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Entry tags:
Practical Matters (Part Two), White Collar, NC-17
Fandom: White Collar
Title: Practical Matters (Part Two) (Part One here)
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Peter, Elizabeth (implied Neal/Peter/Elizabeth), Mozzie, Jones, Diana, OMC
Word Count: 12,543 (Total for both parts)
Rating: NC-17 for theme
Summary: What starts out as a typical white collar case becomes anything but when an old acquaintance of Neal's surfaces, and Neal tries to protect his friends the only way he knows how.
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
another_doyle for generosity in the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_japan auction. Warnings for violence, implied sexual slavery, implied previous dub-con, non-con drug use, physical injury as a means of restraint. Part two of two.
Cold air shivered across his skin, pulling him up from dark dreams into a room that was entirely too bright for his current situation, or state of undress.
Neal lifted his hands to rub at his face, stopping when he saw his hands. They were trapped inside huge wrappings of gauze and tape, turning them into mitts.
“I learned from our last encounter.”
Neal looked up. Nigel was sitting in a chair, a small smile on his face, dressed in an immaculate suit, his legs crossed, watching Neal. Watching Neal inside the three foot by three foot cage across the room from him. Cage.
“It is, of course, a temporary measure. I figure breaking every delicate bone should be enough to keep you from ever picking a lock again, am I right?”
“Nigel, lets be reasonable.” Neal said, getting on his knees inside the cage.
The smile fled Nigel’s face. “We tried reasonable once, Neal. I asked politely. I cajoled. I seduced. I bought you beautiful things to wear.”
“I never asked for any of that. I didn’t want it. I still don’t.” Neal shifted, uncomfortable with the entire situation.
“I gave you everything you could want in Versailles.”
“You drugged me and locked me in handcuffs in a room with no windows.” Neal amended.
“You had a beautiful, comfortable bed, any food you could desire, books and music...”
“I’m not some doll you can just…keep.” Neal argued, though he knew it was pointless.
Nigel stood. “We shall soon see the truth of that. I have some business to attend to, but I will be back soon, and we’ll get started on that hand problem.”
He left the room, left Neal alone. In a cage. With his hands hidden away under gauze and tape…which left him with no way out, no way to escape.
Nigel had played him well, pushed him into running, into cutting all ties he had with anyone before Nigel even showed his hand. Which meant Neal couldn’t even count on Peter coming to his rescue.
“Agent Melissa Billson, I’m looking for Agent Peter Burke?”
Peter looked up at the sound of his name, lifting a hand as he stood. “El, I’ll call you later. Yes, I know. We’ll find him.”
He hung up the phone and emerged from his office. Billson approached with a smile. “I’m sorry it took so long. I got held up—“
“I’m afraid the situation has changed, Agent Billson. Please come into my office.”
“Melissa, please.”
Peter held the door for her and closed it behind them. “So, what’s changed?” she asked as she took a seat.
Peter didn’t sit. He stood at the window. “We believe that Nigel Ethan has abducted one of our men.” His heart thumped, the sound of Elizabeth’s fear in his head.
“An agent? That’s not his style.”
“Not an agent. A consultant. My consultant.” Peter turned to look at her. “Neal Caffrey, he’s a con who helps us catch other cons.”
He heard her briefcase pop open and papers shuffle. He turned as she pulled out a file. “This Neal Caffrey?” She opened the file and dropped it on his desk. Peter crossed to it, already nodding.
“That’s him.”
She nodded. “When your agents contacted me, I checked all of Ethan’s known contacts and associates in New York. Caffrey’s name came up. They’ve crossed paths before. Do you know anything about their relationship?”
Peter shook his head. “Honestly I don’t know. Neal didn’t say much about him. Just that he liked to collect things, and people.”
“We have him tied to multiple kidnappings and disappearances, both here and abroad, but nothing we can pin on him. But this might be his first real mistake.”
“How so?”
“I have a man inside his organization. Ethan’s been watching your man since he got into town. Had two of his most trusted men on him, waiting for something.”
Peter nodded. “Waiting for Neal to be spooked enough to run. So we’d be busy looking for an escaped con and not an abducted man.”
“But he’s not ready to leave New York yet.” She pulled more paperwork from her briefcase. “According to my last information from my agent, he’s got a big transaction happening in two days.”
“What kind of transaction?”
“He isn’t high enough to find out, but he assures me that Ethan isn’t leaving New York until it’s done.” She stood, lips pressed together. “Ethan is an obsessive man. The closest we have ever come to catching him was when he wouldn’t leave Orlando, Florida two years ago until he had what he came there for. If your man is what he’s obsessing over, it’s a very good chance he’s alive and unharmed.”
“And I aim to see he stays that way.” Peter said, his voice a dark growl.
Neal shifted as far back in the cage as he could as the door opened and Nigel returned. He had three men with him. Two of the men pulled a heavy block of stone in on a wheeled dolly. Nigel smiled softly at Neal.
“Now, I want you to remember that this is for your own good, Neal. It’s a practical matter. I don’t want you getting yourself hurt trying to get away. He crossed to the cage door, unlocking it. “And we both know you will try.”
“No. No, I won’t, Nigel. I promise.”
Nigel’s smile was indulgent. “You’ve promised before. Don’t you remember? You promised me you’d be good. You humored me, even let me take you into my bed…and all the while you were just waiting to run away from me.”
He reached in, grabbing Neal by the hair and dragging him out into the room. “Boys, gentle now. I don’t want bruises.”
The men moved in and pulled Neal toward the stone. “Nigel, please. We can talk about this. You know I can’t stand pain.” Neal’s stomach twisted at the site of the third man, rolling out a leather sleeve filled with tools.
“That’s something you should have considered, Neal, before you ran away from me.”
They pushed him to his knees, one of them twisting his left arm up behind his back while the other pulled his right hand up onto the block. “Nigel, I’m begging you.”
Nigel’s hand cupped his chin. “I do like it when you beg.”
“Don’t do this. I’ll do anything.”
Nigel nodded slowly. “Yes, when we’re done here you will, because you will realized where you belong and who your belong to, and you will never leave me again.”
He stepped away and the third man came toward him, a pair of scissors in his hand. Neal was held in place as he cut through the gauze. He pulled hard against the hand that held his in place, but he wasn’t getting loose.
“Nigel…”
The hammer in the man’s hand looked ominous. He slowly pried Neal’s fingers open, covering Neal’s hand with his own, leaving only the pinky uncovered. Neal tensed. The hammer came down against his fingernail, then against the middle and then against the lower bone. That was about when the pain fully registered.
Neal yelled and pulled on his hand, the pain burning like a line of fire down his finger. He almost wasn’t even aware of the second finger getting the same treatment. After the third, the man paused, moving away, disappearing out the door and when he returned, he had an ice pack. He arranged in gently over Neal’s mangled fingers, then turned his attention to the uninjured ones.
Tears burned down Neal’s face, and his voice failed him as his thumb broke. The men behind him were holding him up more than they were holding him down as the ice pack was shifted again and the hammer turned to the bones of his hand.
Neal was close to passing out when Nigel’s voice cut through the torment. “A knuckle or two for good measure, Antony, if you don’t mind.”
“No…” Neal protested weakly, but he no longer had control over his hand at all, it was just a throbbing mass of pain that felt almost as if it wasn’t even really his. The hammer fell again and Neal screamed soundlessly, falling head first into the fire.
Elizabeth met him at the door, worry in every line of her body. “Anything?”
He shook his head wearily and kissed her as they moved inside and he shut the door. “Not yet. I’m just here to grab a shower and a change of clothes. I’ve got to get back to the office.”
“You should sleep.” Her hand rubbed down his back.
“No time, honey. I’ll sleep when we find him.”
She followed him up the stairs, sitting uneasily on the bed as he started undressing. Fatigue pulled at him, it had been close to twenty four hours since Neal had cut his anklet. They had twenty four more to find him before Ethan moved his operation out of their jurisdiction again.
