A/N: This story is part of a series, but is intended to be readable as a standalone.

Federal Building, Manhattan, NY. December 15, 2003. Monday evening.

When Peter's laptop beeped a reminder at him, it took him by surprise. He double-checked the time and shook his head. This morning he'd texted Elizabeth as he got out of his car in the parking garage at a few minutes before 7am, excited to start his first day as the leader of the Manhattan White Collar task force. She'd responded, betting that he wouldn't make it back to his car within twelve hours and that she'd plan their celebration dinner accordingly.

At the time he'd blithely responded that as the boss he could leave whenever he wanted, and had received a "ha-ha" in reply.

They both knew that he'd be working overtime the next few days in order to limit interruptions during their vacation next week. Still, he hadn't intended to work this late. He shut down the laptop and sped through the empty bullpen, only to tap his foot impatiently in the elevator lobby.

He was two parking spots away from his car when his phone rang. "Hey, hon," he answered. "You were right."

"Should I hold off on dinner?"

"No, I'm at the car now." He unlocked the door and slid into the driver's seat. "Hear that?" He slammed the door shut as loudly as he could, and started the engine.

"I won't distract you while you're driving. I'm looking forward to hearing about your day over Chicken Cacciatore. It should be ready as soon as you walk in the door."

"Sounds great. Love you, El."

"Love you, too."

He thought back over the day with satisfaction as he drove. It wasn't until he reached the Brooklyn Bridge that he realized he had a problem: his wife wanted to hear about his day.

After four years of marriage, he took for granted her understanding that as an FBI agent he couldn't provide details about his day. The cases he worked on had to be kept confidential — not only until they caught the bad guys, but often until those bad guys had been tried and convicted.

Clearly she expected that his new managerial duties were something he could discuss, and therefore he'd be sharing a lot more about his job. But what could he say? He'd spent most of his day comparing vacation schedules to case workloads to decide who should cover which cases when more than half the team took time off over the Christmas and New Year's holidays. It appealed to his logical, mathematical nature to arrange the puzzle pieces of schedules, workloads, and skill sets to find the perfect matches.

He was confident that solving puzzles appealed to Neal Caffrey, too. It was just a matter of presenting the right puzzles to keep the newest team member interested enough to stick around. Peter's biggest fear was what Neal would do next week. The kid was too new to the FBI to work a case on his own, and the few folks not going on vacation wouldn't have time to mentor him. Mentoring was supposed to be Peter's job, and after his vacation they'd find the right case to use Neal's skills. In the meantime, the worry was that Neal would get bored and either quit or get into trouble. Or both.

When he'd recruited Neal a couple of weeks ago, Peter had joked about using him as a topic of conversation with his father-in-law, the psychiatrist. Alan always made Peter uncomfortable. He had this way of looking at people as if he were peering into their innermost thoughts. El's father would probably be fascinated by the (hopefully) reformed thief who viewed Peter as a father figure. And it was safe to talk about Neal, because he wasn't a case anymore. His confession had closed the books on his past crimes.

As Peter walked into the house to be greeted by a six-month-old puppy, he was smiling. Neal was the answer. El would be interested in hearing about the first day of the newest team member, and that was a perfectly safe topic.

Burke residence, Brooklyn, NY.

El listened with rapt attention as her husband actually shared details about his work. She'd started to worry he'd never let her in, and suddenly he was opening up about his newest employee. He'd talked all through the meal, and continued as they stood up to carry the dishes into the kitchen.

"Let me get this straight," she said as she filled the sink with warm water. "Neal was using the alias Henry Winslow when you recruited him, and now he's claiming… what exactly?"

Peter added dish soap to the water. "He says it isn't a name he made up, but an actual person who willingly shares his identity."

"Why would someone do that?"

"According to Neal, because he has a twisted sense of humor. I really can't tell at this point if Winslow is a friend, a rival, or someone Neal is making up."

"So you think he's lying to you?"

Peter started to wash the dishes. "Not exactly. There's an element of truth in there, but he's hiding more than he's telling."

El took the clean dishes, drying them and putting them away. "You sound worried."

"Yeah. I'm not letting him see that, though. There's something about his expression whenever the topic of Winslow comes up. I can tell it's a game to Neal. He's teasing me, challenging me to figure it out. He won't tell me the full story, but he'll answer occasional questions and provide a few clues."

"So you enjoy the mystery."

"That's right. If it doesn't go on too long, I'll let him get away with it. I can't let him think he's bamboozled the boss. If he starts to think he's smarter than me, I could be in trouble."

She worked in silence as she considered what she'd heard. She really wanted to meet Neal, and would love to invite him over for dinner, but Peter wasn't a big fan of mixing his personal and work lives. "From what you've said, Neal's feeling a little lost right now. The Bureau must be very foreign to him."

