(Chapter 4 - three weeks later)

Neal felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up as he opened his eyes and peered up sleepily. The man wore dark clothes, a gun holster obvious under his left arm and a white mask over his face. Neal just stared at the man blankly.

"Hurry up Caffrey. We're on a time table!" The man hissed at him, smacking him on the back of the head. Neal narrowed his eyes at the man angrily but no one could see from beneath his own mask. He nodded despite himself and went back to working on the safe. His eyes were blurring in and out of focus as he worked on the combination. He shook his head a bit to wake himself up, a steady throbbing in his temples. He turned the dial and heard a click, the last number in the combination and opened up the safe. Inside were several items of value including money but they only wanted one thing. Neal stared at it curiously, the jade box shimmering in the dim light. It was an ancient and very beautiful Chinese puzzle box. He didn't know why they wanted it but that's what Gordon had asked for.

"Ok, let's pack it up and go!" The man who had yelled at him said again. Neal nodded wearily, passing the box to the man who pushed it into a small pack. They closed up the safe and cleared out, passing through the small corridor of the museum offices, leaving. Neal was in the back of the group, his headache increasing, his legs starting to feel like jelly as he stumbled behind the others. He heard them in the distance it seemed as he tripped and collapsed to the floor. He was panting, his breath coming hard despite his lack of movement. He heard someone hiss in the distance.

"Where's Caffrey?" He heard soft footsteps and then saw a light, turning to see a guard looking at him. He put his hand to his eyes to visor them against the light, looking up from where he sat on the floor. He heard a gun cocked and could just make out its outline in the light.

"Stay where you are! I've already called the authorities." The guard sounded sure of himself, Neal nodding his head in surrender, hands up. He wasn't going to fight in his current condition. He was too tired. He felt the man reach down and pull something off his shoulder. It was a gun. Neal never carried a weapon by his own right but Gordon had insisted all of them have a gun, even Neal. He had no choice in the matter but he was happy to be rid of the thing regardless. The guard's walkie-talkie went off distracting him. Neal heard someone cocking a gun behind him and turned to see another man in black with a mask. The figure pointed the gun at the guard and shot, only a soft popping sound heard from the silencer. Neal's eyes widened as he saw the guard collapsed to the ground and lay twitching there. He moved to his knees and crawled over to the man, seeing a large red stain appear on the man's chest.

"Come on Caffrey. We have to leave now!" The man was hissing at him but he couldn't go. He was watching the guard gasping, hand on his chest where the red stain was growing. Neal pulled off his mask, removed his jacket and tried to stop the bleeding. The man was going to die! Someone pulled on his arm and turned him around.

"Leave him! He's a dead man. We have to go now!" The man in the mask spoke coldly, Neal turning to see the guard looking at him desperately. Neal couldn't let him die. Not like this.

"No, he's dying. I can't... "He turned back to the man, holding his hand over the wound to stop the flow but it didn't last long. The other masked man whispered at him angrily.

"We aren't leaving you behind." There was the sound of something sizzling and then Neal felt the shock of a taser on the back of his neck. He slumped to the side, eyes staring at the dying guard. He tried to move but someone grasped him up and threw them over their back. Neal was carried away from the scene, watching the guard disappear as they left the hallway and climbed out into a loading zone and piled into a dark van. He was thrown unceremoniously into the back, the man following as they slammed the door shut.

"GO! GO!"

Neal lay there on the thinly carpeted floor of the van. He had to catch his breath, his face feeling warm and flushed from weakness. Someone pulled him up and pinned one arm behind his back as they pushed him into a sitting position. It was the man who'd shot the guard, mask still on.

"You almost screwed up the operation, Caffrey. We could have been caught or is that what you wanted?" The man continued to hold him there, Neal too weak to move, wincing at his arm being twisted back behind tightly. The man drew closer and whispered.

"I miss the days I could just beat you silly." The voice was cold and menacing, another hand covering his mouth and nose. Neal struggled as the man held him there and slowly suffocated him. The other masked men, three in total were watching in silence, no way to know what they were thinking through their masks. A door opened between the cab and the back and another figure ducked inside.

