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elrhiarhodanTitle: Fortune's Just a One-Night Stand – Part Eight
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Mozzie, Elizabeth Mitchell, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Vincent Adler, Daniel Picah, mention of other canon characters in minor non-canon settings.
Pairings: Peter/Neal, Neal/Daniel, Peter/Adler, Adler/Neal
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Prostitution, rape, Domination/submission, dubious consent, fuck-or-die scenario, use of gender-specific insults
Word Count: ~56,000
Beta Credit:jrosemary, theatregirl7299, and hoosierbitch
Summary: In some alternate universe, Peter Burke is a wealthy and bored financial advisor and discovers that one of his clients, Elizabeth Mitchell, is using her event planning business to launder profits from an escort service catering to the wealthy gay elite in New York. Instead of turning her in, he asks her to hire him. Neal Caffrey has been recently released from a four-year sentence for bond forgery and learns that his girlfriend, Kate has married his old boyfriend, Matthew Keller and they’ve taken off for parts unknown. Determined not to return to prison, Neal turns to his friend, Mozzie, for help. Moz knows a guy – or in this case – a gal who’s willing to hire Neal. As an escort.
PART SEVEN - ON LJ | ON DW
____________________________________________
“I thought you said you’d agree to see Adler again?”
Peter sighed. He had. “I really don’t want to, Elizabeth. It’s just going to create problems.”
“He told me that he’ll stop seeing Neal when you resume your usual Wednesday night schedule.”
Good. “But it’s Monday.” He felt an unexplained need to put up a token resistance.
“And he says he wants to clear the air with you tonight.”
Peter wondered at the strain in Elizabeth’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“He’s putting a lot pressure on me, Peter. You know that I’ve been doing his foundation’s event for the last few years. It’s a huge part of my business for the first quarter and he’s threatening to pull it if I can’t get you to see him tonight.”
“And when I see him and punch him in the face for threatening you like this?”
“Peter, don’t. Just – please, see him. He says that he really would prefer to see you than Neal. And you don’t want him involved with Neal – or has that changed?”
“No.” If anything, Peter’s determination to unwind Neal from Adler was even stronger. He should have realized that he’d use Elizabeth as leverage, though. “Okay – his apartment, tonight? What time?”
“Seven – he wants to have an early dinner. And Peter – “
“Don’t thank me, El.” He hung up and checked the time. It was a little after five and Neal should have been home an hour ago. Something didn’t feel right. He couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, other than an uneasiness in his gut. Neal was probably caught up in his work and Peter was reluctant to disturb him. He wanted him to realize that his art was the most important thing right now, more important than even their relationship. Neal had given up both Saturday and Sunday to spend with him and Peter couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about that. He shouldn’t let it bother him that Neal was working all day at his studio.
Everything with him and Neal was so new, so perfect, and he was so damn afraid of saying something that would ruin it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Neal – far from it. Their relationship was unique, but he just didn’t trust himself not to get over-protective, over-bearing. Peter just didn’t trust himself not to drive Neal away.
He sent Neal a short text, letting him know that El had given him a last minute appointment, and he’d see him when he got home. He got a reply a few minutes later, apologizing, he'd gotten caught up in his project and lost track of time.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about Neal’s reply, but something still worried him. Something didn’t feel right and no matter how many times he looked at the text, he couldn’t figure out what made him so uneasy.
At seven, he presented himself at Adler’s apartment. He was usually greeted by the butler as he arrived, but there was no one at the door. Peter rang and waited, then rang again. Maybe it was possible that Elizabeth misunderstood, and this appointment wasn’t for tonight. About to leave, he heard footsteps and finally the door opened – by none other than Adler himself.
“Peter, come in.” Vincent gestured expansively. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I gave the help the night off.”
The alarm bells were sirens now and Peter wanted to back away. He didn’t. Instead, he swallowed his gorge and followed Vincent into the apartment.
“Let me take your coat.”
“No – I’m not staying long.”
“Peter?”
“I only agreed to come here because you were threatening Elizabeth.”
Adler’s smile got thinner and tighter. “I’m surprised she told you.”
“I don’t respond well to blackmail.”
“Too much of a man to bow to pressure? That’s not how I remember it.”
Peter ignored Adler’s attempt at insulting him. “I don’t understand why you are doing this. I wasn’t interested in an exclusive arrangement and you ended it. We were done. We should have stayed done.” Peter kept his hands shoved in his jacket pocket.
“You’re a whore -”
“And yes, yes, we know how much you like whores. It’s enough, Vincent. It’s over, it’s done and it’s time you moved on.”
“Just like you have?” There was something terrible in Adler’s voice, a smug sense of glee.
“I was never stuck. I’m a whore, remember? You paid me for a service and then you decided that you didn’t want that service anymore.” Peter turned to leave. “We’re done.”
“No, I don’t think we are.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to wreck Elizabeth Mitchell’s business because of this?” Peter wondered what favors he’d need to call in to make sure she didn’t lose everything.
“Oh, destroying Ms. Mitchell’s little event planning and whoremongering business is going to be the least of her problems. But that’s after I get done with you, with Peter Burke.”
Peter blinked, not sure he heard what Adler said. “What?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb, Peter. I know all about you. And yes, you’re as boring as they come.”
“I don’t understand.”
Adler continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You are a typical overachiever, constantly compensating for your sexuality. One failed relationship: David Lawrence, wanna-be Olympian fencer and all-around champion cock-sucker. He thought you were going to be his sugar daddy, his ticket to the big time. Pity he didn’t understand the value of monogamy. You found him in your own bed with another man, right? Both were so jacked up on Ecstasy that they wouldn’t stop fucking even when you walked in on them.”
Peter tried to play this cool; he didn’t want to let Adler get to him. “An early mistake, one that wasn’t repeated.”
“Interesting that you talk about mistakes – but that’s something we’ll get back to.” Vincent sat down, a predator at rest. “By the way, David says hello. Or he would if he could actually speak. He’s in nursing home with a big neon DNR on his medical orders. It seems that he dropped one too many tabs of E and fried his brain.”
Peter didn’t bother wasting time wondering how Adler found all this out, it didn’t matter. “So far, you haven’t said anything that interests me.”
“Well, then how does Neal Caffrey interest you?”
“What?”
“Neal Caffrey. Your apartment mate, your fellow whore. Your lover?”
Peter exploded. “You really want to know why I’m here, Vincent? Because I want you to stay away from Neal. You don’t need him. He doesn’t need you.”
“Ahh, that’s the spirit. You really don’t give a damn about Elizabeth Mitchell – you’re here because you don’t like me touching what’s you think is yours. You don’t want me to put my hands on the man you think you love.”
“Shut your mouth – you know nothing.”
“Oh, Peter, I know everything.” Adler tossed a folder at him.
Peter caught and opened it. There were pictures of them from this weekend, at the Metropolitan, walking home hand-in-hand. One caught at his heart – Neal was looking up. Peter remembered the moment so clearly. Neal had spotted one of New York’s famous hawks and was fascinated by the presence of wildlife in the middle of the city. Peter was more interested in watching Neal. The picture captured a moment when everything he felt was exposed to the world. “You are a sick and twisted bastard. I know what gets you off, I know what you do and I don’t want Neal caught up in that.”
“Oh, Peter. You don’t know the half of it.” Adler got up, went to the bar and poured himself a brandy. “Want one.”
Peter shook his head.
“Your loss.”
He hoped that Vincent was only talking about the hundred year old cognac.
“It’s an interesting sensation, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Jealousy. I had never experienced it before. It’s almost empowering.”
“Like I said – you’re twisted.”
“Come, come – can’t you do better than that?” Adler finished his drink and put the glass down. “I think we were talking about mistakes.”
“You were, I was leaving.”
“No, actually, you are not. Not if you’re wise.”
Peter knew there was something terrible coming, something he had no way of stopping.
Alder smirked, as if he could read his thoughts. “Mistakes. The way I look at it, everybody gets one big mistake in life and one opportunity to fix it.”
“And my mistake? Was it turning you down?”
“At first, I thought so. But no – and we’ll get to your mistake. First, I want to tell you a story – it’s a little sordid, but I think you, being a whore, will appreciate it.”
“You really need to work on your vocabulary, Vincent.”
“That may be. I’ll have my secretary get me a thesaurus tomorrow. Anyway – my story. It all starts with a charity dinner I was hosting. A young man in a terrible suit approaches me and gives me a bottle of ‘82 Bordeaux. A bottle of ‘82 Pomérol Pétrus. Now, I have to wonder how this young man – little more than a boy, really, fresh out of college, wearing an off-the-rack suit and shoes that look like they came from a thrift store manages to get hold of an eleven thousand dollar bottle of wine. He even has the balls to switch the place cards for my dinner date – just so he could talk to me about some obscure point on the commodities market. Do you have any idea who this man was?”