“Is he okay? You don’t think he’s…”
Peter crossed to kiss her forehead. “Neal’s a resourceful guy. I’m sure he’s fine. This guy doesn’t kill people.”
She hadn’t moved from the bed five minutes later when he emerged from his shower, still upset and pensive. “Why does he want Neal?”
Peter had asked himself that same question any number of times in the last twenty four hours. “He is an obsessive man who collects…” He sighed. There really was no way to white wash it. The man ran human slaves, and not the sort that got calloused knees by washing floors.
He’d gotten a crash course on the seedy world of kidnapped to order slavery. Ethan specialized in a specific sort of the trade. But they were operating under the impression that Ethan wanted Neal for himself. Not that it made anything better.
In fact the idea of that man touching Neal at all made Peter's skin crawl.
Peter got dressed, wishing he had the time for a quick nap, or that he had something to tell Elizabeth to ease the worry from her forehead…but Elizabeth had come to really care for Neal. It was more than sex, but then with Elizabeth it always had been. And honestly, Peter had to start to admit to himself that it had become more than sex for him too.
"We'll find him, El. I promise." Peter said when the silence had stretched on for too long. There were tears in her eyes when she looked up at him.
She wiped them and nodded. "I'll make you a sandwich."
Peter watched her go. Twenty four hours. Less now. He could only hope the team had made progress by the time he got back to the office.
The excruciating pain that had sent him plummeting into the darkness also yanked him up out of it, when, in his sleep, Neal had tried to move the hand.
He woke back in the cage, curled on his left side, the right hand heavy against his hip. He breathed against the pain and moved his head to get a look. The hand was splinted against a board cut in the shape of a hand, each finger individually taped down to the wood. The skin he could see was black and purple and swollen.
He swallowed and tried to sit up, gasping when moving made the pain increase. It was almost as if he could feel the bones moving against each other. He tried to balance it, not move it as he sat up, but when he bumped his thumb against his thigh, Neal yelled, his whole body seizing as he vomited, coughing and spewing what little he had in his stomach.
He managed to shift onto his naked ass though, back in the corner of the cage furthest from the door, not that that seemed to make any difference. Neal closed his eyes and fought back the desperate fear that threatened to send him hurtling back into the darkness. He needed to think now, to analyze the situation.
Once the throbbing had eased back a bit and he was accustomed to the level of pain, enough at least to start to see past it, Neal opened his eyes. The room was not much to look at. There was the cage, the chair, a small table beside the chair, some chains dangling from one wall. The floor under him was metal, as was the door, which had no handle on this side.
The lock on the cage was where he couldn't see it from inside, and given that his only functional hand was still wrapped in twenty miles of gauze, that wasn't going to matter.
Nigel clearly had learned a lot from the last time he'd attempted this. In the grand scheme of things, it hadn't been much. Three weeks in Versailles, and Nigel wasn't wrong, as prisons went, it was exquisite, his every need looked after, every desire fulfilled before he could ask. All but the important one.
And yes, Neal had let Nigel seduce him, had let himself be pawed and petted, stroked and fondled and ultimately fucked, but it had given him what he needed to escape.
Somehow he was doubting he'd get that chance again.
The door opened and Neal tensed, his breathing and heartbeat speeding up. Nigel smiled at him, lifting a tray to show him. "I brought something for the pain and fresh ice. Are you hungry?"
"Not particularly." Neal responded, his voice thrashed from screaming. He turned away.
"It isn't much, the doctor was concerned your stomach might be bothered, so it's just some chicken broth and rice." Neal heard the cage unlock. "Oh, I can see your stomach is upset. Always were a little delicate. Come on out, Neal."
"The last time I was out, you smashed my hand into this mess." Neal said around clenched teeth. "Pardon me if I don't trust you."
"Trust is earned, Neal. I told you exactly what I was going to do before I did it. I was honest with you, just as I always have been. Now, I'm going to ice your hand and feed you and give you something for the pain. You can come out on your own and do this the pleasant way, or, I can send for the boys to come in and give me a hand. Which is it to be."
He considered being stubborn, but Nigel was truthful. As far as Neal could tell, the man had never lied. Cradling his injured hand closer to his body, Neal crawled out of the cage and stood. It was only a few steps, but he couldn't bring himself to crawl across the floor.
Nigel sat in the chair, the tray perched on the table. Neal sank to the floor, crossing his legs and looking up at Nigel. "Lets start with the ice." He was gentle as he guided Neal to lay the hand on his knee, settling frozen gel packs on top. Neal panted through the added pain as Nigel wrapped the hand and ice with a bandage, then let Neal pull it back.
"Water?" Nigel lifted a cup and held it to Neal's mouth, tilting it to pour cool water into him. Neal swallowed as much as he could before Nigel pulled it away. Next he lifted a cup and spoon. "Okay, open up."
Neal wanted to scream, yell, thrash, anything but play along, but he had a taste of what Nigel was capable of, and he didn't want any more pain, so he dutifully opened his mouth and let Nigel spoon the bland broth and rice into his mouth. And when Nigel offered him the pills, Neal took them, praying they were strong enough to let him sleep, while Nigel took whatever pleasure he found in keeping Neal this way.
"Nothing?" Peter asked as Jones and Diana exited the upscale penthouse that was Nigel Ethan's New York residence.
"Nothing. All the art seems legitimate, but we've got someone verifying it." Jones said. "No sign of any hostages, in fact it doesn't look as though Ethan has been here at all. The butler said he hasn't seen him either."
"I somehow doubt he's being honest with us." He was missing something, Peter knew it and this was a step way over the line. He'd strong-armed a warrant, called in all the favors he had. They were running out of time.
"Boss, we got trouble."
Peter caught site of the trouble and raced back into the house, into Ethan's office. There had to be something to tell Peter where he'd taken Neal. Anything.
"Burke!"
Hughes. Very unhappy by the sound. His eyes scanned the walls, certificates and awards and pictures. There. Right there.
He grabbed the picture and turned it over, just getting the back off the frame and the picture out of the frame as his boss burst through the door. Peter hid the picture behind his back.
"What in the name of hell are you doing?"
Peter slipped the folded picture into his back pocket. "I'm following a lead."
"A hunch. A bad hunch based on hearsay and conjecture."
"We've gotten further with less."
"Not when the man who owns the house has the governor of New York on his speed dial."
"He has Neal—"
"Enough. Get outside. This search ends now."
"Sir, if you could just—"
"Outside, before I rethink the governor's suggestion that I take your badge away from you."
"Going."
Peter ducked around him and headed out to Diana and Jones. Hughes was right behind him. "This case ends now."
"But Neal—"
Hughes cut him off with a raised hand. "Is an escaped con. Find him, but leave Nigel Ethan alone. I hear his name again, or see it on a report, I'll have all of your badges. Is that clear?"
Peter seethed with fury, but nodded. "Crystal." He waited until Hughes had stalked off before he pulled the picture out.
"What's that?"
"A hunch." Peter said, walking back toward his car.
They fell into step behind him and he stopped, shaking his head. "No. Not this time. This one is on me."
Diana didn't answer, just snatched the picture out of his hand, her eyes scanning it before she handed it to Jones. "Boat, looks like a luxury yacht. Only a few places in town to tie one of those up."
She was pulling out her phone, walking toward the car while she spoke. "Hey Margi, it's Diana. I need a favor. I have what looks like a large luxury yacht, private owner, probably not listed since we couldn't find the suspect's name on any records…" She snapped her fingers at Jones for the photo and he joined her by the car, handing it over.
"You know we can't go after him." Peter said as he too joined them in the car.
Diana hung up the phone. "Then I guess you don't want the addresses to the three marinas Margi said could handle a boat that size?"
She handed a note over the front seat. For a long moment Peter sat there, wanting to kick them both out of the car. Finally he grabbed the paper and started the car.
Somewhere out there, Neal was alone.
His first real thought was that he wasn't alone…followed by trying to remember if he'd fallen asleep or just zoned out. He was seated on the cold metal floor with Nigel behind him, fingers combing through his hair.
