So, for once I'm not planning on this being a one-shot. I adore hurt!Neal (of course, who doesn't?) so here's another white collar story. Warnings for physical and emotional abuse.

"Neal?" Peter called, gun drawn as he turned another corner of the dark, abandoned hospital. Damn! Where had he gone? Peter had been in the van, listening in on Neal's conversation with Keller when the line had gone dead. Had they found the wire on Neal? Surely not. They had hidden it well… Peter finally went in after him after an hour of waiting, ordering Jones and Diana to call for backup and wait there for his signal. As he turned another corner, suddenly he was grabbed from behind, a wet rag held over his nose and mouth. Before he could make a noise, he was out…

Peter blinked his eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. He went to reach up and rub at his eyes, only to find his hands bound behind his back. He glanced around the dark room; there wasn't much to it—a window, but that was covered with a black sheet. Just as he started to look for some way to free his hands, the door was opened.

"Oh, good! Peter, you're awake." Keller walked in, a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Peter had to hold back a groan. Armed. Always armed.

"Listen, agent Burke. Me and you need to have a chat." Keller grabbed a chair, turning it as he carried it over to sit in front of Peter, straddling the back of the chair.

"Where is Neal?" Peter growled, starting to have some trouble containing his anger. He hated how Keller always treated situations like these as a joke—situations that people's lives depended on.

"If you would listen, Agent, that was just what I was going to talk to you about."

Peter forced himself to be quiet. No matter how much he hated Keller, he had to do whatever he needed to in order to make sure Neal was unharmed… if he wasn't already. No, Peter forced that thought from his head. Neal was going to be just fine. They both were.

"See, I'm needing some help here, Agent Burke. And I think you're just the man for the job." Keller continued. "I need Neal to trust me. And unfortunately for me, his trust is a hard thing to earn. You probably know a thing or two about that though, don't you?"

Peter was silent. He was slowly becoming less enraged and more worried. Where was Keller going with this? After waiting a moment for a response and receiving none, Keller started again.

"Anyways, you're going to get to see him. Right after we're done talking, if you'd like."

Peter couldn't help the small amount of hope he felt at that. But, there had to be some sort of catch…

"What I need from you, Peter, is some assistance in helping me earn his trust. To do that, though, I'm going to need you to break the trust he has in you."

Peter tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he met Keller's gaze. What was he getting at?

"You're gonna go in, all superior and Agent-like, and you're gonna remind him who's the boss between the two of you. I don't care what he does—you make it into something you can punish him for. He talks without being spoken to? You punish him. He tries to defend himself? You punish him some more. Today's just the start, though. So what I want you to do is go in there, have him kneel in front of you while you talk to him. Explain to him you're gonna be training him, and then rough him up a little, just to give him a taste. Put that belt of yours to some good use. After that, I go in and fix him up, ask if he's alright, the usual hero stuff."

Peter sat in silence for a long moment, his eye's locked on Keller's, his lips pursed. When Keller leaned in closer, he took the opportunity to spit in his face. He was rewarded with a backhand to the left side of his face for that. Spitting the blood onto his lap, he decided it had been worth it. "Neal's smarter than that, Keller. He's gonna know this is all part of your little game, no matter how convincing I am."

"Maybe at first, Burke." Keller was still wiping his face with his sleeve. "He'll wear down, though. Eventually, after days on end of this happening over and over, I guarantee its gonna get in that brilliant mind of his that you detest him. He'll have no choice. As far as he knows, the options are prison, you, or me. And after you're done with him? You wont even have to worry about a rescue team, Agent Burke. I'm gonna have him clinging to me like a little, lost puppy."

"Yea? And what if I say no, huh? What, you'll punish me like you want me to do to him? I'm not scared of you, Keller. There's nothing you can do—" Peter trailed off as Keller stood to go to the corner of the room, pulling off a sheet to reveal a television. He turned it on, and Peter's heart stopped. El. There she was, cooking dinner. Unaware that anything at all was wrong. Satchmo trotted over to lick her hand, receiving a small piece of chicken as a reward. "But don't tell your dad." El said, patting the dog's head.

"Got guys right outside your house, Burke. You didn't think I'd know you'd need a little incentive? I say the word, and they move in on your little lady there. Otherwise, you do as I say, and no harm comes to her."

Peter stared in the direction of the TV, even after Keller had turned it off and returned to stand in front of him. "You—bastard!" He could no longer control his temper, and leaned forward to spit in Keller's face once more. Since he was physically incapable of harming him at the moment, spitting seemed to be the next best thing. He involuntarily flinched when Keller raised his hand to backhand him again, but the blow never came. Keller slowly lowered his hand, shaking his head. "I'm feeling nice, Burke. Don't make me regret it. No. More. Spitting."

Peter shifted in his chair, locking eyes with Keller and staring him down, once again. "You touch my wife, and I swear to god it'll be the last thing you ever do."

"You do as I say, and neither of us have to worry. How's that for a deal, huh? Come on, Peter." Keller went around the back of his chair, clipping the zip ties that held his arms, then moving back to the front to do the same to his legs. "Neal's waiting."

Two men that had apparently been waiting outside the door came in, pulling Peter up from the chair before he had the chance to stand. One blindfolded him as the other held him there, and then he was being escorted down a hallway. He stumbled once or twice, but as he was practically being dragged, it didn't matter much. When they finally stopped, his blindfold was removed. He was standing in front of a door. One man reached over with a key to unlock it. When he turned to look at the oversized man, he only received a nod in response. "Go in."

Peter slowly placed his hand on the doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open. When he stepped inside, he was more than surprised to see Neal relatively unharmed. His lip was bleeding and his hair disheveled, but besides that he seemed fine.

"Peter." Neal stood from bed—no, more like a cot, Peter decided—but didn't make a move towards him, like he was unsure of what to do. "Peter, are you alright?" Neal's voice was that of genuine concern. You shouldn't be concerned for me. Peter thought, swallowing thickly before he spoke. "Neal, come here."

J I'm quite satisfied with this first chapter! Please do continue if you'd like for me to continue, reviews are what give me the encouragement to continue. Thanks for reading!