Peter snorted. "You should have seen his face when I handed him the benefits forms. You'd think I'd told him they were a Yeti."

"If you don't mind some advice, I'd say play along with him for as long as you can. Keep gathering clues and showing you can keep up with Neal, but don't push him to tell you the full story right away."

"What's your thinking behind that?" Peter drained the water and helped dry the last of the pots and pans.

"You have the upper hand in a lot of ways right now. You're the boss. You have tons more experience with the job and with working for the government. This game he's playing with you could feel like the only thing he's in control of when he's at work. It seems harmless enough, right?"

"So far," Peter agreed.

"To me it sounds like this game is acting as his release valve. If you take that away, his frustration will build up and it could explode. But if you wait for him to tell you the full story, you'll know he's made a big step in trusting you and in feeling like he really belongs on your team."

Aloha Emporium, Manhattan, NY.

Neal's phone beeped and he read the text message. Updates now.

It was Henry again. He'd been sending increasingly urgent texts over the last two hours.

Neal started to put the phone back in his pocket.

Another beep. Answer or I book a flight to NYC.

His phone rang. "Sorry, I'd better take this," Neal said to Billy and Maggie Feng. Billy and his daughter owned the Aloha Emporium and were letting Neal stay in a room above the shop until he could find his own place. They'd been chatting in an orchid grow room, enjoying a cup of tea while they discussed the scent of a potted orchid Billy had carried to the table. Maggie said it reminded her of cocoa, while Neal detected scents of vanilla and cinnamon.

Billy smiled. "Take your time. My oncidium ornathorrhychium will still be here tomorrow."

Neal nodded his thanks and then strode toward the door. He'd learned that Billy shared stories about his orchids to convey advice, and apparently tonight's lesson was a two-parter. First, the conversation about the pleasant scents was wrapped around a thinly veiled suggestion that Neal should use his skills to please his new coworkers so that they would like having him around. And second, the comment about being there tomorrow was a reminder that Neal needed to be patient and give his new job a chance. Billy knew Neal had panicked and nearly bailed on the job before he even started.

"Yeah?" he said into the phone as the door closed behind him. "Impatient much?"

"What could be more important than telling me about your first day working at the FBI?"

Neal jogged down the stairs. "Dinner."

"Hmm." Henry pondered this. "Was there dessert?"

"Chocolate haupia pie. You'd love it." Neal stepped into his room and took a seat on the futon. The cushions were covered in blue and ivory fabric with a Hawaiian design featuring stylized turtles and hibiscus blossoms. The same fabric was used for the curtains, and the floors were a pale bamboo with a large sisal rug in the center of the room. The decor gave the space a tropical feel in contrast to the dark, cold night outdoors. He felt a world away from the FBI offices.

"How'd it go today?"

Neal glanced at the stack of papers on a table next to the futon. "The amount of forms and paperwork is insane. Peter handed me a bunch to go through tonight." He picked them up and thumbed through them. "Insurance enrollment and the government's version of a 401K. I'm going to list you as my beneficiary. It'll drive him nuts when he sees that." Henry was Neal's oldest and best friend, making him the obvious choice to be Neal's beneficiary, with the added bonus of Peter's reaction.

"He still isn't convinced I'm a real person?"

"He thinks I made you up to mess with him. And I tell him outrageous stories about you to perpetuate that suspicion."

Henry chuckled. "I take it he doesn't know about the background check I ran on him when you learned he was the agent assigned to catch you."

"Somehow that didn't come up."

"What else happened?"

"Crash course on their computer systems, and they gave me some cases. Case files, anyway. Stuff to research. Peter says he's not sending me into the field until next month."

"Why hire you if he isn't going to let you do anything?"

"Annoying, I know, but Peter says the first time I do field work I'm supposed to partner with him, and he's going on vacation soon." Neal grinned. "I get vacation days."

Henry pounced on that, insisting that Neal meet him in D.C. over the long weekend following Christmas. Neal resisted at first, but found himself tempted at the thought of seeing where his parents had met and lived. It's not like he had plans for the holiday, and eventually he agreed. Neal thought he'd successfully distracted his friend, but then Henry said, "You've only mentioned Peter. What about the rest of the White Collar team?"

Neal slouched into the futon and propped his feet up on a rattan basket with a cushioned lid. "Agent Tricia Wiese is Peter's second-in-command. She gave me the case files to research and seemed pleasantly surprised with my work when I gave her my notes at the end of the day. Agent Clinton Jones was the new guy before I came along. Ex-Navy with a law degree. He's been showing me the ropes. Seems friendly enough, and he warned me about Hitchum."

"And Hitchum is…?"

