A/N: Here we go, chapter 3 :) Thank you for all the feedback! I'll see if I can fix the doubling of the second chapter, I have literally no idea how I managed that :D

Chapter 3- Slowly Sinking

Neal watched as the agents assessed the scene. At first he was hyper vigilant, sure that something would go wrong. He had learned that his conman's instincts rarely alerted him for nothing. But when all of the agents regrouped without any clear sign of danger he relaxed against the seat. Maybe he was just imagining things due to lack of sleep. That was possible, right?

Neal settled down after the agents entered the biggest building all together. He shut his eyes in the hopes of getting a little rest. Undoubtedly Peter would rip him a new one if they found him sleeping in the car when they returned, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. Lately it seemed like he could do nothing right anyway so what did it really matter?

Still, the way Peter had spoken to him bothered him more than he'd ever admit. He could see the newbie agents' mocking grins with his mind's eye and sighing deeply he made a decision he had been contemplating for the last week. He'd never thought he would voluntarily walk into a prison. But even the solitary confinement had more friendly people than he currently had in his life.

Of course he knew June would be returning at some point but he didn't want to rob her away from her actual children and thus had no idea when she'd be back. During their phone calls Neal had done his best to cover up anything being wrong, assuring June that he was doing okay and the house was still standing. But he also knew that he could not survive like this much longer and even when June would eventually return, she had her own very active life and Neal would never dump all his troubles on his generous landlady and deprive her of her own social life.

No, his decision was made. After this case he would go directly to Hughes and ask to revoke his deal and go back to prison to serve the rest of his sentence. He had already contacted the prison, but could only get a hold of a secretary, who had promised to send the required paperwork to the White Collar unit, but Neal would have to do the heavy lifting himself. According to his calculations of the speed of the postal service, the papers should arrive tomorrow, which was why he was planning to speak to Hughes first thing in the morning. He had simply reached his limit. Hughes could probably pull some strings to arrange him extra security. The FBI owed him at least that much.

Neal was so lost in thought, leaning to the seat with his eyes closed that he only came back to reality at the sound of an opening car door. His door.

"Well that didn't take too long..." he said turning to the open door, but his sentence drawled to silence. Looking at him was not Peter or the any of the others. It was a man that could have easily been cast as the infuriating Bond villain who never died no matter how many times you kicked his ass.

"What the-"

"Come with me and you can see your friends." the man growled. Neal gave out an incredulous chuckle. A mistake, he would soon discover.

"No thank you, if you could only bring my friends back here-"Neal was once again interrupted, this time by the hilt of a gun he hadn't realized Mr. Steroids was carrying. The gun slammed to the left side of his forehead and for a minute the only thing he could see were stars. Neal felt himself being yanked out of the car violently, tied up, frisked and carried like a ragdoll towards the barn. Neal tried to struggle, but he was about as successful in his endeavor as a kitten attacking their own reflection in a mirror. The man entered a barn, passed all the cows and walked down the stairs.

Once down, Neal was roughly showed to the floor. Someone called his name but Neal was too dazed to react. He opened his eyes, saw all the agents and two unknown people tied up in front of him. His vision swam a little, but the next mention of his name had him turn his head towards the voice. The only assailant now was a black-haired man who had spoken. Neal recognized him at once. Damn, we're screwed, he thought.

"Well Neal, who might you be, exactly? Max sad he didn't find a gun on you, so I am guessing you are not an agent, huh? What's your role among these lovely G-men?" Rick spoke in a soft and deliberately languid voice, which would have been soothing had Neal not seen his cruel, cold eyes.

Peter tensed. These people wouldn't like Neal's position with them. This was something he had always feared would happen if Neal was to be sent back to prison. In the criminal world his friend would be considered a snitch. That would not bode well. The sight in front of him dissipated some of the bitterness Peter had been clinging to for months. He had thought he would never again be able to call Neal his friend. But now seeing the conman in such a danger felt like a splash of cold water against his face.

"Maybe you know a little something about the case these agents are building against me? You would enlighten me wouldn't you? I must warn you though since it already seems like you resisted something, we have… ways to extract information." Rick almost purred, creeping closer to the sitting conman, who had sobered up the second he recognized the captor. Neal scurried away from the approaching man, but refused to drop eye contact with him.

"He's just a CI, he knows nothing important!" agent Ross yelled at Rick. Peter closed his eyes and cursed silently. If the young agent had had a little more experience, he would have chosen different words, but now he had given Neal away immediately. And Peter didn't miss the tone he said it in either. Even if the comment was meant to help his friend, the young agent had also thrown in a dig at Neal who sometimes knew more about the cases than anyone else. Certainly more than the probies did.

Neal paled visibly as Ricks face darkened.

"A snitch, huh? Selling out your own to your little friends!? Ah, such a shame. You would have made a wonderful toy boy for me, just look at those eyes. Well maybe I'll add them to my collection after we are done here. But right now my dinner is getting cold since you burst in right at meal time, so I'll give you some time to say bye bye to your little friends. I hope working for them was worth it." Rick leaned in towards Neal and stroked his cheek. The sharp edge in his voice told Neal that this would not end well for him and as the other man talked about his eyes, it took all of his self-control to not shiver.

