(Chapter 2)

Neal heard what sounded like the roar of the ocean mixed with a drummer from a heavy metal band. His head ached and it felt as if his heart were beating inside of it. He vainly tried to lift his head up without much result, his eyes closed and heavily shuttered despite his best efforts to open them. He wiggled his feet to find them strangely immobile and swinging over some small expanse. Neal wiggled his fingers to find little feeling in them as he felt a pressure on his arms and shoulders. Finally he was able to crack his eyes open and pull his head up as it flopped back against his shoulder blades, his blue eyes gazing up at the rafters of a metal building.

His vision was blurring in and out of focus, his head lolling there between his shoulders as he stared upwards and saw his wrists both handcuffed as well as duct taped where he hung by a wire from those same rafters. He blinked, getting dizzy from the little bit of swaying caused by his slight movements as he came to. He held back being nauseated feeling rags stuffed into his mouth and tape pulled over his lips. He heard a muffled groan escape his throat, gaining the strength to lift his head up and look around at the scene that surrounded him.

Neal found several other figures, familiar figures hanging in the very same manner as he from the rafters. He blinked as he recognized them as his colleagues from the White Collar unit. Neal looked for Peter but there was no sign of his partner nor of Hughes. He saw a slight bit of blood on the floor indicating Peter may have been there unless someone else had been hurt but he didn't see any signs of injury so far on his team mates. Neal swallowed hard, holding back his fear and nausea as he made an attempt at loosening the handcuffs if nothing else. He would worry about the tape later but the cuffs, he might be able to get those loosened and drop himself to the floor to free everyone. Neal struggled, feeling a little give in the mechanism when he heard voices coming near. He managed to slump his head back to its original position of laying against his chest and closed his eyes.

"That old man is stubborn. Doesn't want to tell us anything even drugged. Same with Burke. Obstinate Feds! Wonder if they'll talk when their junior agents are threatened..."

Neal heard the voice, somewhat familiar in its tone, cursing as it drew nearer. Footsteps came closer as he cracked an eye to see who was coming before closing it again.

"What about the consultant? He's the only non-agent. Don't know much about him. He and the other agents weren't around when they put the boss away. Seems kind of weak compared with the rest. Maybe we can just kill him and throw his body somewhere..." This second voice was a little less intelligent sounding and rather cold. Neal gulped quietly, knowing they meant him and was only glad that they didn't know who he was. He heard movement nearby and tried his best to remain limp so they wouldn't know he was awake.

"We're going to kill them all eventually once we get what we want. Boss said not to take any prisoners."

Neal thought he heard a kind of mirthless humor in the man's voice, the idea chilling him as he thought about his colleagues' lives being in danger. He had to get himself free. Neal needed to get everyone out of here if possible. Someone grasped his chin in their hand, lifting his head ever so slightly. He twitched involuntarily, those hands grasping harder till he gave a bit of struggle.

"Ha... this one's awake! Let me play with him, Curt." The voice was menacing but the less intelligent sounding of the two. Neal blinked at the man, just seeing a blurry form in front of him. His head still hurt from earlier, his little struggles making him nauseated as the guy held him tightly by the chin and caressed his cheek with a large blade. Finally Neal could focus some, seeing the goon for what he was.

The man was just under six feet in height, dark brown hair and eyes with a uni-brow and large forehead. He looked as stupid as he sounded or at least that he was used more for his brawn than his brains. The glint in his eyes was manic with very little emotion. Neal didn't doubt the guy would kill him right then and there if the other man gave their permission. He felt the blade slide gently down his cheek, the cold metal chafing him some before pressing against his jugular dangerously. Neal felt his pulse quickening, the man smiling and licking his lips in anticipation.

"Stop it, Lorne. We need him for now. He might prove useful."

The man speaking was Curtis. His teeth were bright as he grinned at Neal, walking up and pulling his head back by the hair. Neal winced through his gag, eyes wide as he glanced up at the man. Curtis had to be over six foot three, muscles filling out the dark jumpsuit he wore. It suddenly occurred to Neal that this was who had attacked them and shot Peter. Neal glared at the man despite his lack of leverage. Curtis chuckled coldly.

"I see fire in his eyes for someone so... skinny." Curtis tore the tape off Neal's mouth in one move, Neal coughing out the rags and gasping for air.

