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Neal shot up, breaths coming quickly as he looked around frantically. He clutched his head, the sudden movement sending a rush of pain to his brain. He clutched his head and groaned. It didn't hurt this bad before, but the doctor's meds must be wearing off. Neal glanced at the clock, it read 3:17 PM. He'd been asleep for eight hours now.

"Good morning," Mozzie raised his glass and toasted to Neal as he sat at the kitchen table reading his fine wine magazine, "or should I say good afternoon."

Neal smiled tiredly and unwrapped himself from his bed covers. His sore legs touched the ground and he slowly stood up, carefully stretching his stiff muscles.

"There's a glass on the table," Mozzie pointed to the waiting wine, "I must admit I was tempted many times to replenish my thirst with your waiting glass, but alas I thought I'd make an exception just this once."

"Wow, Moz, how selfless of you," Neal smiled and settled down in the chair slowly, wearing a silk robe.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mainly sore," he admitted, "but fine otherwise, more worried about Keller. Any word from Peter?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Mozzie rolled his eyes, "he called this afternoon-"

"Called? And you answered?"

"Yes, of course."

"Mozzie, you went near a phone?"

"Oh, don't act so shocked!" Mozzie scoffed, "it was a time of need and urgency, I had to make an exception."

"Okay," Neal laughed then regretted it after it sent a blast of pain to his head, "what did he have to say?"

"He wanted to know if I could connect him with any contacts regarding Keller's whereabouts."

"Mozzie, you didn't."

"I had to!"

"This could lead directly back to the Burkes, Elizabeth and Peter will be in danger! Not to mention any scent of the FBI on this and Keller runs."

"Neal, what did you want me to do? You were incapacitated and I'm sorry, but I will not see my best friend abused once more by Keller's henchmen. The Suit can handle this, it's his job."

Neal got up from the table, panic running through him. He had to warn Elizabeth, he had to call Peter, he had to-

The second he got out of his chair, Neal felt his knees buckle as the floor came crashing towards him. He extended his palms and caught himself slightly, but the next thing he knew he was lying on his stomach, cheek pressed against the floor.

He heard a distant shout and some muffled footsteps by his ear as Mozzie's face swam in and out of his vision.

"Mozzie?" he tried to say, but didn't know if the words ever made it out of his head.

Suddenly, a rush overtook him and sounds, scents, and sensation returned to him. It was like switching from a blur to a sharp, crisp reality.

"Are you alright?" Mozzie pressed, "Neal!?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Moz," Neal rolled onto his back and rested against the table leg, "just a bit dizzy."

"The doctor told me you were concussed!" Mozzie was very animated in his shouting, "Damn my forgetful self, I should've known!"

"It's okay, I'm doing better," he lifted himself into the nearby chair with Mozzie as arm support, "Where's Peter now?"

"I sent him to a contact I know named Jody. He has some intel on the Monet."

"Does he know if Keller's gonna aim for it?"

"I don't know," Mozzie paced, "but I can't keep sitting around here while the Suit meddles in everything and makes me lose half my private contacts," he grabbed his jacket, "I'm going to go review a few leads I have and will be back in an hour, hour and a half tops, okay? Don't leave, don't move, you're still hurt, Neal."

"Fine, Moz," Caffrey rolled his eyes, "where would I go?"

"Oh, don't play smart with me, pal, we all know what you're capable of."

Mozzie smirked as he exited the apartment and shut the door.

Peter walked through the large storage unit lot, scoping the large containers as he tried to find the main office. He was looking for a character named Jody, per Mozzie's intel, but he didn't know if that was such a reliable source. Regardless, Peter finally found a small office with an "open" sign hanging through the window. The hot sun was blaring down on him on the warm New York day, and all he wanted was to catch Keller and spend some time in front of the air conditioner.

Peter knocked on the door carefully, trying to peek through the window for some sign of life, and after a few minutes, a figure came lumbering towards the door. A middle aged man a little round around the edges opened the door with dirty coveralls and greasy white shirt. He had a cautious look in his eyes, looking Peter up and down warily before he opened his mouth.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm a friend of Mozzie's."

The guy's eyes widened a little and he looked side to side for any prying eyes or ears.

"Come in."

He held the door open just a smidge for Peter to wiggle through and he closed it behind him.

"So, I was-"

"No," the man stopped him, "back here."

He retreated to a back room and Burke followed obediently. The man didn't stop till both doors were closed, the shades were pulled down on the windows, and they were speaking in near whispers.

"You Jody?" Peter asked hesitantly.

Jody grunted a "yes".

"I'm Peter, wanted to know a bit about the Monet that just resurfaced. Heard you were the man to see."

"Some say that."

"Well, they wouldn't be saying it if it weren't true."

"Guess so."

"So? What do you have to offer?"

"I don't know, what do you?"

Peter rolled his eyes, and stuck his hand in his pocket. He pulled out a hundred dollar bill. Jody took it with sly finger and stuffed it into the front pocket of his coveralls.

"Yeah, I know a few things," he leaned back in his chair, "authentication finished just yesterday."

"But I thought the legitimacy was announced last week? How could they finalize the authentication yesterday?"

"Unless it wasn't a real authenticator who showed up at the museum."

The wheels were turning in Peter's brain, "You mean to tell me it was Keller who posed as an authenticator to get inside the museum?"

Jody shrugged cryptically, "Didn't say nothing of the kind, you did, friend."

Peter scoffed, finding his little ruse silly, "Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever," he took a breath, "that's brilliant. Keller probably wanted to see the painting for himself, to make sure it wasn't a trap. By posing as an authenticator he could get a look at the painting and scope the entire security systems and perimeter of the building. He cased the museum already!"

Jody was emotionless.

"Anything else you can tell me?" Burke pressed.

"I don't know," Jody shrugged, "Do I?"

Peter glared at the man, but pulled another hundred from his wallet.

He took it easily, "The person in question is planning to grab the painting tonight."

"Tonight?" Peter gawked.

Jody nodded.

"That's impossible! How could he do it so soon, he just finished casing the building yesterday!"

"Don't ask me, ask the guys who do it," Jody snorted, "that's all I've got to talk about, man, so I'd get lost before someone gets suspicious."

Peter looked at Jody one more time, trying to make sure he wasn't lying or hiding anything, but he seemed true. Burke thanked him and walked out of the office, buzzing with excitement and energy. For once, Mozzie was able to pull through on a decent lead! He would have to thank the little guy when he saw him again, but that was going to take every ounce of his patience and commitment.

Peter jogged to his car, knowing he had no time to lose now if Keller was attacking that night. He jumped into the driver's seat and glanced at his watch: 6:47 PM. He needed to get to the museum right away-

Ring! Ring!

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the buzzing of his cell phone. Peter fished it out of his bag and saw Jones' contact number on the screen.

"Jones!" Peter answered excitedly, "I've got a great new lead, you'll never believe-"

"Peter!"

Burke stopped cold.

"Jones?"

"Peter, you've got to get back here right now. Hughes' orders."

"Hughes? He gave me the day."

"It's urgent, someone stole the Monet."

Peter felt his heart drop, "W-what?" That wasn't supposed to happen yet.

"It's all over the news, it's crazy! Hughes is pissed!"

Peter's shoulders sagged, his courage deflated, "What? Why?'

"Because it's Caffrey."

"Caffrey?" Peter immediately straightened, "What about Caffrey?"

"It was him, Peter…." his agent said slowly, "Neal Caffrey stole the Monet."

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