Is there a cab drivers' strike or something? I haven't seen one since I left June's. The president? Addressing the U.N.? Oh, that explains the gridlock. Wait, no, it doesn't. The U.N. is across town. What time? That's four hours from now. Guess I'm walking, then. In the meanwhile, I found something in the Travers file - wait, hold on, it's more congested than normal here, let me just get around this particular crowd - no, ladies, it usually doesn't get this hot until August, welcome to New York, stay hydrated - anyway, if you could just see if there's a connection to - oww. Owww, damn. That hurts. No, I'm okay, just - great, it looks like someone thought it would be a good idea to partially cut through the grates over the subway lines, and I walked on just that particular section - oh. One of the metal slats is jammed in my tracker. I have to put the phone down. Can you text me a number for the MTA so I can let them know about this? Thanks."
*****
"Hey, Diana, funny you should call. I would be surprised if Jones DIDN'T tell you. Yes, I'm still here. Yes, it's quite hot out. Could you please stop smirking over the phone? So, what happened was this - I was walking down 8th Avenue, minding my own business, perfectly innocently - yes, innocently - and I graciously yielded the concrete portion of the sidewalk in exchange for the subway grate to a large group of visitors to our fair city - yes, large number, variable sized people, all women, though - when they stopped dead in front of a place called 'Matt's Grill' to take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. No, I have no idea why. Then the grate broke and my foot slipped in and my tracker is completely jammed, so I'm waiting for a phone number - wait, Jones just sent it. I'll call you later."
****
"Jones, it's going to be a while yet. I called the phone number you gave me. They were all set to get an emergency repair crew here until I had to tell them I was caught by my tracking anklet. Now I'm between "exterminate the very last rat in the tunnels" and "get free health care for the mole people" on their priority list. Maybe if you call them and tell them I'm an asset to the Bureau, or a wanted felon or something - no, don't call the Marshals, I'll wait until the rat situation is under control. I mean, how long can that take?"
*****
"Moz, did you know the president is addressing the UN? Of course you did. Yes, I'm acutely aware that the heat index just hit a hundred. Any chance you can help me out of a - I'm on 8th near 55th - yes, traffic is a nightmare. Maybe that's why you can't get here from there. Hold on - Officer, I know I'm technically loitering, but I'm kind of stuck. Oh, thanks for coming over. It must be rough being on traffic duty when it's so hot out. Yes, it's a tracking anklet. (a long sigh) It's pretty much tamper-proof. No, officer, I would prefer you not try to shoot it off. I'm trying to reach my handler now. Thank you, ma'am. I understand. Moz, I'll call you back."
*****
"I'm begging you, Clinton, please, please find Peter and get the key to my anklet. The cops directing traffic on the corner have already told me I need to be out of here in a half hour. You know, they have even less admiration for my anklet than the MTA has."
*****
"Peter, good to hear from you. You're on break? Any chance you might get the key to my anklet into the lock of my anklet? Do not even think about telling me to 'cowboy up.' I'm tired of getting yelled at for standing still in the middle of a sidewalk. I'm hot, and I'm getting a headache from the fumes and the unusually active horn blaring, not to mention the police whistle. And, by the way, if this officer DOES end up using her taser on me, do you know if my having direct contact with metal will make the effects any worse than normal? Do you think you could maybe find out? Because, in my experience with tasers, 'normal' is 'unconscious' and since I'd still be stuck and unconscious she might try to shoot the little green light. Thanks, Peter."
*****
"Diana, that large group is back. Fantastic - now they're taking pictures of me. Hi, ladies, yes, I'm still here. When I said 'hydrated' I didn't mean beer. No, no, don't. (a long, long sigh) No, Diana, I am not making this up. Follow #OMGweAREinNYC on Twitter if you don't believe me."
*****
"Moz, do you have a battery-powered sawzall or something with a narrow blade that will cut through metal? Yes, I appreciate your need to stay off the Man's charts, but can you just bring me something? I'll use whatever tool you have, what's the worst that can happen? Jail? Yeah, if it gets me out of here and into someplace air-conditioned, I'm good with it."
*****
"Jones, please have good - Diana's coming with the key? She's driving? She should probably take the subway. No, I didn't mean it like that, she's an excellent driver when she's angry, and I'm pretty sure she's not going to be happy today with - oh, dear Lord. Yes, you hear someone screaming. I am so hoping there's a Blue Tooth in the ear I can't see, because there is a seriously crazy argument going on, and I and about a third of the city are only privy to one side - wait, wait, no, the other party just joined in. One or two people? Define "people." Or "two." There's only one corporeal being, but inside that being, it's so hard to tell. Practicing for an audition? Okay, let's go with that, sure. Maybe someone's adapted Dante's Inferno for the stage. Yup, the fifth and the seventh circles of hell are definitely making an appearance here. Uhh, oh, she's, uh, walking over here. Gotta go. Wish me luck."
*****
"Diana, I'm so glad to see you. My cell phone battery is just about shot. Ahhh, that feels much better, thank you so much. Hey, look across the street and wave, you can join me on twitter. I'm sorry, Diana, I didn't mean to make light of anything. I must be dehydrated and heading toward heat exhaustion. Is that Mozzie? Moz, you came, and you brought tools. Maybe you could help Margaret and Jim here build their dream house near the River Phlegethon - yes, I know you only see Margaret, but trust me, Jim's in there somewhere - they've been regaling me with tales of treachery and deceit and blasphemers and - oh, look, it's the MTA repair truck. Do you know what this means? It means there are no more rats in the tunnels. Yes, Diana, I should shut up, drink this bottle of water, and get in your car."
Thanks for reading! And, sorry for the title, I couldn't help myself. There are probably meds out there for this.
NOTE: According to Wikipedia, Dante's fifth and ninth circles of Hell are anger and violence, respectively. The Phlegethon is a river of boiling blood and fire, into which individuals who commit violent acts against people or property are immersed.