HOW FAR

Summary: "He did have that plane ready awfully fast…" When faced with life's greatest trials, what would you do for a friend? Peter, Neal, Mozzie, Diana and Hughes must find their own answers to this question as the knowledge of the U-Boat treasure surviving the fire comes to light. AU to On Guard, earlier posted on collarkink as a response to a prompt.

A/N: The story has been beta'ed by November Leaving.

To xpflile: I can't PM you because you're anonymous, so I'm putting it here: thank you for your review and critics! It was well-thought, polite and intelligent, and I wish everyone there would reply in such a dignified manner if they want to point out the weaknesses of a story – because it is possible to be critical without being cruel. As for Neal – I'll let this chapter (and the following ones) speak for itself. In short: I think Neal had made some mistakes, but also that he was put into an almost impossible situation. Anyway, I hope you'll like this chapter and keep reading, but even if you don't, I'm glad that you've let me know your opinion.

To everyone who's reading - please, enjoy!

CHAPTER 4

When Mozzie gets the call from an unknown number, he's in Sunday, enjoying a nice cup of mint tea after he just finished meditating – and Mozzie's cup of tea in Sunday is one of these sacred things that should never be interrupted.

At first, he ignores the call. However, when the same number calls him on his other phone, and then won't give up, he decides to find out who it is.

"This is New York's City Sewage treatment plants and Waterworks – "

"Cut the crap, Moz," comes Neal's sharp answer. "I'm calling from Diana's phone."

That's when Mozzie realizes something is badly wrong. And soon enough, he discovers what exactly what it is.

"The Suit knows about the treasure? Are you sure? How did he find out?"

"Adler, the painting scrap, the plane… he put it all together, and he pulled my tracking data from the day when you left me the note. It's only a matter of time before he gets a real warrant to go there."

Oh no.

"So he knows where the treasure is. Neal, we have to move it –"

"It's too late for that, Moz. Look, I need to know the details of how you pulled off the heist."

"Why?" asks Mozzie.

"Doesn't matter. Just tell me."

"Okay…" says Mozzie with a frown.

"Fine. All right. This could work," says Neal when Mozzie finishes his explanation. "Okay, is there anything at the warehouse that can be traced back to you?"

"Of course not," answers Mozzie immediately. "I'm not that stupid. What are you thinking?"

"I can keep you out of this," says Neal decisively. "I'll take the fall for my part in the heist – but I can make sure you don't get in trouble. Do you have an alibi for the time of the theft?"

"What?" asks Mozzie in shock. "Neal, whatever stupid plan you have – "

"Moz, I'm going down for this," says Neal, his voice sounding brittle. "The only thing I can hope for now is to guarantee I'm the only one."

"That's a load of crap," says Mozzie in agitation. "You're letting them mess with your head. Don't listen to them! Whatever you think they have on you –"

"Criminal possession of stolen property," interrupts Neal flatly. "Plus attempting to escape custody and maybe evidence tampering or whatever they classify the gallery thing as. There's no way out of that. I'm going back for this."

Mozzie's feeling of dread increases. "Neal, listen to me –"

"No, you listen, Moz!" snaps Neal. "We got caught. It's done. My deal is over. My whole team hates me now, or they will once they learn the truth. Once they realize I've called you, they'll be at the warehouse in minutes." He takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Look, it's not… I can handle a few years, okay? If I do this right, I'll go back for two or three years and then walk out with an almost clean slate. But if this all goes really wrong…" Neal swallows. "Moz, if this goes real bad, I – I can't do decades." Can't be locked up for life, hears Mozzie the unspoken words. "So if this really goes to hell, I may need someone on the outside to help me once I get out. And there's no one I'd trust more with that than you."

"Now wait a moment," says Moz resolutely. "Are you really saying what I think you're saying? Because in that case, I highly, absolutely disapprove. And I want my protest to be noted –"

"Done. Now, do you have an alibi for the night of the theft?"

"Neal, are you listening to me?"

"Moz, do you have an alibi or not?"

"Maybe," says Mozzie evasively. "Forget about me, let's focus on you. What the hell are you planning?" he asks slowly.

There's a deep sigh. "Peter didn't report any of his findings yet," says Neal. "He's giving me the chance to confess. I'm gonna take it."

"What?" exclaims Mozzie. "Neal, are you totally crazy?"

