A/N: Warning for a bit of violence in this one, though I have tried to leave the gory details out :)
Also, thank you to everyone who's left a review!
"Alright, Caffrey, it really isn't difficult. You do as I say, and then I'll let you go."
Neal spat blood onto the ground and glared up at the thug who'd delivered a fist to his face. Behind his back, his hands clenched and he could feel his fingernails digging into his palm. The rope around his wrists bit at his skin as his gaze travelled back to stare at the barn doors ahead of him, ignoring Keller as he circled around the wooden chair he was in.
"Not saying anything, huh?" said Keller, and Neal could hear the smirk in his voice. "I don't know what the issue is. All you have to do is paint something for me. You love painting, right? And look, to make you more comfortable I even got you one of your suits. Went to your motel room and everything."
A suit that was now stained with blood, running down his face and dripping onto his shoulder from a cut on his cheekbone, provided earlier by the hired muscle that was watching him hungrily. Neal tried not to look at him.
"What happened to your game?" he croaked, glowering at Keller as he stopped in front of Neal. "First person to steal something wins?"
"You took too long to respond." he replied, and Neal scoffed.
"Well then you would've won."
"It's no fun when you're the only one playing."
"I was in prison."
"Well that's not my problem, is it?"
"They're going to be looking for me."
"They are looking for you." Keller responded, pulling a small knife from his pocket and twirling it between his fingers. Neal swallowed and found he couldn't stop watching the movement. "Doesn't mean they'll find you, though."
"You're that confident?" Neal asked, figuring that the longer he kept Keller talking, the longer it'd be until he stopped twirling that knife and used it for something else.
"Well let's say they do find us here." Keller said, looking at Neal with a raised eyebrow. "You don't think I'm gonna just let you go, do you?" He stopped playing with the knife and pointed it at Neal. "The only way you're getting out of here alive is if you comply with what I want."
"And you want me to forge something?" Neal asked, remembering Keller's earlier demand as he'd been forced into a chair while his hands were tied behind his back.
"Yeah, Caffrey, I want you to forge something. Anything you like."
"Why?"
Keller sighed and rolled his eyes. "That part doesn't concern–"
"You got a debt to pay?"
Keller gestured to the thug and Neal was hit in the jaw. His head snapped to the side and he let it hang there for a moment, allowing his vision to come back and the pain to recede to a persistent throbbing. He grinned and spat out more blood.
"Is it the Russians? I bet it's the Russians."
"You know what, I'm gonna come back when he's a bit more compliant." Keller said to his muscle, and the guy nodded in response. Keller tossed the knife to him and then looked at Neal.
"See you in a bit, Caffrey. Maybe then you'll take my offer a little more seriously." He turned and exited the barn, leaving the thug watching Neal with a spreading smile.
"I got something on my face?" Neal asked, straightening up in his chair with a grimace. The thug's smile didn't abate as he stepped closer.
What followed in the next hour or so was an unrelenting attack upon his chest and stomach, courtesy of the thug's giant fists, and Neal soon found he much preferred bending over in his chair to sitting up straight. He knew some of his ribs were cracked, if not broken, and he could only pray they wouldn't puncture a lung. His arms strained from his bent position but he was practically unable to sit up, his head came to rest on his knees as he fought for breath and his eyes screwed shut.
Keller didn't return until the next day, after Neal had been through a series of beatings and once the thug had sliced away at his chest, leaving tears in his shirt and letting the blood blemish the pristine white material. He had been left alone during the night, but he'd only caught snatches of sleep, the position he was in and the constant pain preventing him from resting fully. When morning had come, the thug had returned and continued to leave bruises on his face and body.
"So let me guess," Neal panted, just as Keller was opening his mouth to say something. Keller closed it and rolled his eyes again, crossing his arms and waiting for Neal to speak.
"You weren't really going to play your game, were you?" he asked. "You just wanted me to do the dirty work for you."
"You always like to think you're the best, I didn't see why I should waste my talents when you so enjoy showing off yours." Keller said with a smirk.
Neal shook his head with a slight smile. "Well if you've kidnapped me then you must think I'm better, too."
The smirk slid of Keller's face, replaced with an expression that looked as though he'd eaten something sour.
"It's almost sweet." Neal gave his brightest grin, uncaring that it was probably tainted with blood.
Keller suddenly snatched the knife from the thug and surged towards Neal, plunging the weapon into his right shoulder with a snarl. Neal yelled and arched his back, his eyes squeezed shut and his voice becoming hoarse when Keller twisted it slightly. He stepped back with the knife still in his grip, its cool blade stained red and dripping. Neal clenched his teeth together and bowed his head, trying to regulate his breathing as he rode out the waves of white-hot pain.
"You're getting my dry-cleaning bill." he gasped, groaning again as Keller grabbed a fistful of his hair and snapped his head up. He could feel the knife under his chin, resting against his throat.
