Peter let Neal sleep; the kid deserved it. While he sat at the table, he picked up his phone. He flipped through his contacts until he made it to the 'M's. Looking at the number listed simply as 'Moz', he wondered if he should call again. Haversham must be freaking out about the 'Fed' calling him so much suddenly. Smiling, Peter made his decision, hitting the call button. The phone rang twice before being sent to voicemail.
"Hey, Moz, it's 'The Suit'. I'm calling about Neal." He ended the call. There was no reason to provide more information; Moz would either have to call him back or figure it out by himself. Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. Peter swore lightly, hoping the sound didn't wake his consultant. As he walked through the living room, he smiled when he saw Neal shift under the blanket but not wake. One crisis averted.
Opening the door, he wasn't as surprised as he should have been to see Moz. The shorter man looked especially frazzled, his clothing disheveled. He tried to push past Peter, but the agent held him back.
"What did you do with Neal, Suit?" Peter groaned. Of course Moz had overreacted. He should have seen this coming.
"Nothing, nothing. He's sleeping on the couch. Be quiet or you'll wake him." He let Moz in, watching as he walked silently through the living room, coming to stand within an arm's reach of the con. There were only a small number of people that could sneak up on Neal Caffrey like that. It made him smile to think he was one of the elite few. Peter motioned for Moz to follow him into the kitchen. Moz looked worried enough when they sat down that he took the glass of water he was offered and almost drank it. He gave Peter a disgusted look and pushed the glass away.
"No, thanks, Suit. What'd you do to Neal?" Peter rolled his eyes and sat down across from Moz. He folded his hands on the table where the anxious man could see them.
"It looks worse than it is, I think. He's got a broken nose and a concussion. But there's something else…" Moz frowned.
"Let me guess: he won't take his meds?" Peter smirked.
"I see this is a reoccurring problem."
"You could say that…How'd this happen? Isn't it your job to watch him?" The friendly tone that had come over their conversation fell away. Peter winced inwardly at the accusation. It was his job and he felt guilty that he hadn't been able to keep Neal safe. Even before El had said anything, he knew it could have ended up much worse.
"Someone pushed him and he bounced his face off the curb. It was the end of a long couple days, no one has been resting well. He probably would've reacted faster if he'd been more awake."
"So, you overwork him and leave him to get shoved around at crime scenes? Sounds like a great 'partnership' the two of you have going." Peter couldn't fault Moz for being angry; Neal was his friend too. If it had been Cruz or Jones who should have been watching Neal and something like this happened, he would have had their heads. As it were, he had Neal in his house for a full day, if not more. He felt that was a comparable punishment.
"It's not like I- No, never mind. The reason I called you was-"
"You wanted me to talk him into taking the meds." Moz finished, crossing his arms. Peter nodded. "Well, I'm not drugging him for your convenience, Suit. Just 'cause he's easier to watch that way doesn't mean-"
"No, no that's not it." Peter interrupted. "Moz, he's miserable. He wouldn't admit it for the world, but he is. His head is killing him and he won't take those damn pills. Why?" Moz let out a deep breath.
"Because he's scared he'll say something he'll regret."
"Like what?" Moz looked up pointedly.
"If I could read Neal Caffrey's mind, I'd be a millionaire. But, he's always been really guarded about his past, about his relationships. Who knows? I'll never forget the first time I drugged him, though…that was quite the day."
"What happened? Was it in Cyprus?" Moz furrowed his brow.
"What? No, I was never in Cyprus. I don't know what you know about Chicago-"
"Just that you took Neal in. He was a waiter."
"Yeah. He sure was a scrawny kid. Thought he was gonna blow away or something." Peter chuckled.
"Well, it's good to know some things don't change." Moz nodded in agreement.
"Anyways, after I took him in…" Moz paused to collect his thoughts, to decide what to trust Peter with and what was better left out. "After I took him in, he got sick. Really sick. I should've taken him to a doctor, but I wasn't really…well, we were…"
"I know." Peter said, eyes encouraging Neal's friend to continue.
"Anyway, I couldn't. He was so sick. I honestly thought he was going to die and I would have to figure out what to do with the body. I gave him a couple painkillers, to knock him out."
"But it didn't work"
"Oh, it worked. Eventually. But before that, he was scared. He wouldn't stop talking. He just kept apologizing to me about something."
"What was it?" Peter leaned forward. Moz simply shrugged.
"No idea." Peter suspected Moz knew a little more than he was letting on.
