*** Update: I received a message, in which someone pointed out, that the treatment of Neal by Jones was a little to harsh and not really realistic. I really like him and totally agree, because Neal isn't fighting at all and is very young after all so I'll change that a little. But as an result, I'll change the first chapter, too. Only for those who start reading now, it doesn't make sense otherwise. And I'll update this chapter a little bit in general, because I am not fully content. But it won't be huge changes, no need to read it again if you don't want to. ***

Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the delay, I was really sick for a few days and had to rest. Thank you soo much, I'm always full of joy when I receive a new follower, review or favourite, you're all to kind. I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer, so it's not as long as I wanted it to be. And don't worry, there's a lot more to tell! :) Please enjoy!


After over two weeks in Keller's captivity Neal felt exhausted. He had refused to work for him for over two days in the beginning, without getting any food and only little water, but what made him really rethink his attitude was seeing Mozzie tortured by that well-known bodyguard.

They forced him to watch while his friend was smashed into pieces. The image of Mozzie, lying in his own blood, persecuted him in his nightmares after that. He screamed, cried and struck out but could do nothing to stop the beating. He couldn't reach Mozzie or talk to him. They left Neal in his cell afterwards, alone with his desperate thoughts and the sound of the breaking bones still in his ears.

After that he finally agreed to help Keller, only for Mozzies sake. They brought him in a bright room with nothing but a weasel, paint and several brushes inside. No window and no other possibility to escape. They locked him in, chained his foot to the wall and forced him to work for hours and hours on several forgeries. Neal didn't knwo what for and was smart enough not to ask. In fact, he wasn't really able to, because Keller only showed up for a little while when he finished one of his paintings. If Keller wasn't satisfied, he destroyed his work and Neal had to begin all over again and face another night without any food and with a lot of pain. He felt desperate and helpless. Even with his skills he couldn't find a way out of this mess and just tried to function. He had to admit that Keller knew exactly how to prevent any chance of an escape. As if all of that wasn't enough, he had caught a bad cold and felt his physical condition worsen day by day. He started doing scratches on the wall to count the days he was in here, because after a few days he had totally lost track of time.

The only bright spot during these otherwise gloomy days was that he somehow developed a strange relationship with Keller's bodyguard, whose name, as he got to know after he started working in the bright room, was David. He spent most of the days guarding him and held him upright with some witty sayings or anecdotes from his life, even if he was still punishing him on Keller's behalf. And sometimes he helped him out with a little more and especially edible food and provided him with news about Mozzie, who, if he could believe David's words, had recovered from his beating and was just desperate that he wasn't allowed to leave his cell or talk to Neal. When he was trying to get some sleep, he concetrated his thoughts on Mozzie. Hold on brother, we'll work something out, sooner or later!

Then, after over two weeks in this hell, when he could barely stand upright, Keller sent David to fetch him and had him brought into his office. Neal was roughly bumped into a chair, facing Keller behind his desk. Appearently HE worked something out, acording to his satisfied facial expression. He immediately felt sick and nervously clutched the armrests of his chair.

"Ah, my dear friend. How are you today?", Keller greeted him with his greasy smile. Neal didn't bother to answer but looked at him with an expression of disgust in his face. He couldn't stop himself from coughing badley, his head felt very hot and like a balloon and he couldn't think properly.

"I see, you're not very talkative today, are you? Well, doesn't matter. We've got something to celebrate today. You know kid, after your failure two weeks ago, I had to work something out. I really need that painting. And you will get it for me!"

Neal looked him in disbelief. "You want me to steal from the museum again? That's ridiculous! After what happened the last time, I wouldn't even come close to the painting."

Keller was laughing out loud. "No. The painting isn't there anymore. You know, I've got my contacts everywhere. And I know from a safe source, that the Feds secured the painting."

Neal looked even more bewildered. "So what? You want me to steal from the FBI? You must be crazy, that would never ever work. It's like committing professional suicide."

Keller looked at him, amused and with raised eyebrows. "Ahhh, I bet you would be able to do that, Caffrey. But no, that's not what I want from you. I want you to go into that building and surrender.", he said simply.

"You WHAT?", Neal yelled out lout.

"Calm down, kid. I want you to gain a little trust from the head agent of the white collar division and after that, with some help of a friend of mine who has got access to the main facility, you'll be able to get me what I want. After that, you and your friend are free to go wherever you want."

Neal looked at him infuriated. "And what if I refuse?"

"Ahh Caffrey. You're a smart boy, I thought you would know that by now. Let me explain it this way, it wouldn't benefit you or your friend. Your forgeries aren't bad, but not good enough to justify your maintenance, you understand? And your friend... you know he's quite a bright little fellow, but I've got enough of those and he can be a bloody nuisance, if you know what I mean.".

Neal suddenly felt very tired and defenceless. He looked away and tried to maintain posture.

"Why is this painting so important, Keller? Why do you need it so badly?", he asked, as calm as possible.

"None of your business kid. Let's discuss the details of my plan, so that you feel better prepared."

When he finally finished his explanation, Neal felt overwhelmed and had another coughing attack. Keller took a step forward and reached out to touch his forehead. Neal backed away, terrified, expecting Keller to beat him again. Keller raised his hands, clearly enjoying his power.

