~Ok so I watched this ( watch?v=eO0zxI5L4hY) on YouTube and had to give it a shot, although it ended up going a few different ways. I really like how it turned out, though, so I'm just gonna post it. BE WARNED There's a lot of blood and torture and awful things bc that's just what my mind has decided it likes to write~
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Peter woke to his phone buzzing on the nightstand and Elizabeth's elbow digging into his side. "You gonna get that?" she muttered.
He sat up and fumbled with the device for a moment before answering, "This is Burke."
Instantly, he was wide awake. "When?"
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Neal's room was a mess, glass shattered all over the floor, chairs knocked over, the coffee table broken in half. Someone had definitely been here and not just Neal.
"Peter," Jones called, trotting up to him with a serious expression. He held Neal's anklet, which was broken into three pieces. "Found this outside on the street."
"He didn't run," Peter said firmly.
That much was obvious. Neal would never trash June's house. Contrary to what he might have them believe, he did care very much about the people in his life. This was an obvious sign of a kidnapping and from the looks of things, Neal didn't go quietly. There were even traces of blood around the room.
"Find whatever is here," Peter demanded, "I want him back as soon as possible."
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Neal woke to a major headache. The last thing he remembered was being thrown around as he struggled to free himself from the man who had broken in and had been waiting for him.
He winced as he tried to move and his arms screamed in pain. That was when he opened his eyes to find himself hanging by his wrists, his toes several inches from the floor. The thick rope cut at his hands where they were tied to a wooden stick hanging from the ceiling. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't break it. The rope went up over the rafter, through a pulley, and down to the plank in front of him where it was tied off.
He was in a barn or shed of some sort, but it didn't look like it had been used in a long time. It was practically falling apart.
He looked for his anklet, but it was gone. Of course it was. His captor wouldn't be that careless. Hopefully Peter could still find him here, wherever 'here' was.
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"Anything?" Peter asked, standing up when Jones entered his office.
"Not much," the agent replied. "No fingerprints except Neal's and the blood is his too. But they found traces of dirt, which could be from our kidnapper's shoes. It's at the lab now."
Peter sighed. Dirt wasn't much to go on, usually. And it could be a while before the lab found anything helpful. He only hoped Neal had been taken to do a job for someone. At least that way they'd need him alive.
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Neal hadn't been able to slip his hands through the rope, so after studying his situation, he pulled his legs up and kicked out, trying to reach the plank in front of him where the rope was tied off. It took him a minute to get a rhythm going. Swing, kick, swing, kick. The board groaned with each hit but didn't seem to want to break anytime soon. He kicked harder, panting heavily from the strength it took.
The sound of a car on gravel made him stop immediately and he waited for his captor to make an appearance.
Footsteps crunched on dirt and the man finally showed himself. He was about Neal's size, dark hair, dark eyes, and his skin was rough with scars. He didn't speak, just looked closely at Neal for a moment before grinning.
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Elizabeth was worried about Neal, as were Neal's friends at White Collar, but at least they could do something about it. She had to go to the gallery for work and all she could think about was poor Neal and where he might be.
What if he was hurt? What if he was cold? What if he was hungry? Her motherly instincts always kicked in whenever Neal was in trouble, but usually there was at least one thing she could do.
Now she could only bury herself in work and wait for Peter to call with news.
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Neal had been moved. Now he was on his back, hands and feet tied down. He was still in the barn, but this was a smaller room, darker. He'd fought the whole way, but his captor was much stronger than him and besides, he'd never been much of a fighter anyway.
"You don't have to do this," he said, trying to stay calm as the other man approached again, this time brandishing a knife.
Neal was reminded of Keller for a moment, but this wasn't him. This was someone he didn't know, so he had no idea how to deal with him.
Neal started struggling, teeth locked together as the man brought the knife down, but he didn't cut him yet. He ran the blade through Neal's shirt, slicing it open to reveal his bare chest and stomach.
"Stop," Neal gasped, blood running cold as he saw what was about to happen. "Please!"
The knife scraped across his belly and he screamed.
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"We've got the results back, but it's not good news," Diana reported.
Peter had been afraid of that, but anything was better than nothing. He motioned for her to continue.
