Horror survival, psychological thriller, hurt/comfort type story. Kidnapped Neal and Peter find themselves held in a maze of forgotten tunnels beneath the city in a fight to keep themselves and each other alive. WARING: Violence, torture, and gore, but *no* sex/rape.

White Collar: The Labyrinth

Chapter One

"Left! Damn it, Neal, watch your left!"

Peter swore and winced in sympathy as Neal failed to heed his warning fast enough. Neal's larger opponent landed a solid bare knuckled strike across his left temple that turned his whole body and dropped him to his right knee. It was the third hit he'd taken to that side in short order and this one opened a gash in his temple that pour blood down his face. Now blinded in that eye he was more vulnerable to further attacks on that side. The keyed up crowd watching from behind the rail of their safe elevated position around the rectangular concrete pit roared in approval of the blood drawn. The noise echoing off the enclosed space added to the general chaos and the frantic pace of the vicious fight. Getting back to his feet Neal fought to reorient himself after the devastating blow but being close to collapse he swung wildly and missed.

Separated from the action Peter paced restlessly at the set of bars that kept him from helping. He watched helplessly as Neal desperately tried to keep out of reach of the muscular man known as Danisko; who was not only larger than Neal but also far more skilled. Danisko could have had Neal knocked senseless by now but he was enjoying the cat and mouse game too much to end it prematurely. Trapped in the small cell under the upper level where the spectators were Peter snarled and yelled pointlessly as the fight became increasingly one-sided.

Stripped to the waist and barefoot Neal's already lean frame had pulled tight enough to show off each muscle in stark definition and revealed the ridges of his ribs through his middle back. Bruises and cuts in various stages of healing further marred Neal's dirty ivory skin from the abuse of the nearly dozen fights like the one he was currently losing. However the most striking mark was the now healed brand over Neal's heart, a pentagon with a maze design inside. Peter wore the brand as well, along with a host of battle scars and fresh wounds from his own time in the ring. He had long ago been forced to tie two of his belt loops together with a strip off his shirt to keep his slacks up on his starvation narrowed hips. Peter's once white undershirt was unrecognizable having been stained through with blood, sweat, and grime from abuse and the general filth that came with a long term captivity.

With a wet sickly sound Peter coughed violently against the back of his hand spattering it with bright red blood. Ignoring the blood and the fever that was causing sweat to drip from his hair Peter looked up at the large bright red digital clock that was counting down at what felt like a painful slow cadence. Neal had fought through nearly nine minutes, he only had to make it through six more. However with as poorly suited for this match up as Neal was six minutes might as well be an eternity.

Fifteen minutes, that was the time limit to kill or be killed, after that the match was over even if both men were left standing. Peter didn't know how the point system worked for determining a winner when both parties walked away but the screaming crowd of betting spectators knew who was making or losing them money. All Peter knew about it was that for himself and Neal there was never any true 'winning', only surviving to fight again.

For Danisko he got what he had wanted the moment he'd stepped into the underground arena, his debts to the house would be paid by the money brought in by the cover charge and the gambling that went along with the gory spectator sport. He didn't have to win the fight to get his reward, he just had to provide a good show. He didn't have to kill Neal either, but a chance to murder someone without consequence was a happy bonus for Danisko. Danisko and the others who chose to participate were freed from debts of both cash and honor, Neal and Peter were simply the other dogs in the fight with no reward or motivation beyond the drive to live.

Peter's stomach turned painful as Neal once again failed to keep his guard up and was punished for it by another powerful blow to his already bloodied left side. Watching more carefully Peter realized that Neal wasn't just neglecting to protect his off side, he was physically incapable of lifting his left shoulder more than half way leaving him mostly defenseless against his right handed adversary. Using a trick that they had practice together Neal feigned more of a loss of balance than he'd actually suffered and was able to get in close to slam his open palm into Danisko's solar plexus.

