A/N Okay, there are a few flashbacks in this chapter, they are represented by italics. I hope you enjoy.
"So, Mr. Coyle, what makes you think that you can work for me?" Sam asked Neal who was posing as Adrian. It was a fairly simple question and Neal knew that Sam wanted a fairly simple answer.
"You asked me to do the dirty work and I can, if there's more that you want you should ask another man." Neal growled, looking Sam in his deep brown eyes that said nothing but innocence. But Neal knew, he knew it was all hoax.
"No, I don't want more. Welcome to my team and don't do anything stupid." He laughed, the laugh that sounded like the Wicked Witch of the West, like nails on a chalkboard. So high pitched, so deep down evil, you could feel it in your bones. A shiver spilling down your spine, your eyes having to squint against an invisible and bright power, and your heart suddenly clenching, protecting it from the blackness of theirs.
"Yes, Edwards, where do you want me to start?" Neal asked, his voice deeper and smoother than he ever talked when he wasn't undercover.
Sam waved him up from his silver chair. They had been in one of those rooms, the rooms that held the miserable people that Sam hired. It was white all around, as if to remind them that they were nothing, they had no color, no name, and no personality to Sam. Neal had to hold back a scream as the metal chair screeched as he moved back; it was too similar… too similar to that one time.
"Neal! This isn't what I wanted! You used too much yellow." Sam spat circling Neal like a shark circling prey. His brown cowboy boots were making clicking noises as he moved, as if emphasizing every word that evil man said. He smiled, a sadistic smile, as if saying you are nothing but a pawn to me.
"It's not like you gave me an order." Neal snapped back, knowing that would get him in trouble. But he was sick, sick of being treated like nothing, treated of being squashed down by a higher power.
Sam scowled a lunged. Pulling back the silver chair, he screamed at Neal, screamed and screamed, and to the beat of his words, he beat Neal on the head. As if to pound his words into Neal's head. Neal held back grunts and screams, he didn't want to be weak, he didn't want to give Sam a weakness. So he held out until everything faded to black, until everything was numb.
Neal blinked, trying to get rid of the flashback; he lost what Sam was saying. All he was doing was thinking of that, how that was what made him hate the rich. They held power over the poorer population, and that made it okay from him to steal their paintings and sculptures that they would never miss. They wouldn't truly care, they only care that they lost a bit of their reputation. Sam led them down a small black hallway that emerged into a room. A room that was shared, a boy about 16 was sleeping in one of the beds, tear tracks left on his face. His hair was a fiery red; almost the color of blood and freckles dotted his face. Then in another bed, there was another man that Sam probably hired to make the negotiations, he was the lawyer type but he was muscular. A tattoo stood out on his neck, stretching its navy fingers up into his black hair. Then, there was Neal's bed who was still posing as Adrian. It had black sheets and a single red towel for showering on it. Neal peeled back the covers, wishing that he had had this when he was with Sam. Too long had he gone without sleep….too long?
Before the incident, before the seizures and the blackness and the angry Sam, Neal worked. He worked on paintings and paintings for Sam. He never slept, Sam would whip him if he did. Too many times had he closed his eyes and been awoken by a whip.
"Caffery, wake up!" Sam growled, pulling off his beautiful leather belt.
"What?" Neal groggily replied, his eyelids being pried open against his will by Sam's loud, raspy voice.
"You are not allowed to sleep in the job, 20 lashes." Sam dictated.
Sam reeled his hand back, ignoring the other 5 scars that Neal had earned from sleeping or a bad project. Or just from Sam having a bad day and needing someone to take it out on. It always had to be Neal. He hit Neal, a sickening slap erupting into the room as his back sting from the first hit. Neal grunted, knowing that he couldn't contain the pain, all he could do was kept back the tears. Sam hit him again and again, the same spot 20 times over. Blood gushed down Neal's back and shoulders. Sam set him back down into the chair, another blood stain coating the pristine white carpet. Neal painted, painted until the rage and depressive feelings left and he could drift into a light sleep, because the project Sam wanted was done. But so was Neal, Neal was done. But that was before him and Kate, before they ran away, before he met Peter and before he was completely done with conning.
"Neal?" Peter's voice pulled Neal out of his vicious thoughts.
"Peter, he wants me to stay here, we'll have to patch it into a conference call in order to make it work." Neal whispered as he made his way to the bathroom, a much more private place.
"That'll probably work, but Neal?" Peter responded.
"Yeah?" Neal asked.
"You Okay?" Peter asked, shifting from one foot to another, the noise drifting through the earpiece.
"I'm fine, Cowboy Up remember?" Neal replied, his charm flowing through the phone.
"Neal. Really? Does it remind you of everything? Are you okay? Have you had any stress induced seizures?" Peter's voice got quieter at the last question.
"I'm fine Peter. A few bad memories here and there won't keep me from doing this for you. And no, no seizures." Neal sighed; he wanted to say it was his job, but it wasn't because he wasn't equal to Peter and never would be.
"Okay, Neal. And we're doing this because it's our job. Neal, you're my partner, you are equal to me ." Peter replied, he caught the slight waver at the you in Neal's last response. They were a team, no matter how many times Peter threatened it, he would never send Neal back to jail. Unless he did something really stupid.
"Thank you… Partner." Neal whispered before hanging up, a smile on his face and a warmth in his heart. He would do this, they would do this.
A/N Sam is a wicked human, isn't he? I hoped you liked this chapter. Please review!