I don't own White Collar. Hope you enjoy!
Neal walked into the office on Monday morning smiling at those he passed. As soon as he arrived, Peter called him into his office.
"Neal, I'm sorry I have to do this to you," Peter started, while Neal gave him a quizzical look.
"My father had a heart attack last night, and although he made it, he's not doing too well. I'm going to have to go out of town for at least a few weeks," Peter informed his CI.
"Who do I report to?" Neal asked his friend.
"Oh, here he is, right on time," a man, a few inches taller than Neal, and a few years older, walked into the room.
"This is Agent Benjamin Hartley," Peter introduced, "He flew in this morning just to watch after you."
Neal stuck out his hand in greeting, "Nice to meet you Ben."
"It's Agent Hartley," the man responded coldly. Neal just nodded in return.
"I have to catch my plane. El is going with me, and a neighbor is watching Satch. Just try not to get in trouble," Peter warned before leaving the room.
After Peter was gone, Hartley closed the door.
"Look, I don't like you, and I don't care if you like me. I want you to keep quiet, and always do what I say. I have paperwork for you in the day times and side work in the night times," he started.
"Side work?" Neal asked, worried about how these next few weeks would go.
"You must not have heard me. You don't talk unless I ask you a question. You'll get more information on that later. But I want you to know, I know those who are close to you, and I am not afraid to hurt them. I am also not afraid to put a bullet through that pretty little skull of yours if you don't behave," His brown eyes glowered. "Now, get to work," he handed Neal a stack of files.
Neal walked to his desk, honestly fearing that he might not make it through the next few weeks. Hartley gave off a vibe that he was serious in his threats, leaving Neal to wonder, if an FBI agent would threaten a worker, what kind of side jobs was he expecting Neal to do? Steal? Forgery? Kill?
Neal was dreading the end of the day, but 4 o'clock came against his wishes.
"Let's go," Hartley said, walking past Neal's desk. Neal shut the files, put on his fedora, and followed behind.
He led Neal a few blocks away to an empty warehouse.
"Now listen, I give you an address, you go. You do the business, and I get the money, got it?" He threw out pictures of those close to Neal, Peter, El, Diana, Jones, even Mozzie.
"You disobey, they get hurt. One by one. I know how to make it look like an accident, it won't even trace back to me," Hartley reached into his pocket and handed Neal an envelope. Inside: a note with an address, and a few condoms.
"Understand?" Hartley asked.
Neal nodded. Hartley was turning him into a prostitute and if he fought back, it'd be the lives of not just him, but his friends.
It started off easy. One or two stops a night, for the first week or two. Then it increased, three or four. Eventually he wasn't getting home until around 3 or 4 in the morning. In terms of the job, it was cold and impersonal. He hated being used as a toy. A blowjob here, sex or anal there, and some customers would pay more If he didn't use a condom. He worried about the risk of STD's especially HIV, but after the first week he was past the point of caring. He became more an item others used than a person.
Eventually, with lack of sleep and obvious weight loss, Hartley decided Neal didn't need to work in the office anymore. Hartley sent paperwork to Neal's apartment, basically confining him to his home when he was not out selling his body. Neal hadn't heard himself talk for weeks, except an occasional fake pleasure noise for his customers.
Diana and Jones worried about Neal, but they simply thought he was staying home sick so they never looked into it. June was out of town visiting family and Neal had no idea where Mozzie was, but he hadn't seen him in a couple weeks. Peter and Elizabeth still weren't back and Neal was starting to wonder if he'd have to work for Hartley forever.
"You have a new assignment, go, and don't worry about collecting payment, she paid in advance," Hartley said at the warehouse, handing Neal a new envelope.
Inside, a new address, wondering where this job would take him.
He arrived, a woman a bit older than him, opened the door.
She led him down to the basement, where she had a ton of bondage equipment. Neal had been tied up once or twice but nothing like this. She stripped him and tied him up hanging by the wrists. She then got him erect and said, "Let's play a game. You have to keep it up, or you get hurt, badly. Worse than what I am going to do for the game. Got it?"
She first took out a cigarette and had a few puffs; she then placed the burning end on his stomach. Tobacco crackled against skin, scorching a small hole into him. She then repeated the process nine more times.
Next, she took a knife, and put ten little slices into Neal's skin, all over his arms and legs. After that, she got out a whip and gagged Neal. She started whipping his back, ten times like before.
"Let's see how it's going, shall we?" She went around to his front; he was hanging his head down quiet.
"Looks like you lost the game boy," she said getting out a baseball bat. He heard some crunching, probably his ribs, as she whacked him with the bat.
"Thanks for the great night," she led him out of the house, keeping his clothes.
It had gotten chilly and started raining while Neal had been inside. His mind reeled, wondering if he'd even make it home alive. He couldn't tell anyone, lives were at stake, he wondered if maybe he'd just die in the street and keeping the secrets to himself.
