hi everyone!
I hope everyone's in good health and good spirits. :) I finally got over a little writer's block with this chapter! I also have the next chapter fully written so that'll be posted this week as well!
In the episode (Withdrawal) S02E01, Neal and Mozzie have a *very* short conversation after his conversation with Peter. I was a little bored trying to work with that, so I started it off the same, and went off the beaten path to explore some emotions. Hope you guys like it, and stay safe!
~cosette141
Talk some sense into him.
That was what Mozzie was planning on doing, and what he'd spent the whole way here choosing words for.
It just probably wasn't the sense the Suit wanted Mozzie to talk into Neal.
Mozzie took his time sitting down across from Neal, putting the empty briefcase on the table between them. When Neal still didn't look up from the table, Mozzie broke the silence tentatively. "What sense am I talking into you?"
Neal lifted his head, and to Mozzie's surprise, didn't even try to mask the emotions in his eyes. He had the same look in his eyes now the day he got arrested, the moment Mozzie told him that he'd heard where Kate might be.
Desperate.
And a desperate Neal was the equivalent to an unstable bomb.
Neal sighed. "Peter offered me my old deal."
Handling the explosive gently, Mozzie prompted, "The anklet?" Even more carefully, "Tempted?"
Mozzie watched carefully as Neal considered it. But finally, Neal looked back at him. "I'm open to exploring my options."
Mozzie lifted his brows. He'd been fully under the impression that Neal was going to take the deal if the Suit could work it out again. What changed between now and a few days ago?
Mozzie shook off the questions. At least that makes this easier.
"I can get you out of here," said Mozzie, already having run though the top twenty escape routes for the both of them. "But it'll cost. Deplete most of your reserves."
Neal dismissed it with a shrug of his shoulders, and a flick of a smile. "I can always get cash," said Neal.
"Once we get you out of here," said Mozzie, lowering his voice, "I'll set up a place to reconvene before we decide which pond to cross."
Something in Neal's face shifted. Something… hesitated. Mozzie's words died in his throat as Neal said, "I'm not leaving the country, Moz."
Mozzie's brows shifted. "But you just said-"
"-I'd like to explore options that get me out of my leash," finished Neal, raising a brow. "Not leave New York."
Mozzie clasped his hands. "Let me get this straight," he said quietly. "You want to ditch the Suit and the anklet and stick around so you can run into him at Starbucks?" Before Neal could speak, Mozzie steamrolled ahead. "Why on earth would you bother, Neal?"
"Moz…" The hardness in Neal's eyes competed with that fiery desperation. Mozzie held his gaze until Neal broke it. When Neal refocused his gaze on him, the mask back over his eyes-put back together with the fragility of glass fixed with duct tape-Neal said, "Look. Are you going to help me or not?"
Mozzie hesitated.
The single plan he'd had in his head was to convince Neal to ditch Peter, the anklet, New York altogether, and run. Start off somewhere new, Neal could lick his emotional wounds and they could do it somewhere safe.
Nowhere in Mozzie's imagined arguments did Neal want to ditch the anklet and stay in New York.
What the hell?
"If I help you out of here, and you stay here," Mozzie practically hissed, "you're going to be back behind bars by Friday!"
Neal groaned aloud, screwing his eyes shut. The clear, raw frustration took Mozzie aback. "Moz, please! Just-"
"Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to stay in the Suit's backyard without him catching you again?" argued Mozzie, giving Neal his best have-you-gone-absolutely-nuts look. "Just tell me why-"
"I have to find who killed her, Moz!" said Neal, his voice gaining a heavy edge that stopped Mozzie's words in his throat. "Peter's forbade me from stepping a damn foot into the investigation! He's going to keep me on an even tighter leash after this whole mess; if I take that deal, I can't do anything!" That look in Neal's eyes intensified, and Mozzie could see it for what it was.
Vengeance.
Mozzie shut his eyes.
Neal was impulsive enough already.
When would that girl let him GO?
Mozzie could feel it in the air like a static-this… this hunger that surrounded Neal. Mozzie sighed. "You aren't the only one who wants her killer to get what's coming to him, Neal. The Suit wants to find that bastard just as bad as you do. And just as bad as I do. But-"
"Just as bad?" repeated Neal, in little more than a whisper. The look in his eyes screamed of brokenness. He was suffocating in it. "Just as bad?" repeated Neal, eyes narrowing, fist clenching on the table. "They killed Kate, Moz! They-"
"And they almost killed you!" exclaimed Mozzie, the words bursting out of him. "And if it wasn't for the Suit, you'd be dead too!" The two men were still in silence for a moment, Mozzie trying to calm the crashing sea of emotions within, emotions he hadn't even known were that strong. "That bastard," said Mozzie slowly, "tried to kill you." Something dark settled into his own eyes. "Damn straight I want to find him." Mozzie held his gaze, and some of the heat drained from the younger man, only making him look even more exhausted and hollow. "Someone doesn't go to the lengths that this person went," said Mozzie carefully, "to kill someone, and let it slide if they managed to walk away. New York isn't safe for you Neal."