"Sure. Well, any ideas on getting our boy to take his pills now?" Moz looked at him and finally smiled.
"He'll take them if he needs them. You better hope he doesn't take them, 'cause if he does that means it's really bad. I've never known him to willingly take painkillers." A low moan from the other room filled the silence and both men turned towards the sound. They exchanged a glance before creeping into the living room. Neal was still on the sofa, though he'd rolled onto his back, an arm thrown over his eyes to block the light.
"Headache's getting worse." Peter whispered softly. Moz nodded and knelt down next to Neal.
"Hey, hey Neal." His voice was hardly audible, but Neal opened his eyes regardless.
"Moz?"
"None other. So, I heard you did a swan dive into a curb. How's that feel?"
"Feels exactly like that. Like I took a swan dive into a curb. Why're you here?"
"The Suit called me. He wants you to take your meds." Neal looked up at Peter, squinting slightly in the light.
"Oh, Peter, you worried about me. That's adorable." Moz smirked.
"Yeah, it's precious, now take your pills." Neal gave a subtle shake of the head.
"No, I don't need them. I'm fine."
"Neal, that's bull and we both know it. Nothing's going to happen if you take the damn pills." Peter smiled as he watched the conversation progress. Sometimes, Moz's methods could be misguided, but with regards to Neal, his intentions never were. He always looked out for him.
"Moz…I…I have a lot on my mind. I'd like to keep it there –and only there. I don't think those meds will help that." Moz rolled his eyes.
"Fine. You can try this act for a while. And Neal?" The thief looked up. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, man, but you look like hell." Neal gave a mock-cheery smile.
"Gee, thanks Mozzie. Love you too." Neal closed his eyes to go back to sleep, but Peter's voice distracted him.
"Why don't you eat something? Might make your head feel better." He suggested. Neal looked up at him, looking too drained to protest.
"Fine." He slid his legs off the couch and stood, almost falling backwards before his friends each grabbed an arm.
"Alright, we gotcha." Peter mumbled, letting Neal sink into his grip. Exchanging a look with Moz, Peter nodded before the two settled Neal onto the couch again. Neal closed his eyes for a long moment before turning those dulled blue eyes on his friends.
"I'm fine." Moz snorted.
"Sure you are." He retorted, just as Peter said
"Yeah, right." Neal groaned.
"I never thought I'd see the day you two were on the same side." Moz shrugged.
"Well, 'The Suit' has the right idea…for once." Peter rolled his eyes. At least that was better than nothing.
"Neal…" Peter began "Why don't you eat some lunch and then take your meds?" Neal gave Moz a pleading look but was met with a shake of the head.
"You should." Neal groaned. Leaning back into the couch, he pressed his hands over his eyes. He wasn't prepared to deal with both Moz and Peter at the same time.
"Fine. Just stop teaming up against me. It's weird." When Neal had been both fed and drugged, he fell asleep on the couch. Peter stayed in the kitchen, putting away the dishes from breakfast and tidying up after lunch. When he turned around, expecting to see Moz, he found himself alone. Puzzled, he made his way into the living room, smiling at the sight that met him.
Moz sat on one end of the couch, a pillow propped up against his leg. Sleeping on the pillow was Neal, looking at ease finally. Moz looked up and shrugged, not moving the hand that rested on the younger man's shoulder, heavy enough that its presence could be felt. Peter crossed the room to sit in the recliner, watching Neal carefully. All was silent until Neal let out a soft groan. Moz's hand moved from the con's shoulder to run over his hair, soothing him gently. Moz looked like he'd done this before.
"Does this happen often?" Peter asked softly, though Neal was sleeping soundly.
"Every once in a while." Moz looked down at Neal thoughtfully, running his hand over his hair again, a familiar action that smoothed the furrowed lines on his forehead. Peter had initially wondered at the relationship between the two con-men. He'd known that Moz had done a lot for Neal, protecting him and helping him. In the beginning, he'd wondered what Neal had contributed to the partnership. It was only after Neal became his partner that he knew; among his other talents, Neal was unflaggingly loyal. He would do anything for his friends. That alone was worth maintaining the partnership.
"How often is that?"
"Well, I don't exactly keep track. Though, I'm sure you've noticed Neal has this habit of getting himself into trouble." Peter nodded. He had noticed that. Neal murmured in his sleep and Moz frowned.
"What'd he say?" Peter leaned closer, trying to decipher the words.
"Something about…his dad." Moz looked confused. Peter groaned. Moz's curious look urged Peter to continue.