He wandered for a bit, before passing out on a sidewalk.
"Neal?" he heard as he slowly opened his eyes to bright blinding lights.
Neal tried to focus his mind and eyes on the person next to him, "Peter?" he coughed out quietly.
"Neal, you are ok now, alright?" Peter said quietly.
Neal nodded, trying to remember what had happened. Memories flooded back to him.
"Hartley?" Neal whispered.
"El and I had just gotten back to the city, when we saw you on the sidewalk. After getting you an ambulance, I called the team in and followed the blood trail back. We arrested the woman, and she told us to look more into Hartley. That is when we found out what he was doing. He confessed and is in jail," Peter updated his friend.
"Time?" Neal didn't know how long he'd been at the hospital, or how long Peter even had been gone.
Peter seemed to sense the loaded question so he started out, "El and I were gone for about a month and half. I'm so sorry we had to leave you, this never would have happened. You've been in the hospital for about ten days."
"You're dad?" Neal wondered, still struggling to talk but worried about his friend.
"He passed. It was a nice funeral, lots of family," he trailed off.
"I'm sorry," Neal said with kind eyes.
"I'm sorry, Neal. If I hadn't left you wouldn't be here," Peter felt guilty.
"You had to," Neal comforted the man next to him.
"It just was so hard. I just lost the man that meant the world to me, and then I am back in town for five minutes and find my best friend naked, beaten, and passed out on a sidewalk. I thought I was going to lose you too," a tear rolled down Peter's face, he put his head down to hide it.
"I'm fine," Neal choked out.
"You have 4 broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung, which is why you are struggling talking and breathing," Peter started, but Neal cut him off.
"Not talked much anyway… Hartley..." he struggled for breath.
"He told us of all his threats and tactics. You might have a hard time for a while. We can get you counseling if you'd like. Let's talk about that part later though, alright?" He waited for Neal to nod before continuing, "Anyway, you had burn marks as well as stitches on whip wounds and other cuts. You'll probably have a lot of scars from this."
Neal worried about how this would affect his work. Would people at work think of him differently? Who all knew? It wasn't his fault, but it still happened. On top of that, would they treat him too gently? Couldn't things just go back to normal?
His other worry was STD's. He'd slept/done things with probably over 200 people in a month and a half. Some STD's, including HIV, have a wait time for testing.
His worry must have shown in his eyes because Peter took his hand, "Everything will be ok. It might not be 100% the same as it used to be, but things will be fine. We'll get to work together again, you'll be getting in trouble with Mozzie, which I don't really want to know about, and everything will work out."
Neal trusted Peter so he nodded in response.
Neal moved into the Burke's guest room for a few weeks while he healed. His lung was getting stronger, but still sometimes had coughing fits or trouble breathing. His stitches came out, wounds turning to scars. His tests all came back with great results, no STD's. He had to wait 6 weeks before going back to work for the FBI though.
Coworkers visited, June came back into town, Mozzie showed up after Peter called him. Neal generally let Mozzie scheme on his own and just waited for him to show up, but Peter thought Neal needed him.
Neal grinned his famous smile, joked around, and acted like nothing ever happened. Everyone thought Neal had just recovered quickly. Mozzie knew there was more going on with Neal, but he wasn't going to force Neal to talk if he didn't want to.
"Neal, please talk to me, what's wrong?" Peter asked closing the door after Diana and Jones left.
"Nothing's wrong Peter," Neal said sipping a glass of wine.
"You said you'd never lie to me, I can tell there is something wrong. You can con the world, Neal, but you can't con me. If you don't want to talk, that's your choice, just don't tell me nothing is wrong," Peter was frustrated. He hoped the others could get him to talk about what's on his mind, but they seemed to shut him up more.
"Fine," Neal said forcefully. After a few moments, Neal sighed, "Hartley used me as a pawn, customers used me as a toy, the FBI uses me as a cheap worker, Mozz uses me for schemes, although to be fair on that one, I use him too, but my point is, I guess I just feel like I'm not wanted for me, I'm just wanted for what I can do, to be used by others," Neal trailed off keeping his face turned from Peter.
Peter sighed, "That's Hartley talking. You know I care about you, El and I both do," Neal cut him off.
"You are my handler; you have to take care of me. I'm your burden."
"You are not a burden, we do really care and you know that. Mozz cares for you in his own weird way. June adores you. Diana and Jones care and worry about you too, you've grown on them. Even Hughes cares. He was so mad when he found out what happened, he fired and handcuffed Hartley himself, and if he had less restraint, he probably would have killed him," Peter admitted.
Neal nodded concluding, "it might just take some time. I'm not sure I'll ever get past what happened, but maybe I've never gotten past other bad things in my life either," they sat in silence for a few more minutes.
"Thank you, Peter," Neal finally looked at his handler.
"I'm always here for you, Neal" Peter smiled at his friend, hoping that he could help Neal find the closure and peace that he needed.