"A confession will earn me some brownie points with Peter and the court. It's my best shot to stop this madness before it gets even worse. Now, do you have an alibi?"

"No, no, no, no, no – you're not doing that!" Still holding the cellphone by his ear, Mozzie gets up and starts buttoning up his shirt with his free hand. "We can find a way out of this. But you're not talking to the feds –"

"Look, I don't have time for this," says Neal impatiently. "Just get rid of anything incriminating AND get the damn alibi!"

"You really think that I'm going to let you do that?" says Mozzie in indignation. "I pulled the heist – I'm not letting you take the fall for the whole damn thing! Neal, are you here? … Neal!"

Then he realizes that their call has been disconnected.

"Neal, what have you gotten yourself into?" asks Mozzie rhetorically even as he hurries to put on his shoes and practically runs out of Sunday, to save the hide of his foolish friend.

About twenty minutes later, he arrives at the FBI office and learns about Neal's confession.

"I'd like to speak with my client," he says forcefully, and soon enough, the FBI agent that Neal just spoke to says that they'll find them some private place.

However, deep down, Mozzie fears that if Neal has told them too much, it might already be too late.

o – o – o

Things happen fast after Mozzie interrupts Neal's interview. Jones is called to take care of Neal and Mozzie, and unless Neal decides that he wants to share more information, he is told to leave him in a holding cell afterwards. Diana gets the task of calling a judge for a warrant to the warehouse, and Peter is invited into Hughes's office to a private talk about the happenings in the office of the past five days.

When they're finally alone, Neal and Mozzie share a brief hug before they sit down.

"Neal, are you okay?" asks Mozzie worriedly.

Neal shakes his head: "Moz, what the hell are you doing here? Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that we've got a really big problem. The whole thing is blown. Besides, the way you talked to me over the phone…"

"Moz –"

"Neal, I pulled you into this –"

"And I happily followed," interrupts Neal. "You didn't force me to do anything I didn't want to do myself."

"I was careless," says Mozzie. "This is my fault. I never should have used your paintings."

"And I should have thought of a better plan to replace the Chrysler painting – one without me captured on the security footage," says Neal with a sigh. "We can have a long exercise in assigning blame, but I don't think that's really gonna help us at this point."

"How are you holding up?" asks Mozzie quietly.

"I've been better," says Neal in what should have probably been a light tone – but it comes out much grimmer than he intended. "Well, you can imagine how things went here. I've already told you before that Peter's livid. The only difference is that now Diana wants my guts on a platter and I've managed to piss off Hughes."

"What did you tell them?" asks Mozzie urgently.

"Nothing about you," says Neal impatiently. "Does it really matter now?"

"Neal, you need to focus," says Mozzie. "We can get out of this –"

"No, Moz, we can't," exclaims Neal in frustration. "I told you. Look, this is bad enough with just me involved. But if Sara confirms my story and tells them that I spent most of the night of the theft with her, I can keep your name out of this, and they hopefully won't blame me for the theft –"

"Wow, slow down!" Mozzie raises his hands in a placating gesture. "You're not really thinking of taking the fall for all of this, are you? I hoped that was some sort of a really stupid joke over the phone."

"Mozzie, I gave Hughes the address to the warehouse," says Neal calmly.

"What? Why –"

"Peter already knew where it was," says Neal. "I'm sure he would have obtained a search warrant anyway. I just made it easier for them."

"Yes – and tied yourself to the stolen things," raises his voice Mozzie. "What exactly did you tell, and to whom?"

Neal runs a hand through his hair. "Okay… I told Hughes a very vague story of the actual theft, about my paintings being used and then about replacing the scraps. I didn't tell him about the plane, but Peter suspects that we were ready to run – and I don't know if he'll keep it to himself or not." He makes a pause. "I also told Peter I didn't steal the art, that I only knew where it was, but he didn't believe me."

Mozzie frowns. "Why did you talk to Peter in first place when he accused you?"

"What?"

Mozzie raises his hands in frustration. "I hate to break this to you, but Peter's a fed, Neal. You can't just… tell him that you had something to do with a heist like this. What the hell were you thinking?"

"So what should have I done when Peter accused me?" asks Neal bitterly.