"…soon, of course. Just one last bit of cargo to be loaded, then we'll be leaving."
Neal turned his head, surprised that Nigel was talking. "W-what?"
"Just as I suspected. All zoned out. I was just telling you that we'll be leaving soon. I'm going to expect you to be by my side at the party, of course."
"P-party?" Everything felt off, stilted. Probably the drugs still in his system.
"You haven't heard anything, have you?" Nigel stood. "Honestly Neal, I expected better from you."
"I'm sorry…it's the pain meds." He lifted his left hand to rub at his eyes, forgetting for the moment that it was still a club of gauze bandages.
"Well then, I guess we won't give you more before the party, I want you to sparkle for my guests."
Neal worked himself to standing, cradling the broken hand close to his stomach. "I hope you're going to give me something to wear."
Nigel smiled. "Of course. I had something made for you. But first, you need a bath and a haircut. It's gotten long. Then, Antony will check your hand, and work on your left foot. Once that's done, we'll get you dressed."
"Wait." Neal held up his hand, then shook his head. "What about my foot?"
Nigel stroked his cheek. "I can't have you trying to run away, and I can't have you chained to the chair, this is the most practical solution. You'll see."
"Nigel, I swear I won't—"
His fingers pressed Neal's lips closed. "Enough arguing, come along with me and we'll get you into a nice hot bath."
Neal followed, not certain if Nigel had really lost his mind or the drugs just made Neal unable to follow his logic. Though he was wondering if maybe it wasn't a little of both.
"It looks like they're getting ready to pull out." Diana said beside him.
He needed to make a decision. His gut told him that Neal was on that boat. Hughes had told him not to go after Ethan. In fact he had called twice to reiterate that he was not to go anywhere near the man, or his property.
On the other hand, the boat was owned by a subsidiary company of a subsidiary company of holding company that may or may not track back directly to Ethan.
And Neal was on that boat.
Peter pulled his badge out of his pocket and looked at it. "What I am about to do is illegal and unprofessional. It will likely end up getting me fired. I can't ask—" Before he finished, Diana's badge was on the front seat of the car. Jones dropped his through the open window as well. "Okay." He dropped his and followed it with his suit jacket. "Lets go."
There were any number of people moving on and off the boat, it almost looked like they were getting ready for some sort of party, which, given Ethan's reputation sounded about his style.
They moved along the dock, stopping just short of boxes of champagne. Jones nodded, stuck his gun in it's holster and grabbed a box, stepping onto the boat as easy as that.
"My turn." Diana said, likewise holstering her gun and stepping out of the shadows to talk to two of the men. "What is this?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you know who I am? I came down here because we got a call saying that the entire order got screwed up. The wrong champagne, no caviar. What is going on here?"
Peter watched her berate her way onto the boat. That left him. But, as she went, Diana drew most of the men with her, making it even easier for him to slip on board unnoticed.
Neal had thought being spoon fed by Nigel was bad, humiliating really…but it was nothing compared to the bath. Made worse by the fact that it was one of Nigel's servants cleaning him. His hands were wrapped in plastic and he was helped into the tub, then cleaned like he was a child.
He flushed even redder than he already was as he was dried off. His skin burned with the humiliation even as he was led from the bathroom into the stateroom. He had managed to figure out they were on a boat, though it had to be a big one, he couldn't feel the water movement at all.
Without the meds, his hand throbbed and it was getting worse. He wasn't entirely certain he wasn't going to pass out even without the meds.
Another servant joined the first, helping him into a pair of boxers while Nigel watched. Next came dress pants, which was where Nigel stopped them. "That will be all for now, gentlemen."
Nigel lifted a pressed white shirt from the bed. "I had it made just for you." He held up a sleeve to show him the split seam lined with Velcro all the way down. "We want you to look smashing, don't we?"
He settled the shirt over Neal's shoulders, slowly and methodically smoothing it out and fitting the seams together before coming around the front and buttoning it up. Neal closed his eyes and turned his face as Nigel took as much time and attention to tuck the shirt tails into his pants, his hands smoothing over Neal's ass and hips, then down around his cock.
Nigel smiled and tugged Neal's face back to his. "You never really liked it when I touched you that way, even though you wanted me to believe you did." His fingers tightened on Neal's chin. "Get used to it. You belong to me now, and tonight, after the party, you will understand that. Completely."
He zipped Neal's pants up and gestured at the wheelchair in the corner. "Sit."
"Nigel—"
Nigel's hand snapped up and across Neal's face. "Stop talking and sit your ass down. You are here to be beautiful, Neal. Not to talk."
There was a knock on the door, followed by the man who had systematically broken Neal's hand. Neal sank into the chair, watching as Antony dropped his leather roll of tools onto the bed. He left them for the moment, coming to check Neal's hand. He lifted it and examined what he could around the tape and bandaging, nodding to himself.
"I imagine this is the most painful thing you have ever experienced." Antony said, his voice lightly accented. He smiled. "I take pride in that."
"Nice." Neal managed, looking away.
"It is fine work." Nigel agreed. "Antony is a medical doctor, so he understands pain as well as the best ways to render a body part useless." Nigel ran a hand appreciatively along the tools in Antony's kit. "Now then, today's job, Antony, is to ensure that he can not walk.
Antony knelt by Neal and lifted his bare foot, nodding slowly. "If he can not walk, he can not run. I understand sir." He ran his fingers over Neal's foot, up to the ankle. "Like the hand, the bones in the feet are delicate. It doesn't take much to break them."
As he spoke, he took Neal's foot in one hand, his ankle in the other and twisted. Neal screamed as the joint popped and at least one bone snapped. His vision swam and he was close to passing out, at least until Antony snapped his fingers in Neal's face. "Oh, we're not done yet, love. Stay with us."
There was something shiny in his hand as Neal tried to focus, not sure what he was doing. Antony lifted Neal's foot again. He could already see swelling. Searing pain helped him focus then, as Antony pulled the scalpel away from the bottom of Neal's foot. His fingers pressed in on the incision and Neal's eyes rolled back.
He wasn't out long, coming to as Antony finished bandaging his foot and ankle. "There you are Mr. Ethan. He won't be going much of anywhere for a while."
"Thank you Antony. We will see you topside."
Nigel walked Antony to the door, closing it behind him and coming back to Neal with a tie in his hands. "Lets just finish getting you ready, so that I can finish myself."
Neal didn't move as Nigel fussed with the tie. He was only barely aware of himself, of anything aside from the raging pain. "Please…" Neal whispered as Nigel moved away.
"Oh, I like it when you ask nicely." Nigel walked away, pulling on his own shirt.
Neal breathed through the pain and lifted his head. "Nigel, god…this is insane."
Nigel smiled at him as he finished tying his tie. "You need to learn to let go, Neal. From here on out you will want for nothing. I will see to your every need. You'll see."
Peter eased his way down the stairs, scanning the hallways. Jones was searching the next deck down. Diana was still up top.
To make matters worse, the engines were powering up and they were starting to move. If they didn't find Neal soon, they were going to be in even more trouble.
A door opened down the hall and Peter pressed himself into an alcove, daring a glance out. A man pushing a wheelchair was headed his way. Peter stepped out, gun drawn.
They stared at each other for a full minute, then Neal lifted his head, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Peter."
"Nigel Ethan, FBI." Ethan shoved Neal toward him and took off running the other direction. Peter grabbed the radio in his pocket. "Jones, Diana, Ethan is on the run, headed upstairs. I have Neal. Shut this boat down."
Peter grabbed the chair. "Neal?" He knelt beside it, his hand hovering over Neal's without touching. "What did he do to you?"
"Peter…" Neal shook his head, exhaling, then reaching for his stomach with the gauze wrapped hand. "Gonna be…" He leaned forward, throwing up onto the floor.
"It's okay, Neal. I've got you now. You're going to be okay."
The engines died and his radio buzzed for his attention. "I have the captain, cavalry has been called in." Diana's voice said.
