Okay, okay! Here it is already! LOL! All of the reviews are really keeping me writing. Thank you!

***I claim no ownership in, around, on, (enter your own preposition here) White Collar***

XOXOXOXO

A quiet creek from the floor boards outside the kitchen alerted Elizabeth and Peter that they were no longer alone. Together, they looked toward the door. Through the opaque glass they could see a tiny dark figure. The adults gave each other a knowing glance; Peter's a look of mild irritation, while Elizabeth's was more good-natured.

"Neal." Peter called warningly to the skulking creature outside, "Come in here, please."

The little boy slowly pushed the door open, peeked his head through and asked, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"If this is about your punishment, it's already been decided." Peter answered what he thought was going to be the question.

"I know," Neal said quietly, giving away the fact that he had indeed been outside the door longer than the adults had realized. "Actually, it's about Mozzie, but we should talk about that punishment too."

"What about Mozzie, Neal?" Elizabeth asked with curiosity before her husband could send him back to his room.

To both she and Neal's surprise Peter stopped the little boy's explanation with a gentle, "Come here, kiddo." Peter had noticed Mozzie's strange behavior and was worried about him too. As Neal came closer to the adults, Peter picked him up and placed him on his lap, "Now tell us, what's going on with Mozzie?"

With a deep sigh, Neal spilled it all out in one breath, "He's angry with me for getting him in trouble. This really was all my idea. I'm the one who should be punished, not him. Not that I think we should be punished at all," he added quickly, "but if anyone has to be it shouldn't be Mozzie."

The adults smiled at each other knowing how difficult admitting his guilt was for Neal, and also aware that there was more to this story. They waited, but the boy seemed to feel he had told as much as he could. Neal simply looked expectantly from one adult to another with wide, innocent eyes.

"If that's all, Neal, you can go back to your room. We'll be up soon." Peter said definitively.

"But aren't you going to do something?" Neal was shocked by their uncaring attitude.

"About what, Sweetie?" Elizabeth was trying to pull more information out of the little boy by pretending naïveté.

"Mozzie's mad at me!" He spat out, "Make him not be mad at me!"

Elizabeth had to fight not to grin at this childish attitude, but Peter made a mental note to tell the doctor about this tomorrow. He wondered if the 'booster' Neal had been given hadn't actually regressed him a bit more.

"We can't do that, kiddo," Peter explained in a calm voice. "That's something you two are going to have to work out. And yes, you were the master-mind behind all of this, but Mozzie decided for himself to play along. You didn't make him do anything."

Neal twisted on the man's lap to look him fully in the eye, "But Peeettterrrr."

"Nope. You'll just have to tell him you're sorry and hope he accepts your apology," Peter firmly stated.

"Fine!" The little boy was not happy with the outcome of this particular meeting, and he dearly wanted to lash out at the unhelpful adults, "But that means Elizabeth has to apologize to him too!" He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and looked accusatorily at the shocked woman sitting in front of him.

"Me?" Elizabeth looked up at her bewildered husband, but regained her composure immediately realizing that perhaps Neal was about to reveal the information she had been fishing for. Curiously, she asked, "Neal? What do you know?"

He faltered a bit before answering realizing he had been tricked into revealing more than he'd intended. Almost at a whisper, he informed the linoleum at Elizabeth's feet, "M-Moz is afraid you're going to get rid of us. That y-you don't want to be responsible for us anymore." He looked up through his eyelashes at her hoping it wasn't true. Her look of horror told him he was safe.

"Oh, Peter!" Elizabeth clapped both hands over her open mouth as her eyes began to water.

Her husband offered her a supportive hand to grasp on to, "What is it, Hun?" Her reaction had alarmed him greatly.

Taking her husband's hand, she looked down at the little boy in his lap to find a pair of extremely concerned baby-blues staring back at her. She wiped away the tears with her spare hand and explained, "When we were waiting for you to rescue Neal, I was feeling like the worst mother ever for letting them out of my sight." She paused to take a deep breath and to blow her nose on the tissue her helpless-feeling husband offered, "I lost my cool when Mozzie kept trying to convince me we should get closer to the action. I said," A ragged breath escaped her as she was taken back to the awful memory of it, "– I said I never should have trusted them and that after this someone else would have to take care of them. Oh, Peter! I was so upset with myself, and I took it out on him!"

