A/N: I thought I would give you guys a heads up, since this isn't clear, in this particular story, and in general, I've decided to ship Mozzie/Sara. If that isn't your cup of tea, my apologies.

"It's open," Neal sputtered between coughing fits as Peter knocked on the door at June's. Peter walked in to find Neal and Mozzie sitting at opposite ends of the table in the middle of his apartment. Peter looked back and forth between each of them quizzically but went and set a bag down next to Neal. Then he walked over to the cabinets and began rooting through them.

"Peter, tell me this isn't chicken soup," Neal muttered. He didn't really need an answer since he could smell the contents, but he wanted the confirmation.

"El wasn't letting me leave the house without it. She also said if we were going to work even though you're sick that I'm to make sure you eat it," Peter gave Neal a meaningful look as he said this. "Now, if I could just find your silverware."

"Elizabeth. I should have know." Neal smiled and looked up at Peter, "Peter, you've been here how many times? How do you not know where my silverware is?"

"Eureka!" Peter said as he opened another drawer. Then he walked over to set a spoon beside Neal. Then he looked back at Mozzie and Neal, "You two are rather quiet, not up to something are you?"

"Mozzie is avoiding me," Neal explained, as he loosened the blanket he had wrapped around him to pick up the spoon, "He's convinced that I'm now a victim of the curse. Doomed to die at any moment."

"You're not serious?" Peter asked. Neal merely nodded in reply as he had begun eating Elizabeth's soup. Peter turned to Mozzie, "If you're avoiding Neal, why are you still in his apartment?"

"I'm only avoiding Neal, not his wine supply. The curse would only be transmitted by physical contact anyway. So as long as we don't physically interact with him, we should be fine," Mozzie rationalized. "Don't sit too close to him."

"I did just ride a plane sitting next to him, so any damage that is done is done. So I'm glad we've cleared that up," Peter said.

"You may laugh, Suit. But I think you'll find that the dozens of people that died of mysterious fevers after entering King Tut's tomb will find that Egyptian curses are no laughing matter."

"There were many people that went into King Tut's tomb that lived to tell the tale to their grandchildren," Peter countered. "Besides, I think it's generally accepted that there was some kind of bacteria in the tomb that made those people sick."

"The bacteria was part of the curse, obviously."

"Are you going to believe anything I say about this?"

Before Mozzie could answer, there was another knock on the door.

"Enter at your own risk," Mozzie said.

"It's so nice to see you too, Mozzie," Sara said as she walked into the apartment.

"I was only trying to warn you away. We are in the midst of a curse."

"You can't warn me away from here unless we have somewhere else to go," Sara said shortly.

"I've offered to write you a sonnet."

"For the last time, I'm not following clues to find you. If you can't just tell me..." Sara trailed off.

"They still haven't told each other where they live?" Peter asked Neal.

"They're still having some trust issues," Neal answered.

"Sounds familiar," Peter said.

"We're right here," Mozzie said as he and Sara sat down across from Peter and Neal.

"I know. You're both always here," Neal said. Then he rested his head on the table.

"Neal, are you really up to working on the case right now?" Peter asked.

"I'm fine," Neal answered.

Peter looked at him without conviction, but proceeded to ask, "Do you have any further thoughts on the art from Mr. Campbell's photo?"

"My conclusions are a little patchier than usual. But there are some stylistic differences between the statues. Two of them are identical and the third one is little bit taller. If you look closely, you can see that the patterning of the hair is closer together. The strands seem finer. It also looks like parts of the eyes were chipping off the taller statue," Neal explained, coughing intermittently.

"I wondered if you'd catch that," Peter said. "While I was at the office, I learned from the museum that the expert that came forward showed the museum two gems that would have been inlaid in the eyes. I seem to recall the statue in your story having similar …eye-wear."

"Peter, what are you," Neal started, began coughing and finished, "implying?"

"That cough is wearing on your charm," Peter commented. "Anyway, the museum now believes that the gems would help prove the authenticity of the kouros"

"And there were traces of marble on the gemstones?" Neal prompted.

"Exactly," Peter replied. "The same kind of marble that was used on the kouros."

"Does the museum have the gems?" Sara asked.

"They did. Now they're being stored in the FBI evidence room until further notice," Peter said.

"Worried someone might be coming back for them?" Neal asked.

"Just the opposite actually," Peter answered. "We have reason to believe the thief didn't know that the gems were still in the museum when he took the kouroi. But he should have reason to believe it now."

Peter pulled out a flier announcing that two precious gems would be on display in the Egyptian collection starting the next day.

"You're providing an opportunity for the thief to take the gems? Forged ones, I'm assuming?" Sara asked.

"Precisely."

"You forged gems without our help?" Mozzie asked, gesturing at himself and Neal, looking slightly hurt.

"Well, actually," Peter said, "we did. But I was hoping you would take a look at them."

He reached into his briefcase to pull out two small blue gems and set them on the table.

Mozzie, Sara, and Neal were barely able to register the intense blue shading of the stones before all of the lights in the apartment went out.