The shocker is in this chapter guys! I'm so excited! ;)


Colette didn't regain consciousness that day, and Neal called in to say he wouldn't be coming back to work that day either; possibly not the next day either. It depended on how Colette was doing. For one, he didn't want to leave her alone with the Burkes – they might disobey him again and take her to the hospital. He had been serious when he had been explaining about how homeless people were viewed in hospitals, but that hadn't been the entire reason. If she was, in fact, helping Gerald or O'Donnell, word would surely get back to them where she was and she could end up dead before a full day was through.

But something was nagging at him, as he watched the girl fighting nightmares on the couch. It pained him to see a girl so young trapped in the clutches of drugs, but he couldn't wake her up. He'd tried, but she was too far deep that she couldn't come up yet. Mozzie had said she would be okay – that most of the cocktail was out of her system already. She would be having severe withdrawals for the next few days, but gradually they would fade and she would be able to communicate and hopefully tell Neal what was going on.

But the drugs weren't what kept bothering him. Sure, that was troublesome, but something was niggling at the back of his mind. He stared at Colette, trying to figure it out, but it was like a dog chasing its tail – it was always just out of reach.

Peter and Elizabeth meanwhile, were hard at work at being as disdainful as they could to Neal without being outright disobedient. They were cool and aloof, pissed that they got on extra month when all they had been trying to do was help out the little girl. Of course, they thought that Neal had just bought her as another slave, but Neal wasn't saying anything to correct them.

"He's only bought her so that he can have more help after we're gone," Peter said as he peeled potatoes for dinner the next day. "Maybe…I dunno, maybe we should purposely disobey a bit so that we can stay long enough to help her out."

"We don't know that she was bought," El tried to say as she chopped lettuce into salad-sized pieces.

"Come on, El," Peter said in exasperation. "You saw how starved she was, and you heard that she was strung out on drugs. No eight-year-old is going to be taking drugs of her own volition – not at this early of an age. She's definitely a slave, and she was given that cocktail of drugs to keep her down while Caffrey took her back to the house."

"I don't know," El said doubtfully. "He did seem honestly concerned about her well-being when he showed up…"

"That's because it's like I said – he needs another slave of his to boss around and do as he pleases once we've left."

"That's now five months away," El reminded him. "He could've waited and gotten someone later, after it looks like we're leaving soon."

Peter shook his head. "Not if he wants to start training her now," he insisted. "I'm telling you – she's his new slave."

"Then we'll help her while we can," El said simply. "It does neither of us – or her, for that matter – any good to start jumping to conclusions now rather than wait and see how she is before we leave. Maybe we can get her free with us once we're gone. Or better yet, report Mr. Caffrey to the FBI."

Peter suddenly stopped his peeling and looked at her. "That's what's been bugging me," he said. "Why is he planning to let us go if he knows we're going to go straight to the Feds?"

El shrugged. "Maybe he has someone in there to clear it up every time something like that comes up. I don't know. You're over thinking this, hon."

Peter sighed and went back to peeling, but in his mind, the question still lingered.


That night, Neal lied in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. So much had happened that day…it was just so much to take in. He had moved the little girl to a guest bedroom next to his, so that he could hear if she screamed or cried or made any noise that he could go and help her. Or try to, anyway. She had seemed to be awake and alert a couple of times during the day, but she was still caught in her hallucinations and nightmares. It tore at his heart every time she cried out in distress, though he couldn't fathom why. He'd only met her today after all, and what did he really know about her?

Her name was Colette. That was it. Nothing else – not even how old she was. For all he knew, she was sent to kill him.

But somehow, as he kept seeing those enormous blue eyes filled with tears and panic, he couldn't believe that. Perhaps she wasn't working for Gerald or O'Donnell. But then who was she? And why was she following him? He wondered how long she had been following him – he'd only noticed the day before, but in reality she could've been following him for days or even weeks before he realized it. The thought unsettled him a little, but he quickly tried to brush these feelings aside. She was a little girl, for God's sake – not a crazed serial killer.

