Summary: Just when week 2 seemed to bring progress, a setback and a revelation rock the Burkes and one member of the larger family.
"Peter... honey, stop, they're clean..."
"No. Not yet. I can still feel it... I smell it..." he mumbled, continuing to scrub his hands, even though the skin was becoming red and irritated. Together, Elizabeth and Jones pulled Peter bodily away from the kitchen sink and guided him into a chair at the table. The other man then returned to shut down the tap. He grimaced slightly at the abrupt silence, even though he greatly preferred it to the chaos the normally peaceful household had been embroiled in since he arrived over an hour earlier.
Sighing, he moved to re-join El, who was still trying to calm her distraught husband down. "I have to get it off... I can't leave his blood on my hands..."
"Peter, listen to me, alright? Neal will be fine. The wound wasn't as bad as it looked, Clinton tried to tell you that..."
"And I accept it, that's not what got to me, El. You didn't see his face... see what he was about to do. I was so shocked, I just stood there. I was almost too late..."
"I don't believe it, boss. Caffrey? He wouldn't. He doesn't have it in him."
"If you'd been here the past week you wouldn't be so skeptical." El countered. "All the same... I'm not sure I believe it either."
"El, I saw him..." Peter shot back.
"I know, and I'm not calling you a liar. I just have to wonder..."
"Let's go talk to him. Get answers straight from the source." Jones suggested.
Peter snorted.
"Yeah, good luck with that."
"Wait... you're saying he's been like that all week... like he was when I bandaged him up?"
"Pretty much. He grunts, points, nods and shakes... it's better than the first three days, but not by a lot. We can't thank you enough for getting here so fast, by the way. I knew that medic training of yours would come in handy."
"I'm just glad I could help. I understand how vital it is to keep this off Hughes' radar. Especially if Neal did... you know."
"He didn't." El insisted. "You're right, it isn't in him."
"Hon..."
"No, Peter. It might have ended up that way if nobody had found him... but this is about something else. We have to take a shot that he'll open up. He has to start talking again eventually. All w can do is try."
"Yeah... if Bulldog Haversham lets us get within ten feet." Jones reminded her.
El smiled softly.
"Oh, I think he will. If I ask nicely."
Though his expression revealed nothing and he wouldn't admit it even under penalty of death, Moz was sad and frightened as he reached out and traced the edge of the bandage carefully taped around his best friend's left forearm. His voice tense and brittle, he grumbled at his friend.
"I knew I should've rescued you sooner. A week with the suits and you're mortally wounded."
Neal reached out and lightly tapped the smaller man on the side of the head. "Okay, okay... but look at this... Who says they didn't take the opportunity to implant something, huh? A GPS chip in case you ever cut the anklet again... a miniature explosive so they can just eliminate you the minute you get out of line..."
This time the corrective strike was a little harder. "Ow! That's it, I'm shredding all your 'NCIS' DVD's..."
A light knock on the doorframe brought Moz's head up in alarm. He only relaxed when he saw the other three waiting for permission to step in.
"Enter." He offered.
Elizabeth strode straight to the pair and leaned in to lightly brush Moz's cheek with a kiss before she took a seat next to Neal. She was amused at the bald man's momentary blush, but wisely didn't make a comment. "Neal, are you okay now?"
He gave a quick nod. "Can you tell me what happened?"
This time there was only stillness and unwillingness to look into her eyes. Peter and Jones approached slowly, the senior agent lagging far behind, his expression betraying his worry and reluctance. Finally the younger man stopped and gently nudged his boss ahead of him.
"Hey..."
"I helped him like you asked me to. Now Caffrey needs you."
"I can't..."
"Yeah, you can. You're the only one who really knows him. Go on... go help him just the way you've been doing all along."
"I... damn. Yeah..."
Making his way to the couch, Peter folded himself carefully onto the floor at Neal's feet and gazed up at him.
"Talking yet?"
He received a tight, there-and-gone smile and a shrug in response to his question. "Neal... c'mon, kid. This could be a big mess. I swear, Hughes never needs to know... but I need you to talk to me. I'm beggin' you to explain... to tell me it was nothing but an accident."
