Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters except for William Marks and Riley Furnick, both of which come from my imagination and are not meant to represent anyone. Any connection to real life people is completely accidental and I apologize.

Trigger Warning: Non-Con Mention

Alex woke in an unfamiliar room. The wallpaper was old, peeling in some places, and a small chandelier hung from the ceiling. The only furniture was the small wooden chair that Alex was currently tied to. His arms were wrapped around the back, his wrists tied together. More of the thick rope was tied around his ankles and wrapped around his chest and the back of the chair. He wouldn't be getting out of this any time soon. Even if he did have some sharpish object to cut through the rope, his coordination was too far off.

The room was quiet; no sound could be heard from anywhere. His neck hurt and he could feel his head pounding due to the constant beatings it had received lately.

Neal had said he had a concussion before, and it had probably only gotten worse. He could feel the haze covering his mind making it hard to think straight, the edge of his vision was black and everything was just a bit blurry. He felt nauseous, but he pushed it away not needing to get sick all over himself when he was being held captive.

Speaking of Neal.

He had no idea if they had made it out. All he knew was that he had been pushed out of the building almost as soon as the alarm went off. He didn't even know what had happened. Neal and Ben could be dead for all he knew. And it would have been his entire fault.

He let his head hang, allowing the despair wash over him. He should have never let anyone near him. All that ever happened was death. Anyone that got close, really anyone that talked to him, ended up hurt; if not dead.

He didn't hear the footsteps, and narrowly missed the sound of the door being swung open. Looking up he met the dark green of the man's eyes, looking at him as if looking at his soul. There was nothing friendly about William Marks and his eyes showed the trait well. There was no show of any warmth as the man looked at Alex, there was really no show of any emotions, just that of contempt and hatred.

A sudden slap to his face had Alex reeling. He didn't know how much more of a beating his head could take. He didn't look back up at the man as he started to rant, allowing his head hang, closing his eyes against the light and hopefully, the dark reality of the world he was in.

"Well Rider, look at the mess we're in now. I hope you're happy. I have the FBI on my trail, and I have a meeting tonight at the Philharmonic. Hopefully I'll find my painting, the one that you refuse to give me the location too." A punch followed the sentence, his aggravation at the situation coming through clearly, but Marks was not done yet, "Because of your friend I'll have to resort to much more physical persuasion." Marks grabbed his face harshly, making sure Alex was looking at him before talking, a sadistic little smile crossing his face, "I'm going to put you through a world of hurt. You might think you have known pain, but do not worry, I'll have you giving me answers within hours."

And he was right, that is if Alex had had answers, he would have given them in a heartbeat. Marks grew more and more frustrated as Alex continued screaming out 'I don't know, I don't know'. Not for one moment did he believe that Alex might have been telling the truth. Alex felt more bones break and crack then he had in all his life. Blood leaked from the many cuts that scattered his body and there was not a place that was left untouched as bruises littered anything that might have been left out. His bullet wound felt as if it was on fire and every move that Alex made only brought more pain. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. His nausea kept getting worst as the smell of his own metallic blood assaulted him. The world spun around him, even if he was sitting absolutely still.

Marks knew what he was doing and was able to keep Alex alive, all while giving him the greatest amount of pain possible. All Alex wanted to do was slip into a world of unconsciousness, but any time his eyes stayed closed for more than a minute Marks was splashing cold water at his face.

It was until hours later that he was granted this wish. Hours filled with mental and physical abuse. And when there was no more room outside of Alex to harm, Marks moved inward. Taking one of the few things Alex had been able to keep throughout the mess that was his spy life. Ripping out any hope of recovering from this, Marks took Alex's will to survive. The tears spilled over without a care of who saw as he was violated in every way possible, as Marks ripped away Alex's virginity, taking any innocence left with it.

Alex eventually slipped into oblivion, tears still trailing down his face, the sound of the door closing ringing in his ears as his eyes slipped closed.