Peter nodded. "Secure the guests, and make sure we have a medical unit responding. Neal's in bad shape."
"Peter…what are you doing here?" Neal asked suddenly, though his voice was hoarse and shot through with pain. He lifted the gauze covered hand, then stopped, his eyes on the bandages. "Get this off…" He started flailing, rubbing the bandages on the arm of the chair, then lifting it to get at the tape with his teeth. "Get it off."
"Easy." Peter trapped the hand with his, his fingers working over it until he found a place to work at the tape. It took a few minutes of trying, but he got the bandages off, freeing Neal's hand.
Neal opened his fingers, then closed them in a fist, then rubbed them over his face. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, and he wiped them away.
"Did you think I'd let you go without a fight?" Peter asked, his hand gentle as it cupped to Neal's face. Neal's hand covered his and he blinked as Peter leaned in, brushing their lips together. It was something they hadn't done before. The two of them. There was always Elizabeth between them, but he needed Neal to know.
"Ow." Neal gasped and pulled back, cradling the obviously injured hand to his chest.
"Right, lets get you upstairs."
"Can't." Neal gasped, running his good hand down his left leg. Peter hadn't even noticed those bandages.
"Okay, we can wait for the paramedics." He stood up straight and looked around them for someplace better than the hallway to wait.
"Don't—" Neal grabbed his hand. "Don't leave me."
Peter held his hand and offered him a small smile. "Not going anywhere."
Jones came from the far end of the corridor, panting. He shook his head. Nigel Ethan had gotten away. Which probably was a good thing. This way Peter might only lose his badge, not end up in prison for murder.
“Get paramedics down here.” Peter said as Jones got closer.
“They’re on their way. Diana has the captain pulling us back into the docking slip now.”
As if on cue, he could hear the rumble of the engines. “The stairs on this end are wider, probably easier to get up.” Jones said, putting his hands on the handles of the chair. Peter nodded, keeping Neal’s hand as they moved.
“Wait, wait, stop.” Neal squeezed Peter’s hand and pulled his free. “In there.” He pointed at an open door. Peter led the way, Jones pushing Neal. The room was lined with paintings and filled with pedestals with sculptures. “I think I’m delusional from the pain.” Neal said with a certain amount of awe. He pointed at a pedestal in the corner. “Over there.”
They moved together to the corner. Neal shook his head and Peter noticed that his hand was shaking. “Is that the Dolchek?” Peter asked as he leaned in to look at the horse.
“No.” Neal said. “It’s the copy I made.”
“How do you know?” Peter asked, reaching for it.
“The base.” Neal pointed as Peter held it. “There, in the grass.”
Peter had to really look where Neal was pointing to find the spot, the tiny “NC” painted into the grass.
“They’re all mine.” Neal said, looking around the room. Peter felt the weight leave his hand, but before he could react, Neal was hurling it across the room. It crashed into another piece and together they fell to the floor, crashing into hundreds of pieces.
“Okay, lets get out of here.” Peter took over pushing the chair, right up to the stairs. Jones ran up the stairs and in a few minutes paramedics were carrying a gurney down.
Peter backed away to let them work, but kept Neal in his sights. When they had him on the gurney, ready to take him up the stairs, Peter took Neal’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “I’m right behind you, okay?”
On the upper decks, local PD were interviewing people and Peter could see his own men starting to circulate. He squared his jaw as he spotted Hughes. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do. He turned away from him and concentrated on Neal.
“Deal with this.” Peter said as Diana joined them. “I’m riding with Neal.” He climbed into the ambulance behind the gurney, sitting beside Neal on the left side. Neal’s hand fumbled for his.
Pain clouded the blue of his eyes before they closed as one of the EMTs worked on his broken right hand. Neal whimpered, a noise like some small, wounded animal and Peter’s heart clenched. “No.” Neal tried to pull the hand away, but that clearly caused even more pain and he cried out, his whole body shaking.
“Hey, hey, Neal. Neal. Look at me.” His head rolled toward Peter, his eyes fluttering open. “Stay with me here, okay?”
It took far too long to reach the ER and when they did, Peter was forced to stay in the waiting area as they took Neal inside. He pulled his phone out as the doors closed, dialing Elizabeth’s number.
“Tell me you found him.”
“Yes, El. He’s…he’s hurt, but he’s safe. We’re at the hospital. He’s going to be okay.”
Neal stared at the plaster prison holding his hand together as if he expected it to somehow make a miraculous recovery if he could just see it properly. They had told him it would never be the same, in fact they weren’t even sure it would ever be able to hold anything again.
He’d been in surgery for hours. He had pins in two of his fingers and his ankle. At least the drugs were nice. He almost didn’t feel the injuries. Almost. He only wished they could numb the rest of him.
He was trying very hard not to let it sink in, but Nigel had broken him. He would never paint again, not like he did. No sculpting. None of the things that had brought him joy, gave him those moments of peace when nothing existed but the art and letting it flow through him. No sketching random beautiful things on napkins and take out menus.
His life had been cut down to this…to staring at his useless hand and remembering the searing fire of his bones breaking…to waiting to find out if he was going back to prison…to wondering if Peter hated him for running.
The door opened and Neal wiped at suddenly wet eyes before looking up. Elizabeth looked like she was going to cry herself as she swept into the room, flowers in one hand and a container in the other.
“Oh, look at you…” She put the flowers on the side table and came to perch on the bed, her eyes scanning over him. “So pale, and…” Her eyes touched on the hand, then came back to his face.
He was surprised when she kissed him, all soft and gentle and intimate. “Elizabeth…”
She shook her head and pressed a finger to his lips. “No.” She was back to teary eyed and she swallowed before fussing with his blankets. “No arguments. You’re coming home when this is over.”
He blinked and looked away, not wanting to remind her that he might actually be heading back to prison instead. He had run, after all. He had left a note saying goodbye, cut the anklet and—
Her hands grabbed his good hand, wrapping it between them and lifting it to kiss. “Stop, I know what you’re thinking and just stop. You hear me?” She kissed over his knuckles and drew in a deep breath. “Peter promised me. And you…you need someone to look after you.”
“I wouldn’t argue with her.” Peter said as he came into the room, crossing to stand behind Elizabeth, kissing the top of her head.
“No, I can see she’s got her determined face on.” Neal said, though he really did have his doubts. “But…”
Peter covered Elizabeth’s hands over Neal’s. “Doctor said probably tomorrow at the earliest.”
Neal narrowed his eyes, trying to ask the question without asking the question. “We have the guest room already set up for you.”
“Peter, I…I left. I ran.”
“Didn’t happen. You were abducted in the course of a routine investigation, and ultimately you were responsible for ten arrests.”
Neal shook his head. “Wait, what? I don’t understand.”
“The yacht was filled with unsavory people, some of them with outstanding warrants, others had drugs on them. All in all, a successful raid.” Peter grinned at him.
“And Nigel?”
Peter’s smile dimmed a little. “He’s in the wind.”
“He’ll be back.” Neal said, dropping his gaze. He pulled his hand away. Part of him just wanted to curl up and go to sleep and let the darkness swallow him.
“Maybe, but for now, El’s right. You’re coming home with us.”
“I’ll be fine.” Neal insisted.
“Yes, you will be.” Elizabeth agreed, recapturing his hand and drawing his attention. “And you’ll be where people love you.”
Neal felt the air leave his chest for the moment, blinking rapidly. “What?”
Elizabeth looked up at Peter, then down at Neal. “We love you, Neal and we want you to be a part of our lives.”
“Better listen to her, she knows what she’s talking about.”
“You’re serious.” Neal wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone that wasn’t with him in order to get something from him…and that included Kate. It had only been days since he had thought to himself that his life was far too crowded with people expecting too much from him.
But maybe, Neal was beginning to think, just maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe he could even get used to it. After all, it was a practical adjustment…for his current situation.
He offered a smile, tenuous and not fully his best, and drew Elizabeth’s hand to his mouth to kiss. “Yes, ma’am.”