"Stop with the bravado, Caffrey, and do as I say." Keller hissed. "Then you won't have to put up with continuous days of beatings and I won't have to put up with your shit." He released his grip on Neal and straightened, looking down at him with cold eyes.
"Pick. A. Piece." he ground out through gritted teeth.
"You're gonna have to put up with my shit for a while longer, I'm afraid." Neal grunted, glaring at Keller with a determined expression.
Keller watched him for almost a minute before he smiled slowly. "Fine."
He locked eyes with his hired muscle. "Don't let him die and keep his right hand intact. I'll be back tomorrow with a little more incentive."
Three hours later and Neal had been untied from his chair and dumped on the ground, left alone in the barn at last. He pulled himself towards the back of the barn and slowly turned onto his back, slumping against the wooden wall with his legs splayed out in front of him. As he was fighting for his breath back, he rolled his head left and right to take in his surroundings.
He spied a bucket about twelve feet to his left, and while he could guess what it was for, he currently had no energy to go and use it. His shoulder felt like it was on fire and it was with a surge of helplessness that he glared at it, knowing he was unable to tie something around it single-handedly. The best he could do was clamp his left hand to it, provoking a sharp cry out of him but even then he could only hold on for so long, that simple task sapping what little strength he had left out of him.
Eventually his hand dropped to his lap and Neal closed his eyes. He knew Keller wouldn't let him die – he'd said so himself – and so he had to trust that the man would at some point do something about his wound. It had been steadily bleeding out and he knew he wouldn't last the night if something wasn't done about it. He had been tempted to stagger over to the barn door and yell for help – be it to one of Keller's men for medical help or some stranger who might hopefully pass by – but he had no idea where the barn was situated or how far away it was in relation to other buildings. He had assumed he was on some sort of farm, and that Keller himself was occupying a farmhouse or something, but he had no real way of knowing and no one was around to inform him.
Neal dozed on and off for a couple of hours, and he was roused from his stupor by the creaking of the barn doors, a sound he had come to hate. The thug sidled in and lumbered over to him whilst producing a bandage from his pocket. He knelt in front of Neal and wrapped it haphazardly around his shoulder, tying it tightly in a knot over the wound. Neal looked down at the bandage sitting on top of his suit jacket and shirt and already starting to stain with blood, and then he looked across to the thug.
"You've done a shocking job." he murmured, but the man didn't react as he got up and headed towards the doors. "Hey, make sure your boss has somewhere to bury bodies, 'cos that's what you'll be doing to mine tomorrow." he called after him, but the only reply he got was the slam of the doors.
Neal glanced back down at the bandage and sighed. Maybe it'll keep him alive through the night, but after that he wasn't so sure. It was very possible he was going to die here, and whether that would be inadvertent or not on Keller's part he wasn't sure yet. He found he wasn't particularly frightened at the thought of dying, and he didn't know whether to be worried by that or not. Granted, his life was at a bit of an all-time low at the moment, what with Peter's hatred, his month in prison and now this: the icing on the burned and crumbling cake, but he had gotten out of worse scrapes in the past because of his zest for life and his fiery desire to live. Now, though, that fire had all but been extinguished, and Neal wondered if his last act on Earth would be denying Keller what he wanted.
As far as last acts went, that one was pretty good.
At some point in the night, Neal managed to drag himself over to the bucket and use it, and when he returned to his original spot, he slumped against the wall and succeeded in falling into a fitful sleep, interrupted every so often by the pulsing pain in his shoulder that refused to subside.
When he woke, sunlight was filtering in through wooden slats and one of the barn doors was being opened. Neal became more aware when he heard shouting coming from outside, and he pushed himself up slightly in preparation for whatever was to come.
In came Keller with a wide grin on his face, in a much better mood than when he left yesterday. He spied Neal on the ground and strolled over to him.
"Morning, Caffrey." he said, crouching down opposite Neal. "I've found that extra incentive I mentioned yesterday, and I'm gonna give you one more chance before I use it." He raised an eyebrow at Neal as he waited for a response, and when all Neal did was glare at him, he nodded.
"I was hoping you'd do that." he said, straightening and heading back to the door. "I think I'll give you a few more hours before I come back, let you mull things over, hmm?" And then he left, gone as quickly as he'd come in.
There was still shouting outside, though, and Neal could hear it coming closer. Keller had left the door open, and while Neal had entertained the possibility of making a break for it, he knew he wouldn't have gotten far. He resigned himself to staying at the back of the barn and waiting for whatever it was Keller had planned.
One of Keller's guards entered backwards, dragging something behind him. Or, someone, Neal realised with a sickening feeling, and that someone was struggling with all their might. The guard whipped himself around to face Neal, threw his captive onto the ground and then swiftly exited, locking the doors behind him.
"Goddammit, Keller." Neal moaned quietly, praying this to be a fever dream brought on by the inevitable infection from his stab wound. He knew it wasn't though, and he wondered if he'd make it to the bucket to throw up before Elizabeth stopped banging against the barn doors and saw that he was there, too.