A/N: Ahhhh. I feel so bad that this took so long to get up. I don't even really have a good excuse, since I already have most of it written... But I am really sorry. I'll try to be better! Thanks for all your reviews last chapter, I'm going to try to reply to them. Enjoy this one! I'm not sure how IC Peter is, I tried. I'd love feedback on him.
Neal smiled back at El, a little tiredly. "Hi," he said. He stepped inside the doorway and closed it behind him. They stepped around the corner and Neal's eyes immediately locked with Peter's. The conman halted, cowed by the slightly foreign emotions there. He suddenly felt like a boy who'd been caught cheating on a test by a particularly strict teacher.
Neal smiled for appearances' sake. "Morning, Peter. How're you feeling?"
"Fine," Peter said. Neal winced mentally at the Agent's voice; it sounded like his throat hurt or something unpleasant like that. Neal hated being sick. Peter stood slowly and rested a hand on El's arm with a slight smile for her, then turned back to Neal. "Will you come help me with dishes?" He requested in a tone that left no room for argument
El looked concerned. "Oh, Peter, you don-"
"It's fine, Elizabeth," Neal said charmingly. "I don't mind." Elizabeth nodded slowly and Neal slowly followed Peter into the kitchen. The agent turned on the sink and started filling it up with hot water. There was a moment of silence, the kitchen echoing slightly with the running water, then Peter turned to Neal. His gaze was hard and questioning and serious.
"Why did you agree to do this?" The man asked flatly.
"Why did I agree?" Neal repeated with a faint air of incredulity, still in an even tone. "I have to, and you know that."
The brown eyes narrowed. "You know what I meant. Why did you agree to do this with Elizabeth?"
"Because... she wanted to," Neal said. "And because she knows we need her for this. You read the file, Peter, you know we can't do it without her." His gaze found Peter's for a moment, entreating the agent to understand.
"Do you know how much danger you're be putting her in?" Peter asked frostily, ignoring the silent plea.
Neal let out a short, tight breath. No, Peter wasn't feeling well, as evidenced by the hoarse voice and tired eyes, and this whole thing likely bothering him very much; but regardless of that, Neal still didn't enjoy being treated this way. Every doubt Peter expressed, Neal had already considered and beat himself up over. He didn't need to repeat that process.
"That was the first thing that went through my mind, actually," the conman said with a heavy shrug. "Jones says that there's little to no risk."
"There's always the margin for error," Peter said. The agent became even more serious, if that was possible. "If you let her get hurt, it's the end for us. Permanently. Understand, Caffrey?" There was a slight menace behind the words that Neal had witnessed before, but never had it been directed toward him. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as the statement hung in the air.
Neal's hands were tight at his sides, eyes downcast. "I understand, Agent Burke," he said forcedly, unable to keep a hint of chill and hurt from his voice this time. He turned to leave the kitchen and took one moment to shake out his tense shoulders before exiting through the glass door.
"Neal?" Elizabeth stood a few feet away, eyebrows lifted in concern. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Neal said with a fairly convincing smile. She gently touched his shoulder and he smiled again. "I have to go, but I'll see you later."
"A-alright," Elizabeth agreed, her eyes going from Neal to the slightly swinging kitchen door that concealed Peter. "Bye, Neal."
"Goodbye, Elizabeth." Neal walked out of the house, letting the door close behind him roughly.
xxxxx
Mozzie was sitting on Neal's couch, drinking a small glass of wine and poring over a file that wasn't quite legally acquired.
The door to the loft opened and closed rather hard and Mozzie tapped a phone on the table next to him, not looking up. "You left your phone here, Neal, I couldn't get ahold of you."
"Sorry." The word came out in a quiet, flat tone. There was the sound of a chair scraping back and then forward.
Mozzie looked up, pushing his glasses back into place and blinking concernedly. Neal was sitting at the table with his head in his arms, fedora next to him on its side.
Mozzie got up and stood next to the young man. Neal's shoulders tensed defensively. "What happened?" Mozzie asked. "I haven't heard from you since you told me you were going with Elizabeth to the party." For a brief moment, Mozzie pondered his own statement. Although it no longer felt strange, he would've never thought he would know the wife of an FBI agent on a first-name basis. Or the FBI agent himself, for that matter.
Neal sighed and Mozzie's attention was directed back to him. "It's hard to explain," he said, the words slightly muffled by his arms. He sounded tired and there was a hint of upset peeking through behind it. Which meant there was a lot more really there; normally Neal kept all hints of his true feelings out his voice. Mozzie'd learned that.
"Try me," Mozzie said, pulling up a chair next to Neal and resting one hand on the table. It took a few more moments of silence before Neal finally lifted his head and began to explain. Mozzie listened quietly and nodded slowly once Neal repeated how Elizabeth had called him over.
"Peter... Peter disagreed with all this. And I came back here." Neal's slightly shaky voice revealed how much this was bothering him.
"When you say disagreed," Mozzie said slowly, leaving the end of the sentence open for Neal to complete it. Neal just shook his head slightly, not speaking. Mozzie let out a breath.