Neal sighed and rubbed tiredly at his sore eyes. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since…well, ages. It had been years, at least, and it really took a toll on him. He wasn't normally this soft with the "slaves" he took in – he was able to get the job done, and get it done fast. But he'd had them for…what was it – six weeks now? He wasn't sure. Maybe it had just been so long since he was truly happy, and it really hurt him to crush Peter and El's happiness. Why did he have to be such a bastard? Why in hell did he even accept this job with the FBI?

Oh, right…

He stared coldly at the man who had bought him - his new "master". Blue eyes hardly blinked as the old man examined him, looked him up and down as though assessing him. It was really nothing new. This was the fourth "master" since he'd been separated from Kate, and ever since then he'd been stone cold, hardly speaking to anyone, even when ordered. Especially when ordered. He'd been beaten, raped, starved, even branded, but nothing worked. He would not become unhinged; become a shell of his former self - it was not in his nature to give up. He was simply biding his time, like a snake does before an attack. When it was the right time, he would break free and go after Kate.

So he stood still, arms clasped comfortably behind his back. Or, they would be comfortable if they weren't linked together with handcuffs. They felt all too familiar to him, though before when he had worn them they had been chained above his head, to a bed post or such. Now, they didn't seem to be on for anything sexual – rather, to keep him in place, like a criminal.

"How long have you been a slave, boy?" the old man finally asked. Neal simply blinked at him, not bothering to answer the bastard.

The man simply smiled at his defiance and held up a gentle hand. "I mean you no harm, Neal," he said. He continued speaking, but the words alone opened some painful memories and Neal's brain blocked out what he was saying.

"I mean you no harm, Neal," the man whispered, trailing a finger up his chest. "You're safe here...with me." Something under his jacket pressed against the side Neal's thigh, and Neal knew immediately that it wasn't a gun.

"...to be perfectly honest."

Neal came back to the present as the man finished what he was saying, but he didn't bother to try and pick up what it had been. He stared at the man, loathe spilling from his eyes as free as water does in a waterfall. The man merely chuckled at the sight, but didn't deliver the blow Neal had been sure would be the consequence for his defiance.

"What about your family, boy?" the man continued to question. "Where are they?"

Again Neal remained silent. After a moment the man asked:

"Are you from New York?"

Neal simply rolled his eyes at the man's relentlessness and looked at the ceiling, trying to block out the questions.

"What did you do before you were taken into this business?"

"How old were you when you were taken?"

"Did you graduate high school?"

"Did you ever go to college?"

"Did you get your Master's degree?"

"When were you taken into this business?"

"How old are you now?"

"What has kept you sane in this time?"

"Are you in love with someone?"

"Are you married?"

These were just a few of the questions that went on for at least an hour, but Neal never spoke or opened his mouth. Finally, though, the man asked a question that he had to respond to.

"Were you separated from your wife recently?"

"Thanks to bastards like you," Neal said bitingly, speaking for the first time in his presence.

The expression on the man's face never changed. He simply studied Neal for a moment before saying, "I must say, you are very good at hiding your emotions. However, I was able to read you like a book in this past hour."

"Bite me," Neal said bluntly.

The man simply smiled and recited, "You're an only child, raised in the Midwest – never a father in the picture. You moved to New York alone after you ran away - have been living here since you were eighteen or so. You attended a University on scholarship, got your Master's in...accounting, I'd say. You worked small-time jobs until you were almost twenty-three before marrying a woman named...Kate! About three weeks later, both of you were kidnapped and thrown into the slavery world. You were always sold together though, and that's what kept you sane, was your love. You turned twenty-four in March; you were separated from Kate...I'd say two weeks ago."

Neal stared at him, amazed and trying not to show it. "How...?"

"I watched the twitches on your face," the man said. "You would always make some reaction to what I had said."