Title: Practical Matters (Part Two) (Part One here)
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Peter, Elizabeth (implied Neal/Peter/Elizabeth), Mozzie, Jones, Diana, OMC
Word Count: 12,543 (Total for both parts)
Rating: NC-17 for theme
Summary: What starts out as a typical white collar case becomes anything but when an old acquaintance of Neal's surfaces, and Neal tries to protect his friends the only way he knows how.
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for
another_doyle for generosity in the help_japan auction. Warnings for violence, implied sexual slavery, implied previous dub-con, non-con drug use, physical injury as a means of restraint. Part two of two.Cold air shivered across his skin, pulling him up from dark dreams into a room that was entirely too bright for his current situation, or state of undress.
Neal lifted his hands to rub at his face, stopping when he saw his hands. They were trapped inside huge wrappings of gauze and tape, turning them into mitts.
“I learned from our last encounter.”
Neal looked up. Nigel was sitting in a chair, a small smile on his face, dressed in an immaculate suit, his legs crossed, watching Neal. Watching Neal inside the three foot by three foot cage across the room from him. Cage.
“It is, of course, a temporary measure. I figure breaking every delicate bone should be enough to keep you from ever picking a lock again, am I right?”
“Nigel, lets be reasonable.” Neal said, getting on his knees inside the cage.
The smile fled Nigel’s face. “We tried reasonable once, Neal. I asked politely. I cajoled. I seduced. I bought you beautiful things to wear.”
“I never asked for any of that. I didn’t want it. I still don’t.” Neal shifted, uncomfortable with the entire situation.
“I gave you everything you could want in Versailles.”
“You drugged me and locked me in handcuffs in a room with no windows.” Neal amended.
“You had a beautiful, comfortable bed, any food you could desire, books and music...”
“I’m not some doll you can just…keep.” Neal argued, though he knew it was pointless.
Nigel stood. “We shall soon see the truth of that. I have some business to attend to, but I will be back soon, and we’ll get started on that hand problem.”
He left the room, left Neal alone. In a cage. With his hands hidden away under gauze and tape…which left him with no way out, no way to escape.
Nigel had played him well, pushed him into running, into cutting all ties he had with anyone before Nigel even showed his hand. Which meant Neal couldn’t even count on Peter coming to his rescue.
“Agent Melissa Billson, I’m looking for Agent Peter Burke?”
Peter looked up at the sound of his name, lifting a hand as he stood. “El, I’ll call you later. Yes, I know. We’ll find him.”
He hung up the phone and emerged from his office. Billson approached with a smile. “I’m sorry it took so long. I got held up—“
“I’m afraid the situation has changed, Agent Billson. Please come into my office.”
“Melissa, please.”
Peter held the door for her and closed it behind them. “So, what’s changed?” she asked as she took a seat.
Peter didn’t sit. He stood at the window. “We believe that Nigel Ethan has abducted one of our men.” His heart thumped, the sound of Elizabeth’s fear in his head.
“An agent? That’s not his style.”
“Not an agent. A consultant. My consultant.” Peter turned to look at her. “Neal Caffrey, he’s a con who helps us catch other cons.”
He heard her briefcase pop open and papers shuffle. He turned as she pulled out a file. “This Neal Caffrey?” She opened the file and dropped it on his desk. Peter crossed to it, already nodding.
“That’s him.”
She nodded. “When your agents contacted me, I checked all of Ethan’s known contacts and associates in New York. Caffrey’s name came up. They’ve crossed paths before. Do you know anything about their relationship?”
Peter shook his head. “Honestly I don’t know. Neal didn’t say much about him. Just that he liked to collect things, and people.”
“We have him tied to multiple kidnappings and disappearances, both here and abroad, but nothing we can pin on him. But this might be his first real mistake.”
“How so?”
“I have a man inside his organization. Ethan’s been watching your man since he got into town. Had two of his most trusted men on him, waiting for something.”
Peter nodded. “Waiting for Neal to be spooked enough to run. So we’d be busy looking for an escaped con and not an abducted man.”
“But he’s not ready to leave New York yet.” She pulled more paperwork from her briefcase. “According to my last information from my agent, he’s got a big transaction happening in two days.”
“What kind of transaction?”
“He isn’t high enough to find out, but he assures me that Ethan isn’t leaving New York until it’s done.” She stood, lips pressed together. “Ethan is an obsessive man. The closest we have ever come to catching him was when he wouldn’t leave Orlando, Florida two years ago until he had what he came there for. If your man is what he’s obsessing over, it’s a very good chance he’s alive and unharmed.”
“And I aim to see he stays that way.” Peter said, his voice a dark growl.
Neal shifted as far back in the cage as he could as the door opened and Nigel returned. He had three men with him. Two of the men pulled a heavy block of stone in on a wheeled dolly. Nigel smiled softly at Neal.
“Now, I want you to remember that this is for your own good, Neal. It’s a practical matter. I don’t want you getting yourself hurt trying to get away. He crossed to the cage door, unlocking it. “And we both know you will try.”
“No. No, I won’t, Nigel. I promise.”
Nigel’s smile was indulgent. “You’ve promised before. Don’t you remember? You promised me you’d be good. You humored me, even let me take you into my bed…and all the while you were just waiting to run away from me.”
He reached in, grabbing Neal by the hair and dragging him out into the room. “Boys, gentle now. I don’t want bruises.”
The men moved in and pulled Neal toward the stone. “Nigel, please. We can talk about this. You know I can’t stand pain.” Neal’s stomach twisted at the site of the third man, rolling out a leather sleeve filled with tools.
“That’s something you should have considered, Neal, before you ran away from me.”
They pushed him to his knees, one of them twisting his left arm up behind his back while the other pulled his right hand up onto the block. “Nigel, I’m begging you.”
Nigel’s hand cupped his chin. “I do like it when you beg.”
“Don’t do this. I’ll do anything.”
Nigel nodded slowly. “Yes, when we’re done here you will, because you will realized where you belong and who your belong to, and you will never leave me again.”
He stepped away and the third man came toward him, a pair of scissors in his hand. Neal was held in place as he cut through the gauze. He pulled hard against the hand that held his in place, but he wasn’t getting loose.
“Nigel…”
The hammer in the man’s hand looked ominous. He slowly pried Neal’s fingers open, covering Neal’s hand with his own, leaving only the pinky uncovered. Neal tensed. The hammer came down against his fingernail, then against the middle and then against the lower bone. That was about when the pain fully registered.
Neal yelled and pulled on his hand, the pain burning like a line of fire down his finger. He almost wasn’t even aware of the second finger getting the same treatment. After the third, the man paused, moving away, disappearing out the door and when he returned, he had an ice pack. He arranged in gently over Neal’s mangled fingers, then turned his attention to the uninjured ones.
Tears burned down Neal’s face, and his voice failed him as his thumb broke. The men behind him were holding him up more than they were holding him down as the ice pack was shifted again and the hammer turned to the bones of his hand.
Neal was close to passing out when Nigel’s voice cut through the torment. “A knuckle or two for good measure, Antony, if you don’t mind.”
“No…” Neal protested weakly, but he no longer had control over his hand at all, it was just a throbbing mass of pain that felt almost as if it wasn’t even really his. The hammer fell again and Neal screamed soundlessly, falling head first into the fire.
Elizabeth met him at the door, worry in every line of her body. “Anything?”
He shook his head wearily and kissed her as they moved inside and he shut the door. “Not yet. I’m just here to grab a shower and a change of clothes. I’ve got to get back to the office.”
“You should sleep.” Her hand rubbed down his back.
“No time, honey. I’ll sleep when we find him.”
She followed him up the stairs, sitting uneasily on the bed as he started undressing. Fatigue pulled at him, it had been close to twenty four hours since Neal had cut his anklet. They had twenty four more to find him before Ethan moved his operation out of their jurisdiction again.