Peter had taught Neal about the vulnerable cluster of nerves just below the breast bone and how best to both hit it and protect himself from being struck there. Danisko was muscular enough to have absorbed the blow if he had been expecting the precision strike, but having assumed that his prey was too weak to properly attack he hadn't been ready for it. Stumbling back while sputtering for breath Danisko was momentarily incapacitated by the painful blow as the clock continued to countdown towards zero.

Too close to collapse to capitalize on Danisko's moment of weakness Neal scrambled backwards towards Peter for a quick break from the fight while Danisko recovered. Pressing his back hard into the bars that kept him separated from Peter and trapped in the arena Neal panted heavily for breath. Trembling violently from the exertion and his fast fading adrenaline Neal fought to keep standing. Peter reached through the bars and put his hand on Neal's shoulder.

"You've got this, Neal." Peter assured quietly. "Just two more minutes."

Keeping his eyes on Danisko Neal reached up and put his hand over Peter's and squeezed it briefly to show he appreciated Peter's support and faith in him. On the far side of the ring Danisko roared with rage as he got his breath back. Peter hated to push Neal away but he nudged Neal's shoulder to remind him that being backed up against the bars was a dangerous position to be in since it cut down his escape options. Neal nodded and stepped forward as Danisko turned his attention back to Neal with his lips pulled over his teeth in an angry snarl. There was just over a minute left in the fight but Neal had now enraged Danisko making him less interested in tormenting his opponent and more determined to simply kill him.

"Neal!"

This time Peter's warning came in time and Neal was able to step out of the way as Danisko rushed at him in a blind rage. Unable to stop his momentum Danisko slammed into the barred door that Neal had just been up against like a bull charging into the wall after being fooled by a matador's cape. It was against the 'rules' but Peter instantly lashed out and punched Danisko through the bars, breaking his nose with a satisfying crunch and a spray of blood. Danisko backed away clutching his bleeding face. Looking up he glared spitefully at Peter as the clock finally reached zero and a loud buzzer rang out.

With his pride injured more than anything else Danisko ignored the end of the match and launched himself at Neal once again. Neal wasn't expecting the attack after the clock as it had always been an absolute end to all the other fights. Even still he always remained on guard after each round but after months worth of struggle and starvation he wasn't able to move out of the way quickly enough. Danisko caught Neal around the waist and drove them both to the hard concrete floor. Neal cried out in panic and put his palms against Danisko's chest to try and push him away to no affect. Pinning Neal to the floor with his weight Danisko wrapped his hands around Neal's throat with intent to kill.

"No! Neal!" Peter roared as he slammed his palms against the locked bars. "The fight is over! Open the gate! Neal!"

The crowd was cheering at the unusual turn of events as the fight continued despite the clock. They were all unsure of what was going to happen since this was the only real rule in the ring was that the bell was to be respected. Kicking against the floor Neal fought desperately to get out from underneath Danisko although he was quickly weakening. With Danisko pressing down on his throat Neal started to black out. Panicking Peter tore at the sturdy bars with no hope of moving them.

"Neal!"

"Agent." A cold voice called from behind him.

The sound of their captor's voice never failed to send a chill down Peter's spine and yet at the same time boil his blood in anger. He had no intention of taking his attention off Neal until he heard the distinct sound of metal against metal. Glancing over his shoulder Peter found that one of the guards was offering him a hand gun through the back bars of the cell. Peter instantly recognized the weapon as being his own, stolen from him at the beginning of this nightmare. With Neal seconds away from death Peter didn't have the time or the inclination to question the gift instead he just rushed over to retrieve it. York smiled as Peter returned to face the arena with the weapon held high. Unable to free himself from Danisko's tight grip Neal's bright blue eyes started to roll back to white as he finally stated to loose consciousness.

"Let him go!" Peter roared.

Peter didn't give Danisko a second warning, he didn't even give him a chance to process the first one. He had only barked the order out of pure habit from FBI training while he was lining up the shot. Without hesitating Peter fired once and struck Danisko center mass throwing him back and off of Neal. The crowd initial jerked back away from the rail around the arena at the sound of the gun fire but then they erupted into cheering. They had come for a show, and they had not been disappointed. With Neal as safe as he could be for the moment Peter turned on York and tried to take him down with the gun as well. Peter was not surprised when the gun clicked impotently against an empty chamber but he'd had to try.