"Thomas, stop that!" The voice was commanding but Thomas continued to hold Neal in his death grip. The man yelled again, pulling out a gun.

"I said stop it now!" He glared at the man, Neal finally gasping for breath as the masked man let him go if only reluctantly. Thomas removed his mask, his brown eyes glaring angrily.

"I don't see why we need him. We could have hired any two-bit thief but you had to have him. Why?" Thomas sounded bitter, sulking some as he sat there. Gordon put the gun down and smiled coldly.

"He's the best. We need the best to get the best. Don't forget that! HE is not replaceable." Gordon let that hang in the air while he looked around at the group, everyone finally removing their masks. Neal slumped back and wheezed, trying to catch his breath, blue eyes narrowing as he glanced up at Thomas. Gordon noticed and smiled.

"Listen up! We still have a few more items to take. I'll have you briefed once we get back to the compound."

()()()

Neal was exhausted. He liked the idea of breaking into hard to get to places but under the circumstances and conditions it wasn't much fun. OPR had taken him in, at least this offshoot had but he was still a prisoner. Basically an implement used when needed. During the off hours they kept him drugged and bound in the gray room. He dreaded those times, this time. He had gotten them the box, the jade box they'd asked for and yet he was treated like nothing more than a tool being put back in the box till needed. He struggled as they held him down and bound him to the gurney again, Neal crying out in protest. Someone pushed his head to one side, his neck bared. He smelled the scent of alcohol, something cool applied to his neck before the sting of the syringe into his skin. He fought weakly till the drug entered his system and he could no longer fight. He felt his eyes flutter shut and darkness overcome him.

He started to dream. Neal was sitting in Peter's office, feet propped up on the far side of the desk. He was folding an intricate origami flower out of blue paper; a crocus. He had written a note in it to Peter just out of boredom.

"Feet off, Caffrey!" Peter strode in looking a little impatient, case folders stuffed under his arm. He dropped one off on Neal's side of the desk, the young man complying as he picked up the folder and twirled it on the desk idly. Peter turned as he sat down and looked at him curiously, his eyes falling on the blue flower.

"For me?" His voice sounded bemused, picking up the flower and looking at it a moment. Neal grinned.

"For your grumpy mood." Neal smirked, opening up the case folder and peering down at the information. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes. Peter chuckled.

"Yes, it is another mortgage fraud case. I know how much you love them but it's an important case. Tell me what you see." Peter smiled ever so slightly, watching Neal nod.

He sighed, his eyes scanning the file boredly when he heard the soft crinkling of paper. Neal glanced up surreptitiously to find Peter opening up the paper flower. He looked down quickly when Peter glanced over. The crinkling continued, Neal holding back a chuckle as he saw Peter reading the note inside lips moving silently. Neal looked back down again, Peter coughing as he pushed the note into his pocket and opened up the folder to read it.

After about 30 minutes of note taking and discussion, Peter closed up the folder. He stood up, stretched and grabbed his jacket. Neal blinked up at him wearily.

"Well?" Peter asked, putting his jacket on as he looked at his partner. Neal looked confused.

"Lunch... aren't you hungry?" Peter was smirking now, Neal nodding with a smile as he closed the file, stood and grabbed his own jacket. He started to follow Peter out of the office when he found himself staring at a blurry gray ceiling.

Neal blinked, vision clearing slightly as he looked around to find himself back in that gray dreary room. His head throbbed, nausea threatening to overcome him as he lay strapped to the gurney. He fought back the taste of bile, his stomach hurting him. Neal raised his head weakly, looking around the room and hoping someone would come and free him. There was no clock so he had no idea what time it was or how long he had slept.

Neal lay back after a moment, his stomach threatening to rebel when he finally heard the latch on the door open. He turned to see Thomas there, the agent looking well rested but grumpy. He paused as he saw Neal looking back at him and noticed the desperate look in the young man's eyes. Thomas took a moment to stretch and yawn, staying by the door as if he knew what was wrong.