Peter knew, he didn’t know how he knew, but he did. “Nick Halden.”
“Very good. They teach deductive reasoning in Harvard, right? Well, I took a shine to young Mr. Halden. You see, I like beautiful things, and I like smart people, and Nicholas was both. “
“Where is this going?”
“Patience, Peter. We’ll get there. As Nick tried to play me, I played him. Like a violin. He was so sweet and innocent, he worshipped me. I even considered keeping him – but it wasn’t to be. He was a brilliant fuck, so deliciously submissive. You know what one of my favorite games to play with him was?”
Peter shook his head.
“We’d go out – take the limo. I’d have him on his knees, my cock down his throat and he had to make me come before we arrived or I’d fire him. Or worse.” Adler massaged his dick, aroused by the memory. “Anyway, I digress. It didn’t take much effort to figure out that Nicholas Halden was actually Neal Caffrey, a petty grifter looking to steal from me.”
“I know all about Neal’s past. None of this makes a difference to me. You can’t turn me from him, towards you.”
“Ah, but I’m not trying to turn you against Neal. I’m trying to educate you, Peter. I was always impressed by your intelligence.”
“And here I thought it was the size of my dick and how I used it that impressed you.”
“You’re pushing it, Peter, and I don’t think you’ll care for the consequences if you push me too far.”
“Then, by all means, continue.”
Adler nodded. “I let Nick – or let’s call him Neal – work for me for six months. Six sweet months where I inflicted degradation after degradation on him. During the day, he was my feared Vice President of Acquisitions – and yes, that was the title of the job I offered to you – but at night, he was the perfect bitch. Nothing was too base, too humiliating. He needed, he wanted everything I had to give him. But in the end, he was going to betray me.”
Peter said nothing.
“Remember what I said about mistakes? How everyone is entitled to make one big one in their lives? Well, I believe in second chances. Rather than grind Neal into dust, I turned his little scheme back on him. When everything he had came from my hand, with a simple command, I took it all away. Neal was smart. He ran.”
“Not far enough, apparently.”
“I always knew where he was, I watched with great pleasure as he conned and stole his way across Europe. Did he ever tell you about Kate? She was supposed to be the grand love of his life. She lasted six months after I put a stop to his little game. She actually married one of Neal’s other lovers when Neal was in prison. Talk about twisted. I’ve never had the pleasure of fucking Matthew Keller, but I just might go look him up when I’m done with you. I understand he’s a bit of a sociopath.”
“That’s something you would have in common, it seems.”
“Keep pushing, Peter, and you will be sorry.”
“So, if Neal’s had his one chance with you, why are you seeing him again? What’s all of this about? Why are you even telling me this?”
“And here, I just complimented you on your intelligence. You can’t figure it out?”
Fear tore at him, a terrible realization that this evening wasn’t set up for any attempt at a reunion. “What have you done?”
“Come, let me show you. Then you’ll know just what your mistake was.”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Pain, that was the constant in his universe right now. White hot streaks of fire along his back, the slow, throbbing of muscles cramping, the ache from the abuse to his genitals. But the pain wasn’t what was unbearable, pain could always be endured. He learned that at the hands of the master – who just spent the last few hours reminding him just how much he could take without breaking.
No, what was unbearable was knowing that his life was going to end with silence.
With cowardice.
All Neal could think was how foolish he was not to tell Peter that he loved him. That he would be honored to spend the rest of his life with him, the days and the nights. The good and bad and everything in between. In sickness, in health, in joy and in sorrow.
His breath caught at the last – those were the words he never dreamed he’d want to speak, and now at the end, the chance to speak them was stolen.
Even more than this lost chance was the crushing pain of everything that he was leaving behind in his silence. Peter would never know the joy that he was loved, freely, wholly. Here, now, at the end, Neal couldn’t make any sense of his reasons for keeping silent. It wasn’t that he was unsure – of himself, of his love. It was …
Fear.
Of rejection. Of Peter giving him a smile, nodding and then slowly pulling away. He’d never be the one to end things, but they would end.
But what if Peter didn’t reject him? What if Peter returned his feelings? What if he loved him. That possibility, as always, warmed him. Why – before this – did it seem so impossible for Peter to feel the same?
Because you spent half of your life as a criminal, because you know that given the right circumstances, you’ll go back to the life. You know that if the going got to hard, all you had to do was hope on a plane. Because you always believed that working for Elizabeth was just a stop along the way. Until you fell in love and realized that there was no place else you wanted to be.
Self-knowledge always came at a price, and sometimes it came too late.
Everything hurt, worse now than before. Time became irrelevant – it felt like minutes, it could have been hours. He had come to, bound and struggling. Hands – too many of them – holding him down, inflicting damage. The rape almost didn’t matter. It wasn’t like Adler hadn’t done this to him before, and despite his threats, he wasn’t going to share him with those thugs.
In fact, Adler dismissed them. Then he brought out the whip. Neal endured.
And he endured the repeated invasion of his body, trying not to scream as flesh tore under the abuse. Finally, when it was almost beyond his endurance, Alder pulled out, shoved something hard into his anus and left.
It was becoming too much of a struggle to stay awake. It would be so easy to drift along on the pain, on his memories, on the pleasure of his failed hopes and shattered dreams. To just go.
“I don’t understand why you are doing this. I wasn’t interested in an exclusive arrangement and you ended it. We were done. We should have stayed done.”
Peter? Was that Peter’s voice? How?
And Adler’s response, “You’re a whore – ”
Neal tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. His tormentor had no originality. And then he realized that Peter was here, in the apartment. Vincent had planned this, he had set Peter up and was going to destroy them both.
For the first time, Neal struggled against his bonds, too weak, too damaged to break free. This had to stop, Peter had to get out of here. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t move. All he could do was listen. Adler unrolling his life, describing his willing degradation in exquisite detail. Peter was hearing everything, but he didn’t seem to care.
Not that it mattered. Neal knew how this night was going to end.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Adler led him towards the master bedroom. “Have you figured out what your mistake was, Peter?”
He knew, and that knowledge was bitter. “Caring for someone else.”
“Yes. My faith in your intelligence is rewarded.”
“You’re a cold, greedy bastard. You want everything - you want to own everything. And what you can’t have, you’ll destroy.”
“A little melodramatic, but an accurate assessment.” Adler shrugged and unlocked the bedroom door.
His worst fears were realized. Bruised and bleeding, bound like an animal. Peter ran to him and knelt by the edge of the bed. A small part of him was surprised that Adler didn’t move to stop him. His hand shook as he touched Neal, pushing the sweat-soaked curls from his forehead. “Oh, God, Neal. Oh, God, no. ”
Neal looked at him, eyes blinking, almost vacant, but after a few seconds, a ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Peter…” Just two syllables, barely audible, but invested with so much hope.
He placed a soft kiss on Neal’s brow and stood up. He was going to tear Adler to pieces for this.
“How charming. The lovers are reunited for one last time.”
“You’re a dead man.” Peter lunged at Adler, who just laughed and pulled a gun.
“No, I think you’re the dead man. You and Neal. But the question is, how are you going to die?” He pointed the gun at Peter’s head. “Don’t think that I don’t know how to use this. You won’t be the first man I’ve killed.”
“Why – why are you doing this?”
“I told you – revenge.”
“No – this isn’t revenge.” Peter kept looking back at Neal. “This is sadism.”
“Fine, call it whatever you’d like. But Neal’s fate rests on you.”
Peter looked back at Adler, startled.
“Oh, don’t think that I’m actually going to let you go. Neal – I can trust his silence. He could have sold me out when he was arrested. He could have traded up and gotten a huge ‘get out of jail free’ card by just mentioning my name. But he was a good boy and kept his mouth shut.” Vincent reached down and dragged the gun across Neal’s bloodied back.
Neal gasped, but didn’t cry out from the pain. Adler smiled.
“He kept his mouth shut for four years, even though I arranged for him to go to one of the hardest, meanest prisons in the country. I was surprised he survived so well.”
Neal finally made a sound, like a startled bird.
“My poor, naïve boy, you didn’t know? You didn’t realize that was why you weren’t shipped off to Club Fed in Otisville?”
Peter shook with rage, but kept an eagle eye on Adler’s gun hand, hoping for even the smallest window of opportunity to get the gun away from him.
But it didn’t come. Adler pointed it back at Peter. “You - your silence isn’t guaranteed at all. You might be willing to fuck for money, but you’re just a boy scout at heart, Captain America in disguise. There’s no way I could let you live.”