"I'm sorry, man," he said. He hesitated for a moment, hand hovering in the air, then gently laid it on Neal's shoulder; a sentimental gesture, he decided, but a necessary one. The conman flinched slightly, then let it rest there.
"Thanks, Moz," Neal said softly. He stood up and smoothed down his suit, putting a mask back on. "I think I'm going to go in and see if Jones needs any help with paperwork. He looked pretty swamped."
Mozzie raised an eyebrow. "Neal Caffrey voluntarily going to do paperwork on a Sunday? In the FBI offices, no less? I never thought I'd see this day."
Neal shrugged with a fairly convincing smile that Mozzie knew was fake. "Just doing my civil duty."
Mozzie snorted loudly. "Right. Well, good luck. I'll see you later, if you make it."
"Alright." Neal stepped over to the door. "Bye, Moz." He gave Mozzie a flashy grin before disappearing down the staircase. Moz hummed tunelessly under his breath, rather troubled.
A thought popped into his mind and he quashed it, but it returned quickly.
No, he told himself. But somehow he found himself picking up his baseball cap and moving down toward the front door. This is a bad idea, he persisted, but that one pesky part of his mind wouldn't listen. Unfortunately, that part of his mind seemed to currently control both his feet and his wallet. Before he knew it, he was in a cab and then back out again. Still with that almost involuntary feeling, he walked up the front steps and stood on the porch.
For a moment, he debated internally about simply leaving. But his hand managed to collide with the doorbell and he resisted the urge to jump at the chime. After a moment Elizabeth Burke answered the door, looking a little bit confused, her eyes holding lingering upset that was not directed at him.
"Hi, Mozzie?" Her voice tilted up as a question.
"Elizabeth." He inclined his head slightly with a faint smile.
The brunette smiled back. "How are you?"
"How is one ever?" Mozzie replied rhetorically. He resisted the urge to shake his head. That didn't even make sense to him. He was losing it.
With a slightly awkward cough, he blinked. "How are you? Neal told me about the assignment, I wondered how you were doing."
"That's sweet of you," she said. "I'm fine, really." Mozzie mentally rolled his eyes. She wasn't fine, really. He'd dealt with more experienced liars than her. With a sudden jolt, El suddenly looked sheepish.
"I'm sorry, Moz, won't you come in?" She asked apologetically.
"...sure." Mozzie stepped over the threshold with only slight hesitance. El closed the front door and turned back to him.
"So, uhm..." Elizabeth let out a breath. "What else did Neal tell you? He left here looking... not himself, but Peter wouldn't say what happened."
"He wouldn't say anything other than that Peter disagreed with this." Mozzie shrugged stiffly. "But I got the feeling he was upset."
Elizabeth sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I need to apologize to Neal, too." Her eyes shone slightly and she looked up at the ceiling, blinking. "Peter doesn't normally do that sort of thing. Argue like that, I mean. But... he's under a lot of stress, I guess, and-" her voice broke off and Mozzie patted her arm slightly. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Very sentimental.
"It isn't your fault," he said matter-of-factly. "And I don't think Neal's really mad at the Suit. Just..." Mozzie shrugged. "Hurt."
"Yeah," Elizabeth said, recovering her composure. She gave Mozzie a grateful smile. "Thanks, Mozzie. You're a good friend."
Mozzie paused at the words, foreign for the most part except on some occasions with Neal. They didn't really need to say it anymore for the other to know. But Mozzie nodded, shrugging again. "You're welcome, Mrs. Suit," he said with the barest hint of teasing in his voice. She nodded.
The sound of footfalls in the kitchen drew their attention there and Peter came out. He stopped, looking between El and Mozzie. Mozzie's gaze was flat as he met the brown eyes.
"Can I talk to you for a minute, Suit?" He requested rather civilly.
"Yes." Peter's answer was given in the same tone and they stepped into the kitchen. Elizabeth cast a glance after them, and Mozzie caught a hint of worry and slight exasperation in her eyes.
"What brings you here?" Peter asked.
"You know what." Mozzie crossed his arms. "Neal."
"What about him?"
Something inside Mozzie snapped. "Don't play games with me, Suit. You said something to him, I'm not sure what, but it did something to him." His voice was quiet but accusing. "What was it?"
Peter looked down at the bald man and Mozzie didn't blink. Peter hesitated, then started to speak, but Mozzie interrupted him.
"You know, it doesn't matter what you said. Whatever it was, you had no right. You owe him an apology. A big one. He's really trying to do the right thing here- for you, I might add- and you're threatening him for it." The threatening part was really a guess, but Peter's slight flinch at the word told Mozzie he'd been correct. His gaze darkened.
"Think about that, Suit." Mozzie turned around and left the kitchen.
"If you want to come over to June's later, El, I'm sure she'd be glad to have you," Mozzie said. "Good luck."
"Thank you," Elizabeth said slowly, frowning in concern as she looked at the still-swinging kitchen door.
"I should get going," Moz said. "But it was nice to see you."
"Nice seeing you, too," she replied. And then he was gone, back out into the street. In the empty front room, Elizabeth heaved a sigh and turned to go talk to her husband.