It was another few hours before Alex came back to the land of the living. His head pounded and every part of his body ached. He felt the itch of dried blood along the side of his face. Pain radiated from everywhere and he was more than sure that his wrist was broken, along with a few ribs, maybe a leg. His shoulder was popped out of place and he may or may not have had fractures in a few places. His mind was foggy and all he wanted to do was fall back into unconsciousness. The approaching steps escaped his attention. Alex didn't even look up as Marks walked through the door, the slap to his face did little more than make his head whip to the left, causing his vision to black out before lights danced in his eyes as his head pounded from the abuse. With a snap of his fingers, Marks had someone holding Alex's head up. The hand gripping his hair felt as if it was ripping off his scalp.

Marks was dressed for more than just success. His black and white tuxedo reminded Alex of James Bond which was more than ironic seeing as Alex was supposed to be the James Bond in this situation, but Alex wasn't sure he would have been able to make a great escape with the condition he was in.

"Alex, so glad you could join us in the world of the living. Guess what?" There was a pause as if Marks actually expected Alex to give him an answer before he continued on. "We're leaving. You are getting out of here. Of course I'll be with you along with a few of my guards who will be keeping guns trained on you the whole time, but you'll still be getting out and getting fresh air." He smiled as if expecting a 'thank you'.

Marks frowned at the lack of response but continued on anyways. "I can't afford to leave you behind; therefore I need to bring you with me to my meeting at the Philharmonic. You'll be a valuable piece if anything goes wrong. After I get the location of the painting, I'll have my men go find it. When we finally have the painting we'll be off to collect a couple more things. Only when I have everything I need will I get rid of you. Permanently. " He smirked when Alex's eyes widened a fraction before whistling. A man immediately came rushing in, carrying a bag with a suit inside.

"Help Alex into his suit, will you. We have to leave soon. Wouldn't want to be late, now would we." With that Marks left the room letting the door swing shut behind him.

An hour later and Alex was finally in the suit. It fit remarkably well, but the pain he had gone through in order to get it on had his head spinning and him fighting off the bile that rose in his throat. They had cleaned up his more noticeable wounds before lathering on make up to make it look like he was not hanging onto consciousness by a thread. If this had been a normal things Alex would have been impressed with their skills to cover it all up. But nothing about this was normal, in fact it was so far from normal Alex was more disgusted with this talent than anything else. How many others had they used these skills on?

He was carried out of the house like a sack of potatoes and roughly thrown in the back of the limo. They buckled him, cuffing him to some random rods that ran through the inside of the limo, before moving out of the way to allow Marks to step into the limo and sit across from an exhausted Alex, who's head rested at an awkward angle against his shoulder. "Are you ready Alex? My big plan is about to be set in motion. I'm sure you'll love it. Sadly you won't get to see me carry it out. I'm also not one of those bad guys that spell out their plan to people, so I guess you'll never really know."

Alex said nothing, allowing his eyes to close, knowing that Marks wouldn't try anything, not after having people go through all that work to make him look presentable. The cold window was comforting, even if he couldn't see out of it.

The ride wasn't as long as Alex would have hoped it would be. The shorter the ride the less time Ben had to find him. Marks gave him some speech about not trying anything and how Alex should try to look like he was having fun, or something along those lines. Alex wasn't really paying attention, to busy trying to gather the energy to put on the show he knew was coming.

As soon as the door opened Alex was assaulted by light and sound. New York City was lit up like usual, including the Avery Fisher Hall. Light spilled through open doors that people continuously flooded through. Everyone was talking and it seemed as if many people felt the need to yell. Alex's head pounded, the headache intensifying as Alex fought to stay up right.