Placing a file on his desk, she explained, "The dirt isn't anything special. We were able to narrow it down, but the area is still way too big to search."
Peter looked at the map that had been printed out and the red circle that surrounded an area on it. She was right. It was too big. "Thanks, Diana," he murmured.
They needed more than this to find Neal.
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Neal found himself hanging again the next time he regained consciousness. Blood covered his front and he did his best to ignore the pain that threatened to pull him under again.
The other man was nowhere around that he could tell, so after a few moments of just breathing, he resumed his attempts to get free.
The board creaked and groaned under his assault, but didn't seem to be any closer to breaking than when he'd begun.
Which meant he was quite surprised to hear a loud crack and feel himself crash to the floor.
After that, he was able to get his hands free and he wasted no time in searching for a weapon. There was nothing, though, and the longer he stuck around, the more paranoid he felt, so he slipped out of the barn and looked around.
There was a large house not far away and a dirt road snaking off through the trees. He didn't dare go that way, though. Too easy to be seen.
Instead, he made a break for the trees, hoping to put as much distance between himself and this place as he could.
He didn't make it that far, though, because suddenly, he was falling to the ground, pain shooting through his right foot, and as he hit the leaf-covered dirt, he heard a the snap of bone breaking and he couldn't help the scream that tore itself from his throat.
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Peter rallied every agent he could get his hands on, even from other divisions who were more specialized in finding missing persons.
The conference room was full of men and women searching for Neal, pouring over every scrap of information they had.
"Agent Burke?" one young man spoke up, approaching him in his office. "I have to ask… Are we searching for a missing agent? It's just, I hadn't realized…"
That gave Peter pause. Neal wasn't an agent, but he was one of them. He'd made himself a family here at White Collar and he fit in with them like he was one of their own.
"Yes," he said eventually, "We're looking for a missing agent."
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Neal felt rough hands on his foot and he cried out in agony. A harsh voice snapped at him to shut up, so Neal stifled it to a whimper.
Some kind of trap, that's what he'd stepped in. He should have seen that coming, but he'd been too desperate to escape.
He was pulled to his feet, but he nearly blacked out from the pain so his captor ended up dragging him back to the barn. It all went by in hazy snippets, being dragged, being dropped onto the floor, his hands being retied as well as his feet this time. When the rope tightened around his injured foot, he couldn't hold back a strangled shout and was abruptly smacked for it.
Once he was secured, a cold hand forced his chin up and Neal found himself looking into those dark eyes.
"You cause me trouble," the voice snarled.
Neal didn't bother crying out as another hard smack made his head snap to the side and blood started running down his chin from where he'd bit his lip.
He was too exhausted to care.
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It was late. There was nothing more they could to to find Neal and no more leads to go on. Peter was the last to leave and he did so reluctantly, feeling like there was something he was missing.
Elizabeth had called a few minutes ago, though, telling him to come home and rest, so he couldn't stay even if he wanted to. El would come over here and drag him back home if he refused her.
The thought made him smile as he grabbed his jacket and headed out. Coming down the steps in front of the bureau, he noticed a man standing there, leaning against the railing. At first he thought it was Neal. Same build, same posture, but it wasn't him. He knew once the man spoke.
"You are looking for Caffrey."
Peter stopped dead. Either this was someone who could help or it was someone who was here to brag. He kept a hand ready to go for his gun. "I am. How do you know that?"
The man turned to face him, grinning. "Cuz I'm the one who's got him."
Peter felt hot anger course through him and he pulled his gun quickly. "You son of a bitch. Tell me where he is! Now!"
The grin only widened and abruptly, Peter felt someone knock his gun away, but as he turned to confront the new person, something hit him and he saw stars.
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It was dark and cold. Neal shivered where he sat slumped against the wall, his hands tied above him so he couldn't huddle in on himself for warmth.
It was far from quiet. Crickets, owls, and other various wildlife filled the night with sounds that made a chill run down his spine. He'd never been afraid like he was now. Sure, he'd been afraid before, but usually he could channel it, make use of it. Now there was nothing he could do but sit in the dark and tremble.