"What any self-respecting conman would have done – look straight into his eyes and deny it all, of course!" exclaims Mozzie exasperatedly. "Or at least you could have kept your mouth shut." When Neal is ready to protest, Mozzie raises his hands again: "Neal, everything he had was circumstantial! So what if your tracking data showed you at the warehouse four days ago? The art could have been moved there later. And he might have you on tape entering and leaving the gallery, but there's no proof that you replaced the paintings. There was no real evidence!"

"You're right, I should have realized that. How did I miss that? Well, it might have something to do with the fact that it's a little hard to think of that when you have a pissed off FBI agent accusing you of Grand Larceny!" replies Neal sarcastically.

"They've accused you of things before," says Mozzie with a shrug. "You never had a problem with lying about them."

"Yeah, but Peter wasn't my friend then," says Neal tiredly.

"Oh. So this is about Peter?"

"I don't know, Moz," says Neal helplessly. "I don't know. I panicked. It's always easy to have these great ideas afterwards when everything went to hell. Peter was just so angry and disappointed, and…"

"And what?" asks Mozzie quietly when Neal's voice trails off.

"And it got to me!" He runs both his hands through his hair and starts pacing. "I couldn't lie to him, Moz. Maybe I should have – but I couldn't do it. I couldn't."

"Oh."

There is a long pause.

"It appears that we have a problem, then," says Mozzie at last.

"Oh, really?" says Neal with a bitter chuckle.

Mozzie ignored him.

"Neal, I need to know. Is it just the Suit… or do you want out of the game?"

"What?" asks Neal in shock. "Why? Where did that come from?"

"Because I detected your lack of enthusiasm for leaving? Or maybe because you gave yourself away when you could have kept your story," says Mozzie. "You, Neal Caffrey, who have talked your way out of about twenty other crimes in front of a jury, couldn't for some weird reason con one man. So, do you want out? I think it's a fair question."

Silence.

"Look, I don't think that matters now."

"Neal, I need you to give me an answer," says Mozzie firmly.

"I don't know, Moz," says Neal at last. "Okay? Yesterday, I thought I was ready to take my things and run. Now…"

He swallows.

"Look, I have a contingency plan," says Mozzie quietly. "If you want to leave, just say the word. I can set it up. We'll lay low for a month or two – I know just the place. And then we can skip the country and settle down elsewhere."

"Thank you Moz, but…" Neal runs a hand through his hair. "If I run now, on top of the treasure thing, I'll have to run forever. I'll never be able to come back. If there is even a small chance that…" He hesitates. "I need to see this one through," he says at last.

"Do you realize how badly this can turn out even if they believe you that you didn't steal the treasure?" asks Mozzie boldly. "Before your spontaneous surge of honesty, the only thing they had was trespassing and maybe parole violation, but because you had to speak to them –"

"Mozzie – enough," says Neal tiredly. "I knew what I was doing, and I understand the consequences."

"Fine," says Mozzie slowly.

"Besides," says Neal after a while, "once it was proved that the treasure existed, the rest of the things would have just fallen into place – starting with the mysterious burned painting scrap from a treasure that didn't burn."

"Oh."

"Oh. Exactly."

"I didn't think of that," admits Mozzie honestly. "But the Suit would have still needed a warrant –"

"– which he might have or might have not gotten," concedes Neal with a nod. "It's a moot point now anyway. Let's work with what we have. Have you covered your tracks well enough for the actual theft?"

"Somewhat," admits Mozzie. "Enough that they would need some good evidence to disprove it."

"Okay," says Neal softly. "So, if I tell them the whole story except for your name, they won't be able to confirm your involvement?"

"No," says Mozzie. "Except for the matter that I was with you at the gallery. Oh, and don't forget that I set up the plane for us to leave!"

"Set it up through who?"

"Garnett," says Mozzie. "He won't talk."

"Good," says Neal. "Then I can make the confession."

"That's a really horrible idea," says Mozzie forcefully. "And why are you so hell-bent on making a confession anyway? Because it definitely won't help your case."

Neal shrugs in answer.

"Neal," says Mozzie insistently. "Why would you want to do something so stupid?"

"It's my choice, Moz," says Neal a bit sharply. "Is it so hard for you to understand that I might choose not to be a con for once?"

"This isn't about your legal standing at all," says Mozzie in sudden understanding. "You're not really trying to get out of the mess; you want to make a point. You're doing this to prove yourself to the Suit."

Instead of answering, Neal stubbornly stares at the wall about a foot next to Mozzie's head.

