Rock Botton Part 1

Rock bottom is often regarded as a dark place with air so thick of desolation and hopelessness that it's hard to breathe. Broken dreams mold cracks in the foundation below and fears swirl in a cold mist above your head.

"You need to hit rock bottom before you can change." Neal's own voice whispered inside his head, the conversation coming back to him full force from the Robin Hoodie case.

Neal blinked against the darkness surrounding him. Neal had hit rock bottom hard. The problem was he wasn't changing. He didn't need to.

"What are you going to do, Caffrey?" A gruff voice called from the corner before stepping into the luminance of the only light in the room. The man was heavy set, but not out of shape by any means. Every time he got close to Neal, the conman did his best not to imagine the man taking his arms or legs and snapping them like twigs. Scars marred his face, giving a summary of a bad past Neal didn't want to know about or add to.

Neal swallowed hard and felt the tips of his shoes drag against the ground as his hanging body swayed ever so slightly at the trembling in his wrists and arms from where they were bound by rope around the ceiling rafters. The man stepped closer, making a fist that cracked his knuckles. The bruises already painting Neal's skin ached as if they too could tell what was about to happen.

"I'll ask you again." The man snarled as he grabbed Neal's chin so he couldn't turn away. "Where's Agent Burke?"

Despite his battered body, Neal looked him square in the eye and graciously accepted what would come to him.

"I'll refuse to tell you." Neal spat with a bloodied grin. "Again."

Neal did his best to check out of reality as a pair of fists drilled into battered ribs.

"Let's see if you've come to your senses, shall we?"

Neal just let his head hang between his bounded arms until the man grabbed his hair and pulled it up. He did his best to glare through half lidded eyes as he bit back a groan.

"Where's Agent Burke?"

Neal set his jaw.

The man turned his head to the side in surprise. "I thought you'd be smarter than this, Caffrey."

Neal was barely conscious enough to recognize the fist connecting to his cheek bone.

"Remember Caffrey, you did this to yourself. All you had to do was use that tongue of yours."

The man walked over to his hanging body once more and Neal did his best to still his trembling form. The knife in the man's hand shined brightly in the dull light of the room. It came up and traced his jawline before resting against the corner of his mouth. "I guess since you won't use it, you won't be needing it."

Neal turned his head away but only for the man's hand to come up and catch his chin to force it back. A whimper ghosted across Neal's lips as the blade ran threateningly across them.

"What's the matter, Caffrey?" The man's chuckle echoed through the room and it made Neal shudder.

"O-ok! Okay! I- I will tell...tell you wh-where he is!"

"A little late for that."

"Y-you want...to kn-know where h-he is...if...if I d-don't tell you...wh-who will?"

"I'm sure we could find where the FBI is hiding that precious wife of his. We could flip her real fast."

"B-but I'll tell y-you now."

The man smirked as his hand tightened around Neal's chin. "If you lie to me, your tongue won't be the only thing I cut off. Understood?"

Neal swallowed thickly and let his gaze wander just behind the man for a moment longer as if trying to decide what to do. Neal nodded.

"Good. Now, where is our dear friend Peter?"

Neal sucked in a shaky breath, before setting a dark gaze on the man. "Behind you."

"Wha-" The man's question was cut off by a butt of a gun slamming into his temple.

"Jesus, Neal!" Peter said as his hands cautiously hovered just above the younger man's battered body hanging from the rafters by his wrists. He felt the tremors in his fingers as he prepared himself to touch damaged flesh. The thought twisted the air in his throat and it caught in his windpipe. "When will you ever learn to do as you're told and stay in the van?" Peter's voice did its best to convey humor and a sense of calmness, but the tremors in his unsure fingers rode out the panic on his voice. He placed a hand on the side of Neal's face and had to swallow hard as his hand slipped against the pale skin stained with blood. His fingers wrapped gently around the younger man's neck while his thumb rested on his bruised cheekbone. The fingers on his left hand felt for a pulse while he stared at Neal's closed eyelids, but something else reassured Peter that Neal was still alive.

"W-when you don't show up."

The response was so choked and tight that it barely reached the agent's ears, but the injured man's jaw was in Peter's palm and the older man felt the slight movement as Neal had tried to speak.

"Diana! He's conscious! Get a paramedic in here now! Jones! Help me get him down!" Peter yelled over his shoulder. He didn't miss feeling the slight flinch that ran through the younger man as he did so. He lowered his voice back to being just above a whisper. "Hey, it's alright. It's alright, Neal. We're going to get you down. Just stay with me. Okay?"

He felt the tremors in Neal's frame surge as Jones walked up holding a chair to stand on so he could cut the ropes around Neal's wrists that had him dangling from the rafters.

"Neal, can you do that for me?" Peter insisted, as he watched Jones grab the rope above Neal's hands. "We're going to get you down and try to be as gentle as possible, but it might be a little painful. But I need you to stay with me, got it?" Neal's frame shook harder but the young man didn't respond. "Neal?" He tried a little more forceful. "Do you understand?" Peter felt a brief nod in his hand placed on the side of Neal's face. He looked up at Jones and gave him the go ahead nod. "Be easy, but do it quickly. He's going into shock."

Jones brought the knife to the rope and sawed away with one hand while the other held the rope. Peter wrapped an arm around Neal's lower waist to catch him, but suddenly the consultant's eyes sprang open as he tried to muffle the scream trying to escape him.

Whether the blood on his lips was already there or Neal drew it out by biting it, Peter couldn't be sure, but the agent didn't have time to dwell on it because Neal's unconscious body was falling away from the rafters.