I'm starting another story because apparently I don't have anything better to do with my time. I've really been enjoying writing, lately. So, anyways… Please, sit back, relax, enjoy… and review!

Neal tried to concentrate on the tiles on the floor. He counted them, again and again. He recited the songs and poems he knew in his head, he pulled at his hair, and he picked at his fingernails. Nothing he did could seem to distract him from the noise just above him, though.

Master Kramer had just been in an awful mood when he came home. He was having an awful week, actually. Since Monday, every day he had come home in a much worse mood than usual. Usually these sort of moods were once or twice every week, but it hadn't been this bad in a while. Neal had to believe it was something going on at work. It was the only way the timing made sense. It didn't seem like he had much of a love life recently, either. He rarely went out on weekends anymore, and almost never on weeknights. No, he knew for sure that Kramer didn't have a girlfriend. If he had a girlfriend, that would keep him from dragging Neal into bed with him every other night.

"No! Stop! I don't want this!"

Neal shuddered. He tried to forget about those nights. It was hard not to remember, though. Kramer made it difficult to forget…

Neal almost jumped when the basement door was opened, and then precisely slammed shut right afterwards. He could hear Mozzie trudging down the stairs, his breathing labored.

Jumping up to go help his friend, Neal was just able to catch him as he took the last step, finally falling forward. He was able to half-carry and half-drag Mozzie over to the old couch on the opposite end of the small basement. He used the edge of his sleeve to wipe some of the blood from Mozzie's mouth. The clothes they were were Kramer's old clothes that he didn't care for anymore. Therefore, they were too big on Neal, and nearly swallowed Mozzie.

Mozzie kept on mumbling something, and Neal was trying to get his breathing back to normal before he spoke. Neal was certain if he couldn't get Mozzie to slow down, he was going to hyperventilate.

"You gotta breathe, Mozz. Breathe. Breathe first, then you can talk to me." Neal reached over to the arm of the couch to retrieve Mozzie's glasses, placing them on his friend with utmost care. One side of them was already taped from the last time Kramer had broken them. Neal and Mozzie had quickly figured out Kramer's pattern—he was terribly predictable. He would switch back and forth between Neal and Mozzie when he was upset. When it was sex he wanted, though, it was Neal. It was always Neal.

As such, when it was a night they knew Mozzie would be taken upstairs to face Kramer's ever-furious wrath, he'd started taking his glasses off in order to keep them intact.

When Mozzie was finally able to regulate his breathing, he met Neal's eyes. "He's taking us to auction. The black market. He said he's done, and that he wants his money back."

"Mozz, he always says rash stuff when he's like this. He probably didn't mean any of it."

"Tomorrow." Mozzie hadn't seemed to of heard him. "Tomorrow, Neal. His computer was on the kitchen table. I saw. He had a messenger up-he was asking somebody about it. And he kept yelling about it while he…" Mozzie was holding his left arm to his chest, and Neal could only hope that nothing was broken.

Neal felt his heart rate going up. What if Mozzie was right? If they were auctioned off, what were the chances they'd remain together? They'd only been here about a year, and before that they'd lived with a younger couple for almost five years. Well—Mozzie had lived with them before they bought Neal, and therefore Mozzie had lived with them almost six years.

It could be a good thing. They could go to someone kinder, someone less… angry. But then again, anyone involved in human trafficking wasn't exactly someone you wanted to be around. On the other hand, they could go to someone worse. As much as Neal hated the thought, it was always a possibility. Kramer was awful, yes, but Neal had heard of worse. Mozzie told him some details of truly awful, awful human beings. Things Mozzie had lived through. Neal never pushed him, and, in turn, Mozzie payed him the same respect. Even the details of what Kramer did were, at times, spared from one another.

Logically, Neal imagined they both knew what the other had gone through, as Kramer had taken it out on each of them time and time again. The sex, though—no, the rape—Neal never spoke of. He knew Mozzie knew, but he never asked. Neal appreciated that.

"What did he do?" Neal crawled up onto the couch next to Mozzie, pressing up close to his friend. Being in that sort of situation with someone else… it brought you close. Neal trusted Mozzie—he'd never trusted anyone this way. Not even in his life before… before all of this happened. Before he was sold into the human trafficking world. What if they were separated tomorrow? Neal wasn't sure how he'd cope without Mozzie. Or, for that matter, how Mozzie would be without him.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Except the way he twisted my arm, *that was definitely… something else." Mozzie sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"Mozz?"

Mozzie tilted his head towards his friend, re-focusing his eyes.

"If we end up being separated tomorrow…"

"Then you do what I taught you. You keep your head down, and you do what they say. You do whatever you can to keep from getting yourself hurt." Mozzie had lifted his head again, and the look in his eyes was serious.

"I will, I will. I just.. I dunno, I'll miss you, is all."

"Yea, well.. let's just hope it doesn't come to that, mon amie. Because I would miss you, too."

So, I've noticed many white collar fanfictions are set in an AU where slavery is legal, this isn't one of those stories. No offense to those writers, of course! Peter and possibly El will be in the next chapter xx

Please do review and give me feedback, say if you'd like to continue reading!