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Author: NYWCgirl
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: None
Characters: Peter, Neal,
Warning: none
Spoilers: none
Rating: Gen
Genre: hurt/comfort, kidnapping, non con drugging
Author's Notes:This fic is written as a timestamp in the ‘Taken verse’. It fills the ‘drugged’ square on my H/C Bingo card and is written for
altschmerzes for Winter Whumperland 2018. The prompt was “A didn´t think they would get the voicemail in time.”
Word Count: ~ 1200
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine…
Summary: Neal has been kidnapped and after several attempts of escape, he is becoming desperate, especially since they keep drugging him.
This fic can also be found on AO3
Neal blinks open his eyes, he wonders why it takes such an effort. He must have been drinking too much with Mozzie again. Where is he anyway? Neal looks around and realizes he is not in his bed. This can´t be good.
His instinct tells him to get away, so he moves in an attempt to get out of the bed, when pain shoots through him. He can´t contain the yelp and his breathing hitches. He can hear footsteps, his cry of what happened all comes rushing back. They broke his leg when he tried to escape through the window.
His stomach gives an unhappy squeeze, Neal is unsure it is from the pain that is pulsing through his leg or knowing the men are coming back. What he does know is that he isn´t getting out of here by himself. His thoughts are swimming and he hates the drugged up feeling. He needs to find a way to call for help.
The door slams open and Neal flinches, but does his best to make it appear that he is still under the influence of whatever they injected him with. The man who entered, studies him for a moment, because he isn´t coming closer.
‘Stay at the door, I want to check him out.’
Neal can hear an affirmative grunt and then the man approaches him. The man tabs him in the face and Neal groggily rolls his eyes towards him. The man grins, calling out to his partner ‘you can prepare another dose. He is waking up. Boss said to keep him under completely.’
‘OK, I will prepare another dose, you good alone?’
‘Yeah, he is still too out to pose a threat.’
Once he hears the man leave, Neal pretends to be sick, making a choked off retching sound and his guard is immediately alert. He pulls Neal into a recovery position.
‘You going to be sick?’
Neal only lets his eyes roll loosely and the man looks around for a trash can. But since they removed everything from the cell, there is nothing.
‘Stay! I will get a bucket or something.’
He leaves the room, looking the door behind him and Neal quickly takes the cell phone he lifted from the guy. He pushes the button on the bottom and the unlock screen appears. He closes his eyes in a moment of frustration and then presses zero zerozerozero.
The screen unlocks and Neal doesn´t hesitate and dials the memorized number. His heart rate increases while he waits for the call to connect. The men can return any moment.
The second the call connects, Neal can cry in relief.
‘Peter…’
‘You reached the voicemail of Peter Burke. Please leave a message after the beep and I will call you back as soon as possible.’
‘It’s me. I don´t know where I am, but the number of the phone is…’ Neal quickly checks it and says the number before disconnecting and tucking the phone in the corner underneath the bunk he is laying on. Hopefully they will be able to trace the phone and check the closest pole the phone connected with. It is a long shot, but they should be able to trace it back. Hopefully in time. When he hears footsteps, he lays back down on the matrass.
‘Hey man, are you still gonna be sick?’
Neal slowly shifts his gaze to the man and then shakes his head.
‘Good.’
He checks Neal´s vitals again and lets out a surprised sound.
‘What is it?’
The other man must have arrived back.
‘His heart is racing, which is strange. A couple of minutes ago, it was sluggish.’
‘Well, you said he was going to be sick, can that have something to do with it?’
‘Yeah, that could probably explain it.’
He pushes Neal´s shirt sleeve up and ties a band around his bicep. Giving Neal´s elbow crook a couple of taps, he makes a satisfied noise.
‘You have good veins. Well. Nighty night.’
Neal feels the syringe pierce his skin and a warmth rushes through his arm upwards. The world disappears all together.
* * *
‘Caffrey!’ Wake up!’
Neal is pulled from his chemical induced slumber and does his best to open his eyes.
What is happening? Where is he?
‘Wakeywakey, Caffrey!’
He is still trying to process what is going on.
‘Wht?’
‘I want you to drink something. I don´t want you to croak on us.’