"We…talked about him earlier."
"How much did he tell you?"
"That he watched his dad get murdered." Peter's voice was dark, guilt welling up in his chest. Neal wouldn't have been thinking about that if he'd have just kept his mouth shut. Moz looked at the agent for a moment before turning his attention back to his friend, trying to keep him calm.
"He told you that?"
"Yeah…it took some time."
"He never told me." Moz was quiet now. Peter wasn't sure what to make of his tone. Was he upset that Neal hadn't told him? Or did he understand? "He said something that bad happened back home, that he couldn't go back. He had nightmares almost every night." Peter ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. "Eventually, they went away. Never told me what happened. And I never asked." The last comment was made with a pointed look at the federal agent.
"I wonder what happened before he left." Peter mused quietly. Moz didn't respond, instead watching his friend with a careful eye. Peter didn't miss the way Moz rubbed small circles on Neal's back, trying to calm him down, or the way the artist's fingers gripped the pillow, just barely making contact with Moz's leg. Peter knew he'd come a long way in earning Neal's trust but the sight reminded him that there was still more to earn.
"I wouldn't ask, if I were you, Suit. If he wants to tell you, he'll tell you." The pair let Neal sleep, trying to find something on day-time TV worth watching. They were an unlikely duo, united by their concerns for the sleeping con artist. Finally, the con in question woke up again.
"No one's in handcuffs, are they?" Peter looked over quickly, though Moz appeared to have been aware of Neal growing more conscience over the last few minutes.
"Not yet. You didn't steal anything, did you?" He teased. Neal sat up slowly, running his hand over his face.
"Nope. Maybe I should steal some of your hideous ties and destroy them." Peter pretended to scowl at the con before he smiled.
"You feeling any better, Caffrey?" Neal smiled sheepishly.
"Yea…" He sounded out of it. Peter looked closer, noting the glassy look in his partner's eyes with some degree of amusement. Neal was stoned. "Did you get new walls, Peter?" He asked suddenly.
"What?"
"Walls. Did you get new ones?" He looked at Peter earnestly.
"No. Why're you asking?"
"They look…different. They're pretty. They glow." Moz snorted.
"Why don't you go to sleep?" He suggested to his long-time friend. "I think the walls will look normal when you wake up."
"But, I'm not tired."
"Just close your eyes and watch the pretty lights for a while." Peter covered his mouth to hide his smile. Seeing Neal like this made him wonder why it had taken so long to catch him. He was so much like a kid sometimes, almost as if he was living the childhood that had been cut short. Peter paused at the thought; maybe that was it. He looked at Neal again, watching as the con laid his head down again on Moz's leg. This time, under the influence of his pain killers, he grabbed blindly for his friend's hand. Moz looked over at Peter and rolled his eyes but didn't dare pull his hand away. Peter thought Neal was lucky to have a friend like Moz. He also thought how he and Moz were lucky to have a friend like Neal.
It was almost four in the afternoon when Neal woke up again. An hour or so earlier, Moz had gotten his hand out of Neal's. Now, the young man sat up, looking around the room.
"Why are you both looking at me like that? What did I do?" Neal ran a hand over his hair to smooth it back into place.
"You talked about my walls." Peter replied. Neal groaned and covered his face, sinking back into the couch.
"And you said they glowed." Moz continued. Neal shot him a dirty look.
"I think I liked it better when you two didn't get along." He grumbled. Looking at Peter he asked: "Can I go take a shower?" When the agent nodded, Neal rose and ascended the stairs slowly, trying to keep himself steady. Moz stood once Neal was out of sight.
"Well, as fun as it's been, I need to get away from the house of Mr. and Mrs. Suit. I have to wash the Bureaucracy off now." Peter nodded, chuckling as he walked Moz to the door.
"Thanks for getting him to take the meds." Moz nodded, lowering his voice when he spoke.
"You're welcome, but I did it for him. Just remember, no matter how much Neal likes you, you're still a Fed. I'm not going to trust you." Peter nodded.
"I didn't expect you to."
"But…" Moz looked side-to-side, as though checking to see if anyone was close by. "Neal trusts you. I hope he isn't wrong for doing it." Moz left before Peter could reply, which was just as well; he didn't know what he would say.
Sitting back in his chair, he watched the TV as he thought. He had never expected to earn Moz's trust. He was just glad that he helped him with Neal sometimes. The younger man took both of their combined efforts to keep on a desirable track. The fact that Moz and Peter could agree on a desirable path was testament to how far Neal could be blown off course at times. Of course, the con had been good lately. The agent thought back to what Moz had said, about Neal trusting him, and smiled. He'd worked hard for that trust. It had taken even longer for him to trust Neal, though. It had been a while before he viewed Neal as a friend first, instead of a criminal.