Lights caught his attention and he lifted his head to see yellow beams shining through the wooden slats. A car had pulled in and he'd hardly noticed.
He heard doors slamming, then footsteps approaching the barn, multiple people if he was correct.
His captor was there, along with another, bigger man. Between them, there was another, being dragged limply inside. Neal watched silently as the two men dropped the third on the floor across from Neal and proceeded to tie him up.
Neal couldn't see much, even with the light from the headlights outside, so he couldn't memorize faces.
He and the new prisoner were left in the dark and Neal only tried to call out to him once before giving up. He was exhausted and cold, so he just let his head fall back down and closed his eyes, hoping to wake up and have this nightmare be over.
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Peter woke all at once to the sound of screaming and he snapped his eyes open to find himself on the dirty floor of a barn, his hands tied to a wooden beam above him.
He froze in horror when he recognized the screaming as Neal. He'd never heard his CI raise his voice, let alone yell like that.
He couldn't see him anywhere, though it sounded like he was close by, until the noises faded into quiet whimpers, then silence.
Peter struggled against the rope around his wrists, desperate to escape and get them both out of here. He ceased his efforts, however, when shuffling noises came from somewhere nearby and then a man appeared, dragging a limp, bloody body. Neal.
Peter clenched his jaw tightly as the man tied Neal across from him. "What do you want?" he growled.
"Nothing from you," came the reply. "You're just here to keep Mr Caffrey in his place. He's escaped once and I can't have that happen again."
The man left Neal tied up, blood covering nearly every inch of him. One foot was bent oddly, stretched out in front of him where he sat slumped against the wall, eyes closed and jaw slack.
"Neal," Peter murmured once their captor was gone, "Neal, it's me. It's Peter."
Neal opened his eyes slowly, the blue in them faded and dull. He focused on Peter and furrowed his brow. "What're you doing here…?"
"Would you believe me if I said I came to rescue you?" Peter joked, but Neal didn't smile, looking away towards the barn door. "Do you know who he is?"
"No, he didn't let me get that far. What the hell did he do to you?"
Neal let out a quick breath. "Don't ask. Now am I wrong to assume you came with a plan? Besides getting yourself caught, that is."
Peter shook his head. "They'll figure it out. They'll find us."
He could tell Neal wasn't convinced, but it was all he had. He only hoped he was right.
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Elizabeth was in shock. Peter had never come home last night and now she had just gotten the call she'd been dreading from the very beginning when Peter first started out as an agent.
He was missing. And there were no leads except that the person who had taken him was more than likely the same one who had taken Neal. That didn't help them much at all.
It didn't take long to make a decision and she went straight to the bureau, walking up to the conference room where a team was gathered.
"I'm here to help," she announced, "And I'm not leaving until my boys are home safe."
Jones and Diana exchanged a glance and finally, he said, "We could use your expertise, Mrs Burke. Welcome aboard."
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Neal didn't think he could run even if he did get the chance. He wouldn't be able to put weight on his broken foot and honestly, after enduring all that torture, he was almost sure if he stood up, his insides would come tumbling out of his slashed abdomen.
Of course, he knew it wasn't that bad, but the image was there all the same. If he looked down, he could see the bloody, red lines all over his bare chest, crisscrossing each other like some form of strange art.
He chuckled at the thought, which made Peter glance over and ask, "What's so funny?"
Neal just leaned his head back. "Nothing," he mumbled. "Just wish someone would hurry up and catch me. Never thought I'd wanna be caught."
"Well I never thought I'd get myself caught for you," Peter said pointedly, "But here we are."
"You didn't get yourself caught," Neal huffed, "I know you. You didn't let a homicidal maniac bring you here on purpose. But thanks anyway."
They slipped into silence for a while before Neal stiffened and sat up straighter. A moment later, Peter heard it too and he braced himself as the man returned, looking between them.
"Fuck you, dirtbag," Neal growled, surprising Peter. He thought Caffrey would have a little more tact than that.
"It's Louis," the man replied, crouching next to Neal and grabbing his jaw. "You still have a mouth on you."
Neal glared hotly at him, defiant, and Louis chuckled. "Eager to begin again. I like that."