"Is that it?" asks Mozzie persistently. "Is that some mad attempt to show Peter that you're someone else than who you really are? Because it won't work, you know. You can play the model citizen role for a while, but deep down, you're still the same man who walked out of Musée d'Orsay with a Monet in plain daylight – and don't deny that you enjoyed it. It's who we are, Neal. There's nothing wrong with that. You're one of the best conmen of this century; be proud of yourself! … So if you want to confess because you're trying to prove otherwise –"

"And what if!" snaps Neal suddenly. "What if I really want to be more than a felon and liar! Is that so hard for you to understand that?"

A pause.

"Do you look down at me because I'm a conman and thief?" asks Mozzie boldly.

"What? No, of course not!" answers Neal immediately.

"Good. Then what's the difference?" asks Mozzie softly. "What's going through that head of yours? Because I really don't understand it."

Neal drops his head into his hands. "I don't know, Moz," he admits quietly. "I don't know. I just – I want to do the right thing, okay? I want this to stop. I don't want to run anymore."

"Are you thinking about the white picket fence?" asks Mozzie curiously. "You know, put down roots, settle down here..."

"Maybe," admits Neal wistfully. "This job, with the FBI – it wasn't so bad. I could still do what I'm the best at, and as long as I didn't cross certain lines, I didn't have to fear finding the cops at my doorstep. If not for the anklet and the paperwork, it would be almost –"

"A dream coming true?" suggests Mozzie sarcastically.

"Maybe," says Neal softly. And in shock, Mozzie realizes that his friend means it.

Silence.

"So, when I shared the treasure with you – "

"It was the score of a lifetime," admits Neal. "A different dream; the embodiment of my old life; the beauty, the wealth, the excitement, the rush and addiction of a con…"

"Yeah, I get it," says Mozzie. "So, what's the problem?"

"Except for the felony charges currently hanging over my head?" says Neal with a sarcastic chuckle. "The two dreams might not mix, Moz."

"And if you had to choose… which dream do you like more?" asks Mozzie cautiously.

Neal hesitates. "I don't know," he says evasively at last – but Mozzie gets the feeling that he's lying. And that truly gives him a pause.

If Neal wanted the old dream, he could tell him. That means that he values this life – a life on a leash – more than what Mozzie offered him, more than the treasure. And Mozzie put him in a position where he could lose it if he didn't tattle on him.

He feels hurt than Neal would want this life more than their old dream of the heist of the century and the Mediterranean island – but more than that, he feels guilty.

"I thought you were still in prison here," he says and motions to Neal's anklet.

"Maybe… but it wouldn't have been forever. About two and half more years, and I would have been a free man."

"How... how badly you want this life?" asks Mozzie quietly.

Neal swallows and looks away, but he doesn't answer. The mood in the room suddenly feels even heavier.

Then Neal looks back at Mozzie with a bright smile. "Well, Mr. Haversham, you're my attorney. So, do you have some advice for me?"

Neal's light tone doesn't fool Mozzie in the slightest. He realizes that he has never seen Neal fail so badly at conning someone before. That alone answers any other questions that he might have.

"I have a few ideas," he says at last. "I'm not yet sure which one is the best."

"Care to share them with me?" asks Neal.

"No," says Mozzie bluntly. "The less you know now, the better. But don't make any more confessions, alright? At least not until tomorrow noon. If I don't have a solution by then, then by all means, feel free to do as you want."

"You're asking me to wait," asks Neal for clarification.

"That's right."

"Okay," says Neal after a pause. "Okay, I can do that."

He lets out a deep sigh, rests his elbows at his knees and buries his face in his hands.

Mozzie lays a hand at his shoulder.

"It will be fine," he says awkwardly.

"No, it won't," says Neal and looks up. "But thanks for saying that."

"I'm sorry," says Mozzie.

Neal shrugs. "It's not your fault."

But maybe it is.

"I have to go," says Mozzie.

"I understand."

"Goodbye, Neal," says Mozzie.

"Bye, Moz."

And with that, Mozzie walks out of the door, leaving Neal alone for Jones to pick up.

It feels wrong, leaving Neal here to be locked up in an FBI holding cell. But Mozzie knows that this round is now up to Neal alone.

He has his own cards to play.

As always, reviews are highly appreciated. Also, thank everyone who added the story to thein Favorite/Alert list.

Five more chapters to follow!