"Hardcore agent in the once-a-criminal-always-a-criminal school of thought. Doesn't trust me an inch, and — as Jones warned me — has signed up team members to follow me over my lunch hour to prove I'm up to no good. Hitchum signed himself up to go first, and I led him to a series of shops I figured he'd hate."

"Such as?"

"Sex toys, items for people with a leather fetish, that kind of thing. I can't say more or you'll guess what I got you for Christmas. Anyway, I'm planning to take a lunch with me and eat at my desk the rest of the week."

"Hmm."

"Is that a naughty gift hmm, or a lunch at my desk hmm?"

"What would you do over your lunch hour if no one was following you?"

Neal smiled. "Same thing I was doing last week — keeping my promise to Michael Darling. He insisted I practice playing the piano more."

"I still can't believe you met a retired rock legend and I wasn't along. Where are you practicing?"

"Last week it was at a hospital when I helped Maggie deliver flowers. They invited me back this week — they're doing caroling for patients over the lunch hour."

"Why not let the agents follow you to something like that? They'd be impressed."

"Good point."

"If not caroling, pick something else that lets them get to know you. And do your best to get to know them, too. I know it's tempting to close up and protect yourself, but that will only feed their suspicions that you're up to something."

"They know what I've confessed to, and that they couldn't catch me even though I was on their radar for a while. If they actually believe they can get away with tailing me, they're idiots. And if they realize I'm letting them catch me, then they go back to being suspicious again."

"So get creative. Maybe turn it into a training exercise."

"That's how Hitchum justified it. He claims it's training, with a side benefit of showing I'm not trustworthy." Neal considered the possibilities. "There is actually a lot I could teach the team if they want to learn."

"It's worth a shot."

"Yeah, I'll think about it."

"Good. Are you going back to work tomorrow?"

Neal sat up straight, surprised by the question. "Of course I'm going back."

"So you like it."

"That sounds lame."

"Then what sounds better?"

"Well, it's a challenge, in ways I expected, you know. Learning new things, winning over people predisposed to distrust me. It's the ultimate con, but not, because I'm not lying to them. Some of the cases are intriguing; looking at them from the perspective of solving them instead of planning them uses my existing skill set, just in a different way. Peter said it all along, and now I'm really seeing how I can offer a lot and gain a lot at the same time." Neal paused. "And I made a commitment to him, to give it a chance. That means waiting around for a couple of real cases, out in the field. That's when I'll know if I made the right choice."

Henry sighed. It wasn't loud, and he probably didn't intend for Neal to hear, but it reminded him that Henry was employed by his family's company after years of saying he'd never go to work for them. Neal suspected that they'd coerced him into taking the job somehow, but Henry wouldn't admit it.

"You haven't said anything about Winston-Winslow in a while. Are things going okay for you there?" Neal asked.

"When I can avoid my dad, it's good. I wish my grandfather hadn't retired; Pops used to run interference." There was a sound in the background, probably Henry popping the top off a bottle of beer. "One last question. Any nightmares?"

Neal bit back a groan. "Not this again." Sometimes his dreams featured repressed memories of the time his mom's ex-boyfriend abducted him. Neal didn't keep many secrets from his best friend, but they each had a couple of topics they considered off limits, and this was one of them.

"Starting a new job is stressful," Henry said.

"And you're an armchair psychologist looking for a patient. I'm fine, man. This isn't exactly the same kind of stress."

"You've described Peter as a mentor. Kind of like a father figure. That could be a trigger."

"Listen, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll tell you what I remember about my dreams last night. Peter and I were in my rental car, the one I had in St. Louis a couple of weeks ago."

"The one you rented in my name?"

"Yeah. We were on the way to the airport, and Peter was doing his race car driver imitation, breaking the speed limit, slamming on the brakes, bragging about the training he got at Quantico."

"Peter was driving your rental?"

"Technically your rental," Neal said. "When we were in St. Louis, Peter made a point of how it wasn't in my name. Anyway, the dream was just Peter pushing the car to its limits and me complaining about the speed and saying I wanted to drive. Just a random memory. No nightmare elements."

"I took a class on dreams and the unconscious mind when I was getting my master's degree."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Dreams about being a passenger in a vehicle often reflect concerns of not being in control in your waking life."

"Is that any surprise, with everything going on in my life right now?"

A/N: Thanks for reading! To see the characters, places, music, and other things referenced in this story, visit the In the Driver's Seat Pinterest board.

It has been a blast returning to an early point in the series. This story falls between Choirboy Caffrey and By the Book. I resisted the temptation to include spoilers.

Thanks to Silbrith for acting as beta and editor! She's currently posting the story Lion's Lair, which is tied to this same series, with the White Collar/Caffrey Conversation characters in a 1970s setting with elements of the Cthulhu Mythos.