"Oooh, come on, kid, I'm only concerned about your health. No need to be scared, little friend." He said, obviously enjoying himself.

"Give him something to lower his fever, so that we can send him to the lion's den tomorrow.", he demanded of David and dissmissed them both with a single gesture of his hand.

Back in his cell, chained to the wall again, Neal hugged his knees and began rocking back and forth, close to tears. David reentered the room and brought him his tiny pot of gruel, as usual, together with a juice against his fever. He knelt to him, touching his leg gently. Neal winced, but stopped rocking and looked into David's eyes. To his surprise, he saw a lot of compassion in the older man's face.

"Hold on, kiddo. Just do what he demands and then run with your friend, as fast as you can. Never get in touch with this man again.", he whispered and meanwhile pressed a candy bar into Neal's hand. Without another word he left him alone with his raging thoughts, rocking again, confused and desperate.


Peter sat thoughtfully at the kitchen table, stroking Satchmo's soft fur and trying to read his newspaper as usual, but couldn't concentrate. Elizabeth watched him concerned.

"What's wrong, honey? You are not yourself for over a week now.", she asked him gently.

Peter looked up in surprise. "Oh…, well, I'm sorry. I just can't get this boy out of my head. I haven't heard from him in over three weeks now. No postcard, no call, no sign of life. And I somehow got the feeling, that there's something wrong. After what happened in that alley after the heist… You know, I was more than certain that he would let me know that… just that everything is fine. I can't explain, but El… he seemed so desperate and in such a poor condition. I'd just like to know." He ran his hand nervously through his hair and then looked at his wife with a half-hearted smile. "I know, he would have to go to juvie for a long time if I arrested him and he certainly deserves it, he's a criminal after all, but at least I would know that he's safe."

His wife looked at him with so much love in her gaze, hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek softly.

"Oh Peter, that's more than sweet. Of course you're worried. This boy is part of your life for such a long time now and he isn't such a bad guy, is he? You'll find him and you'll help him, babe. Be patient. He's a smart boy, he knows how to cope on the streets. After all he could escape from the best FBI agent ever for over three years. That should tell you!", she chuckled lightly. "You know what, Peter? I'd really like to see this young gentleman in flesh sometime. I mean he's part of our lives for ages and I even know his shoe size. I think it's about time now, isn't it?." Peter chuckled too and turned to hug his wife full of love before he had to leave.


Peter felt somehow relieved after the little talk with his wife and left home with new strength. He had his desk full of more than boring cases, which came in handy to finally stop his concerns for the whole morning. When he was fully concerting on some obviously counterfeit bonds, risible compared to Caffrey's alleged art works, he looked up when he sensed something strange.

At first, he didn't know what it was. He looked out of his glazed office wall and faced some of his agents, leaning against the railing and staring at something in the lower part of the office, obscuring Peter's view. He now realised what he had sensed first: All the usual chatting noices disappeared. Clearly all the conversations outside stopped for a reason. He stood up slowly, frowning, and left his office. When he reached the parapet, he couldn't believe what he saw. Now, when he finally stopped thinking about him, Caffrey was standing in the middle of the office. Just like that.

Peter felt unable to move. The boy smiled at him and raised his hands over his head. Peter recognized his dirty clothes, his oily hair and the dark circles under his eyes.

"Hello, Peter. Nice to finally meet you in person without a fence between us.", the boy said in a husky voice. "Thought you'd be grateful for me stopping by."

Peter looked at him, impressed by the boys ability to fill him up, even in a room full of agents, but solicitous to show no expression at all. "Do you have any weapons with you, Caffrey?", he said calmly.

"Oh Peter, you know that I don't like weapons or any form of violence. I'd never harm anyone on purpose.". There was a tiny hint of fear and uncertainty in the boy's eyes.

"Good", Peter said simply, still focussing on the boy's face. He took a deep breath. "So, Neal Caffrey, you're under arrest. Kneel down and leave your hands where they are!", he said, still feeling half as confident as he felt at this sight.

Neal followed his commands and knelt down. Jones stepped forward, taking the boys arms down and putting the handcuffs on the narrow wrists behind his back. He than helped him to stand up and palpated him. Peter could see a slight shiver running through Caffrey's body, who didn't fight at all. Peter turned and walked down the stairs, his heart racing inside his chest. When he was standing face to face, just a few inches away from the young con, he looked him straight in the eyes, still expressionless.

Jones was still holding the boy's shoulder and the kid was standing there in cuffs, a little uneasy, but still trying to smile and kept Peters eyes. He looked even thinner, unbelievable young and Peter noticed his heavy breathing now he was so close to him. No one said a word for a few seconds, until the boy obviously couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Now what, Peter? If you're not interested in what I have to say, I should rather go.", he said nervously and tried to turn a little, obviously trying to be funny, stopped by Jones' hard grip that made him wince.

"You're not going anywhere, Caffrey. You've got a lot to explain. And it's Agent Burke. I don't want to have to say that again. Get it?"

Neal raised the corner of his mouth to a sad smile and looked away. "Whatever." Peter noticed that this was the first time he hadn't received a cocky answer to one of his questions. Even though he tried his best, this boy in front of him was a shadow of his former self. What the hell was this all about?