‘Should thought of…’
‘What?’ another voice.
‘Don´t pay attention to him, we drugged him up so much, he can´t possibly be processing this. I just want to make sure the break in his leg isn´t going to bring his price down. And he needs to stay hydrated, because he appears feverish. Van you check if we have a thermometer in the first aid kit?’
‘Sure.’
‘Come on, let´s get you up sitting. We don´t want you to choke.’
Neal is pulled upright and he can feel the color drain from is face.
‘Hey hey, deep breaths, come on.’
The man slaps him on the cheek and Neal weakly tries to pulls away. The man seems satisfied and a straw is held in front of him. Neal doesn`t make any move towards it.
‘Come on man, I don´t want you to die on me?. You look like Casper already.’
Neal takes a deep breathe, trying to clear his head. He has to bide his time, he isn´t getting out on his own, not with the broken leg.
Leaning forward is enough encouragement the man needs and he holds the carton p so Neal can sip the straw. Neal takes it from him, it is some vanilla protein shake, it is better than nothing so he sips it. When it is empty he hands it back to the guy.
‘Can I use the bathroom?’ he slurs.
‘Well, I don´t think you will be able to get there with that busted up leg, but here is a bucket. The man gets up and leaves the cell for which Neal is grateful. He awkwardly takes care of business, trying not to jostle his leg too much.
When the man re-enters the cell, he wiggles a syringe between his fingers.
‘Please, no, I don´t…, I promise…not to escape.’
The man shakes his head, ‘sorry pal, no can do.’
‘Come on, I…, please.’
‘Do I need to call in the boss?’
Neal resigns, he doesn´t want to get more injured. Maybe next time he is awake he can make a diversion so he can call Peter again. He hopes the battery is still charged and the man hasn´t noticed that the phone is gone. The man gestures to Neal to roll up his sleeve. Once the tourniquet is fastened, the injection is quickly given and Neal slumps back against the matrass. They re-arrange him once again in recovery position, not wanting to risk their paycheck chocking on his own vomit.
Neal can feel the drugs making their way through his system. Just before he loses the fight against them, there is a loud bang.
‘FBI…!’
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: None
Characters: Peter, Neal,
Warning: none
Spoilers: none
Rating: Gen
Genre: hurt/comfort, kidnapping, non con drugging
Author's Notes:This fic is written as a timestamp in the ‘Taken verse’. It fills the ‘drugged’ square on my H/C Bingo card and is written for
altschmerzes for Winter Whumperland 2018. The prompt was “A didn´t think they would get the voicemail in time.”
Word Count: ~ 1200
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine…
Summary: Neal has been kidnapped and after several attempts of escape, he is becoming desperate, especially since they keep drugging him.
This fic can also be found on AO3
Neal blinks open his eyes, he wonders why it takes such an effort. He must have been drinking too much with Mozzie again. Where is he anyway? Neal looks around and realizes he is not in his bed. This can´t be good.
His instinct tells him to get away, so he moves in an attempt to get out of the bed, when pain shoots through him. He can´t contain the yelp and his breathing hitches. He can hear footsteps, his cry of what happened all comes rushing back. They broke his leg when he tried to escape through the window.
His stomach gives an unhappy squeeze, Neal is unsure it is from the pain that is pulsing through his leg or knowing the men are coming back. What he does know is that he isn´t getting out of here by himself. His thoughts are swimming and he hates the drugged up feeling. He needs to find a way to call for help.
The door slams open and Neal flinches, but does his best to make it appear that he is still under the influence of whatever they injected him with. The man who entered, studies him for a moment, because he isn´t coming closer.
‘Stay at the door, I want to check him out.’
Neal can hear an affirmative grunt and then the man approaches him. The man tabs him in the face and Neal groggily rolls his eyes towards him. The man grins, calling out to his partner ‘you can prepare another dose. He is waking up. Boss said to keep him under completely.’
‘OK, I will prepare another dose, you good alone?’
‘Yeah, he is still too out to pose a threat.’
Once he hears the man leave, Neal pretends to be sick, making a choked off retching sound and his guard is immediately alert. He pulls Neal into a recovery position.
‘You going to be sick?’