Peter set his little boy gently on the floor and stood up. Gathering his crying wife into his arms, he soothed, "Now, Honey. It'll be fine. He's heard a lot worse in his lifetime. You'll just sit down with him and explain what happened and that he will never be turned away as long as he needs to be here."

Realizing he had made Elizabeth cry with his outburst, the guilty little boy slowly backed out of the kitchen door unseen by the adults. Once on the other side of the door he ran through the dining room and the living room, then up the stairs and into the bedroom. He felt horrible for making her feel like that, "I did a really bad thing, Moz." He wanted to get it off his chest even if his best friend wasn't talking to him. Besides that intro would get his attention if nothing else would. But there was no answer from the top bunk. At least the rope ladder was back down. Neal climbed on unsteady 5-year-old legs up to Mozzie's bed, but he found no one there. From his vantage point he scanned the room looking for any signs of life. Nothing. No movement. No impatient tapping. No compulsive arranging of bedroom furniture. He climbed back down and walked to the bathroom. Peering inside, he found it empty as well. He systematically checked the rest of the floor, still finding nothing.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, he paused. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe he hadn't looked everywhere yet.

Satchmo passed him on his way down the stairs. He stopped abruptly at the front door and sniffed. He looked up curiously at Neal and whined.

"What is it, boy?" Neal asked as he walked down the stairs. "What's wrong?"

The dog scratched at the door, something he never did for fear of being banned to the backyard.

Shoving his way past the dog, Neal reached for the door knob. He was just about out the door, when he heard an exceptionally stern Peter, "Where do you think you're going, young man?"

He spun around, startled, "Nowhere Peter."

"Come here!" Peter gave him the very serious two finger beckoning.

Not wishing to anger the man further, he hastened to comply, "Really Peter. I wasn't going anywhere! – OUCH!" He whined as two firm swats landed on the seat of his pants. He rubbed his butt with both hands.

Peter leaned down to be face-to-face with his little miscreant, "I expected to find you in your room. Would you care to explain what you're doing out of it?"

"Mozzie's gone!" Neal cried still rubbing at the sting, "I was going to look for him!" He was angry at being stopped from searching for his friend and angry about being spanked, mostly though he was tired and frustrated from this long day. He was sobbing inconsolably as Elizabeth picked him up and cuddled him to her chest.

"It's okay, baby. Peter will find him." Suddenly feeling more confident in her mothering ability but now concerned about having another lost boy on her hands, she gave a little nod to her worried husband. Peter gave his wife a reassuring squeeze on the elbow and ran out the door with Satchmo close on his heels. "Sh-sh-sh," she soothed as she bounced the little boy on her hip, "Peter and Satchmo will get him back here in no time." Crossing to the sofa, she sat and cuddled until the boy's tears ran out, but by then he was fast asleep. Not wanting to wake him, she decided to spend a little time soaking up the warmth and love emanating off the small body in her arms. Though worried about Mozzie, he had only been gone for maybe five minutes before they had discovered he was missing. She was fully confident in her husband's ability to find her other little boy, and her own ability to make things right again once he was home.

XOXOXOXO

Jogging to the sidewalk, Peter called out, "Mozzie!" He didn't really expect an answer. Peter realized the light was quickly fading to dusk. Finding the street-wise kid after dark would be a challenge. Peter considered calling 911 for a little help, but decided to try knocking on a few doors first.

Satchmo, usually obedient enough to follow at his master's heals, bolted ahead of Peter. He tried to call the dog back, but he didn't listen. When Peter stopped running after the dog, Satchmo stopped, looked back at his master and whined. "Come on boy. Come here." Another whine from the dog and an accompanying look in the opposite direction. "Satch! Come!" Peter was losing patience, but still the dog would not budge. This was completely unlike his dog. He wondered if his furry friend knew something he didn't. "What is it, boy? Do you know where Mozzie is?" He walked closer to the dog who took a few steps away down the street. Satchmo was definitely trying to tell him something. Peter followed a little faster until he was running again. Another block down the street and he was beginning to wonder about Satchmo's tracking ability. He wasn't a particularly smart dog. Maybe he was just trying to get Peter to play.

