Author's note: Sorry about not updating sooner, real life kinda got in the way again. I promise I'm gonna post the epilogue of this story a lot faster! :)

As always, huge thanks to my incredibly awesome betas, Aspen Starlight and AwesomeQueenoftheLab for all their help! :) If you like the story, don't forget to leave a review! ;)

Chapter 2

The muffled noise Mozzie kept hearing slowly started to become clearer, and he finally realized someone was calling his name. It took him a few seconds to recognize the voice, but finally he could place it. It was him. The man who he used to think was Neal Caffrey. The man who took the order of killing him without blinking. But who was he really?

Because he really couldn't be Neal. Had the real Neal Caffrey been kidnapped and replaced by a Fed who had undergone plastic surgery to replace the real Neal? No, that was impossible, they couldn't have changed his voice to match Neal's so well Or maybe he was really Neal could they have done something to him while he was in prison? Brainwashed him and implanted another personality into him, like a sleeper assassin? Or...

Suddenly, the words of that woman - that general - about the CIA establishing a cover for Neal echoed in his ears. What did that mean? That Neal, or rather Agent Larkin or whatever his real name was, was always a Fed? Were all these years of their partnership nothing but a cover for him? That sounded like the worst possible version of the three.

At least he was still alive, that was a good sign. For some reason "Neal" didn't kill him while he was still unconscious. Perhaps he wanted to torture him first. Who knows where he took him? He could be in some sort of secret government bunker, or in an abandoned warehouse used for torturing...

He realized that he was lying on something that felt like a couch, and that neither his hands nor his legs were tied up. That gave him a little bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could get out of this place alive, wherever he was.

He decided to keep his eyes shut and tried not to move at all, hoping he could win a few minutes to come up with an escape plan while his captor still thought he was unconscious. However, he couldn't help but let out a shout when he suddenly felt an arm grab him.

"Relax, Mozzie, it's just me!" "Neal" said. "Are you OK?"

Mozzie took a moment to take in his surroundings. He was indeed lying on a couch, on Neal's couch to be exact, in his room. He finally brought himself to look at the man. If he didn't know better, he could've sworn "Neal" was eyeing him with concern.

"Go ahead, do it," he finally spoke, forcing himself to sound brave.

"What?" Neal asked, frowning.

"Kill me. Isn't that what your orders were? I don't know why you haven't done it yet, but go ahead. I'm not going to try to escape, or beg for my life. Just finish me off once and for all."

"Mozzie, are you crazy? What the hell are you talking about?" The look on "Neal's" face was now one of pure confusion. He played the innocent so well it infuriated Mozzie to a point that he felt he would explode from anger.

"You know very well, what I'm talking about, Agent Larkin!" he started to shout. "I heard everything! Your little conversation with that woman on the TV, her ordering you to kill me because I've become a liability-" He stopped abruptly when he saw the confusion on Neal's face turn into a disbelieving grin. "What? Don't you dare laugh at me!"

"Mozzie, seriously?" the other man exclaimed, giving him a chastising look. "You should go easier on the Chateau LeFranc. It's starting to give you nightmares."

"Now you're trying to make me believe that I'm drunk?" Mozzie was outraged by now. "That I've just hallucinated the whole thing? I know perfectly well what I've seen and heard here!"

"Okay, then, tell me. What exactly have you seen?" Neal asked, looking like he was trying harder and harder to hold back his laughter.

"As if you don't know!" Mozzie huffed. "Don't try to play the innocent!"

"Come on, Mozz..." Neal laughed. "I really don't know what you think you saw, but I can tell you what I really did. After you stormed out of here, I decided to go for a swim, to clear out my head and think of something to get Peter off our trail. I just got back a minute ago, and I found you here, sleeping like a log."

"Yeah, sure you did!" Mozzie grumbled, turning his eyes away from Neal. It was then that he caught sight of the coffee table. On top of it, the exact same place where he saw Neal put the case with the gun inside, was now an almost-empty bottle of Chateau LeFranc, and a used wine glass. He also noticed a black sports-bag on the floor next to the table. When he looked back up at Neal, he realized that the man was wearing a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants instead of the suit-and-tie outfit he had on during his conversation with that woman. And his hair indeed looked a little wet.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he realized that all this time he was holding something in his hand - the manifest. All of a sudden nothing made sense. His head felt heavy too, almost as if he was indeed a bit drunk. He looked back up again at Neal, who once again had that annoying grin on his face.

"Agent Larkin?" he finally said. "That actually has a nice ring to it. Agent Larkin, FBI!" he repeated, as if he was trying on the name.

"CIA," Mozzie corrected him absentmindedly.

"No kidding!" Neal's grin grew wider. "What's my first name? Maybe I could use it as an alias!"

Mozzie didn't respond; he just shot him a glare. He knew all too well what was going to happen now. Neal was on a roll, and it would be impossible to stop his teasing. Sure enough, he kept on laughing.

"Seriously, do I really give off a spy vibe? First Peter calls me James Bonds, and now you think I'm a CIA agent? Maybe I really should try to apply for a job there, although with my background..." he trailed off, and when he saw that his friend wasn't the least bit amused, changed to a more serious tone. "Come on, Mozzie, let's be real now. I couldn't even shoot Fowler when I thought he killed Kate; do you seriously think I could ever kill you?"

Mozzie didn't say a word as he was trying to stand up. He had problems with finding his balance, and fell back to the couch. Neal was immediately by his side, trying to help him. Mozzie shook off his hand, tried to stand up once again, this time with success, and started towards the door with an unsteady gait.

"Mozzie, wait!" Neal called after him. "We still need to talk about-"

"Not now," Mozzie cut him off, and slammed the door shut behind him.