"Let me go and you'll see what I'm capable of!" Neal knew he wouldn't have a chance beating this guy in a fair fight but free... maybe something would turn out. It was a chance he was willing to take for his friends.

"Oh, you like to live dangerously do you? 90 pound weakling versus... this?" He stuck his chest out like a proud peacock and that's when Neal had a good idea this guy had brains but his ego would ruin him.

"I've seen better on a mirror at the fun house." Neal smirked till something hit him like a brick wall across his chin. He saw stars, tasting blood where he'd bit his tongue or lip. Neal glanced up at the blurry double form of Curtis and smiled hazily.

"Why don't you pick on someone... your own... size!" He spit out with a little slur, his head spinning from the punch. He heard Curtis laugh, his hair freed as he was suddenly dropped to the floor. Neal lay in a heap, his cheek laying against the cool cement. He wanted to close his eyes and just stay like that despite being bound and in pain but someone pulled him up by the hair again to his knees and he was staring into those smug hazel eyes.

"Oh, I think you're big enough. We just need you conscious so I can kick your ass fair and square. Lorne, untied him and picked him up. I doubt he'll last one round." Curtis was grinning darkly, already flexing his arms and fists in preparation. Neal could barely think straight, feeling hands lift him up to his feet and try to steady him forcibly.

"Stand up already!" Lorne yanked him up and kicked him in the left shin, Neal wincing as he felt the sting, slumping a bit but held up by Lorne with a tight grasp, fingers biting into his arm. He gave an audible groan, standing as well as he could as the goon pushed him towards Curtis.

"Come on, slim. Show me what you got!" Curtis was goading him, Neal catching himself before he fell against the man and pulling back ever so slightly.

Crap! He thought. He was never going to beat this guy in a fist fight unless he had a 2x4 and 10 big guys or Diana to help him. He suddenly wished Peter had his back. Neal wondered where they had the agent and Hughes, his mind worrying when he sensed movement. He barely ducked aside, Curtis' fist smashing into his shoulder instead, making the con fall backwards onto his butt as he took the hit hard. Neal felt the air knocked out of him regardless, Curtis laughing as he kicked at him, Neal rolling aside.

"Get up, slim before Lorne shoots one of your buddies." Curtis' voice was cold, Neal turning from where he sat to see Lorne pointing a gun towards Jones' temple, the agent hanging by his wrists unconscious. He gulped, pushing himself painfully back to his feet. Curt was bouncing on his feet like a boxer, fists ready. Neal sighed, unsure of what to do as he tried to steady himself to fight Curt. His vision was swimming.

"CURT! Quit playing with the prisoners."

Neal looked around Curt to see another man, about as tall as Curt but with spiky blond hair, fit and tanned. The man looked like another ex-military type making him wonder who their boss was that Peter and Hughes took him down. Lorne snuck up behind him, a hand wrapped around his arms, that knife back at his throat again. Neal gulped, watching the blond man move towards them, Curt frowning a bit as he watched the man and turned to look at Neal.

"Jackson... He's a Consultant. I figured we don't need him as much as the agents for our plans." Curt was smiling evilly at Neal, Lorne's blade pushing deeper into his throat till he thought the man would kill him for sure. Jackson looked at Neal a moment curiously, waving a hand at Lorne and Curt. Both men blinked, Lorne finally letting go and moving away.

"Lorne, handcuff him to that chair over there and then both of you leave!" Jackson didn't sound very friendly, Neal watching him as he was dragged over to a nearby chair bolted to the floor. Lorne pushed him roughly into the chair and cuffed him with his hands through the slats and behind him before leaving. Neal pulled on the cuffs to test them before he felt a hand grab at his hair and pull his hair back.

"Consultant... What kind of consultant would Neal Caffrey be with the FBI..." Neal was looking up at the man curious at the familiarity in his tone. He didn't recognize the man but those brown eyes seemed to know him as he looked up. White teeth grinned back, one of them shining golden. Neal had a flashback to something.

"Hurry up already!" He felt a kick in his side, collapsing to the ground. Neal winced looking up at the thug pushing him around. The kid wasn't much older than himself only bigger. He turned to see someone whimpering quietly near him, a young girl maybe 16 sitting off to the side held by another older boy, an arm holding her while his hand was firmly planted over her mouth.

