Hey guys :), this is my first fanfiction in English. I'm not a native speaker, so if there are any mistakes or things I should rephrase, please mention it, I really appreciate that! And a little warning: It's physical child abuse in my story and I won't be gentle with my characters, so please stop reading if this could be too much for you. There'll be a second chapter soon, this one should just be a little appetizer. The whole story is already in my head :) Thank you for reading!
Neal was standing in front of the devil's home. He couldn't believe that he was actually here, without being forced to come, in handcuffs, struggling, not willing to cope. He straightened and took a deep breath. Now or never, he told himself and entered the building.
Without any hesitation he greeted the slightly surprised looking man behind the security desk as if they were close friends, took the elevator and pressed the button for the 21st floor. He noticed his rising heartbeat and tried to relax as best as he could.
You can do that, Neal. It's your only option.
When the doors opened, he mentally focused on his goal one last time and went into hell. He was surrounded by dozens and dozens of federal agents, male and female, looking all the same. Ill-fitting suits, shades of blue and gray and ugly ties everywhere he looked.
He was standing still in the middle of the office, in between the hive full of people, just waiting to be recognized. He didn't have to wait for long. Suddenly a man right beside him looked at him with an oddly expression and stopped working immediately. The woman beside him noticed the unusual behaviour of her colleague and followed his gaze, her mouth opened lightly when she saw Neal. After that it was like a unstoppable wave, within seconds the whole office went quiet and everyone was staring at him, still not moving.
He felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands were shaking, and he struggled to resist the urge to look around. He tried to straightened his back a little instead to hide his almost desperate thoughts of running away as soon as possible. A man came throughout a glass door of the higher up office, leaned against a steel railing and looked at him, obviously not believing his own eyes.
Neal met his gaze and slowly raised his hands over his head. "Hello, Peter. Nice to finally meet you in person and not seperated by a fence.", he said. "Thought you'd be grateful for me stopping by."
The agents face still showed no expression. "Do you have any weapons with you, Caffrey?", he said calmly, still staring at him.
"Oh Peter, you know that I don't like weapons or any form of violence. I'd never harm anyone on purpose.", Neal tried to sound as confident as possible, ignoring the upcoming fear inside him.
"Good", Peter said, still not looking an inch away. "So, Neal Caffrey, you're under arrest. Kneel down and leave your hands where they are!"
He obeyed, feeling very tired right now. Within half a second someone grabbed his arms and cuffed his hands behind his back. He shivered slightly when a young black agent closed the cold cuffs a little too tight and pulled him up on his feet, leaving his hand on his shoulder. So, he thought, I really hope that's worth it, man!
Three weeks before.
Neal was waking up at 10 o'clock in his fathers flat. He had been working till three a clock in the morning and couldn't barely open his eyes, but he knew he had to get up for his own sake.
He had to finish his latest forgery, it was due today and his father ran out of money a couple of days ago. Neal was fighting against his weariness and the pain in his chest. James hit him with his working boots yesterday when he tried to sneak out for a while and Neal might have heard a crack in his upper body. Not that this was something special. It could have been worse, by far. He has been his father's punching bag as long as he could remember.
He tried to run and hide, several times, but James always found him, due to his contacts. So the best he could do was getting out of his fathers way. He wentsilently into the kitchen to grab a coffee, yawning and listening to the snoring which was coming out of the room next to the him. He was flooded with relieve. His father had been drinking till early morning, which meant that Neal had plenty of time finishing his forgery and leaving the building before his father went up.
He kicked an empty beer bottle away, took his coffee with him and returned to his room, where his old, broken weasel had its place. Neal looked at the nearly finished painting. Raffaels "The Agony in the Garden". It had to be absolutely flawless. Their client planned to replace the original, displayed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
He started working and sunk into his own private world, without recognizing anything else. He enjoyed the smell and the texture of the old paint Mathew Keller gave him and savoured every brushstroke. That's why he didn't hear it coming.
Swooosh. His whole body dashed against his bedrooms wall, the whole air escaped his body and he couldn't breathe. His head bumped on the ground and he saw stars everywhere, his vision blurred. James took his collar and pulled him up, screaming and shouting at him.
"You little piece of shit. You're a pain in the ass. There's no more beer in the fridge. You're responsible for my well-being, you bastard." He was pressing his son against the wall, choking his neck. Neal was struggling, trying to get some air. His father threw his head against the wall once more and finally let him go.
Neal fell on the ground, desperately gasping, feeling the urge to vomit. He tried to calm down, ignoring his father, who still stood next to him, grinning. "I think you've learned your lesson for today, boy. So stand up little bastard and go get some beer. And you better hurry up, otherwise there's a lot more I could teach you." He finally left his room.
Neal felt his heart pounding hard against his broken rips and the pain started to spread out in his whole body. But he managed to stand op, grabbed his jacket and left the flat as soon as possible. He could hardly manage the stairs, but the fresh air helped him to recover a little. After one block he took a rest and tried to calm down a little, when he suddenly heard a familiar voice.
"Neal, don't tell me he did it again!?". Neal looked up, desperate and tired. "I know Mozzie, I can't stand this anymore. Let's talk about the offer."