“So why haven’t you killed me yet?”
“Because of your entertainment value.”
“What?” This wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting.
“Before you die, I want to see you fall. I want to see you degrade yourself for Neal. I want to see just how far you’ll go to save your lover pain.”
Peter started to charge at Adler, but was again brought up short by the gun.
“If you don’t want to play along, I can kill you now. And I’ll make be quick for you. A single bullet between your eyes. But Neal, he’s going to suffer. Endlessly. I’ll start by breaking his hands. I’ll shatter every bone until there’s nothing left but useless bags of flesh. Then I’ll move to his feet. When I’m done, I’ll call in my guards and they’ll rape him, over and over again, and they won’t be nice. Not like me.”
Peter didn’t know if he believed that Adler would do what he threatened, but he had to play this out. “And if I do agree to your sick games, then what?”
“One bullet in Neal, one bullet in you. You’ll die together, like Romeo and Juliet. Or Bonny and Clyde. But it’s your decision and the clock’s ticking.”
Peter did the unthinkable, he turned his back on Adler and again knelt down by Neal. His hands were trembling as he cupped his lover’s head and leaned close. “Neal, can you hold on?” He didn’t know if Neal was even able to answer.
“Peter …” Neal’s voice was thready, fading. “Have to tell you something.”
He pressed his ear to Neal’s lips.
“Love you. Love you always. No matter what. Do what you need to do.”
Peter’s heart broke, he closed his eyes and the tears came, scalding. He turned his head and whispered in Neal’s ear. “I love you, too. Always. Forever.” And the last, because he knew that if there was even the slightest chance to save Neal a moment’s pain, he’d take it, even if it meant playing to Adler’s tune, “Forgive me.”
“Well?” Adler’s sneering tone refocused Peter’s attention. “Have you two lovebirds made up your mind?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“For starters, open the night table drawer. You’ll find a bottle in there.” Adler flicked the gun in the general direction.
Peter was puzzled until he retrieved the bottle. “Why am I not surprised that you need chemical help.”
“Oh, the Viagra’s not for me, I don’t need it, but I suspect that you will.” He looked over at Neal. “Somehow, I think that in this situation, you just might have trouble getting it up, even though your boy’s life is on the line.”
Peter closed his eyes and shook his head. “No.”
“Remember what I told you about mistakes? You’re all out of chances, Peter.” Adler picked something up from the bed. It was a whip. He brought it down hard on Neal’s back before shoving it up his ass. Neal screamed, the sound loud and thin. “Take the pill, Peter.”
He did.
“Good, now take out your cock. I want to see you get hard.”
It didn’t take long for the drug to work, but his arousal disgusted him. He had a terrible feeling that he knew what Adler was going to want him to do. And he was right.
“Fuck him, Peter. Fuck the man you love. Make him scream. Come on.” Adler gestured with the gun for him to walk around, to look at Neal.
He was almost sick. The inside of Neal’s thighs had been whipped raw, his testicles and penis tied with leather straps, so tight that they were obscenely swollen. His anus was bloody and his buttocks and lower back were scored with whip marks and bruised with handprints.
“I – I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? You really want Neal to suffer? Where’s the spirit of shared sacrifice?”
Peter looked at Adler, the man’s eyes were cold, his smile mocking. He wasn’t getting off on the sex, but the perversion of everything decent.
“Peter, it’s okay.” Neal’s whisper was barely audible.
“You see – Neal’s forgiven you. He loves you, and doesn’t love make everything right?” The derision in Adler’s voice was a palpable thing.
“No – it’s not okay. You’re a sick and twisted fuck – ”
Adler struck him with the gun, sending him reeling. “And you’re a pathetic bastard standing there with your dick hanging out!”
Peter watched as Adler started to squeeze the trigger.
“I’ll kill you, Peter. I’ll regret it, but I’ll kill you and then I’ll take your precious Neal Caffrey apart, piece by piece.”
Peter didn’t doubt that Adler would do it, and he couldn’t condemn Neal to another moment of pain. “His mouth, I’ll take his mouth.”
“Good, good. That’s the type of creative thinking I admire.”
Adler had left Neal’s face alone, but Peter didn’t think that was going to last. His mind conjured all sorts of horrors. He fixed the image of Neal in his mind as he remembered it from this morning, a sleepy smile, eyes half-closed, a flush across his cheeks, lips still pink from the prior night’s kisses. He was going to take that memory to his grave.
Peter cupped Neal’s jaw, thumbs resting again his cheeks, sweeping away the tears. “Shh, it will all be over soon.”
Neal nodded and opened his mouth. Peter rested his cock on Neal’s dry lips and thrust slowly, carefully.
“You really need to put some life into it, Peter.” Adler moved next to him. “I want you to hurt him, to take him like you’ve taken me. Maybe I have to give you some incentive.”
Peter didn’t listen, he didn’t obey. Adler was standing behind him, pulling his own pants down, forcing Peter forward, forcing his cock deeper into Neal’s throat. He had an arm wrapped around Peters’ waist and Peter could feel the hot, heavy mass of the man’s dick between his buttocks and the cold weight of the gun barrel against his temple.
“Better, much better.”
There was a noise, no – disembodied voices shouting and it sounded like someone banging from the outside.
Adler was distracted, the gun moved away from his head and Peter thrust an elbow into his gut, breaking free. But he didn’t knock the gun from Adler’s hand. Instead of retreating, Peter charged and grabbed at Adler’s arm. The wrestled with the gun, and while Peter had the advantage of height and reach and mass, Adler kicked him in the groin, momentarily disabling him.
And then Vincent shot him. Twice.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Three fucking days.
That’s how long it took to get the warrants for Vincent Adler’s office, his home, his phone and email and text messages.
Three days of waiting for the judge to wade through the paperwork, the supporting documentation. Three days of waiting to find out that she was going to be shut down again. That Adler had reached out and strangled this attempt like all of the others. Three days of waiting to find out that her career was over.
But instead, she got a bunch of papers with a judge’s signature and the go-ahead from Hughes and Bancroft to take the bastard down. Hard.
Clinton was on point with her, and they were backed up by a team of experienced agents. Hughes himself was running the operation from the van. All of this might have been a little overkill for serving search warrants and looking for stolen art, but Caffrey’s intel on Adler made caution the by-word. For all he was a seemingly mild-mannered blue blood, there were quite a few unexplained disappearances and deaths surrounding Vincent Adler. An assistant drowned, a vice president committed suicide, a worker in his apartment killed during the installation of a security system – suffocation apparently.
And then there was the registered handgun.
So, no one way taking any chances – it was body armor for the entire point team. Diana had minimal expectations, however. Adler was a smart freak, and it was still possible that he’d get away with everything. They had to do this by the book.
Which was why, at nine PM on a Monday night, when surveillance had confirmed that Adler was in his apartment, they were about to execute what might just be the most important operation of her career.
“Vincent Adler? Open up, this is the FBI.”
There was no answer.
Diana repeated the command, and they waited. And even though it wasn’t necessary, she called out for a third time and still no reply.
She was about to give the signal to break down the door when she heard a very distinctive popping noise.
“Those were gunshots, break it down, now!”
Clinton was on his radio, signaling for an ambulance. As soon as the door was down – it took several hits with the battering ram before giving way, they went in with guns drawn. The living room was clear and they spread out into a search pattern, half the team right, the other half left. She took the central hallway that, according to the building plans, lead back to the master bedroom suite. Clinton was beside her, gun drawn, and they burst into the bedroom.
Days later, when she was making her report to the Justice Department, Diana still had trouble describing what she found.
Vincent Adler was half-naked, aroused and holding a gun. There was a man on the floor with a bullet wound in his chest and another through his thigh. He wasn’t naked but his genitals were exposed. It wasn’t this tableau that was hard to explain, it was what was on the bed.
Her eyes weren’t making sense of it. It was a man covered blood and bruises from the waist down. He looked like he’d been flayed. There was something – a whip – protruding from his anus and there were bloody streaks down his thighs. The man’s hands were tied, his fingers swollen and almost purple from the bindings.
But it was his eyes – they were the worst thing of all. Pale, brilliant blue, rimmed by almost impossibly long lashes, staring. She knew those eyes. It was Neal Caffrey on the bed.
Diana took all of this in just a second, maybe two.
Clinton, behind her, shouted at Adler. “Put the gun down. Get on your knees.”
Adler looked distracted – eyes flicking over to the man on the floor, to Neal Caffrey on the bed, to a point over the bed. Diana followed his gaze. There was a tiny green light glowing from a hole in the woodwork. Whatever happened here had been recorded.