Neal only lets his eyes roll loosely and the man looks around for a trash can. But since they removed everything from the cell, there is nothing.
‘Stay! I will get a bucket or something.’
He leaves the room, looking the door behind him and Neal quickly takes the cell phone he lifted from the guy. He pushes the button on the bottom and the unlock screen appears. He closes his eyes in a moment of frustration and then presses zero zerozerozero.
The screen unlocks and Neal doesn´t hesitate and dials the memorized number. His heart rate increases while he waits for the call to connect. The men can return any moment.
The second the call connects, Neal can cry in relief.
‘Peter…’
‘You reached the voicemail of Peter Burke. Please leave a message after the beep and I will call you back as soon as possible.’
‘It’s me. I don´t know where I am, but the number of the phone is…’ Neal quickly checks it and says the number before disconnecting and tucking the phone in the corner underneath the bunk he is laying on. Hopefully they will be able to trace the phone and check the closest pole the phone connected with. It is a long shot, but they should be able to trace it back. Hopefully in time. When he hears footsteps, he lays back down on the matrass.
‘Hey man, are you still gonna be sick?’
Neal slowly shifts his gaze to the man and then shakes his head.
‘Good.’
He checks Neal´s vitals again and lets out a surprised sound.
‘What is it?’
The other man must have arrived back.
‘His heart is racing, which is strange. A couple of minutes ago, it was sluggish.’
‘Well, you said he was going to be sick, can that have something to do with it?’
‘Yeah, that could probably explain it.’
He pushes Neal´s shirt sleeve up and ties a band around his bicep. Giving Neal´s elbow crook a couple of taps, he makes a satisfied noise.
‘You have good veins. Well. Nighty night.’
Neal feels the syringe pierce his skin and a warmth rushes through his arm upwards. The world disappears all together.
* * *
‘Caffrey!’ Wake up!’
Neal is pulled from his chemical induced slumber and does his best to open his eyes.
What is happening? Where is he?
‘Wakeywakey, Caffrey!’
He is still trying to process what is going on.
‘Wht?’
‘I want you to drink something. I don´t want you to croak on us.’
‘Should thought of…’
‘What?’ another voice.
‘Don´t pay attention to him, we drugged him up so much, he can´t possibly be processing this. I just want to make sure the break in his leg isn´t going to bring his price down. And he needs to stay hydrated, because he appears feverish. Van you check if we have a thermometer in the first aid kit?’
‘Sure.’
‘Come on, let´s get you up sitting. We don´t want you to choke.’
Neal is pulled upright and he can feel the color drain from is face.
‘Hey hey, deep breaths, come on.’
The man slaps him on the cheek and Neal weakly tries to pulls away. The man seems satisfied and a straw is held in front of him. Neal doesn`t make any move towards it.
‘Come on man, I don´t want you to die on me?. You look like Casper already.’
Neal takes a deep breathe, trying to clear his head. He has to bide his time, he isn´t getting out on his own, not with the broken leg.
Leaning forward is enough encouragement the man needs and he holds the carton p so Neal can sip the straw. Neal takes it from him, it is some vanilla protein shake, it is better than nothing so he sips it. When it is empty he hands it back to the guy.
‘Can I use the bathroom?’ he slurs.
‘Well, I don´t think you will be able to get there with that busted up leg, but here is a bucket. The man gets up and leaves the cell for which Neal is grateful. He awkwardly takes care of business, trying not to jostle his leg too much.
When the man re-enters the cell, he wiggles a syringe between his fingers.
‘Please, no, I don´t…, I promise…not to escape.’
The man shakes his head, ‘sorry pal, no can do.’
‘Come on, I…, please.’
‘Do I need to call in the boss?’
Neal resigns, he doesn´t want to get more injured. Maybe next time he is awake he can make a diversion so he can call Peter again. He hopes the battery is still charged and the man hasn´t noticed that the phone is gone. The man gestures to Neal to roll up his sleeve. Once the tourniquet is fastened, the injection is quickly given and Neal slumps back against the matrass. They re-arrange him once again in recovery position, not wanting to risk their paycheck chocking on his own vomit.
Neal can feel the drugs making their way through his system. Just before he loses the fight against them, there is a loud bang.
‘FBI…!’