AN/ Not beta'd for English, sorry

"Wonder what it's like," Mozzie mused over his glass of wine, looking at the night sky through the bay windows.

"What it's like what?" Neal asked, then frowned. Was that even English? Probably not. Oh well, he could always blame the drugs.

Neal was lying on his bed, his left knee propped over pillows. Their last case, pure real white collar cut case, had turned to "run and chase" when the banker they had caught decided he wouldn't go down that easily.

Now that he thought about it, it had been a pretty dumb move, but Neal had actually jumped the man on the last steps of the stairs. Everybody was glad the banker was effectively stopped. Except maybe Neal, or more exactly, Neal's knee.

The sprain was serious, not needing surgery or anything, but painful enough that the doctor had ordered him to stay out of it for at least three days. So there he was, on his bed, back supported by a mountain of pillows, left leg in a brace, and his anklet moved to his right to reduce the stress on the hurt limb.

While he almost –almost– forgot about it most of the time, its change of ankle felt weird. Like wearing your watch on your right wrist. He was sure his skin would be chafed by the time he was on his two feet again. He kept rubbing the foot against the mattress.

Peter had brought him back to his house grumbling about how this would teach him to behave. The berating had started at the hospital, right after the doctor had confirmed that no surgery was needed. Before that, when Peter had come to his side after his CI's spectacular flight to find Neal almost passed out from the pain, the agent had turned white with worry. The medic on site had somewhat relieved him, but the emergency doctor had definitely put an end to that face, not that the following one was better. He definitely preferred a worried Peter over an angry one, at least when it felt like someone was trying to rip his leg off. And he had stopped the guy after all! He deserved bonus points for that, didn't he?

So now he was home. Mozzie had come to pay a visit in the late afternoon. He had opened one of Neal's bottles then realizing that his friend couldn't share with him because of the painkillers, he had prepared hot chocolate. He had even found some marshmallows, probably from June's grandkids stash. Which was nice. Ellen used to make him hot chocolate when he was feeling down…

Neal watched Mozzie. He had brought one of the arm chairs closer to the bed. They had been discussing amicably for the past hour.

That was a while after Mozz's arrival and after he had almost reaped his head off for being so careless. Now that Neal thought about it, he had used almost the same words Peter had. He should tell Mozz, if only to scare him. That would teach him a lesson. He was an adult, he made his own decisions, thank you. So okay, maybe that one had been a little bit reckless, but hey, again, they got the guy. All right, there were other FBI agents outside, the banker wouldn't have gone far. Can't blame a guy for wanting to help…

Mozzie had been silent for a few minutes, sipping his wine, watching the rooftops. He had probably been deep in thought and uttered the last words out loud without realizing it. Who knew what was going through his head?

"What?" he asked clearly surprised.

That confirmed Neal's hunch. He hadn't meant to speak the last sentence. Maybe he shouldn't ask. Sometimes Mozzie's thoughts were better left alone.

"I didn't understand your last sentence…"

"Oh." Mozz nodded, and went back to his watching the roofs.

"Mozz?" Neal called.

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking about?" There, he had said it. Hopefully, he wouldn't regret asking.

"I was wondering what it was like living between normal humans when you're a super hero."

Five seconds before he regretted asking. Five seconds. He probably had just set a new record…

"Super heroes…" he repeated hoping that maybe the drugs had messed up with his hearing.

"Yeah… I mean, living in the shadows, I get it. Not wanting to be seen..."

"Isn't that what you do?"

Definitely something wrong with his brain. He frowned. No, he was pretty sure he hadn't knocked his head in the fall, only his knee. He shivered as he remembered the sickening crunch.

"Nooo. I merely hide from our society's surveillance. I mean those guys with super abilities and such."

"What are you talking about Mozz?" There he request was out. Now maybe his friend would explain clearly.

"You know. Captain America, Thor, Wonder Woman, Batman…"

Neal frowned. "Fictional characters. And you're kind of mixing them up. Captain America and Thor are Marvel, Wonder Woman and Batman are DC Comics."

"See that's exactly what I'm saying."

"Huh?"

"They're not fiction. That's what they want us to believe, but they are very much alive."

"Okay... So you're saying that there is actually a Shield agency?"

"Yes. Not with that name obviously. I mean, what does it even mean?"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," Neal said without batting an eye.

Mozzie raised an eyebrow.

"I may… watch them when I have a chance…" Neal admitted blushing slightly.

Neal glanced at the bottle of wine and back at his hot chocolate. He wondered if he could convince Mozz to let him spike his cup. He definitely needed the boost if he was going to make it through this particular conversation.

"It's not very secret then… Especially now with all the series and movies." Let Mozzie talk about his theory and not ask to see his secret stash of comics.

"See that's exactly my point. Everybody thinks they're fiction."

"Because they are," Neal stated.

"No. They actually found the best cover one could dream of."

Neal raised an eyebrow.

"Come on Neal. Who would believe anyone saying he has been saved by, say Daredevil?"

"No one. He'll actually be lucky if he doesn't end up in a psych ward."

"Yep. Perfect total secrecy."

"Hiding in plain view?"

"Better than that. We are actually paying them. Instead of taxes, we are giving them huge amounts of money freely, by our own will!"

"Instead of black budgets from the government?"

"Exactly."

"So they're like secret agents?"

"They are secret agents. Different agency because of their powers and such, but basically yeah. Of course, there's never anything as spectacular as in the movies but they intervene when needed."

"Don't you think someone would have noticed a guy flying in a red cape?"

"They're smarter than that. They are secret agents after all. They're not going to expose themselves!"

Neal had taken another painkiller with his drink. It was starting to kick in nicely. Which was totally fine with him. His knee had stopped throbbing and the relief was making him feel slightly light headed. Maybe that was the reason why Mozzie's latest theory was starting to sound plausible.

"And they send them to Azkaban when they turn bad?"

"Neal, Azkaban is the prison in Harry Potter's book. That's fiction."

"Oh. Whereas Iron Heights does exist."

"We usually call it Area 51."

"I thought that was where they kept aliens?" Neal was starting to find it hard to follow Mozzie now.

"Because guys with magic hammers sound very Earth born to you?"

Neal closed his eyes and tried to focus.

"Most of them are human. Just had freak accidents."

"And where do all 'weird' stuff ends up?" Mozzie asked as if it was self-explanatory.

"There are actually aliens and super heroes among us who help our planet fight against threats?"

"Huh huh."

"But we don't know about them, because to hide their existence they turned them into fiction characters."

"Yep."

"And they make loads of money with TV series, movies, and stuff to pay them, so we don't complain about additional taxes."

"See, you get it."

"Why don't the aliens go back home?"

"They like us. Don't ask me why, that I don't get, but apparently they like the human race."

Neal snuggled deeper in the pillows.

"That's nice," he said in a blurred voice. He could live with friendly aliens taking care of him.

Mozzie turned to him and smiled.

"And you my friend are falling asleep."

He rose and moved the pillows to make Neal more comfortable. "Pretty strong stuff they gave you, right?"

"Good stuff," confirmed Neal with a happy smile.

"I bet." Mozzie covered him with a light blanket. "Sweet dreams."

"Mozz…"

"Yeah?"

"Which one would you have liked to be?"

"I don't know… Never really thought about it. Invisible man maybe?" He smiled. "What about you?"

"I'm already a super hero," Neal whispered in a secretive tone.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, managed to get out of a high security prison, jumped from a fourth floor without a scratch, caught a super villain in Cape Verde, found a lost diamond…" his voice trailed as he fell asleep.

Mozzie chuckled.

"The dashing conman. Yes, Neal, you are definitely a super hero."

The end.

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