Upstairs, Neal stood in the hot spray of the shower, trying to clear of his mind. He should have known better than to take those painkillers, but Moz and Peter working together were particularly effective. He smirked when he thought about how funny it was; the straight-laced federal agent and the conman working together. Turning off the water and grabbing a towel, he sat on the edge of the tub for a while. He was tired. The pills were starting to wear off and he could feel the familiar throbbing return to his lip and nose. After a moment, he stood, dressing without looking in the mirror. He did not want to see his face. It would be easier to forget this whole ordeal that way.
Going downstairs, he sat cross-legged on the couch, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the cushions, letting his weary muscles relax. He's very nearly asleep when Peter speaks, voice jerking him awake.
"Feeling better?" Neal looked up at Peter and nodded. "Good, that's good. So…" Neal couldn't help but smile. Peter clearly had a question for him but he was trying to not sound like he was interrogating him this time. Neal appreciated the effort.
"So, what?"
"I was just wondering…" Peter leaned forward in his seat, deciding to disregard some of Moz's advice. "What happened that made you leave home for good?" Neal swallowed hard. Of all the questions he'd expected, this had not been on the list. "I mean, your dad had been dead for six years at that point." Peter winced at his own statement. Did he really sound that insensitive? Oh, boy. "I mean-"
"I know what you mean." Neal interjected quickly, sparing Peter the pain of trying to rephrase his thoughts. "I left because…because I couldn't take it anymore."
"Couldn't take what?" Peter's voice was softer this time, a look of concern falling over his face.
"Sam. I told him I knew what he did, told him I'd seen it." Neal's voice dropped to a haunted whisper. "He wanted me dead. He tried to off me a few times, I think. I was scared. Then, one night when I was driving home from something, he ran me off the road. I broke a couple ribs, sprained my wrist. That night I went home, grabbed all my money and a bag and left."
"Just like that? Without looking back?" Neal nodded.
"Just like that." He confirmed, hanging his head until his chin rested on his chest.
"What about your mom? She must have been worried." Neal shrugged, suddenly looking like a lost child. The sight made Peter's chest tighten uncomfortably.
"She'd found a new husband by then. She was…happy. Really, really happy."
"Did you leave a note or something?" Neal shook his head. "Why not?" Again, the conman shrugged.
"I just didn't. I thought she'd be happier without me. I look a lot like my dad." He offered as an explanation. Peter sighed.
"That doesn't mean she wouldn't miss you. Did you ever try to find her again?" Now, Neal looked completely vulnerable, like a vase held together with school glue. Any second now, Peter feared that the fractures would break open and the consultant would fall apart.
"I couldn't. She moved a few times, I think. No one knew where she was. I cou-couldn't find her." Peter would have made a joke about disappearing running in the family, but the way Neal stuttered was telling; he'd never heard Neal falter in his speech before. Suddenly, Peter spoke before thinking.
"Let me help you find her." Neal's head jerked up to look at him, trying to read his face.
"You'd do that?" Peter smiled
"Of course I would. Wouldn't you?" He knew Neal would go to the ends of the world and back, if he asked him to. Peter thought it was time to return the favor. After all, he'd found Neal Caffrey. Anyone else should be a piece of cake. Neal nodded, looking away for a moment to compose himself before meeting his partner's eyes again.
"What if she doesn't…?" He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't voice his fears. What if she didn't want to hear from him again? What if she didn't want him in her new life? What if she didn't love him anymore? Peter knew what Neal was thinking, sensing the unsaid concerns.
"She will. Mothers always will." Neal nodded and looked away, running his hand across his face. Peter sighed. Neal just looked so damn young sometimes.
Finally, Neal met Peter's gaze again, blue eyes shining. Peter smiled, knowing that, despite all the bravado, the magic tricks, the misdirection, Neal Caffrey had a sensitive soul, an artist's soul. He was a study of contradictions; deceptive yet loyal, naïve yet brilliant. Sensitive yet resilient.
"Thanks Peter. I hope you're up for the challenge, though. My mother is not an easy lady to find. How do you think I got to be so good? My dad couldn't even hide Christmas presents." A teasing smile tugged at his lips and Peter laughed despite himself, wondering what, exactly, he had gotten himself into.