A huge thanks to ButtermilkCavalry who helped me a lot!

Please R&R!


Peter slammed his fist against the prison's door when it closed behind him. There was a guard behind him, watching, but Peter didn't care. He couldn't believe it. It didn't fit. Neal was not the kind of guy that'd take drugs to forget his problems, was he? And yet there wasn't any other explanation for Neal's strange behavior the agent could think off.

On his way back to the office he couldn't stop thinking about Neal. He began to wonder if his previous assumption had been right and the con artist really wouldn't do drugs at all. Peter had never really seen Neal in physical pain. He had seen Neal going through a lot of emotional shit, but never alone and never pushed to his physical limits. Sure, in Neal's business day-to-day bruising was sometimes inevitable but as far as Peter could tell the con artist had always found his way out of almost every situation with a little bit of flattery and a little remove the of luck. The agent doubted that Neal had ever been forced to cope with serious injuries or suffer pain over a long period of time. Peter feared that Neal saw this as his only way to deal with pain. Drugs.

Peter frowned, stopping his train of thought; it wasn't a way to cope. For no one. And if Neal really was taking drugs Peter would find a way to stop him. Like it or not.

~o~o~o~

When he got out of the visiting room Neal went directly to his cell. Wilkes was there. The young con artist pinched his nose, already exasperated.

"Walls have ears Neal. Don't you know that?", Wilkes started in a smile.

"Just go away, Wilkes. It's really not a right time.", Neal answered, rolling his eyes. He didn't care about what Wilkes might have heard. He just wanted to be alone right now. He lay down on the bed, looking away from Wilkes.

"My dear friend... There isn't a time not 'right' for me to visit you. At least not for the next... What? ... Eleven days?", Wilkes said with a grin.

Neal sat up and turned around to the other man. How could he know that? Wasn't there any fucking guard who wasn't a snitch for this piece of crap?

"So what?", Neal tried, "I don't care if you know that..."

"I do. I've been waiting for this information for days now!", Wilkes answered, "And during this time I gave you this for free, remember?", he motioned the little bottle "and I'll keep doing it during the next eleven days but you're gonna have to do something for me."

Neal straightened up: "I wouldn't say it was for free...", he said bitterly.

Wilkes answered with a little grin "Yeah, whatever... What I meant is; I did something for you, now it's your turn to do something for me. I want to get out."

Neal's eyes widened: "You want me to escape with you? I'll never do that Wilkes! You know I won't!"

"It's not what I'm saying. What I say is; you enjoy your last days here, I keep providing you with your sweet little morphine and when you get out you start figuring a plan to help me escape."

Neal had no idea, where Wilkes was going with this. Why the hell would he help him once he was out? He got the strange feeling, that there was more to the other man's mischievous smile than met the eye but wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Neal chuckled nervously: "I won't do it Wilkes. I can't.", the con man shook his head. He would never do such a thing.

"You can and you will!", Wilkes sounded angry now, "You may be the smart one outside but in here nobody cares about your brain. You're a fucking lost puppy in here Caffrey! Don't you get that?" He couldn't believe that the con man dared telling him 'no'. "Didn't you get it last time?", the taller man grabbed Neal's collar, forcing him up but without letting his feet touch the ground. And Neal felt weak indeed. Wilkes throw him back onto the bed, on his tummy this time, and put his knee on the young man's back to hold him still.

"Wilkes!", Neal cried, afraid to understand what was happening, "Wilkes don't! Please!", his voice was hysterical now.

But the other man was already taking off his belt and he put it around Neal's neck, "Will you fucking shut up for once?" Wilkes tightened the belt and Neal couldn't breathe any more. He couldn't answer either and Wilkes was obviously fine with that. The taller man stripped Neal from his pants, enjoying each seconds while the young con man squirmed on the bed, gasping for air. Wilkes took his own pants off and lay down on Neal. He reached for the belt and took it off Neal's neck.

The young man took a few deep breathes before speaking again, "Wilkes! Stop it, we can talk! I could find you money or paintings!" he sounded so desperate, it made Wilkes laugh.

"I don't care about what you can give me Caffrey. I care about what I can take from you.", the man said with an evil smile. He placed himself between Neal's legs and whispered to the con man's ear, "And I thing dignity is one of those thing", and he slammed himself into the younger man.

A few minutes later Wilkes was done. He hitched Neal's pants back up and buttoned his own. Neal was still laying on the bed, his head buried in his pillow. Wilkes knelt at his side and whispered to his ear "I always get what I want Caffrey, I thought I had proven that already. As soon as you'll get out of here I want you to start thinking about an escape plan." The taller man straightened up, ready to leave the cell. He took a last look to Neal's shaking body and said, "You wouldn't want anything to happen to your dear friend Luigi, would you?"