Peter was about to call the dog back again when Satchmo suddenly stopped, sniffed at an old rusty gate in front of a long abandoned house, jumped up with his front paws on the fence and barked twice. As Peter approached, the dog got down and whined in the direction of the house. "Is this the place, Satch?" He pushed the dilapidated gate open with an annoying creek. The dog tried to rush in, but Peter had him by the collar now. He let the dog into the yard, closed the gate, and ordered, "Sit!" The dog whined again, but sat. Moving cautiously forward, Peter warned the dog, "Stay." More whining, but he was obedient.

Peter climbed onto the rickety wooden porch careful to avoid any rotten slats. He tested the front door and found it locked. Luckily for him, the embedded window had been smashed out years ago. He reached through and unlocked the door from the inside. It now easily swung open to reveal the darkened and cobweb strewn front entry. Peter stepped inside. "Mozzie?" He called out, "Are you in here, young man?" No answer, but Peter heard a soft scraping sound coming from upstairs. Giving up trying to be silent on the neglected floorboards, Peter quickly climbed the stairs. He wished he had taken the time to grab a flashlight, but then remembered the flashlight app on his cell. Engaging the device, he finished his climb and calculated where he thought the sounds had been coming from.

The room he chose, with its sports-themed wallpaper, looked to be the empty bedroom of a young boy. The only bit of furniture in the room was a nearly gutted dresser. It had only one partial drawer still in its frame. A quick glance inside the closet proved it to be small and devoid of life, but that dresser was strangely placed at an angel in the corner of the room. Where the dresser legs had traced tracts in the dusty floor attested to the very recent movement of this bit of furniture. Beaming the soft glow from his phone into that corner, Peter waited a moment before rushing in. There was another soft scraping sound and Peter had no doubt about who was making it. He needed to be smart about this and remember that the man who was Mozzie was now going to react like a 7-year-old. He didn't want to frighten the boy any more than he already was.

"Mozzie?" He asked gently, "Would you like to come out now?" Peter waited only a few moments before he got his muffled answer.

"Not particularly."

"Don't you want to come home?" Peter used the word 'home' deliberately.

"No. I'm fine here, thanks."

Peter grinned at the politeness of it all. "You haven't had dinner yet. I'd bet you're starving by now." There was a long pause from the corner that told Peter everything he needed to know. "I was thinking we could order pizza tonight."

"Lactose." Mozzie reminded him.

Peter rolled his eyes, "Right. No cheese on your pizza."

Two eyes behind large round glasses tentatively peeked out, "Can I have anchovies?"

With a sincere smile, Peter answered, "Sure. Whatever you want. But you have to come out from there first."

Unsure, but willing to try where pizza was involved, the young boy pushed the empty dresser carcass away from the wall and stepped out. He kept his back pressed to the wall, protecting his butt, as he asked, "What about Elizabeth? She doesn't want to see me anymore."

Stepping carefully toward the boy so as to not frighten him, Peter knelt down and took both of Mozzie's shoulders gently in his hands, "Look at me. Elizabeth wants you and Neal now more than ever. We both found out what it feels like to lose you boys today, and believe me, we will never let that happen again."

The little boy looked up at Peter with hope and worry mingled, "Really?"

"Really, really!" Peter clarified.

Mozzie grinned, and Peter thought there was hope, but then the little boy dropped his eyes and bit his lip. Peter waited for the inevitable question, "Are you still going to punish us?"

"Mozzie, you boys gave El and me a couple of really good scares today. What do you think?"

"But if you punish us, we won't have to leave, right?"

Was this kid really still bargaining to get to stay? "Listen, Kiddo. You two are staying because El and I want you with us, and we hope you want to be with us. You're being punished because you were naughty. They are totally separate issues. No matter how much trouble you two get into, and this is not an invitation to experiment, we will still want you with us. Got it?"

Mozzie looked directly into Peter's eyes, perhaps for the first time ever, and nodded his head in understanding.

In relief Peter patted the boy's shoulder, heartily said, "Good boy," picked him up and trotted down the stairs and out the door with the boy in his arms and Satchmo wagging happily at his heals all the way home.

XOXOXOXO

I know, I know. I stopped right at the good part. You know I always have to write a good angsty scene first. But maybe, just maybe if I get enough reviews, I'll publish again soon. Hee Hee!