He reached for the rope on Neal's hands and Neal couldn't help the sudden fear that took hold of him. He struggled, but Louis slammed his head against the wall.
"Hey!" Peter shouted, "Don't touch him!"
Neal snapped his eyes to his handler, as did Louis.
"Shut up, fed."
As if to prove a point, he reached down and squeezed Neal's broken foot, drawing a rough scream from him that made Peter jerk against his bindings. "I said leave him alone!" he shouted.
Louis stood while Neal hissed in pain, trying to curl in on himself. Peter tightened his jaw as their captor walked up to him, tilting his head. "I don't like your attitude. But alright, I hear you." He reached for his belt, pulling a small, bloody blade and holding it close to Peter's face.
Peter looked past it, meeting Neal's wide eyes. "Neal… Look away."
Neal just stared in horror, so Peter snapped the order again and this time Neal did as he was told, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head. He flinched with every sound that came after.
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It was night again, but Peter couldn't sleep. Partly because of the pain, but he'd had worse. It was Neal that kept him up with worry.
The man looked barely alive now and every breath made a wheezing noise. Blood covered every inch of him and he was trembling like it was his job.
By morning, he was no better and Peter tried to hold a conversation with him, even if he was the one doing most of the talking and Neal only spoke up with the occasional one-worded answer.
He started trying to break free, fumbling with the rope around his hands, but that got him nowhere. He reached up to feel around the wooden plank it was tied to, but that wasn't going anywhere either.
Even if he did get free, he realized, he wasn't sure if he could get Neal out of here. They had no idea where they were. It could be miles of woods in every direction for all they knew.
He only hoped his team could figure it out.
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Neal didn't even wake up until he felt a familiar pressure on his neck and his eyes snapped open to find himself strapped down again, but alone this time.
There were no new marks, so he realized with dread that the torture hadn't even begun yet. He wished he could just pass out and stay out, but his heart was beating too fast and he was trembling, even as sweat rolled off his body.
He took this time to look around for anything, anything at all, that could help him, even if it was just a piece of wood to bite down on. But there was nothing he could reach, not with his hands and feet strapped down, along with the metal collar around his neck.
Footsteps made him tense up and his breath shortened as they approached. He'd never forget their rhythm.
When the man came in sight, he gritted his teeth in a wince, waiting for the pain to come.
It did, tearing across his chest anew while he arched his back and screamed, choking against the collar. Blood mixed with saliva filled his mouth and he screamed again as the cold blade made a line from his belly all the way up to his collar bone.
As more of his blood dripped onto the floor, things started getting fuzzy around the edges and he suddenly thought he might be dying. He'd certainly never come this close before. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to feel like.
The blade continued its work, and now the man holding it seemed to tire of this game because the cold steel was no longer cutting the surface of his skin, but he felt it buried in his right shoulder.
He tilted his head back as far as it would go, spit flying as he screamed louder than ever. He didn't stop until darkness took him under again.
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Peter tried to block out Neal's cries as he struggled harder than ever against his restraints. He was finally getting somewhere and as the rope loosened around his hands, he jerked them free and quickly stood, snatching the first thing he saw, which happened to be a satchel belonging to their captor. He'd left it when he'd taken Neal again.
Inside, Peter found his gun and silently thanked god for that. But Neal was still in trouble, so he cautiously rounded the corner, gun up as he saw Louis digging a knife into Neal's skin like it was the most amusing thing in the world.
But Louis saw him too and the knife suddenly went much deeper. Neal screamed and Peter fired, not even hesitating.
As Louis dropped to the floor, Peter rushed to Neal's side. He was still screaming, thrashing against his bindings as blood trickled from where the knife was lodged in his shoulder.
"Neal! Neal! I'm right here, you're gonna be okay."
Neal slowly calmed down, panting, but not screaming anymore. Peter cupped his face and called his name, but there was no response, so he went to free his friend from that awful table, hands shaking as he tore off the straps.
"Neal," he pleaded again, but Neal didn't even twitch, so Peter scooped the smaller man into his arms and carried him out of the barn, mindful of his broken ankle. Warm blood soaked through his shirt, but he ignored it, heading towards the old farmhouse not far away from the barn.