"Did you sleep well, Caffrey?" His voice was filled with sarcasm, walking slowly towards him. Neal bit his lip trying not to throw up. Thomas just grinned evilly sitting beside the young man and staring at him.

"Is your stomach bothering you again? Shame..." He clucked his tongue with mock concern, looking at his fingernails idly. Neal couldn't hold back any longer as he vomited to the side, some of it getting on Thomas. The man cursed, slugging Neal.

"I don't understand why Gordon finds you so irreplaceable!" Thomas left the room leaving Neal to suffer, another agent coming in a few minutes later. The man cursed at the smell, untying Neal and tossing him to the side roughly as he tried to clean up. Neal lay there on the floor, his cheek against the cool cement as he slumped against the wall. After a moment the man cuffed Neal and dragged him out of the room to the break area and bathroom.

"Be quick!" The agent removed the cuffs and waited outside.

Neal washed up as best he could, removing his shirt and rinsing it off in the sink. He washed his hands and mouth, splashing some water on his face. He looked tired as he stared into the mirror, the reflection he saw unrecognizable. He looked gaunt, his cheeks sunken in, eyes pale with bags under them. He felt like crying but he didn't, wringing out his shirt as best he could and putting it back on. He missed June, Peter, El... and especially Mozzie's visits. Neal pegged his experience to his own fault. Karma. He had done wrong and now wrong was being done to him although now he was still doing wrong so how that worked out, he didn't know. He smoothed back his hair wanting a shower but knowing unless Gordon showed up he wasn't going to be treated well. He sighed and turned, heading back for the door. The man opened when he knocked and cuffed him again, leading him like an errant dog back to the room. He was cuffed by one ankle to the floor and a small table had been brought in with some food. It wasn't much but it was something. He ate the clumpy oatmeal, overdone toast and watery juice imagining it was June's bowls of fruit, eggs Benedict and that Italian roast Peter loved. It made it more palatable but just barely. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on like this but if it meant his friends were safe it was worth the torture.

(Meanwhile…)

Peter hadn't given up looking for Neal, trying his best to help Jones in his quest to figure out the meaning behind these thefts. Most of the artifacts taken were priceless Chinese puzzle boxes, items not too unlike the amber music box. How they all connected was still a mystery. He had hoped when they posted the fake obituary of his death it would flush out Neal, if not the people who had him, but nothing happened and the mystery just deepened as to where Neal was being kept and by whom. Hughes was on top of it with his friend from OPR. Peter had issues with dealing with anyone from that department but at the moment they didn't have a choice. He kept thinking that he was forgetting something important. In the past three weeks he had pieced together an idea where they might hit next but he needed to talk to Jones again.

"Honey, you need to rest. Let's go out for a drive." Elizabeth plopped down beside him on the sofa where he sat with a pile of papers spread out before him. He nodded without really hearing, his attention on the papers. She hugged him close and whispered.

"I think UFO just landed in the backyard." He just nodded at her vaguely before he paused, feeling her lips on his cheek and he turned and kissed her back.

"UFO? Sorry honey. Just... this whole Neal thing. I can't believe nobody in New York City can find him. It's not possible!" He was frustrated, standing up and pacing as El watched him.

"Honey, he must be ok. You said Jones found evidence of his style at these recent thefts. There's still a chance to get him back." She saw him nod but he didn't look hopeful.

"I keep thinking I'm overlooking something. I just... I need to walk. Where's Satchmo?"

()()()

Peter didn't just walk Satchmo, he dropped the dog off and went for that drive with his wife stopping at the FBI offices. El smirked at him and his sly nature.

"This is a drive?" She grinned facetiously at him, Peter shrugging helplessly.

"I need to pick something up. I'll only be a moment." He reached over and hugged her, Elizabeth removing her seat-belt opening the door. Peter stared at her a moment.

"Well? Let's go." El waited for him to walk around and take her arm, both of them going into the building. They took the elevator to the offices and walked into the lobby. Jones was still at his desk, busy looking over paperwork. Peter tiptoed over and stood there till the man looked up curiously.

"Hey Peter. What brings you here?" He turned when he saw El standing nearby looking at Neal's old desk. Jones whispered.