Then Rick turned and left, slamming the door closed and locking it with what sounded like multiple locks. A stunned silence reigned in the basement.

"Neal, you okay? What happened, did they hit you?" Peter struggled towards Neal but the metal pipe didn't let him go far.

"Yeah well, the guy that makes The Hulk look like a mildly pissed off leprechaun asked me to join him. Understandably I was reluctant and he apparently lacks finesse in his negotiating techniques." Neal grumbled. They were in a very dire situation indeed.

"Are all of you cuffed?" Neal asked.

"Yes. In our own cuffs nonetheless." Peter answered and tested his bonds just in case the goons had been careless. Neal felt around his ties and sighed. Of course he had to be tied with a rope instead of cuffs, which would have been easily picked with the picks he had hidden in his suit.

Apparently Mr. Big Bad and Temperamental had been a good boy scout too. The knot he had tied Neal's wrists with, held firmly. The ropes had nearly no wiggle room, since Neal had been too dazed to apply his long learned techniques on how to leave yourself enough space to slip rope ties. No matter which way he tried, the other thumb was always in the way. That was going to make his life suck just a little more.

"Any of you know how to pick handcuffs?" Neal asked as he weighed his options. It was no surprise to him that all of the lawmen answered no to this query. Seriously what did they teach them in Quantico?

"Okay, we're going to do this the hard way then. I have to get at least one of you free before they come back. Something tells me they aren't a nice bunch." he said to no one in particular and started to adjust his hands.

"Are you sure they aren't some friends of yours?" agent Ross asked in a disgusted tone, gaining everyone's attention. Neal looked at him and had to fight to keep his mouth from gaping open. The young agent seriously continued bashing him even in a situation like this. After the initial shock Neal hardened his face and before any of the other agents, who to his surprise, actually looked offended on his behalf could answer he said in an even tone:

"Well no, agent Ross, I never tangled with people like them. I have met many people like them in prison, though, and let me assure you, these are not the types to be satisfied by merely teaching lessons to snitches like me. These are the types of people who kill them. I am very aware that I have exactly zero friends here." he nearly spat out the last words and gained a surprised look from Hughes. The rest of the agents looked like kicked puppies.

"What is going on in here?" Hughes wanted to know, but before he got his answer, Neal opened his mouth again.

"We don't have time for this. Shit this is going to hurt." the last sentence he muttered to himself, having finally gotten his hands in to the right position.

"What is gonna hurt…?" Diana asked worried, but without answering Neal jerked his left hand upwards with a sickening pop and stifled a cry of pain.

"Neal what the hell?" Jones asked as Neal pulled his hands out of the ropes, now having enough space to do so.

"I dislocated a thumb to get out of these damn ropes. I hate ropes" he uttered more to himself and to the horror of the people in the room he grabbed his left thumb and jerked it back to its place, clearly having done so before. It still hurt just the same, but if he ground his teeth he could use it at least a little. He'd get it checked out after this was over and done with.

"That's… Are you okay, Caffrey?" Hughes asked.

"Right as rain, sir." Neal answered and got to his feet. He staggered a little bit, pressed a hand to his forehead to examine the damage. The bleeding had nearly stopped and he doubted the blow had been enough to give him a concussion. He then turned to look at the agents. Farthest away from him sat Diana and he made his way to her.

"I'll start with you, agent Berrigan, since you are farthest away. If they come in before I get everyone free, they'll assume I went to agent Burke or Hughes first." Diana nodded as a sign of understanding. Neal kneeled down beside her and produced two picks from the seams of his suit jacket.

"Listen carefully; I'll explain how to do this in case they come in before I'm done." Neal said quietly and explained his actions while picking the cuffs holding Diana.

"You think you remember how to do that?" he asked the female agent and as she nodded, he pressed one of his picks into her hand and moved to Peter.

"Your turn, agent Burke." he said softly and Peter felt a pang of guilt. Agent Burke. Neal set to work, but suddenly the door burst open and Rick sauntered down the stairs.

"Shit." he heard the conman whisper as they all stared at the approaching goon, frozen to place.

"Tsk, tsk, mr. Caffrey. I didn't think you'd be this stupid. Surely a master forger and conman such as you should have more intelligence than to pull off something like this. Honestly you disappoint me." Rick drawled on and looked at Neal in disgust.

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you then." Neal looked at the other criminal directly in the eyes and used the same tone he had when addressing agent Rossi earlier.

"Ah, speaking of disappointments, you have recently produced a fair share of those, am I right?" Rick mocked, switching his gaze to Peter "I mean look at what happened to the lovely Mrs. Burke. And it was entirely your fault, as I have heard. I have to admit though; at first I didn't connect the dots since they have only spoken about you with your last name." A stunned silence answered him and Peter felt Neal's grip on his wrist tighten. The only outward sign showing how nervous the conman was.