“Is he okay? You don’t think he’s…”
Peter crossed to kiss her forehead. “Neal’s a resourceful guy. I’m sure he’s fine. This guy doesn’t kill people.”
She hadn’t moved from the bed five minutes later when he emerged from his shower, still upset and pensive. “Why does he want Neal?”
Peter had asked himself that same question any number of times in the last twenty four hours. “He is an obsessive man who collects…” He sighed. There really was no way to white wash it. The man ran human slaves, and not the sort that got calloused knees by washing floors.
He’d gotten a crash course on the seedy world of kidnapped to order slavery. Ethan specialized in a specific sort of the trade. But they were operating under the impression that Ethan wanted Neal for himself. Not that it made anything better.
In fact the idea of that man touching Neal at all made Peter's skin crawl.
Peter got dressed, wishing he had the time for a quick nap, or that he had something to tell Elizabeth to ease the worry from her forehead…but Elizabeth had come to really care for Neal. It was more than sex, but then with Elizabeth it always had been. And honestly, Peter had to start to admit to himself that it had become more than sex for him too.
"We'll find him, El. I promise." Peter said when the silence had stretched on for too long. There were tears in her eyes when she looked up at him.
She wiped them and nodded. "I'll make you a sandwich."
Peter watched her go. Twenty four hours. Less now. He could only hope the team had made progress by the time he got back to the office.
The excruciating pain that had sent him plummeting into the darkness also yanked him up out of it, when, in his sleep, Neal had tried to move the hand.
He woke back in the cage, curled on his left side, the right hand heavy against his hip. He breathed against the pain and moved his head to get a look. The hand was splinted against a board cut in the shape of a hand, each finger individually taped down to the wood. The skin he could see was black and purple and swollen.
He swallowed and tried to sit up, gasping when moving made the pain increase. It was almost as if he could feel the bones moving against each other. He tried to balance it, not move it as he sat up, but when he bumped his thumb against his thigh, Neal yelled, his whole body seizing as he vomited, coughing and spewing what little he had in his stomach.
He managed to shift onto his naked ass though, back in the corner of the cage furthest from the door, not that that seemed to make any difference. Neal closed his eyes and fought back the desperate fear that threatened to send him hurtling back into the darkness. He needed to think now, to analyze the situation.
Once the throbbing had eased back a bit and he was accustomed to the level of pain, enough at least to start to see past it, Neal opened his eyes. The room was not much to look at. There was the cage, the chair, a small table beside the chair, some chains dangling from one wall. The floor under him was metal, as was the door, which had no handle on this side.
The lock on the cage was where he couldn't see it from inside, and given that his only functional hand was still wrapped in twenty miles of gauze, that wasn't going to matter.
Nigel clearly had learned a lot from the last time he'd attempted this. In the grand scheme of things, it hadn't been much. Three weeks in Versailles, and Nigel wasn't wrong, as prisons went, it was exquisite, his every need looked after, every desire fulfilled before he could ask. All but the important one.
And yes, Neal had let Nigel seduce him, had let himself be pawed and petted, stroked and fondled and ultimately fucked, but it had given him what he needed to escape.
Somehow he was doubting he'd get that chance again.
The door opened and Neal tensed, his breathing and heartbeat speeding up. Nigel smiled at him, lifting a tray to show him. "I brought something for the pain and fresh ice. Are you hungry?"
"Not particularly." Neal responded, his voice thrashed from screaming. He turned away.
"It isn't much, the doctor was concerned your stomach might be bothered, so it's just some chicken broth and rice." Neal heard the cage unlock. "Oh, I can see your stomach is upset. Always were a little delicate. Come on out, Neal."
"The last time I was out, you smashed my hand into this mess." Neal said around clenched teeth. "Pardon me if I don't trust you."
"Trust is earned, Neal. I told you exactly what I was going to do before I did it. I was honest with you, just as I always have been. Now, I'm going to ice your hand and feed you and give you something for the pain. You can come out on your own and do this the pleasant way, or, I can send for the boys to come in and give me a hand. Which is it to be."
He considered being stubborn, but Nigel was truthful. As far as Neal could tell, the man had never lied. Cradling his injured hand closer to his body, Neal crawled out of the cage and stood. It was only a few steps, but he couldn't bring himself to crawl across the floor.
Nigel sat in the chair, the tray perched on the table. Neal sank to the floor, crossing his legs and looking up at Nigel. "Lets start with the ice." He was gentle as he guided Neal to lay the hand on his knee, settling frozen gel packs on top. Neal panted through the added pain as Nigel wrapped the hand and ice with a bandage, then let Neal pull it back.
"Water?" Nigel lifted a cup and held it to Neal's mouth, tilting it to pour cool water into him. Neal swallowed as much as he could before Nigel pulled it away. Next he lifted a cup and spoon. "Okay, open up."
Neal wanted to scream, yell, thrash, anything but play along, but he had a taste of what Nigel was capable of, and he didn't want any more pain, so he dutifully opened his mouth and let Nigel spoon the bland broth and rice into his mouth. And when Nigel offered him the pills, Neal took them, praying they were strong enough to let him sleep, while Nigel took whatever pleasure he found in keeping Neal this way.
"Nothing?" Peter asked as Jones and Diana exited the upscale penthouse that was Nigel Ethan's New York residence.
"Nothing. All the art seems legitimate, but we've got someone verifying it." Jones said. "No sign of any hostages, in fact it doesn't look as though Ethan has been here at all. The butler said he hasn't seen him either."
"I somehow doubt he's being honest with us." He was missing something, Peter knew it and this was a step way over the line. He'd strong-armed a warrant, called in all the favors he had. They were running out of time.
"Boss, we got trouble."
Peter caught site of the trouble and raced back into the house, into Ethan's office. There had to be something to tell Peter where he'd taken Neal. Anything.
"Burke!"
Hughes. Very unhappy by the sound. His eyes scanned the walls, certificates and awards and pictures. There. Right there.
He grabbed the picture and turned it over, just getting the back off the frame and the picture out of the frame as his boss burst through the door. Peter hid the picture behind his back.
"What in the name of hell are you doing?"
Peter slipped the folded picture into his back pocket. "I'm following a lead."
"A hunch. A bad hunch based on hearsay and conjecture."
"We've gotten further with less."
"Not when the man who owns the house has the governor of New York on his speed dial."
"He has Neal—"
"Enough. Get outside. This search ends now."
"Sir, if you could just—"
"Outside, before I rethink the governor's suggestion that I take your badge away from you."
"Going."
Peter ducked around him and headed out to Diana and Jones. Hughes was right behind him. "This case ends now."
"But Neal—"
Hughes cut him off with a raised hand. "Is an escaped con. Find him, but leave Nigel Ethan alone. I hear his name again, or see it on a report, I'll have all of your badges. Is that clear?"
Peter seethed with fury, but nodded. "Crystal." He waited until Hughes had stalked off before he pulled the picture out.
"What's that?"
"A hunch." Peter said, walking back toward his car.
They fell into step behind him and he stopped, shaking his head. "No. Not this time. This one is on me."
Diana didn't answer, just snatched the picture out of his hand, her eyes scanning it before she handed it to Jones. "Boat, looks like a luxury yacht. Only a few places in town to tie one of those up."
She was pulling out her phone, walking toward the car while she spoke. "Hey Margi, it's Diana. I need a favor. I have what looks like a large luxury yacht, private owner, probably not listed since we couldn't find the suspect's name on any records…" She snapped her fingers at Jones for the photo and he joined her by the car, handing it over.
"You know we can't go after him." Peter said as he too joined them in the car.
Diana hung up the phone. "Then I guess you don't want the addresses to the three marinas Margi said could handle a boat that size?"
She handed a note over the front seat. For a long moment Peter sat there, wanting to kick them both out of the car. Finally he grabbed the paper and started the car.
Somewhere out there, Neal was alone.
His first real thought was that he wasn't alone…followed by trying to remember if he'd fallen asleep or just zoned out. He was seated on the cold metal floor with Nigel behind him, fingers combing through his hair.