"But...Kate..." Neal said confusedly.

"Every time I would make the sounds that spelled out 'Kate', your pupils dilated the smallest fraction. It was entirely subconscious, I'm sure, but..." he shrugged. "I've had practice reading people."

Neal didn't say anything, and the man simply smiled again.

"I like you, Caffrey," he told him. "You've got a strong will. Now I'm going to be perfectly straight with you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and black, holding it out to him. "I'm not like most people who've already bought you."

Reese Hughes, Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Neal looked back up at him with slightly widened eyes. "You're a Fed. You're FBI."

Hughes nodded. "If you'd like, you can be, too. That's part of the reason I came to look for you."

"You bought me to recruit me to the FBI?!" Neal said incredulously. "Wouldn't a letter or a colorful brochure in the mail have sufficed?!"

Hughes rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course - why didn't I think of that?" he said sarcastically. "I suppose I could've addressed it as 'Neal Caffrey, 87 Riverside Drive...Basement Level, 4th Cage Down'. That would've gone over justnicely at the post office."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Seriously, this could've been made a lot simpler. I don't want to join the FBI!"

"I don't mean just any division," Hughes said insistently. "I mean the Office for Victim Assistance, where I work. Our division is dedicated to stopping human trafficking, and if you joined, that's what you would be doing."

"So...if I joined, I could stop the people that were selling me?"

Hughes nodded. "Perhaps."

"And...I could get Kate back?"

"Now Caffrey, you have to understand that it takes a very long time to bring down a trafficking ring as powerful as the one you dealt with."

Neal shook his head. "I don't care. I told her I would find her; that I would never give up."

"By the time we stop them, it could be twenty years from now. She could be a different person than the one you know now...or dead."

Neal kept shaking his head. "I don't care. I'll do anything it takes to get her back. I have to believe that there's hope." He paused to take a breath and then said, "I'm in."

Hughes gave him a grim sort of smile, and with a sigh, he reached into his pocket for something. Neal realized when he held it out that it was a key for the handcuffs.

"Oh," Neal said with a dazzling smile as he brought his hands in front of him. He held out the cuffs to Hughes. "Don't bother. I've got it."

Neal sighed again as he came back to the present. Kate. He'd joined the FBI to find Kate. He hadn't expected to be promoted to senior agent a year into the job – he hadn't even fully understood what that entailed. But when Hughes had given him a file one day – not of a criminal but of a person he had to buy – it had all fallen into place. He'd been angry at first, and had struggled to be a convincing "master", but gradually the feelings had disappeared and he'd been driven by a single thing, repeating in his head every day like a mantra – Find Kate. Find Kate and you can be done.

Neal rubbed at his eyes again, though this time it was to wipe at the tears suddenly leaking out of his eyes. God, he missed Kate. He wasn't sure she was even alive anymore, but he had to keep pressing forward, putting one foot in front of the other, living minute by minute so that he wouldn't fall apart at the seams.

Minute by minute…okay, firstly he needed to figure out who this "Colette" was and what she wanted with him. That was the first step. Then he could figure out the Burke issue – get the information he needed from Peter before they had totally closed off. He felt bad about giving them another month, but…still, he'd warned them. And before, their future had been indefinite – at least to them. Now, they knew for sure that they had five more months and they could be free. He knew he could get the information he needed out of Peter by then.

But, he was straying from the more pressing issue at the moment. Colette. She couldn't be more than nine years old. What was she doing with drugs in her system if she really wasn't helping Gerald or O'Donnell? Could it have been her parents? Who were her parents? Why was she alone, wandering the streets of New York City?

After hours of questions in his mind, Neal finally fell into an exhausted, restless sleep.


They had been married for six days now – six wonderful, happy days. They sat playing a game of chess on the patio of the hotel room they had rented for their honeymoon.

"Neal, what do you think about kids?" she asked suddenly in the middle of their conversation about the performance they were going to see that night.