Clinton repeated his command and Diana echoed it. Instead of complying, Adler raised his gun and she did just what her training required her to do. She shot him. Two bullets, right in the heart.
Vincent Adler was dead before he hit the floor.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Epilogue – Eight Months Later
The boat rocked as the waves lapped against the hull. The day was near perfect, the sky an endless blue, populated by a few drifting clouds. There was a light breeze, just enough to send the boat drifting if not for the anchor. Neal didn’t care – he didn’t mind letting the wind take him where it would. Today he was as light as a feather, a leaf, one of those clouds.
He liked the sun, this sky, the scent of the salt and sea filling his head like the most exotic perfume. He liked the roughness of the canvas under his hand, the way the light glinted off the polished brass fittings, the lacquered wood rail, the creak of the hull against the water.
All these sensations reminded him that he was alive.
And even more than the sight and sound and taste and touch of this day, the man next to him was the most profound reminder of them all.
“I think you’ve caught something.” Peter pointed out as his fishing rod bowed towards the water.
It took some effort, but he reeled in his catch, a decent sized bluefish. “What do you think?”
“Dinner tonight?” Peter looked dubious.
“Nah. Not in the mood.” He eased the hook out and let the creature wriggle and flip out of his arms, back into the glistening waters.
Peter laughed. “I’m beginning to wonder if we shouldn’t even bother with this. It’s not like either of us have kept any of our catches.”
Neal laughed, what Peter said was true. “Fishing doesn’t need to have a purpose.”
“No, I guess not.” The breeze picked up, sending the boat rocking a bit harder. Peter asked, “Wanna head in?”
“Mmm, I don’t think so. Not for a while yet.” Still, Neal packed away the fishing gear. “I’m fine doing nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” Task completed, he stretched out on the deck chair, feet resting on the small sailboat’s railing. He closed his eyes and drank in the late afternoon sun, as indolent as a cat. Neal knew that Peter worried about him. He worried about Peter, too. Without opening his eyes, he reached out for Peter’s hand and took it. This was always the way it should be, Peter always beside him, always within reach.
Peter squeezed his hand, and lifted it. Neal felt his breath across the back of his fingers, then the softness of a kiss, warming the cool metal wedding band on his ring finger.
Neal turned his head and looked at Peter, drinking him in the way he consumed the air and the light and the peace of this afternoon. He spoke, because the words were always necessary.
“I love you.”
Peter looked at him, his smile sweet, his eyes serene. “And I love you.”
They said these words to each other every day. And every day, they got better.
Fin
GO TO MASTER POST - ON LJ | ON DW
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Mozzie, Elizabeth Mitchell, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Vincent Adler, Daniel Picah, mention of other canon characters in minor non-canon settings.
Pairings: Peter/Neal, Neal/Daniel, Peter/Adler, Adler/Neal
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Prostitution, rape, Domination/submission, dubious consent, fuck-or-die scenario, use of gender-specific insults
Word Count: ~56,000
Beta Credit:
jrosemary, theatregirl7299, and hoosierbitch Summary: In some alternate universe, Peter Burke is a wealthy and bored financial advisor and discovers that one of his clients, Elizabeth Mitchell, is using her event planning business to launder profits from an escort service catering to the wealthy gay elite in New York. Instead of turning her in, he asks her to hire him. Neal Caffrey has been recently released from a four-year sentence for bond forgery and learns that his girlfriend, Kate has married his old boyfriend, Matthew Keller and they’ve taken off for parts unknown. Determined not to return to prison, Neal turns to his friend, Mozzie, for help. Moz knows a guy – or in this case – a gal who’s willing to hire Neal. As an escort.
PART SEVEN - ON LJ | ON DW
“I thought you said you’d agree to see Adler again?”
Peter sighed. He had. “I really don’t want to, Elizabeth. It’s just going to create problems.”
“He told me that he’ll stop seeing Neal when you resume your usual Wednesday night schedule.”
Good. “But it’s Monday.” He felt an unexplained need to put up a token resistance.
“And he says he wants to clear the air with you tonight.”
Peter wondered at the strain in Elizabeth’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“He’s putting a lot pressure on me, Peter. You know that I’ve been doing his foundation’s event for the last few years. It’s a huge part of my business for the first quarter and he’s threatening to pull it if I can’t get you to see him tonight.”
“And when I see him and punch him in the face for threatening you like this?”
“Peter, don’t. Just – please, see him. He says that he really would prefer to see you than Neal. And you don’t want him involved with Neal – or has that changed?”
“No.” If anything, Peter’s determination to unwind Neal from Adler was even stronger. He should have realized that he’d use Elizabeth as leverage, though. “Okay – his apartment, tonight? What time?”
“Seven – he wants to have an early dinner. And Peter – “
“Don’t thank me, El.” He hung up and checked the time. It was a little after five and Neal should have been home an hour ago. Something didn’t feel right. He couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, other than an uneasiness in his gut. Neal was probably caught up in his work and Peter was reluctant to disturb him. He wanted him to realize that his art was the most important thing right now, more important than even their relationship. Neal had given up both Saturday and Sunday to spend with him and Peter couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about that. He shouldn’t let it bother him that Neal was working all day at his studio.
Everything with him and Neal was so new, so perfect, and he was so damn afraid of saying something that would ruin it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Neal – far from it. Their relationship was unique, but he just didn’t trust himself not to get over-protective, over-bearing. Peter just didn’t trust himself not to drive Neal away.
He sent Neal a short text, letting him know that El had given him a last minute appointment, and he’d see him when he got home. He got a reply a few minutes later, apologizing, he'd gotten caught up in his project and lost track of time.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about Neal’s reply, but something still worried him. Something didn’t feel right and no matter how many times he looked at the text, he couldn’t figure out what made him so uneasy.
At seven, he presented himself at Adler’s apartment. He was usually greeted by the butler as he arrived, but there was no one at the door. Peter rang and waited, then rang again. Maybe it was possible that Elizabeth misunderstood, and this appointment wasn’t for tonight. About to leave, he heard footsteps and finally the door opened – by none other than Adler himself.
“Peter, come in.” Vincent gestured expansively. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I gave the help the night off.”
The alarm bells were sirens now and Peter wanted to back away. He didn’t. Instead, he swallowed his gorge and followed Vincent into the apartment.
“Let me take your coat.”
“No – I’m not staying long.”
“Peter?”
“I only agreed to come here because you were threatening Elizabeth.”
Adler’s smile got thinner and tighter. “I’m surprised she told you.”
“I don’t respond well to blackmail.”
“Too much of a man to bow to pressure? That’s not how I remember it.”
Peter ignored Adler’s attempt at insulting him. “I don’t understand why you are doing this. I wasn’t interested in an exclusive arrangement and you ended it. We were done. We should have stayed done.” Peter kept his hands shoved in his jacket pocket.
“You’re a whore -”
“And yes, yes, we know how much you like whores. It’s enough, Vincent. It’s over, it’s done and it’s time you moved on.”
“Just like you have?” There was something terrible in Adler’s voice, a smug sense of glee.
“I was never stuck. I’m a whore, remember? You paid me for a service and then you decided that you didn’t want that service anymore.” Peter turned to leave. “We’re done.”
“No, I don’t think we are.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to wreck Elizabeth Mitchell’s business because of this?” Peter wondered what favors he’d need to call in to make sure she didn’t lose everything.
“Oh, destroying Ms. Mitchell’s little event planning and whoremongering business is going to be the least of her problems. But that’s after I get done with you, with Peter Burke.”
Peter blinked, not sure he heard what Adler said. “What?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb, Peter. I know all about you. And yes, you’re as boring as they come.”
“I don’t understand.”
Adler continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You are a typical overachiever, constantly compensating for your sexuality. One failed relationship: David Lawrence, wanna-be Olympian fencer and all-around champion cock-sucker. He thought you were going to be his sugar daddy, his ticket to the big time. Pity he didn’t understand the value of monogamy. You found him in your own bed with another man, right? Both were so jacked up on Ecstasy that they wouldn’t stop fucking even when you walked in on them.”
Peter tried to play this cool; he didn’t want to let Adler get to him. “An early mistake, one that wasn’t repeated.”
“Interesting that you talk about mistakes – but that’s something we’ll get back to.” Vincent sat down, a predator at rest. “By the way, David says hello. Or he would if he could actually speak. He’s in nursing home with a big neon DNR on his medical orders. It seems that he dropped one too many tabs of E and fried his brain.”
Peter didn’t bother wasting time wondering how Adler found all this out, it didn’t matter. “So far, you haven’t said anything that interests me.”
“Well, then how does Neal Caffrey interest you?”
“What?”
