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hurinhouseTitle: Do Over… prompt #122 (edit)
A/N: for the White Collar 100 prompt "edit"
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Characters: Neal, Peter, Jones, Diana
Summary: Who says modern technology is progress?
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
300 words
Type type type type… "Ugh." Undo.
Type type… "What? I thought you said…" Redo.
Type type type… "I don't think that's right, Neal."
"What the hell, I can always just undo it."
Type type type type…
Four straight days of writing reports into the wee hours - Peter's, Diana's, Jones'. Neal's eyes are swimming. Undo and Redo are main protagnists in his dreams.
"Learn your lesson?"
"Peter, I get it. Embellishing cold cases for fun is not allowed."
"Let's go, Hemingway."
"Please no more reports!"
"Something better."
~ ~ ~
Neal's thrill that something better is field work wilts when their suspect IDs him on the deck. He dives down the cabin stairs, head pounding with each footstep. Lack of sleep does that.
"Neal, we'll be on the yacht in two minutes. Find a place to hide."
He dodges life jackets and bullets as he whispers into his wrist, "Try again Peter - one minute would be better."
Slipping through one cabin after another he sees the briefcase in question just as he passes it. He grabs for it on the fly but he's too late, knocking it from the built-in desk as he makes it into the corridor, out of sight. His head is reeling.
"Neal, did you get the jewels?"
Damn it, he should have rotated as he dove.
"Redo!"
He leaps back through the portal, his fingers grasping the handle just as he hears the shot.
"Oops." Hired help with guns aren't allowed in Redos.
"F.B.I. Lower your weapon!"
~ ~ ~
"-and how many times have I told you to stay hidden till we get there?"
Neal grapples for the remote, IV in the way.
"Neal, what? You need the nurse?"
He points the device at Peter, blearily scanning the buttons. "Just looking for the Undo."
A/N: for the White Collar 100 prompt "edit"
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Characters: Neal, Peter, Jones, Diana
Summary: Who says modern technology is progress?
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
300 words
Type type type type… "Ugh." Undo.
Type type… "What? I thought you said…" Redo.
Type type type… "I don't think that's right, Neal."
"What the hell, I can always just undo it."
Type type type type…
Four straight days of writing reports into the wee hours - Peter's, Diana's, Jones'. Neal's eyes are swimming. Undo and Redo are main protagnists in his dreams.
"Learn your lesson?"
"Peter, I get it. Embellishing cold cases for fun is not allowed."
"Let's go, Hemingway."
"Please no more reports!"
"Something better."
~ ~ ~
Neal's thrill that something better is field work wilts when their suspect IDs him on the deck. He dives down the cabin stairs, head pounding with each footstep. Lack of sleep does that.
"Neal, we'll be on the yacht in two minutes. Find a place to hide."
He dodges life jackets and bullets as he whispers into his wrist, "Try again Peter - one minute would be better."
Slipping through one cabin after another he sees the briefcase in question just as he passes it. He grabs for it on the fly but he's too late, knocking it from the built-in desk as he makes it into the corridor, out of sight. His head is reeling.
"Neal, did you get the jewels?"
Damn it, he should have rotated as he dove.
"Redo!"
He leaps back through the portal, his fingers grasping the handle just as he hears the shot.
"Oops." Hired help with guns aren't allowed in Redos.
"F.B.I. Lower your weapon!"
~ ~ ~
"-and how many times have I told you to stay hidden till we get there?"
Neal grapples for the remote, IV in the way.
"Neal, what? You need the nurse?"
He points the device at Peter, blearily scanning the buttons. "Just looking for the Undo."
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