"I said... HURRY!" Neal felt another kick and groaned, hands pulling him up and pushing him against the wall. He was staring into brown eyes, the boy grinning with a single glittering gold tooth.

"I can't open this if you keep 'kicking' me, Jack. Let her go, I might work faster." Neal was flashing his blue eyes at the older boy, hoping they'd listen as he tried to silently plead. The boy smirked.

"You'll do what I tell you regardless of what happens, Caff." The boy grasped Neal's right arm and twisted it back hard till the joint popped loudly. Neal winced and would have cried out but for the boy's other hand on his mouth.

"Just open this safe already or I'll let you watch us kill her. Understand?"

Neal's eyes widened as he realized he knew this goon.

"Jackson..." He didn't know what else to say, his memory cowing him into silence as he remembered what had happened, guilt filling him.

"So you remembered me finally. I was wondering when that genius brain of yours would kick in. I was about to kick start it myself." He chuckled evilly, his hand running through his spiky blond hair, as he let go of Neal.

"Still the same heartless goon I remember from High School. I guess you graduated from tormenting innocent freshmen and kicking puppies..." Neal smirked despite his fear, his head hitting the back of the chair with a loud crack as Jackson slugged him hard. Neal slumped back, tasting blood again and thinking his brains must be rattling in his head after that hit.

"Always the smart mouthed little brat I used to terrorize into to running me favors. You know... Lena would have lived if you hadn't decided to be her friend. You should have stayed with us instead of going off on your own and trying to be legit. Strays can't be friends with those better than them. I see you're still trying to be the good pet to your betters." Jackson was pointing around at the agents, Neal pulling against his bonds when he knew what the man was insinuating.

"Don't even think about hurting them! I'll kill you!" Neal didn't know where that came from but his voice growled at the man, Jackson smiling down at him.

"Kill me? You couldn't even stand up to Curt and Lorne. You're as pathetic and helpless as when I first knew you. Still the same skinny shrimp." Jackson kept smiling, drawing closer till he had Neal pinned against the chair, his legs holding the con's down, one arm across Neal's chest hard enough to press his ribs down against his lungs, and another over his mouth and nose. Neal struggled, the cuffs rattling as he struggled to breath. He looked up desperately at Jackson, flashes of memory coming back to him.

"We got it! Thanks, Caff." Jackson turned and looked at the other boy who immediately dropped Lena to the ground, her arms pinned behind her with one hand as he covered her mouth and nose with the other. Neal froze in horror at the sight.

"No need to keep her around. Job's done, right Caff?"

Neal tried to move to help the girl, one of the few people who'd treated him kindly but something blunt hit him across the back of the head. He slumped to the cool tile floor of the store, his head connecting with a thud. Someone pinned his arms back tightly, his legs held down as his head was pulled up by the hair.

"Watch, Caff. See what happens when you try to go above your status. You think she really 'liked' you? You were a plaything... a pet. Nothing but a cute stray she took in. You belong here with your own kind." Neal struggled against the boy, his eyes returning to Lena as he heard her muffled cries for help. Her green eyes turned and looked at him at one point. It was only a moment before they rolled back to white and she slumped in the other boy's grasp, suffocated.

Neal felt warm tears falling down his face, guilt and sadness overcoming him as he shuddered with emotion. Jackson was laughing, his grip loosening slightly but just enough Neal took advantage. He flipped the boy off of him and ran towards the other one, his eyes fixed on Lena. Maybe he could still revive her. He didn't make it as someone tackled him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Neal gasped for air, a hand over his mouth and nose suddenly as he was pinned on his stomach to the floor. He kicked and fought but Jackson held him, warm breath near his right ear as he heard the boy speak.

"I would have let you live but you had to choose her, didn't you? Stupid mutt!" Jackson's voice was cold and unfeeling, his hand holding Neal's nose and mouth shut tightly, his weight keeping him from moving. Neal started to feel lightheaded but kept struggling, his eyes on Lena's still body. He needed to help... her...

"Still the same stupid mutt..." Jackson's voice broke him out of his reverie, his vision blurring as he felt his chest tighten with lack of oxygen. Neal slumped back against the chair, eyes rolling back as he passed out.

()()()

Neal?

Neal, wake up!

He heard someone calling him from afar, cold darkness keeping him from moving.