And there it was.
Neal wasn't the only desperate one here.
Neal… Neal was the greatest friend Mozzie'd ever had. Neal was the only one who looked at him as more than just the second man in a two-man con. More than just a brain. Neal actually, for whatever reason… cared about him. And throughout his entire life, Mozzie hadn't had many friends. But here was Neal, someone who willingly spent his daily life at his side. Never walking away, like so many others had.
Mozzie's chest tightened.
This was his chance to save Neal the way Neal saved him.
This was his chance to make up for four years of cowardice.
There was no way in hell Mozzie was going to let someone hurt Neal. Let alone kill him.
Neal isn't safe here. And that's all Mozzie cared about.
"Look, the Suit is heavily motivated to find this guy," said Mozzie, his voice tired. "Let him. Let's let him handle it and... go."
But Neal was shaking his head before Mozzie even finished. "I can't, Moz. I need to do this. Not you. Not Peter. Me."
Mozzie resisted the urge to groan. "How is this your responsibility if you were supposed to die right beside her, Neal?!"
And that brokenness was back, more shattered than ever. "Because I didn't."
Mozzie fell silent. Neal's eyes found the table. And, again, the younger man visibly tried his damn hardest not to break completely.
Talk some sense into him.
Mozzie let out a long, pained breath.
This Neal wasn't the Neal Mozzie had met. It was as if that girl-that girl-had turned him into a completely different person. And that day, that fateful day that Mozzie still wished he could take back, could have ignored Jimmy the damn Snitch, could have kept the information to himself…
Burke may be talented for a Suit, but Peter owed his victory to that girl.
He owed his victory to Mozzie himself.
And that was something Mozzie still hasn't forgiven himself for.
If Neal ran now, he'd be the same Neal he was the day Peter caught him. Except, that day, Neal was running toward hope. Now, he was running toward revenge. Mozzie'd never met a Neal that was hellbent on vengeance, but he knew one thing for certain.
It wouldn't be better than the Neal who was desperately hopeful.
Neal didn't want freedom right now. He wanted justice. And the Suit wanted the same. If Neal ran now, he'd get himself caught back in the FBI's web in less than a week.
Mozzie took in this Neal-the paleness, the lack of the mask Mozzie had gotten to know so well that it took him years to learn wasn't real-and that something in Neal's eyes that wasn't right. That wasn't Neal.
Still not quite believing what he was saying, Mozzie attempted for casualness and said, "Well," said Mozzie. "You can't stay here." Neal's tight silence was enough of a confirmation. "I mean," Mozzie went on, "we can always run… later. The anklet might not be a bad play."
A little of that Neal he knew was back. Neal's brows kneaded, confusion-and surprise-jumping into that clear pool. "You're suggesting I stay with the FBI?" he asked, the brow shifting higher. "You?"
Attempting to hold onto that casualness, Mozzie shrugged. "Just for a while. We can bide our time, get our ducks in a row safer, figure out what to do."
Neal just stared at him. "Moz," he said in a low, puzzled voice, "you've been trying to get me to ditch the FBI ever since I made that deal."
Mozzie sighed. "Look, Neal. No matter what, the Suit is going after that guy. I may be less than fond of him and you working with them, but 'the enemy of my enemy…' rings true." When Neal didn't say anything, Mozzie sighed. "I'll do whatever you want to do," said Mozzie slowly. "But… it might be a good idea to work… with him, on this one," said Mozzie quietly. And even quieter, even… gentler, he added, "At least until you're a little more… you."
Neal's gaze met his. A million ragged emotions clouded ocean eyes.
That bastard may not have killed him, but damn if he didn't come close.
The doors clanged open, one of the guards announcing that Neal's time was up. Neal stood, and Mozzie did as well.
"Think about it," said Mozzie, and Neal met his eyes as chains were slapped back around his wrists and ankles.
And then Neal was led out, leaving Mozzie alone, wondering how eyes that clear could make Neal harder to predict than ever before.