“Neal Caffrey. Your apartment mate, your fellow whore. Your lover?”
Peter exploded. “You really want to know why I’m here, Vincent? Because I want you to stay away from Neal. You don’t need him. He doesn’t need you.”
“Ahh, that’s the spirit. You really don’t give a damn about Elizabeth Mitchell – you’re here because you don’t like me touching what’s you think is yours. You don’t want me to put my hands on the man you think you love.”
“Shut your mouth – you know nothing.”
“Oh, Peter, I know everything.” Adler tossed a folder at him.
Peter caught and opened it. There were pictures of them from this weekend, at the Metropolitan, walking home hand-in-hand. One caught at his heart – Neal was looking up. Peter remembered the moment so clearly. Neal had spotted one of New York’s famous hawks and was fascinated by the presence of wildlife in the middle of the city. Peter was more interested in watching Neal. The picture captured a moment when everything he felt was exposed to the world. “You are a sick and twisted bastard. I know what gets you off, I know what you do and I don’t want Neal caught up in that.”
“Oh, Peter. You don’t know the half of it.” Adler got up, went to the bar and poured himself a brandy. “Want one.”
Peter shook his head.
“Your loss.”
He hoped that Vincent was only talking about the hundred year old cognac.
“It’s an interesting sensation, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Jealousy. I had never experienced it before. It’s almost empowering.”
“Like I said – you’re twisted.”
“Come, come – can’t you do better than that?” Adler finished his drink and put the glass down. “I think we were talking about mistakes.”
“You were, I was leaving.”
“No, actually, you are not. Not if you’re wise.”
Peter knew there was something terrible coming, something he had no way of stopping.
Alder smirked, as if he could read his thoughts. “Mistakes. The way I look at it, everybody gets one big mistake in life and one opportunity to fix it.”
“And my mistake? Was it turning you down?”
“At first, I thought so. But no – and we’ll get to your mistake. First, I want to tell you a story – it’s a little sordid, but I think you, being a whore, will appreciate it.”
“You really need to work on your vocabulary, Vincent.”
“That may be. I’ll have my secretary get me a thesaurus tomorrow. Anyway – my story. It all starts with a charity dinner I was hosting. A young man in a terrible suit approaches me and gives me a bottle of ‘82 Bordeaux. A bottle of ‘82 Pomérol Pétrus. Now, I have to wonder how this young man – little more than a boy, really, fresh out of college, wearing an off-the-rack suit and shoes that look like they came from a thrift store manages to get hold of an eleven thousand dollar bottle of wine. He even has the balls to switch the place cards for my dinner date – just so he could talk to me about some obscure point on the commodities market. Do you have any idea who this man was?”
Peter knew, he didn’t know how he knew, but he did. “Nick Halden.”
“Very good. They teach deductive reasoning in Harvard, right? Well, I took a shine to young Mr. Halden. You see, I like beautiful things, and I like smart people, and Nicholas was both. “
“Where is this going?”
“Patience, Peter. We’ll get there. As Nick tried to play me, I played him. Like a violin. He was so sweet and innocent, he worshipped me. I even considered keeping him – but it wasn’t to be. He was a brilliant fuck, so deliciously submissive. You know what one of my favorite games to play with him was?”
Peter shook his head.
“We’d go out – take the limo. I’d have him on his knees, my cock down his throat and he had to make me come before we arrived or I’d fire him. Or worse.” Adler massaged his dick, aroused by the memory. “Anyway, I digress. It didn’t take much effort to figure out that Nicholas Halden was actually Neal Caffrey, a petty grifter looking to steal from me.”
“I know all about Neal’s past. None of this makes a difference to me. You can’t turn me from him, towards you.”
“Ah, but I’m not trying to turn you against Neal. I’m trying to educate you, Peter. I was always impressed by your intelligence.”
“And here I thought it was the size of my dick and how I used it that impressed you.”
“You’re pushing it, Peter, and I don’t think you’ll care for the consequences if you push me too far.”
“Then, by all means, continue.”
Adler nodded. “I let Nick – or let’s call him Neal – work for me for six months. Six sweet months where I inflicted degradation after degradation on him. During the day, he was my feared Vice President of Acquisitions – and yes, that was the title of the job I offered to you – but at night, he was the perfect bitch. Nothing was too base, too humiliating. He needed, he wanted everything I had to give him. But in the end, he was going to betray me.”
Peter said nothing.
“Remember what I said about mistakes? How everyone is entitled to make one big one in their lives? Well, I believe in second chances. Rather than grind Neal into dust, I turned his little scheme back on him. When everything he had came from my hand, with a simple command, I took it all away. Neal was smart. He ran.”
“Not far enough, apparently.”
“I always knew where he was, I watched with great pleasure as he conned and stole his way across Europe. Did he ever tell you about Kate? She was supposed to be the grand love of his life. She lasted six months after I put a stop to his little game. She actually married one of Neal’s other lovers when Neal was in prison. Talk about twisted. I’ve never had the pleasure of fucking Matthew Keller, but I just might go look him up when I’m done with you. I understand he’s a bit of a sociopath.”
“That’s something you would have in common, it seems.”
“Keep pushing, Peter, and you will be sorry.”
“So, if Neal’s had his one chance with you, why are you seeing him again? What’s all of this about? Why are you even telling me this?”
“And here, I just complimented you on your intelligence. You can’t figure it out?”
Fear tore at him, a terrible realization that this evening wasn’t set up for any attempt at a reunion. “What have you done?”
“Come, let me show you. Then you’ll know just what your mistake was.”
Pain, that was the constant in his universe right now. White hot streaks of fire along his back, the slow, throbbing of muscles cramping, the ache from the abuse to his genitals. But the pain wasn’t what was unbearable, pain could always be endured. He learned that at the hands of the master – who just spent the last few hours reminding him just how much he could take without breaking.
No, what was unbearable was knowing that his life was going to end with silence.
With cowardice.
All Neal could think was how foolish he was not to tell Peter that he loved him. That he would be honored to spend the rest of his life with him, the days and the nights. The good and bad and everything in between. In sickness, in health, in joy and in sorrow.
His breath caught at the last – those were the words he never dreamed he’d want to speak, and now at the end, the chance to speak them was stolen.
Even more than this lost chance was the crushing pain of everything that he was leaving behind in his silence. Peter would never know the joy that he was loved, freely, wholly. Here, now, at the end, Neal couldn’t make any sense of his reasons for keeping silent. It wasn’t that he was unsure – of himself, of his love. It was …
Fear.
Of rejection. Of Peter giving him a smile, nodding and then slowly pulling away. He’d never be the one to end things, but they would end.
But what if Peter didn’t reject him? What if Peter returned his feelings? What if he loved him. That possibility, as always, warmed him. Why – before this – did it seem so impossible for Peter to feel the same?
Because you spent half of your life as a criminal, because you know that given the right circumstances, you’ll go back to the life. You know that if the going got to hard, all you had to do was hope on a plane. Because you always believed that working for Elizabeth was just a stop along the way. Until you fell in love and realized that there was no place else you wanted to be.
Self-knowledge always came at a price, and sometimes it came too late.
Everything hurt, worse now than before. Time became irrelevant – it felt like minutes, it could have been hours. He had come to, bound and struggling. Hands – too many of them – holding him down, inflicting damage. The rape almost didn’t matter. It wasn’t like Adler hadn’t done this to him before, and despite his threats, he wasn’t going to share him with those thugs.
In fact, Adler dismissed them. Then he brought out the whip. Neal endured.
And he endured the repeated invasion of his body, trying not to scream as flesh tore under the abuse. Finally, when it was almost beyond his endurance, Alder pulled out, shoved something hard into his anus and left.
It was becoming too much of a struggle to stay awake. It would be so easy to drift along on the pain, on his memories, on the pleasure of his failed hopes and shattered dreams. To just go.
“I don’t understand why you are doing this. I wasn’t interested in an exclusive arrangement and you ended it. We were done. We should have stayed done.”
Peter? Was that Peter’s voice? How?
And Adler’s response, “You’re a whore – ”
Neal tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. His tormentor had no originality. And then he realized that Peter was here, in the apartment. Vincent had planned this, he had set Peter up and was going to destroy them both.
For the first time, Neal struggled against his bonds, too weak, too damaged to break free. This had to stop, Peter had to get out of here. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t move. All he could do was listen. Adler unrolling his life, describing his willing degradation in exquisite detail. Peter was hearing everything, but he didn’t seem to care.
Not that it mattered. Neal knew how this night was going to end.
Adler led him towards the master bedroom. “Have you figured out what your mistake was, Peter?”
He knew, and that knowledge was bitter. “Caring for someone else.”