Neal blinked, startled by this sudden question. He looked up at her, and saw that she was clearly a bit nervous by this question.

"I…don't know," he said, uncertain what she expected to hear. "What about them?"

"Well…do you want kids? Like a family?"

Neal set his chess piece down in the same spot he'd picked it up from. He looked at her seriously and then said, "Well, I have to confess, I haven't thought about it a whole lot…but if that's what you want – if it will make you happy – then it will make me happy, too."

Kate seemed uncertain at his response. "But do you want kids?" she pressed. "Do you want to have the responsibility of being a father?"

Neal smiled gently at her. "Yes," he said simply. "I…well, I want to be a dad. I want to play catch with my boy in the backyard and scare boys when they ask my daughter on a date. I would love that. But I really think it should ultimately be left up to you, 'cause you're the one that has to go through – "

He was cut off rather suddenly by Kate's lips pressed against his. Neal cupped a hand to the base of her neck and pulled her closer to sit on his lap as he kissed her back. After a few seconds, it was Kate who pulled away first.

"What was that for?" Neal asked rather breathlessly, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Kate laughed and pecked the tip of his nose. "You, sweetheart. All of your confidence that you show to other people is completely wasted. Everyone should be allowed to see this wonderful, sweet, loving man in front of me. I'm just so honored to be one of the few you show him to."

Neal was rather confused. "So…you want kids too?" he couldn't hide the hopefulness in his voice.

Kate laughed again and hugged him tightly. "Of course I do, punkin. I am just so glad you agree with me on this."

Neal smiled lovingly and pulled her in for another kiss. After breaking away again, he said, "Well…I think we should start discussing names, then. First boy? I like the name George."

"That's because it's your middle name," Kate laughed. "Of course you like it. And if we're going to go for George, I think we should go for a Junior and name him Neal George Caffrey, Jr."

Neal grinned. "Okey dokey then. Neal George it is, then. But what if it's a girl first?"

Kate looked thoughtful for several seconds before she said, "I like the name Allison – Ali for short, of course."

"Ali would be adorable." Neal agreed readily. "But what if they're twin girls? What then?"

Kate smiled, though this time it seemed to come off a bit shy. "Well…I always liked my mom's middle name – she was French, you know."

Neal nodded. "I know that. But…I never knew her, remember? What was her middle name?"

Kate took a breath before saying, "It was Colette."

Neal could see her nervousness, and though he didn't particularly like the name, he could see that this was important to her. Besides, what did it matter what her name was? He would still love her all the same.

Apparently he'd been quiet for a moment too long, because there was suddenly disappointment in Kate's eyes. "Well, maybe not…" she said self-consciously. "It is a bit old-fashioned…"

Neal quickly took her face in his hands and pecked her on the lips before saying firmly, "No. I love Colette. That will be her name."

Hope and doubt flickered as one in her enormous blue eyes. "Are you sure?"

Neal nodded and smiled. "I'm sure. Colette is perfect."


Neal's eyes opened in a flash as he woke up from the sudden memory. He hadn't given much thought to that day so long ago – it had borne too many painful memories. But now that memory was brought to the full front of his mind, and he found that he couldn't rid himself of it. He pulled the picture of Kate out from under his mattress and stared at it for several moments – the main point being her eyes. That's what had been bugging him about Colette…she had the same blue eyes as Kate.

No… he tried to tell himself. Colette wasn't Kate's daughter. That would be too odd of a coincidence, her showing up here, following him…but that would explain that bit. But there was the issue of the drugs…where did that come from? If Kate was her mother, that would mean that she had been raped again, and gotten pregnant, which meant that he wasn't technically her father…but he would still have some sort of responsibility, with Kate gone and all. But she wasn't Kate's daughter. It couldn't be.

…Could it?


HA! Hope some of you were surprised…or maybe not. In any case, please review and tell me what you think! XD