Inside, he laid Neal gently on the couch and looked around for a phone so he could call his team and have them trace the number so they could finally get out of here.
But much to his frustration and disappointment, there wasn't even a landline. He could see the spot on the wall where one had once been, but it was gone now. "Dammit!"
His own cellphone had been taken and Neal's too. Maybe they were around here somewhere…
But after a long search, he had to admit defeat and he shuffled back over to Neal's prone form. The sooner they got out of here, the better. Waiting around would do them no good.
"Neal?" Peter almost shook him, but decided against it. He was hurt pretty bad. "Neal wake up."
Neal's eyebrows drew together and he made a small noise.
"That's it, come on."
Finally, blue eyes were looking into his and Neal murmured, "Peter…?"
"Yeah, I'm here. Come on, we gotta get you out of here. There's no way I can contact the bureau from here so we're gonna have to walk."
Neal made a face at that. "How far."
"I don't know," Peter admitted, "But staying isn't an option. No one knows where we are."
Neal closed his eyes with a sigh and for a moment, Peter thought he'd drifted off again, but then he reached up with a hand and patted Peter's shoulder. "Help me up."
Peter hauled Neal upright, putting an arm around his waist to support him while Neal slung an arm over his shoulder. Together, they stumbled back outside and started towards the dirt road.
But they never made it more than a couple yards before a shot rang out and Peter gasped as a bullet ripped through his left shoulder, making him jerk forward. Neal slipped from his grasp and fell in the dirt while Peter clutched his shoulder, whirling around to see another man standing there.
Of course. There had been two. How could he have been so stupid? He'd been too worried about Neal to pay attention to detail.
The man walked forward, the gun hanging loosely in his grip. Peter took a step back, then remembered he still had his own gun. This he drew quickly and aimed it at the other. "Drop your weapon!" he shouted.
A lot of things happened all at once. The other man raised his gun, Peter prepared to fire, then there was the sound of tires sliding over gravel, catching them both off guard. Peter had never been happier to see those black cars in his life. Neal was crawling along the ground slowly, Diana was leaping out of the first car, the other man dropped his gun, Jones ran up to Peter, eyes wide as he asked if he was alright. Diana was cuffing the man, who was now on the ground.
Peter ignored it all, crouching down beside Neal, who was on his back, staring around at all the commotion in a daze. Jones helped Neal to his feet while Cruz trotted up and led Peter back to the cars. Jones followed with Caffrey while Diana had their remaining kidnapper.
The trip was fast and before he knew it, Peter was being poked and prodded on all sides by doctors. He wanted to see Neal, but they wouldn't say anything other than he needed to rest. Caffrey could wait.
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Neal opened his eyes to fog. He turned in every direction and it was there, thick and cold. His breath caused it to swirl in front of his face and he shivered, eyes wide as he tried to see something, anything, through the haze.
"Hello?" he called, not receiving an answer.
He wandered through the fog, arms outstretched as he tried to feel his way along. But there was nothing to feel and eventually, he started running, faster, faster, faster. Nothing. He shouted for Peter. Peter had been there a minute ago, hadn't he?
He was running so fast that when he hit something, he hit it hard and he saw stars, his head pounding in agony.
"Goddammit," he swore from his new position on the ground. He rubbed his head with a grimace, but when he tried to get to his feet, pain shot through his foot and he gasped, flopping back onto his side.
Suddenly, there was blood everywhere. His chest burned and his shoulder throbbed. Everything hurt and he panicked, eyes wide as he struggled to escape the fog, but something held him down and he screamed in terror, fighting against the invisible enemy—
"Neal!"
Peter! Peter was here, he would be safe. Peter would save him.
"Neal, stop it! Calm down, it's just me!"
The fog thickened until there was only black and Neal realized his eyes were closed, so he did as Peter said, giving in. The hands holding him down turned gentle and then moved to his face, cupping it gently.
"Neal? Come on, don't go. Stay with me this time."
His eyes felt heavy, but Neal opened them anyway and blinked a few times, trying to clear away the blurriness.
The first thing he saw was Peter's relieved smile. "Welcome back, Agent Caffrey."