“Yes. My faith in your intelligence is rewarded.”
“You’re a cold, greedy bastard. You want everything - you want to own everything. And what you can’t have, you’ll destroy.”
“A little melodramatic, but an accurate assessment.” Adler shrugged and unlocked the bedroom door.
His worst fears were realized. Bruised and bleeding, bound like an animal. Peter ran to him and knelt by the edge of the bed. A small part of him was surprised that Adler didn’t move to stop him. His hand shook as he touched Neal, pushing the sweat-soaked curls from his forehead. “Oh, God, Neal. Oh, God, no. ”
Neal looked at him, eyes blinking, almost vacant, but after a few seconds, a ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Peter…” Just two syllables, barely audible, but invested with so much hope.
He placed a soft kiss on Neal’s brow and stood up. He was going to tear Adler to pieces for this.
“How charming. The lovers are reunited for one last time.”
“You’re a dead man.” Peter lunged at Adler, who just laughed and pulled a gun.
“No, I think you’re the dead man. You and Neal. But the question is, how are you going to die?” He pointed the gun at Peter’s head. “Don’t think that I don’t know how to use this. You won’t be the first man I’ve killed.”
“Why – why are you doing this?”
“I told you – revenge.”
“No – this isn’t revenge.” Peter kept looking back at Neal. “This is sadism.”
“Fine, call it whatever you’d like. But Neal’s fate rests on you.”
Peter looked back at Adler, startled.
“Oh, don’t think that I’m actually going to let you go. Neal – I can trust his silence. He could have sold me out when he was arrested. He could have traded up and gotten a huge ‘get out of jail free’ card by just mentioning my name. But he was a good boy and kept his mouth shut.” Vincent reached down and dragged the gun across Neal’s bloodied back.
Neal gasped, but didn’t cry out from the pain. Adler smiled.
“He kept his mouth shut for four years, even though I arranged for him to go to one of the hardest, meanest prisons in the country. I was surprised he survived so well.”
Neal finally made a sound, like a startled bird.
“My poor, naïve boy, you didn’t know? You didn’t realize that was why you weren’t shipped off to Club Fed in Otisville?”
Peter shook with rage, but kept an eagle eye on Adler’s gun hand, hoping for even the smallest window of opportunity to get the gun away from him.
But it didn’t come. Adler pointed it back at Peter. “You - your silence isn’t guaranteed at all. You might be willing to fuck for money, but you’re just a boy scout at heart, Captain America in disguise. There’s no way I could let you live.”
“So why haven’t you killed me yet?”
“Because of your entertainment value.”
“What?” This wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting.
“Before you die, I want to see you fall. I want to see you degrade yourself for Neal. I want to see just how far you’ll go to save your lover pain.”
Peter started to charge at Adler, but was again brought up short by the gun.
“If you don’t want to play along, I can kill you now. And I’ll make be quick for you. A single bullet between your eyes. But Neal, he’s going to suffer. Endlessly. I’ll start by breaking his hands. I’ll shatter every bone until there’s nothing left but useless bags of flesh. Then I’ll move to his feet. When I’m done, I’ll call in my guards and they’ll rape him, over and over again, and they won’t be nice. Not like me.”
Peter didn’t know if he believed that Adler would do what he threatened, but he had to play this out. “And if I do agree to your sick games, then what?”
“One bullet in Neal, one bullet in you. You’ll die together, like Romeo and Juliet. Or Bonny and Clyde. But it’s your decision and the clock’s ticking.”
Peter did the unthinkable, he turned his back on Adler and again knelt down by Neal. His hands were trembling as he cupped his lover’s head and leaned close. “Neal, can you hold on?” He didn’t know if Neal was even able to answer.
“Peter …” Neal’s voice was thready, fading. “Have to tell you something.”
He pressed his ear to Neal’s lips.
“Love you. Love you always. No matter what. Do what you need to do.”
Peter’s heart broke, he closed his eyes and the tears came, scalding. He turned his head and whispered in Neal’s ear. “I love you, too. Always. Forever.” And the last, because he knew that if there was even the slightest chance to save Neal a moment’s pain, he’d take it, even if it meant playing to Adler’s tune, “Forgive me.”
“Well?” Adler’s sneering tone refocused Peter’s attention. “Have you two lovebirds made up your mind?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“For starters, open the night table drawer. You’ll find a bottle in there.” Adler flicked the gun in the general direction.
Peter was puzzled until he retrieved the bottle. “Why am I not surprised that you need chemical help.”
“Oh, the Viagra’s not for me, I don’t need it, but I suspect that you will.” He looked over at Neal. “Somehow, I think that in this situation, you just might have trouble getting it up, even though your boy’s life is on the line.”
Peter closed his eyes and shook his head. “No.”
“Remember what I told you about mistakes? You’re all out of chances, Peter.” Adler picked something up from the bed. It was a whip. He brought it down hard on Neal’s back before shoving it up his ass. Neal screamed, the sound loud and thin. “Take the pill, Peter.”
He did.
“Good, now take out your cock. I want to see you get hard.”
It didn’t take long for the drug to work, but his arousal disgusted him. He had a terrible feeling that he knew what Adler was going to want him to do. And he was right.
“Fuck him, Peter. Fuck the man you love. Make him scream. Come on.” Adler gestured with the gun for him to walk around, to look at Neal.
He was almost sick. The inside of Neal’s thighs had been whipped raw, his testicles and penis tied with leather straps, so tight that they were obscenely swollen. His anus was bloody and his buttocks and lower back were scored with whip marks and bruised with handprints.
“I – I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? You really want Neal to suffer? Where’s the spirit of shared sacrifice?”
Peter looked at Adler, the man’s eyes were cold, his smile mocking. He wasn’t getting off on the sex, but the perversion of everything decent.
“Peter, it’s okay.” Neal’s whisper was barely audible.
“You see – Neal’s forgiven you. He loves you, and doesn’t love make everything right?” The derision in Adler’s voice was a palpable thing.
“No – it’s not okay. You’re a sick and twisted fuck – ”
Adler struck him with the gun, sending him reeling. “And you’re a pathetic bastard standing there with your dick hanging out!”
Peter watched as Adler started to squeeze the trigger.
“I’ll kill you, Peter. I’ll regret it, but I’ll kill you and then I’ll take your precious Neal Caffrey apart, piece by piece.”
Peter didn’t doubt that Adler would do it, and he couldn’t condemn Neal to another moment of pain. “His mouth, I’ll take his mouth.”
“Good, good. That’s the type of creative thinking I admire.”
Adler had left Neal’s face alone, but Peter didn’t think that was going to last. His mind conjured all sorts of horrors. He fixed the image of Neal in his mind as he remembered it from this morning, a sleepy smile, eyes half-closed, a flush across his cheeks, lips still pink from the prior night’s kisses. He was going to take that memory to his grave.
Peter cupped Neal’s jaw, thumbs resting again his cheeks, sweeping away the tears. “Shh, it will all be over soon.”
Neal nodded and opened his mouth. Peter rested his cock on Neal’s dry lips and thrust slowly, carefully.
“You really need to put some life into it, Peter.” Adler moved next to him. “I want you to hurt him, to take him like you’ve taken me. Maybe I have to give you some incentive.”
Peter didn’t listen, he didn’t obey. Adler was standing behind him, pulling his own pants down, forcing Peter forward, forcing his cock deeper into Neal’s throat. He had an arm wrapped around Peters’ waist and Peter could feel the hot, heavy mass of the man’s dick between his buttocks and the cold weight of the gun barrel against his temple.
“Better, much better.”
There was a noise, no – disembodied voices shouting and it sounded like someone banging from the outside.
Adler was distracted, the gun moved away from his head and Peter thrust an elbow into his gut, breaking free. But he didn’t knock the gun from Adler’s hand. Instead of retreating, Peter charged and grabbed at Adler’s arm. The wrestled with the gun, and while Peter had the advantage of height and reach and mass, Adler kicked him in the groin, momentarily disabling him.
And then Vincent shot him. Twice.
Three fucking days.
That’s how long it took to get the warrants for Vincent Adler’s office, his home, his phone and email and text messages.
Three days of waiting for the judge to wade through the paperwork, the supporting documentation. Three days of waiting to find out that she was going to be shut down again. That Adler had reached out and strangled this attempt like all of the others. Three days of waiting to find out that her career was over.
But instead, she got a bunch of papers with a judge’s signature and the go-ahead from Hughes and Bancroft to take the bastard down. Hard.