Neal!

Neal tried to react to the voice. It was familiar; trusted.

()()()

Peter remembered something hitting him on the back of the head and slumping to the ground. He thought he heard Neal calling, opening his eyes a crack to see a dark form sneaking up behind the younger man. Peter couldn't warn him, paralyzed by the crack to his head. He saw Neal collapsed to the ground before he heard the 'pop' and pain made him pass out.

He woke up later to someone slapping his face, several figures standing over him. Peter tried to move but found himself sitting in a hard wooden chair, arms cuffed behind him tightly. He tried to get up but the movement made him wince as he pulled his hurt shoulder.

"Fed's awake, Jackson. Shall we get started?" Curtis stood there, wrapping Peter's hair in his fingers as he pulled the agent's head back harshly. Peter struggled but his shoulder hurt where he'd been shot, keeping him from reacting. He felt his head pulled back more, neck bared as someone else approached in his peripheral. They held a needle dripping something clear.

"Just a little something to make you... talkative." The man had short spiked blond hair, pushing the needle to Peter's neck with little tact so he felt it. The needle was extracted just as painfully. He slumped more as whatever they gave him starts to invade his system.

"Wha..." Peter barely got the syllable out before he felt really relaxed and kind of warm. His mind felt like an open book, thoughts flying free but most of his thoughts going back to Neal. Where was his partner?

"So, Agent Burke... we need a little information." The blond man was talking, his voice echoing slightly under the drug's influence, Peter's vision blurring in and out of focus.

"Neal... where... is he?" He slurred his words, speaking slow and deliberately, everything seeming to move in slow-motion. He heard the man laugh.

"You'll see your colleagues soon. Give us some information first."

()()()

He didn't remember much of what happened. The drug having made him hazy, his thoughts flying free but mostly nonsense things as if he were totally sloshed. Still, he was thinking of and worried about Neal. He wanted to see his partner but they kept asking him other stuff he didn't understand while his brain went nowhere fast. Finally they were reduced to beating on him a bit but he just felt more hazy, his shoulder wound continuing to bother him.

It was later he realized they had dragged him from the chair and moved him into another room, dropping him on the floor, arms cuffed tightly behind him. He slumped there, unable to think straight much less move, his body wanting to sleep. He shifted his weight slightly, rolling onto his other side and coming face to face with stark blue eyes staring back. Peter blinked, seeing those eyes gaze glassily back at him without moving. He seemed to know those eyes but from where?

"You're the only one I trust..."

Neal?

Peter thought, his mouth refusing to work for a moment, his body still heavily affected by the drug and beatings they gave him. He winced as he shifted to move closer, Neal's eyes remaining staring and unseeing. Peter moved his ear next to the young man's pale face and started realizing his friend wasn't breathing.

"Neal?" He was bumping the younger man despite his right shoulder bleeding and hurting. Neal didn't move, eyes still staring blankly. Peter panicked slightly, doing something he would regret. He managed to move his hands to the front, pulling open his shoulder wound but ignoring it as he knelt weakly over his friend. He listened for a heartbeat and heard a faint beat as he started CPR despite his cuffed wrists.

"Neal!" He pumped the young man's chest then shifted his head back to breathe for him. Neal's chest moved slightly but his eyes remained glassy.

"Neal, wake up!" Peter continued chest compressions then breathed into his cold lips again. Neal didn't move. Peter was pumping harder on the CI's chest, struggling with the cuffs jingling around his wrists. He noticed the young man's eyes twitch slightly, pupils going from small pinpoints to a more normal size before closing. Then he heard a quiet gasp as he felt his friend shift and then groan. Neal's eyes fluttered open again, his gaze still somewhat glassy as he stared up at Peter.

"Pe..." Neal's eyes closed again, his voice trailing off as he slumped back into unconsciousness. Peter patted him gently, his own pains starting to get back to him. He collapsed next to his friend on the floor, looking up to see Jones and the other agents hanging from the rafters bound and gagged. Peter saw Diana and a few other agents starting to wake up but he was too tired to react, his wound taking precedence. His right shoulder burned from the gunshot, warmth dripping down his chest and soaking his shirt through. He shivered slightly, vision blurring to black as he felt consciousness leave him.

(Sorry for the delay. Long LONG week)