"I have some new info." Jones looked around and kept his voice low, Peter nodding.

"What did you find out?" Peter said quietly as he sat down beside Jones and looked over the notes.

"This last theft had Caffrey's style all over it except for the guard that was shot." Jones frowned on the last part, Peter mirroring his expression.

"He wouldn't shoot a guard. It must be someone on the team with him. Neal doesn't do guns." He sounded frustrated as Jones nodded.

"Exactly. Guard says he caught one of them, the thief looked rather tired and worn out. Even let him take his weapon but then another thief, all of them with masks, shot him. The one he had caught tried to help him, wrapping their jacket around the wound. The thief took off his mask and the guard got a hint of his features. They matched Caffrey's. Says he wouldn't leave till the other thief knocked him out and dragged him off." Jones looked hopeful.

"Neal hasn't given in to them yet then if he's still able to care that much. But why did he have a gun?" He ran a hand through his hair, smiling ever so slightly as he patted Jones on the shoulder and grinned.

"Thanks."

()()()

Neal finished as much of the food as he could, avoiding drinking all of the OJ since his stomach was still acting up. He leaned back onto the gurney, curling up as much as he could with the manacle on his ankle. He groaned in pain, eyes watering from the discomfort. Neal lay like that for some time before he felt a warm hand on his forehead and heard someone arguing.

"He threw up and you didn't think to tell me or do something about it! He's the reason we're able to get these artifacts. Call Jared in. He used to be an EMT. I need Caffrey well for the next heist." It was Gordon's voice but he sounded like he was talking about taking a car in to get fixed. Neal groaned softly, trying to disappear but feeling little comfort. He heard Thomas' voice speak begrudgingly.

"I thought he was faking. He is a con." There was a sound of a slap and a loud intake of breath.

"Idiot! Just call Jared in already. I need him well!"

()()()

Jared was a bit nicer to Neal. He made sure Neal was fed better, kept hydrated and rested for a week under Gordon's watch. Thomas would come in off and on but just glared at the con, muttering under his breath. Neal was delirious most of the time, the fever keeping him under wraps more than the drugs they had been giving him. He was not escaping in his current condition.

Neal kept dreaming about June's, sitting out on the terrace in his silk pajamas eating good food and talking to his landlady. He felt the cool breeze whipping through his hair as the dream went on. He imagined his bed with the soft cotton sheets and duvet. His nice clothes in the wardrobe were there for him to choose from as was his own personal bathroom. It was the best memory... 'fantasy' that kept him alive till the fever broke and reality set in. Neal wanted to cry but he didn't now that he was better. Gordon checked on him as if he were a prized poodle, praising Jared's efforts for healing him and looking forward to getting back to the next heist.

It had been just over a month he'd been trapped with these rogue agents, a virtual prisoner. His expertise was needed for breaking and entering, the locations chosen by Gordon. Neal didn't think he had succumbed to Stockholm syndrome but he had grown strangely comfortable with the setup despite being trapped. It wasn't anything like his situation with Peter where they had a give and take. Here he just gave his talents and was lucky they acknowledged his presence beyond making sure he didn't run. He wouldn't, seeing he had nowhere to go.

"Think you'll be ready for tomorrow's heist?" Neal looked up from the cot, his expression languid but he nodded. Gordon smiled, his white teeth showing.

"Yes." Neal kept his answer short, Gordon nodding with a pat on his shoulder.

"You're part of the team; an important part." Neal nodded at the man's words but he didn't believe them. With all he had experienced he knew he was only useful while he lived. If he died... it would only be an inconvenience. Maybe they'd use Keller and break him out. Neal shuddered at the thought.

"So you've told me." Neal rolled over and closed his eyes but opened them when he felt fingers tighten around his throat.

"Just remember, I spared your friend or he would be dead now. Don't make me change my mind." Gordon held him tight till Neal nodded and he let go.

"Good, now that we're clear. Rest up." Gordon rose and left the room, the door locked from the outside. Neal curled up and lay on the cot as comfortably as he could with his ankle manacled and fell into a light sleep.