Clinton was on point with her, and they were backed up by a team of experienced agents. Hughes himself was running the operation from the van. All of this might have been a little overkill for serving search warrants and looking for stolen art, but Caffrey’s intel on Adler made caution the by-word. For all he was a seemingly mild-mannered blue blood, there were quite a few unexplained disappearances and deaths surrounding Vincent Adler. An assistant drowned, a vice president committed suicide, a worker in his apartment killed during the installation of a security system – suffocation apparently.
And then there was the registered handgun.
So, no one way taking any chances – it was body armor for the entire point team. Diana had minimal expectations, however. Adler was a smart freak, and it was still possible that he’d get away with everything. They had to do this by the book.
Which was why, at nine PM on a Monday night, when surveillance had confirmed that Adler was in his apartment, they were about to execute what might just be the most important operation of her career.
“Vincent Adler? Open up, this is the FBI.”
There was no answer.
Diana repeated the command, and they waited. And even though it wasn’t necessary, she called out for a third time and still no reply.
She was about to give the signal to break down the door when she heard a very distinctive popping noise.
“Those were gunshots, break it down, now!”
Clinton was on his radio, signaling for an ambulance. As soon as the door was down – it took several hits with the battering ram before giving way, they went in with guns drawn. The living room was clear and they spread out into a search pattern, half the team right, the other half left. She took the central hallway that, according to the building plans, lead back to the master bedroom suite. Clinton was beside her, gun drawn, and they burst into the bedroom.
Days later, when she was making her report to the Justice Department, Diana still had trouble describing what she found.
Vincent Adler was half-naked, aroused and holding a gun. There was a man on the floor with a bullet wound in his chest and another through his thigh. He wasn’t naked but his genitals were exposed. It wasn’t this tableau that was hard to explain, it was what was on the bed.
Her eyes weren’t making sense of it. It was a man covered blood and bruises from the waist down. He looked like he’d been flayed. There was something – a whip – protruding from his anus and there were bloody streaks down his thighs. The man’s hands were tied, his fingers swollen and almost purple from the bindings.
But it was his eyes – they were the worst thing of all. Pale, brilliant blue, rimmed by almost impossibly long lashes, staring. She knew those eyes. It was Neal Caffrey on the bed.
Diana took all of this in just a second, maybe two.
Clinton, behind her, shouted at Adler. “Put the gun down. Get on your knees.”
Adler looked distracted – eyes flicking over to the man on the floor, to Neal Caffrey on the bed, to a point over the bed. Diana followed his gaze. There was a tiny green light glowing from a hole in the woodwork. Whatever happened here had been recorded.
Clinton repeated his command and Diana echoed it. Instead of complying, Adler raised his gun and she did just what her training required her to do. She shot him. Two bullets, right in the heart.
Vincent Adler was dead before he hit the floor.
Epilogue – Eight Months Later
The boat rocked as the waves lapped against the hull. The day was near perfect, the sky an endless blue, populated by a few drifting clouds. There was a light breeze, just enough to send the boat drifting if not for the anchor. Neal didn’t care – he didn’t mind letting the wind take him where it would. Today he was as light as a feather, a leaf, one of those clouds.
He liked the sun, this sky, the scent of the salt and sea filling his head like the most exotic perfume. He liked the roughness of the canvas under his hand, the way the light glinted off the polished brass fittings, the lacquered wood rail, the creak of the hull against the water.
All these sensations reminded him that he was alive.
And even more than the sight and sound and taste and touch of this day, the man next to him was the most profound reminder of them all.
“I think you’ve caught something.” Peter pointed out as his fishing rod bowed towards the water.
It took some effort, but he reeled in his catch, a decent sized bluefish. “What do you think?”
“Dinner tonight?” Peter looked dubious.
“Nah. Not in the mood.” He eased the hook out and let the creature wriggle and flip out of his arms, back into the glistening waters.
Peter laughed. “I’m beginning to wonder if we shouldn’t even bother with this. It’s not like either of us have kept any of our catches.”
Neal laughed, what Peter said was true. “Fishing doesn’t need to have a purpose.”
“No, I guess not.” The breeze picked up, sending the boat rocking a bit harder. Peter asked, “Wanna head in?”
“Mmm, I don’t think so. Not for a while yet.” Still, Neal packed away the fishing gear. “I’m fine doing nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” Task completed, he stretched out on the deck chair, feet resting on the small sailboat’s railing. He closed his eyes and drank in the late afternoon sun, as indolent as a cat. Neal knew that Peter worried about him. He worried about Peter, too. Without opening his eyes, he reached out for Peter’s hand and took it. This was always the way it should be, Peter always beside him, always within reach.
Peter squeezed his hand, and lifted it. Neal felt his breath across the back of his fingers, then the softness of a kiss, warming the cool metal wedding band on his ring finger.
Neal turned his head and looked at Peter, drinking him in the way he consumed the air and the light and the peace of this afternoon. He spoke, because the words were always necessary.
“I love you.”
Peter looked at him, his smile sweet, his eyes serene. “And I love you.”
They said these words to each other every day. And every day, they got better.
Tags:
- character: clinton jones,
- character: daniel picah,
- character: diana berrigan,
- character: elizabeth burke,
- character: mozzie,
- character: neal caffrey,
- character: peter burke,
- character: sara ellis,
- character: vincent adler,
- genre: alternative universe,
- genre: angst,
- genre: case fic,
- genre: emotional trauma,
- genre: first time,
- genre: hurt/comfort,
- genre: neal as artist,
- genre: romance,
- kink: d/s,
- kink: dirty talk,
- kink: dub-con/non-con,
- kink: fuck-or-die,
- kink: leather,
- kink: nipple play,
- kink: prostitution,
- pairing: neal/adler,
- pairing: peter/adler,
- pairing: peter/neal,
- type: fan fiction,
- type: longfic,
- white collar,
- written for: wcpairings,
- year: 2013
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-07-02 05:12 pm (UTC)I love the tension of Peter and Neal more-or-less content in their careers as escorts, even as it's obvious they're falling for each other. I love that Peter comes to the realization that he wants to quit and spend the rest of his life with Neal--and yet won't say the words, and won't pressure Neal to quit. I love that Neal reaches the same conclusion as he paints Peter.
I love Daniel Picah here and the crucial role he plays in this story. I love his basic decency and consideration--and I love that Neal comes to appreciate him and even to genuinely listen to his chatter. In my mind, there's a happy ever after in store for Daniel someday!
Meanwhile, Diana's wonderfully badass, though I like that she decides to be blunt with Neal about what she's after. Elizabeth is frighteningly convincing as the head of an escort service, lol. And I adore Mozzie's cautious generosity with his safe-houses. And Adler--I love how he genuinely fell for Peter, and how he didn't know how to handle rejection except to go after revenge.
And the ending . . . happiness!
Well done!
no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 01:39 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for your feedback and for helping me get through the birthing process of this fic. Your advice really helped me through the rough spots - even before I started, and kept me going along the way.
Couldn't have done this without you.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-02 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 01:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-02 11:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 01:49 pm (UTC)One of the challenges in writing A/Us that so wildly diverge from canon is keeping the characters in-character. Thank you for letting me know I successfully achieved that.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 01:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 01:50 pm (UTC)I really did have fun making Diana into the "Peter" role - but keeping her as the Diana we know and love.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 05:25 am (UTC)Sometimes, I hate myself.
I had a crazy dream in which the events in the season 2 finale combined with this universe. I seriously thought I'd finished reading it till I woke up and saw my laptop still on Part 7.
This? Was amazing.
I particularly love that Diana was the one who caught Neal, Neal's study of Peter's hands, 'Mitchell Premier Events' and its side business ;), and the fishing in the end.
I particularly hate Vincent Adler. But that's not new.
I love that he dies.
I think that for a challenge that called for 1000 words or more, and the many people (me included) that just barely crossed that line, this is magnificent and so very generous of you. It must have taken a lot of work.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 01:53 pm (UTC)Thank you so very much for reading and for leaving me such awesome feedback.
To tell you the truth, I've never written so much in such a short time - twenty-eight days from start to finish. But I had help - my wonderful beta readers and the great cast of writers in the Writers' Union chat room - they really kept me going.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 03:36 pm (UTC)No problem at all :)
WCWU is a really friendly place! I'm afraid I'm not usually there because of the time zones. Also, it's early mornings for me, and I'm not very nice in the mornings.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 08:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 01:33 pm (UTC)But thank you so much for reading and avoiding work to do so!
no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 07:49 pm (UTC)Anyway...
You know, you always are and will be my favorite writer of P/N slash because you are always coming up with yet another great AU about them.
I have them all on my kindle and won't ever delete them because they are special.
This one was much more intense than the others because of that creepy nutcase Adler, whom I already hated on the show. You wrote him just perfect but my heart thudded in my chest a mile a minute imagining Neal lying on his bed all tortured.