Dropping the useless weapon Peter turned his back on York to face the gate into the arena as he silently waited to be allowed to retrieve his fallen friend. Neal wasn't even trying to get up as he laid on his back heaving for breath as his throat turned bright red. Sprawled out on the floor Danisko was motionless except for a slowly expanding puddle of blood underneath him. Peter hadn't been willing to take the chance to just injure him and had shot him through the heart. There was a click that let Peter know the barred door's automatic lock had been triggered, rolling the bars aside Peter ran out and knelt down next to Neal.

Watching Neal fight painfully to take each breath Peter suddenly wondered if he'd done the right thing or if he should have let Danisko end this for him. It had been easier to believe in waiting for rescue or a chance to escape in the beginning, but after all that had happened in their two months under ground it was difficult not to feel that death was the only release they were ever going to obtain.

Blinded by blood on one side and having trouble focusing with the other eye Neal jerked violently when Peter brushed his uninjured temple with the back of his hand to get his attention. Neal brought his right hand up and latched down on Peter's wrist with a painfully tight grip in an attempt to defend himself, fearful that the match wasn't over and determined to fight to the last. When Peter didn't pull away or attack Neal made a better effort to try and figure out who he was. Beyond the confusion caused by the near asphyxiation and the moderate concussion he'd been suffering from Neal had the added difficulty of identifying the battle and captivity worn version of his friend that was looking down on him.

Neal smiled brightly exposing blood stained teeth as he finally recognized Peter through the haze of fear and pain. Despite everything Peter managed a smile as well at seeing that Neal hadn't given up on the war even if he hadn't fared particularly well during this battle. Trusting that it was safe to do Neal closed his eyes and relaxed as he allowed himself to pass out now that he has his guardian back. Peter didn't have to press his fingers against Neal's throat to make sure his pulse was strong, he could see the pool of blood that had collected in the divot between Neal's collar bones pulsing from the pounding heartbeat beneath the surface. Slipping one hand under Neal's shoulder blades and the other behind his knees Peter effortlessly lifted him up off the gore soaked floor. The months of fighting had taken a heavy physical toll but at the same time had strengthened them both inside and out the way heat and pressure strengthens steel in a forge.

Holding Neal protectively against his chest Peter didn't bother looking up at the upper level and the men gathered there. They were just a collection of criminals, both organized and free lance, and none of them had any interest in helping them. In fact in the past Peter had recognized a number of faces belonging to men with a personal grudge against himself and/or Neal who openly enjoyed betting against them.

Carrying Neal Peter stepped back into the cell that attached to the arena so that he could take Neal back to the network of rooms and tunnels that he and Neal had been calling home. The abandoned maze of old tunnels and structures below the city's subway had been turned into a modern day Colosseum. Peter and Neal weren't the only ones being held in the underground labyrinth, they had learned that mob rivals, enemies of the rich and ruthless, and snitches of all kinds ended up down here. Some could earn their freedom and status back, others had been branded with the mark of the Labyrinth and condemned to a slow but inevitable execution.

York was still waiting for Peter, flanked by his vigilant guards. He smiled at his most profitable pair, in addition to those paying off a debt some men paid good money for a chance to enact some cathartic revenge on a Federal Agent or a informant rat. Even if Peter or Neal hadn't been the ones personally to blame they still made good representatives of an 'authority figure' and a 'traitor' for anyone with extra cash and a blood rage to work off.

York slipped his hands into his pockets and chuckled at Peter. Closing his eyes briefly against a flash of animalistic rage Peter wondered if there was anyway he could buy his way into fifteen minutes in the ring with York. It wasn't often that Peter saw the owner of the sadistic fight club, but every time he did it renewed his resolve to live long enough to take him down one way or another. Holding Neal closer Peter opened his eyes and glared spitefully at York's smug expression.

"I told you that one day you'd kill for me, Agent Burke."

"I didn't do it for you."