Sorry about the delay: what kind I say? Life. Regardless, thank you for all the reviews and follows. I hope you will still enjoy this story.
Finding What's Lost Chapter 7
Peter could not believe his luck. If El was right, Mozzie was twenty feet ahead of him, and hopefully, he wouldn't disappear before he could reach him! His instincts in this situation told him to call out to Mozzie to stop him, but he knew the con's instincts would be to run. Honestly, he was surprised that the shorter man hadn't tried to lose him yet. If it was Moz, he knew the man would be paranoid and might actually catch on to the fact that he was being followed.
Almost as if he could hear Peter's thoughts, Mozzie turned down an alleyway abruptly. Peter followed and luckily, Moz hadn't disappeared. He was standing outside an unmarked door, knocking on it softly. Peter heard a muffled voice from the other side say something, but before Moz could utter any kind of password, he called out, "Mozzie!"
Obviously shocked, Moz turned around, confirming his identity. "Suit!" he exclaimed.
Peter watched as the conman looked around frantically. It was obvious he was looking for an escape plan. "Please!" he yelled. "Don't leave!" He ran to him as the other backed up and grabbed his arm to stop him from running. "Is he here?" Peter looked at the door hopefully.
Moz paused and visibly made himself relax: he rolled his shoulders back forcibly and then slouched as he let out a loud breath. "Who?" he asked calmly.
Peter pressed his lips together firmly and stared him down. He knew now that Mozzie had no intention of telling him what he wanted to know. "You know who," he answered. He glanced back at the door. "I was hoping I could reveal my presence to you and we could walk in there together to greet Neal, but if you're going to make this difficult, I'll do the same. Either way, I'm going in there."
"He's not inside, Suit," Mozzie said calmly. "As a matter of fact, he's not..."
Peter knew the shorter man was about to claim that Neal was dead, and it annoyed him immensely. "Mozzie, you know as well as I do that you helped me find Neal's storage shed. You left the wine bottle for me to find before you left New York. Neal and you obviously wanted me to know he's still alive, so stop playing games and help me find him."
The two stared at each other for several long seconds before Moz sighed and replied, "He really isn't here." He gestured towards the door. "This is...a friend's establishment."
"A friend?" Peter looked suspicious.
Moz spread his arms out wide and corrected, "Fine, an acquaintance, a colleague."
Peter didn't acknowledge his words. He just stared back towards the street and then back at him. He raised his eyes wide and asked authoritatively, "Where is he, Mozzie?"
=)=)=)
The rain was pouring down in large sheets. Every few minutes, it seemed like they might receive a reprieve from it, but then it would start all over again with renewed fury. Neal stared out the window. He wasn't looking at the streets. There were only a few out and most were rushing or carrying umbrellas, so it wasn't worth studying them. So, instead, he stared at the sky.
Hearing the door behind him open, Neal widened his eyes slightly and said, "I'm surprised you came back in weather like this, Moz." He turned his head slightly and saw a wet Mozzie walking in.
Neal immediately turned his attention back to the storm as Mozzie replied, "Something came up. I wasn't able to speak with Miguel."
Neal shrugged and mumbled, "There's always tomorrow."
Moz approached him and stated, "Maybe not even then, mon frère."
"What makes you say that?" Neal asked. He paused when he turned to look at his friend and noticed his attention was back towards the door. Slowly, Neal followed his gaze and he couldn't stop the sharp inhale of breath that lodged in his throat painfully.
Standing beside the open door, drenched from head to toe, was none other than Peter Burke. They both stared at each other for several seconds before Neal was able to finally let the trapped air out of his lungs. He turned to face him fully and gasped softly, "Peter?"
The FBI agent smiled and replied, "Neal." After a brief pause, he added, "Or should I say Chris?"
Neal immediately looked over at Mozzie, who shrugged, and then waved his hand towards Peter, almost as if he were giving the younger man permission to act.
Immediately, Neal began to move and walked hurriedly to Peter on shaky legs. There was no hesitancy or attention paid to Peter's clothes and the fact that Neal would also get wet—Neal immediately wrapped his arms around his former partner and hugged him tightly. When he felt Peter close his arms around him and pat him on the back firmly a few times, tears pooled to his eyes.
"Peter," he mumbled again and closed his eyes tightly when he heard the answering laugh.
"Is that all you can say?"
Neal pulled away slowly, feeling almost a little embarrassed by his reactions, until he looked at Peter—his face was covered with tears, as well, and more were gathering in his eyes. And, he looked just as embarrassed as Neal felt.
Neal wiped at his eyes as Peter did the same silently. When they both looked back at each other again, Neal smiled brightly and said, "Took you long enough."
Peter shook his head with a smirk on his face and responded, "Hey, you made it hard this time. Regardless, I believe this makes me…what? 4-0? It's hard to remember. I catch you so often."
Neal snorted amusedly and then asked abruptly, wiping all expression from his face. "Is that what this is, Peter? Are you here to catch me and take me back to the States?"
Peter stared at Neal for several seconds before sighing deeply, turning around, and walking away slowly. Neal didn't move towards Peter or away from his spot. He merely continued to watch Peter. When his friend slowly turned back towards him, he shook his head, flapped his arms out, and then back down before answering, "I don't know, Neal. I came to Paris to find you. That's why I'm here. What we do now, I have no clue."
The two went back to staring at each other and Neal could tell Peter was turning the question of what they would do now over his mind just as he was. Regardless of any answer they came up with, he knew things were about to get interesting.