Marks followed right behind him, a hand on his shoulder. A few men and women came up to them, talking to Marks as if friends, asking who Alex was. "My nephew," was the reply, Alex skin crawled at the simple thought of even being that closely related to the man. They proceeded to head inside, following much of the crowd. Inside the orchestra hall was quieter, many people having stayed outside to talk to everyone they knew. The lights were softer and Alex melted into his seat, sliding his eyes closed trying to lessen the pain of his pounding skull, and fighting of the nausea that came with having pushed himself to stay up for so long.

Alex felt like everything was louder than it should be, as if his hearing had intensified, even if it was quieter in the hall than outside. He was able to hear the drone of people talking in the rows in front of him, the quiet murmur of people outside the door talking before the show began and even some whispered conversations all the way in the top row.

He cracked one of his eyes open at the sound of a chair being pushed down and someone joining the end of the row. A man, looking to be in his early forties, with a thick head of black hair that was slightly graying, had joined them, though he didn't say a word. Alex let himself fall back into the seat, his eyes sliding closed again. He kept his ears open, listening for any conversation from Marks and the man, but none came.

Eventually the lights went down and the curtains went up. That's when the real show began.

"Boss we got a hit. A man named Riley Furnick was connected to Marks back in 2004. Furnick sold Marks drugs, but what those drugs went to was unknown. The investigation was eventually closed, they had no idea where it was all going and had no leads so they eventually arrested Furnick with drug dealing and illegal possession. When they went into arrest Marks, for illegal possession as well, he had disappeared. There was no trace of him anywhere." Diana held the file out after announcing what she had found to the group.

"Where is Furnick now?" Peter asked as he looked over the file.

"He's still in prison. I've arranged for you to talk to him. Same prison Caffrey was in." Peter was out of his seat with the first few words. Neal and Ben following close behind.

They arrived at the prison in record time. Flashing his badge to the security guards he was able to walk through without a problem reaching the same meeting room that him and Neal had negotiated his release in. "Riley Furnick, my name is Peter Burke, I'm part of the FBI. I need to know everything you know about William Marks." He flawlessly slid into the seat across from Furnick, Neal and Ben standing behind him.

"Who?" There was a hit of a German accent as he talked.

"The man you were selling drugs to in 2004."

"I sold a lot of drugs to a lot people. I don't really remember who was who."

Peter had to take a deep breath to keep from exploding in irritation. Ben took this time to butt in, taking the conversation into his own hands. "William Marks, he would have ordered more than any other person you sold too. You asked what it was for and he told you that it was none of your business and that if you knew what was good for you, you would keep out of it. He was straight to the point and would not partake in small talk. He would ask for what he wanted and you would give it to him and get out. He was well dressed, not like usual customers. William Marks. Do you know him or not." Ben was quick to speak, giving the information flawlessly and fast.

"There was a man like you speak of. His name was not William Marks though, he was known as Joshua Michaels. He would always ask me to meet him at some fancy place to figure out where the deals would go down. Wasted most of my money on renting suits just to fit in to the places he took me." Furnick looked disgruntled at the last part, obviously not liking that he had spend his earning in order to get more.

"Was there any where that he took you more often than any other place?" Neal was quick to speak this time, wanting the information and wanting it fast.

"Yeah, he was always making me meet him at the Philharmonic. The Avery Fisher Hall, at the Lincoln Center? Even if it was weird it was still a good place to meet. The music made it hard for anyone to hear us; most people were focused on the orchestra anyways. No one would have thought that there was drug deal going down. It was a pretty good meeting place." Peter was out of his seat, pulling his phone out as Furnick continued to ramble on.

"Diana, we got a place. Suit up and bring extras. We'll meet you at the Avery Fisher Hall." He snapped his phone shut before marching out.

Furnick stood as they began to leave, "Hey do I get anything, you know, for helping you guys out?"

"Yeah, no extra jail time." Peter let the door swing shut behind him as he left, the resounding echoing bouncing around Furnick as he was left behind.

A/N: I tried the whole research thing and that's where the Philharmonic came from. Please let me know it anything is wrong!