"…soon, of course. Just one last bit of cargo to be loaded, then we'll be leaving."
Neal turned his head, surprised that Nigel was talking. "W-what?"
"Just as I suspected. All zoned out. I was just telling you that we'll be leaving soon. I'm going to expect you to be by my side at the party, of course."
"P-party?" Everything felt off, stilted. Probably the drugs still in his system.
"You haven't heard anything, have you?" Nigel stood. "Honestly Neal, I expected better from you."
"I'm sorry…it's the pain meds." He lifted his left hand to rub at his eyes, forgetting for the moment that it was still a club of gauze bandages.
"Well then, I guess we won't give you more before the party, I want you to sparkle for my guests."
Neal worked himself to standing, cradling the broken hand close to his stomach. "I hope you're going to give me something to wear."
Nigel smiled. "Of course. I had something made for you. But first, you need a bath and a haircut. It's gotten long. Then, Antony will check your hand, and work on your left foot. Once that's done, we'll get you dressed."
"Wait." Neal held up his hand, then shook his head. "What about my foot?"
Nigel stroked his cheek. "I can't have you trying to run away, and I can't have you chained to the chair, this is the most practical solution. You'll see."
"Nigel, I swear I won't—"
His fingers pressed Neal's lips closed. "Enough arguing, come along with me and we'll get you into a nice hot bath."
Neal followed, not certain if Nigel had really lost his mind or the drugs just made Neal unable to follow his logic. Though he was wondering if maybe it wasn't a little of both.
"It looks like they're getting ready to pull out." Diana said beside him.
He needed to make a decision. His gut told him that Neal was on that boat. Hughes had told him not to go after Ethan. In fact he had called twice to reiterate that he was not to go anywhere near the man, or his property.
On the other hand, the boat was owned by a subsidiary company of a subsidiary company of holding company that may or may not track back directly to Ethan.
And Neal was on that boat.
Peter pulled his badge out of his pocket and looked at it. "What I am about to do is illegal and unprofessional. It will likely end up getting me fired. I can't ask—" Before he finished, Diana's badge was on the front seat of the car. Jones dropped his through the open window as well. "Okay." He dropped his and followed it with his suit jacket. "Lets go."
There were any number of people moving on and off the boat, it almost looked like they were getting ready for some sort of party, which, given Ethan's reputation sounded about his style.
They moved along the dock, stopping just short of boxes of champagne. Jones nodded, stuck his gun in it's holster and grabbed a box, stepping onto the boat as easy as that.
"My turn." Diana said, likewise holstering her gun and stepping out of the shadows to talk to two of the men. "What is this?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you know who I am? I came down here because we got a call saying that the entire order got screwed up. The wrong champagne, no caviar. What is going on here?"
Peter watched her berate her way onto the boat. That left him. But, as she went, Diana drew most of the men with her, making it even easier for him to slip on board unnoticed.
Neal had thought being spoon fed by Nigel was bad, humiliating really…but it was nothing compared to the bath. Made worse by the fact that it was one of Nigel's servants cleaning him. His hands were wrapped in plastic and he was helped into the tub, then cleaned like he was a child.
He flushed even redder than he already was as he was dried off. His skin burned with the humiliation even as he was led from the bathroom into the stateroom. He had managed to figure out they were on a boat, though it had to be a big one, he couldn't feel the water movement at all.
Without the meds, his hand throbbed and it was getting worse. He wasn't entirely certain he wasn't going to pass out even without the meds.
Another servant joined the first, helping him into a pair of boxers while Nigel watched. Next came dress pants, which was where Nigel stopped them. "That will be all for now, gentlemen."
Nigel lifted a pressed white shirt from the bed. "I had it made just for you." He held up a sleeve to show him the split seam lined with Velcro all the way down. "We want you to look smashing, don't we?"
He settled the shirt over Neal's shoulders, slowly and methodically smoothing it out and fitting the seams together before coming around the front and buttoning it up. Neal closed his eyes and turned his face as Nigel took as much time and attention to tuck the shirt tails into his pants, his hands smoothing over Neal's ass and hips, then down around his cock.
Nigel smiled and tugged Neal's face back to his. "You never really liked it when I touched you that way, even though you wanted me to believe you did." His fingers tightened on Neal's chin. "Get used to it. You belong to me now, and tonight, after the party, you will understand that. Completely."
He zipped Neal's pants up and gestured at the wheelchair in the corner. "Sit."
"Nigel—"
Nigel's hand snapped up and across Neal's face. "Stop talking and sit your ass down. You are here to be beautiful, Neal. Not to talk."
There was a knock on the door, followed by the man who had systematically broken Neal's hand. Neal sank into the chair, watching as Antony dropped his leather roll of tools onto the bed. He left them for the moment, coming to check Neal's hand. He lifted it and examined what he could around the tape and bandaging, nodding to himself.
"I imagine this is the most painful thing you have ever experienced." Antony said, his voice lightly accented. He smiled. "I take pride in that."
"Nice." Neal managed, looking away.
"It is fine work." Nigel agreed. "Antony is a medical doctor, so he understands pain as well as the best ways to render a body part useless." Nigel ran a hand appreciatively along the tools in Antony's kit. "Now then, today's job, Antony, is to ensure that he can not walk.
Antony knelt by Neal and lifted his bare foot, nodding slowly. "If he can not walk, he can not run. I understand sir." He ran his fingers over Neal's foot, up to the ankle. "Like the hand, the bones in the feet are delicate. It doesn't take much to break them."
As he spoke, he took Neal's foot in one hand, his ankle in the other and twisted. Neal screamed as the joint popped and at least one bone snapped. His vision swam and he was close to passing out, at least until Antony snapped his fingers in Neal's face. "Oh, we're not done yet, love. Stay with us."
There was something shiny in his hand as Neal tried to focus, not sure what he was doing. Antony lifted Neal's foot again. He could already see swelling. Searing pain helped him focus then, as Antony pulled the scalpel away from the bottom of Neal's foot. His fingers pressed in on the incision and Neal's eyes rolled back.
He wasn't out long, coming to as Antony finished bandaging his foot and ankle. "There you are Mr. Ethan. He won't be going much of anywhere for a while."
"Thank you Antony. We will see you topside."
Nigel walked Antony to the door, closing it behind him and coming back to Neal with a tie in his hands. "Lets just finish getting you ready, so that I can finish myself."
Neal didn't move as Nigel fussed with the tie. He was only barely aware of himself, of anything aside from the raging pain. "Please…" Neal whispered as Nigel moved away.
"Oh, I like it when you ask nicely." Nigel walked away, pulling on his own shirt.
Neal breathed through the pain and lifted his head. "Nigel, god…this is insane."
Nigel smiled at him as he finished tying his tie. "You need to learn to let go, Neal. From here on out you will want for nothing. I will see to your every need. You'll see."
Peter eased his way down the stairs, scanning the hallways. Jones was searching the next deck down. Diana was still up top.
To make matters worse, the engines were powering up and they were starting to move. If they didn't find Neal soon, they were going to be in even more trouble.
A door opened down the hall and Peter pressed himself into an alcove, daring a glance out. A man pushing a wheelchair was headed his way. Peter stepped out, gun drawn.
They stared at each other for a full minute, then Neal lifted his head, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Peter."
"Nigel Ethan, FBI." Ethan shoved Neal toward him and took off running the other direction. Peter grabbed the radio in his pocket. "Jones, Diana, Ethan is on the run, headed upstairs. I have Neal. Shut this boat down."
Peter grabbed the chair. "Neal?" He knelt beside it, his hand hovering over Neal's without touching. "What did he do to you?"
"Peter…" Neal shook his head, exhaling, then reaching for his stomach with the gauze wrapped hand. "Gonna be…" He leaned forward, throwing up onto the floor.
"It's okay, Neal. I've got you now. You're going to be okay."
The engines died and his radio buzzed for his attention. "I have the captain, cavalry has been called in." Diana's voice said.