"Heard?" questioned Hughes. How had he been in the dark of all of this? What he was hearing was clearing up the older agent's confusion over the way his agents were behaving and how Peter had addressed his CI.

"Yes, heard, director Hughes. You see your newest members tend to… socialize after work. Sometimes quite heavily. It really wasn't hard to bug them when I was buying them drinks a few weeks ago. I must say my intentions were to try to get intel about the FBI's movements regarding my… business. But fairly quickly I realized I had bugged some newbies who weren't allowed to any important meetings. What I did hear was a lot of very interesting things about your little rat here. Some of them rumors, I'm sure, but very entertaining. Tell me, Neal, how does it feel like to work with people who said and I quote: "you deserve nothing more than to die in a filthy ditch where no one will find you"? If it were me, I would at least be a little insulted." Neal had stood up from Peter and was now looking at Rick directly in the eyes with a hard expression none of the agents had seen on him before. Peter gasped, horrified, and tried to take a look at his friends face. Who had said something like that? Peter knew there were some nasty rumors afloat, but had he heard that one he would have definitely intervened.

"I see you leash holder racking his brain over here trying to think which one of his underlings said that. If I remember correctly it was… agent Jackson, am I right?" Rick mused and shifted his gaze at the young agents. When neither of them answered Rick took a step towards them and bellowed "AM I RGHT?!" making both of them flinch.

"Yes, it was me!" agent Jackson said with a pleading voice. The agents remembered the things Neal had told them about Rick and they started to believe it more and more.

"What do you want from us?" Jones spoke up.

"From you? Well my dear agent, you showed up rather unexpectedly but I have always wanted to try my techniques on people trained to resist persuasion, if you may" a cruel smile lingered on their captor's lips "but first…"

Out of nowhere Rick reached out, grabbed Neal by the collar and with surprising power threw the young man against the stone wall of the cellar. Neal had no time to brace for the impact; his hat went flying as his head slammed against the uneven rocks. Letting out a cry of pain and surprise he crumbled to the floor. Rick quickly approached and before Neal could get up; he drew his foot back and landed a swift kick to the consultant's stomach.

" I. Really. Don't. Like. Feds. But. Snitches. I. Fucking. HATE!" Rick shouted, every word was followed by a kick. Neal instinctively tried to flinch away from the blows, but his back was already against the wall, so the only thing he could do was try to shield his head with his arms. He fought against crying out but by the last few kicks he couldn't help it anymore. He vaguely heard someone or maybe multiple people scream his name, but Neal was too focused on the pain to pay attention.

Rick took a step back, panting. He straightened his suit a little bit, composing himself before he turned towards his prisoners, clearly overjoyed at the horror displayed on all of their faces. Behind him Neal groaned in pain and switched his position weakly.

Peter, worried for his friend, felt like throwing up. No matter what, Neal had never been violent and actually went to great lengths to avoid it at any cost. Peter noted that even the younger agents, despite their own actions against his CI, were looking unwell at his treatment. He wanted to call out to his friend, to see if he was at least conscious right now, but out of fear that speaking up would send Rick over the edge again Peter stayed quiet. Neal was still behind his attacker and Peter tried to will him into turning towards him.

"Aww look at that. Do you actually care about this piece of shit right here? I've heard it so many times through my handy little device your people calling him criminal scum; I am just giving him the appropriate treatment here." Rick smirked evilly and moved around the consultant, kicking him so he rolled over with a groan. Neal looked horrible; he had a little bit of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, which Peter hoped originated from a cut rather than internal bleeding. The young man's face contorted with pain as he rolled on the floor.

"You still with us, Mr. Caffrey?" Rick asked and got Neal to sluggishly open up his eyes. He seemed disoriented, muttered something and then tried to focus his gaze on Peter, not quite succeeding. Rick was about to say something when the door to the cellar was opened.

In came one of the men who had imprisoned the agents. Peter thought the man had been called Martin, but he couldn't be sure. What drew all of their attention were the things the man was carrying. He had knives, cattle prods, a baseball bat and various other items Peter really didn't want to know the use for in his arms.

"You wanted these, boss?"

"Yes, put them to the corner there. Well since my entertainment has now been brought to me, I am afraid that I have more interesting things to do than waste my time on you, Mr. Caffrey." Rick smiled that creepy smile he had had playing on his lips, crouched down and lifted Neal's chin to look the young man in the eyes "so this is goodbye. Say bye to your fed friends, but don't worry, at least some of them will follow you soon enough" the crazy man chuckled.

"Martin! Take him to the yard and put him down like the dog he is."

"No!" Peter screamed and attempted to move towards his partner, but the handcuffs around the pipe yanked him back again. Rick mocked him somehow, but all Peter could see or hear was his partner, who was hoisted up by Martin slipping his arms under Neal's armpits. The goon wasn't exactly gentle and the near unconscious consultant let out a pained whimper. He could hear the other agents protest as well until Rick, armed with a gun, effectively told them all to shut up. The evil smirk made its way to his lips again as he looked at his prisoners and to everyone's horror added:

"And bring me his head; I have got to get those eyes."