You wrote Diana as the Peter-stand-in just perfectly. The case with the Japanese treasure so well written and Daniel Picah a wonderful asset to the story.
Like everyone else as well. The whole thing with the escort business and everything... just wonderfully invented.
Well, and Peter and Neal, again beautiful how they meet, their first night, their feelings hidden because of former disappointments or the fear of rejection. The happy ending as always too short for my romantic heart ;)
Thank you for this epic story full of suspense and romance!!!!
XX
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:39 pm (UTC)I am glad you mentioned the Japanese sword. Daniel Picah (from Home Invastion) had started out as a throw-away. I needed an annoying client for Neal, as a foil to Peter's "date" with Adler. I had vaguely remembered a samurai sword from the episode and originally wrote it as something that had once belonged to the Imperial family. When I rewatched that part of the episode (to get a feel for Daniel's character and speech patterns), I picked up that the sword had a name - or a maker. Go Yoshihiro is one of the most famous swordsmiths in Japanese history, and he made the Honjo Masamune - which is really a missing Japanese National Treasure (it was taken in battle by the first Shogun of Japan, and passed down through the family for centuries, until it was turned into the U.S. Army in 1945, when it disappeared).
So, it was a perfect bit of serendipity. I could just have easily picked Edward Walker as Neal's client :)
Thank you, again!
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 04:28 pm (UTC)Wow, you did some deep research for your story about the sword, I admire you for that!!!!
I am already looking forward to your next story!!!
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 04:31 pm (UTC)And thank you, again!
no subject
Date: 2013-07-04 06:45 pm (UTC)Very interesting take on Elizabeth and Diana -- and a sweet romance with Peter and Neal. Thanks for the very enjoyable read!
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-04 10:31 pm (UTC)The final showdown between Adler, Peter and Neal has literally left me breathless. Adler is truly a sick fuck. And in the middle if his sick game there were Peter and Neal finally telling each other what they have felt for so long - it was so damn heartbreaking. And perfect.
They have truly deserved the happiness you have given them in the Epilogue. It's like all is finally right in the world and the future is bright like the light reflected off their wedding rings ♥ ♥ ♥
Thank you for this journey \o/ *million hugs*
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:41 pm (UTC)Thank you so much - I always look forward to seeing your feedback, it's so inspiring.
And again, thank you for the beautiful cover art. I am blessed to have you as a friend.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:53 am (UTC)For me, that made reading this completely worth it and I wouldn't need anything more. But then there was so. much. more! Every character in a different situation, but still so much like the characters we know and love (or love to hate -- Adler!).
And the way you took canon events and twisted them into this AU was just brilliant! I loved this. I hope that Neal had a speedy healing process. :/ That was pretty intense for him. :( But I'm very glad that only 8 months later, he is already married and relaxing on a boat. :D Perfect epilogue. <3
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:43 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading and for leaving me such epically awesome feedback.
I have to say that I simply ran of of time with this story...had I another few days, I probably would have written at least 15k on their healing, recover and wedding.
Another story for another day, I guess.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:53 pm (UTC)And, oh, running out of time makes sense. Ha. :) I thought that you just didn't want this story to focus on H/C of that variety (certainly there is emotional H/C in this story), and decided to wrap it up neatly with the lovely epilogue.
If you do decide to write that part of the story, I would RELISH it. Protective, worried, IN LOVE Peter caring for the strong, loving, but very injured Neal? ;________; <3
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:56 pm (UTC)But my notes are pretty extensive for Peter and Neal, post-rescue. Peter's in bad shape - he was shot twice, but his recovery is easier.
Ah...now I've got to turn off my brain and focus on my whump fic...a Wonderful Years story.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:57 pm (UTC)They are both so injured! ;__;
ok, I hope you do write this someday. :)
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:56 pm (UTC)And one example of a canon event that you changed that I thought was so cute was how Neal painted the ring on Peter's finger. And added the ring to the nightstand. :DDD It's not at all the same context of how Neal drew the ring on whatsherface's finger in that episode (for Peter). But it's the same idea. Peter was so mad in the episode. But I'm sure in this story, he would have been very very very pleased. :D
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:58 pm (UTC)One of the parts of the story that I had to sacriface for expediency's sake was what happened to Neal's painting...because you KNOW that Adler had to take it.
Not saying more...
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:59 pm (UTC)(and you're welcome)
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Date: 2013-07-05 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 04:34 pm (UTC)Edit: I should read every comment before commenting *sorry*
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 12:41 pm (UTC)Really loved how both Neal and Peter tried to protect the other from Adler – he is soo evil. Happy that everything worked out for our boys in the end.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-05 02:44 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading and for taking the time to leave feedback. I really appreciate it.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-06 07:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-06 02:31 pm (UTC)I really had fun playing with everyone, giving them new roles but keeping them in character, too. So glad to see that it worked.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-06 04:37 pm (UTC)I do hope you write the recovery story. I will say that the ending gave me a bit of whiplash, to go from not even knowing if Peter was alive (not to mention what sort of state Neal was in) to a timestamp eight months later where everything is fine. That was hard for me. I love recovery stories and I think you'd do it extraordinarily well. I get not wanting it to become "just" h/c (though nothing is ever "just" h/c to me), but the story took a really dark turn there at the end, and I wanted at least a taste of the climb out of the pit, you know?
Anyway, my whiplash did not spoil what was overall a really amazing story.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-06 04:42 pm (UTC)I do agree that there's a bit of a hard break between the final scene with Adler and the epilogue. It wasn't that I didn't want to write all of the H/C and recovery. Far from it!
I simply ran out of time - that part of the story, as my notes and thoughts go, deserves at least 10-15k, maybe more. I just didn't have the time!
I also think I do need a bit of a break from it - it was all consuming for almost a month, and I want to let it rest and percolate a bit.
But yes, i will be writing the recovery (I have such ideas, you don't even know...)
Again, thank you so very much!
no subject
Date: 2013-07-06 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-06 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-08 01:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-08 12:56 am (UTC)OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is A-Fucking-MAZING. I'm speechless! I tried to read it slowly. You don't know what a wonderful thing this story has been for me the past several days, and I almost didn't want it to end, so I fully intended to take my time.
But I couldn't. I raced through to the end this evening, because I COULD. NOT. PUT IT DOWN.
I'm stunned and thrilled and amazed and so grateful, I can't even express it all.
I'm in love with everyone in this story (except Adler, who is spectacularly awful). <3
Thank you so fucking much.
So much. I'm literally about to cry.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-08 01:26 pm (UTC)I had a lot of fun writing this (once I got going and realized that I had to write this without your support) - your prompts were awesome and a real joy to fill.
Words can't express my pleasure at knowing how much you liked this - it was an all-consuming journey and I can't think of a person I would want to take that trip for more than you.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-11 12:55 pm (UTC)The first scene between Neal and Peter - pure love. I love the obvious atraction there, but mostly, the utter way Neal just allows himself to fall so hard. He just gave up and gave in - instant chemistry. I also love this neal you've created - he's a lot less self-assured, more vulnerable. He's also less cocky, and more human.
Your description of his painting and the process he went through was simply awe-inspiring. I could just see his concentration on the work there. It also makes me wonder what happened to the painting. Do you mind if in my head canon, he sells it for a VERY large sum to a rich old widow who lives in Riverside? And that that one sale launches his career?
I love the plotting - how you wove canon characters into the thing so seamlessly, most of all Daniel Picah - how he became the source of Adler's downfall was terrific. And Adler the hoarder of precious art - how very evil that was, and brilliant, and I loved that it was ultimately his undoing (that and his ego, just like in canon).
And Adler. OMG, the scene where Peter dominates him was truly delicious. ANd Neal's hanlding of his rather unimaginative insults was deftly handled.
Another thing I wonder is how the final act affected Elizabeth. She's in one way been used by Adler, but on another level, I don't believe she didn't know he was capable of some pretty dark stuff. She was a very shrewd version of Elizabeth - nothing gets by her. If you did a timestamp involving that, I'd be most pleased.
So rambly comment is rambly. Loved this to bits, dahling! MWAH, I keess eet.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-11 01:16 pm (UTC)I hadn't considered that the painting gets sold...but you are giving me a plot bunneh. Not that there aren't a whole bunch of them having ferocious plot bunneh sex in my head. As I noted elsewhere - I simply ran out of time with this story, not out of words.
I have a whole set of notes on their recovery which is at least a 10k story on its own, plus the wedding, and yes - even the painting.
Plus a little more Daniel and just how well Mozzie knows Peter.
In fact, it's so present in my head right now, it's kind of drowning out everything else.
And so I keess your feedback!