Peter nodded. "Secure the guests, and make sure we have a medical unit responding. Neal's in bad shape."
"Peter…what are you doing here?" Neal asked suddenly, though his voice was hoarse and shot through with pain. He lifted the gauze covered hand, then stopped, his eyes on the bandages. "Get this off…" He started flailing, rubbing the bandages on the arm of the chair, then lifting it to get at the tape with his teeth. "Get it off."
"Easy." Peter trapped the hand with his, his fingers working over it until he found a place to work at the tape. It took a few minutes of trying, but he got the bandages off, freeing Neal's hand.
Neal opened his fingers, then closed them in a fist, then rubbed them over his face. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, and he wiped them away.
"Did you think I'd let you go without a fight?" Peter asked, his hand gentle as it cupped to Neal's face. Neal's hand covered his and he blinked as Peter leaned in, brushing their lips together. It was something they hadn't done before. The two of them. There was always Elizabeth between them, but he needed Neal to know.
"Ow." Neal gasped and pulled back, cradling the obviously injured hand to his chest.
"Right, lets get you upstairs."
"Can't." Neal gasped, running his good hand down his left leg. Peter hadn't even noticed those bandages.
"Okay, we can wait for the paramedics." He stood up straight and looked around them for someplace better than the hallway to wait.
"Don't—" Neal grabbed his hand. "Don't leave me."
Peter held his hand and offered him a small smile. "Not going anywhere."
Jones came from the far end of the corridor, panting. He shook his head. Nigel Ethan had gotten away. Which probably was a good thing. This way Peter might only lose his badge, not end up in prison for murder.
“Get paramedics down here.” Peter said as Jones got closer.
“They’re on their way. Diana has the captain pulling us back into the docking slip now.”
As if on cue, he could hear the rumble of the engines. “The stairs on this end are wider, probably easier to get up.” Jones said, putting his hands on the handles of the chair. Peter nodded, keeping Neal’s hand as they moved.
“Wait, wait, stop.” Neal squeezed Peter’s hand and pulled his free. “In there.” He pointed at an open door. Peter led the way, Jones pushing Neal. The room was lined with paintings and filled with pedestals with sculptures. “I think I’m delusional from the pain.” Neal said with a certain amount of awe. He pointed at a pedestal in the corner. “Over there.”
They moved together to the corner. Neal shook his head and Peter noticed that his hand was shaking. “Is that the Dolchek?” Peter asked as he leaned in to look at the horse.
“No.” Neal said. “It’s the copy I made.”
“How do you know?” Peter asked, reaching for it.
“The base.” Neal pointed as Peter held it. “There, in the grass.”
Peter had to really look where Neal was pointing to find the spot, the tiny “NC” painted into the grass.
“They’re all mine.” Neal said, looking around the room. Peter felt the weight leave his hand, but before he could react, Neal was hurling it across the room. It crashed into another piece and together they fell to the floor, crashing into hundreds of pieces.
“Okay, lets get out of here.” Peter took over pushing the chair, right up to the stairs. Jones ran up the stairs and in a few minutes paramedics were carrying a gurney down.
Peter backed away to let them work, but kept Neal in his sights. When they had him on the gurney, ready to take him up the stairs, Peter took Neal’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “I’m right behind you, okay?”
On the upper decks, local PD were interviewing people and Peter could see his own men starting to circulate. He squared his jaw as he spotted Hughes. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do. He turned away from him and concentrated on Neal.
“Deal with this.” Peter said as Diana joined them. “I’m riding with Neal.” He climbed into the ambulance behind the gurney, sitting beside Neal on the left side. Neal’s hand fumbled for his.
Pain clouded the blue of his eyes before they closed as one of the EMTs worked on his broken right hand. Neal whimpered, a noise like some small, wounded animal and Peter’s heart clenched. “No.” Neal tried to pull the hand away, but that clearly caused even more pain and he cried out, his whole body shaking.
“Hey, hey, Neal. Neal. Look at me.” His head rolled toward Peter, his eyes fluttering open. “Stay with me here, okay?”
It took far too long to reach the ER and when they did, Peter was forced to stay in the waiting area as they took Neal inside. He pulled his phone out as the doors closed, dialing Elizabeth’s number.
“Tell me you found him.”
“Yes, El. He’s…he’s hurt, but he’s safe. We’re at the hospital. He’s going to be okay.”
Neal stared at the plaster prison holding his hand together as if he expected it to somehow make a miraculous recovery if he could just see it properly. They had told him it would never be the same, in fact they weren’t even sure it would ever be able to hold anything again.
He’d been in surgery for hours. He had pins in two of his fingers and his ankle. At least the drugs were nice. He almost didn’t feel the injuries. Almost. He only wished they could numb the rest of him.
He was trying very hard not to let it sink in, but Nigel had broken him. He would never paint again, not like he did. No sculpting. None of the things that had brought him joy, gave him those moments of peace when nothing existed but the art and letting it flow through him. No sketching random beautiful things on napkins and take out menus.
His life had been cut down to this…to staring at his useless hand and remembering the searing fire of his bones breaking…to waiting to find out if he was going back to prison…to wondering if Peter hated him for running.
The door opened and Neal wiped at suddenly wet eyes before looking up. Elizabeth looked like she was going to cry herself as she swept into the room, flowers in one hand and a container in the other.
“Oh, look at you…” She put the flowers on the side table and came to perch on the bed, her eyes scanning over him. “So pale, and…” Her eyes touched on the hand, then came back to his face.
He was surprised when she kissed him, all soft and gentle and intimate. “Elizabeth…”
She shook her head and pressed a finger to his lips. “No.” She was back to teary eyed and she swallowed before fussing with his blankets. “No arguments. You’re coming home when this is over.”
He blinked and looked away, not wanting to remind her that he might actually be heading back to prison instead. He had run, after all. He had left a note saying goodbye, cut the anklet and—
Her hands grabbed his good hand, wrapping it between them and lifting it to kiss. “Stop, I know what you’re thinking and just stop. You hear me?” She kissed over his knuckles and drew in a deep breath. “Peter promised me. And you…you need someone to look after you.”
“I wouldn’t argue with her.” Peter said as he came into the room, crossing to stand behind Elizabeth, kissing the top of her head.
“No, I can see she’s got her determined face on.” Neal said, though he really did have his doubts. “But…”
Peter covered Elizabeth’s hands over Neal’s. “Doctor said probably tomorrow at the earliest.”
Neal narrowed his eyes, trying to ask the question without asking the question. “We have the guest room already set up for you.”
“Peter, I…I left. I ran.”
“Didn’t happen. You were abducted in the course of a routine investigation, and ultimately you were responsible for ten arrests.”
Neal shook his head. “Wait, what? I don’t understand.”
“The yacht was filled with unsavory people, some of them with outstanding warrants, others had drugs on them. All in all, a successful raid.” Peter grinned at him.
“And Nigel?”
Peter’s smile dimmed a little. “He’s in the wind.”
“He’ll be back.” Neal said, dropping his gaze. He pulled his hand away. Part of him just wanted to curl up and go to sleep and let the darkness swallow him.
“Maybe, but for now, El’s right. You’re coming home with us.”
“I’ll be fine.” Neal insisted.
“Yes, you will be.” Elizabeth agreed, recapturing his hand and drawing his attention. “And you’ll be where people love you.”
Neal felt the air leave his chest for the moment, blinking rapidly. “What?”
Elizabeth looked up at Peter, then down at Neal. “We love you, Neal and we want you to be a part of our lives.”
“Better listen to her, she knows what she’s talking about.”
“You’re serious.” Neal wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone that wasn’t with him in order to get something from him…and that included Kate. It had only been days since he had thought to himself that his life was far too crowded with people expecting too much from him.
But maybe, Neal was beginning to think, just maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe he could even get used to it. After all, it was a practical adjustment…for his current situation.
He offered a smile, tenuous and not fully his best, and drew Elizabeth’s hand to his mouth to kiss. “Yes, ma’am.”