Neal hesitated and scowled, clenching and unclenching his hands over and over. Finally, he gestured to the cooling, untouched cup of tea sitting beside Mozzie and it was placed in his hand. After few measured sips, he gave it back and forced out a few almost inaudible words.
"It started that way."
"What changed it, sweetheart?" El asked gently.
"I... I'm not sure I know. The tool slipped. I wasn't trying to... but I saw the blood..."
The explanation faltered and Neal turned his gaze to his best friend, pleading with him to continue. Moz's eyes widened behind his glasses.
"But... you said nobody hears that. Ever. My name is precious to me, damn it, I don't wanna change it!"
"Then don't. You and me... it stays the same, always, but the rest... He needs to know, Moz. He deserves to know, and I can't... I can't. Please."
"Okay... I guess. But if any a'you ever flap your gums..."
"My honor. We *all* promise." El told him, one hand in the air.
"You I believe. Them..."
"Mozzie." Neal admonished quietly.
"Yeah, yeah. Okay... the thing is, it's impossible to know what being on the run is about unless you've done it. Weeks and months at a time with no let up in the pressure and the stress... he needed a powerful outlet that wouldn't leave his mind or his body too badly scarred. You never know what a con's gonna require, after all. When everything got too much, he used to find one of those tiny sewing pins or a small needle and stick himself a couple times... usually in the arm or the hand and just until it bled a little bit. A day under a band-aid and nobody ever knew the difference. He's moved so far beyond that... I would've sworn he'd forgotten it completely. Getting hurt today... it must've brought the memory back."
Peter went starkly pale and braced one hand on the floor until he was sure he wasn't going to lose consciousness. Jones fell back a step and let his feet stay slightly apart, trying to steady himself. El also was assaulted by dizziness, but she chose to assuage it by drawing Neal into her arms and holding him fiercely.
"Oh, Neal... I wish I understood..."
"It used to make everything easier..." he sobbed quietly into her neck. "... it let me breathe and focus when the world was closing in on me. The pain from losing Kate... it was getting better. The statue was working, just... not fast enough. When the tool slipped, I saw the blood and I remembered... I thought if I could make it a little bigger... or match it on the other arm, maybe... I just wanted to feel completely better, right now... it used to work..."
"And that's when I walked in?" Peter asked, confusion and pain filling his eyes and mildly cracking his voice.
Apparently through with conversation, the younger man nodded one last time. Peter tentatively gripped Neal's hand, but the squeeze he received back made him wince slightly. Jones, having recovered his faculties, recognized when it was time to back off and caught Mozzie's eye. The smaller man scowled and shook his head at first, but eventually he rose and stalked over to join Neal's colleague. Once they made it into the kitchen, Jones halted Moz by lightly gripping his arm and turned the other man to face him.
"I need you to believe something, here, okay? I'm not Neal's enemy and I'm not yours. If I was, I never woulda come running when Peter called and asked for my help. All I've ever tried to do... all *any*one who works with him wants is to help people and make things right when they get screwed up. I can't speak for agents outside our team. There are always gonna be bastards like Fowler, you know that. I'm just asking you to trust who Peter trusts."
"He does seem to be a pretty good judge of character... maybe... I guess. Okay. For now." He qualified. Jones released him and shook hands briefly.
"Thank you. Can I ask what the thing with your name was about? Why would you have to change it?"
"I suppose, now you're in the inner circle... You ever heard the term Mother Of All Secrets?"
"Yeah, of course. It's your biggest, most important secret. You only trust it to somebody you know in your heart and soul won't ever hurt or betray you."
"Right. Well... I fulfill that function for Neal. He got tired of saying the whole thing, so one day... he just boiled it down to the initials."
"M.O.S. Oh... I get it. MOS turned into Moz. Very cool."
"I think so and I'm not giving it up."
"You know... Neal's got way more secrets, right? He has to have."
"True. Hey, I only let that one out because he asked and Mrs. Suit made that promise for all of you..."
"I know, I'm not asking. I'm just thinking you'll never have to change your name. You'll always be his secret-keeper."
"Hell of a lot better than WormTail, that's for sure..."
Jones burst out laughing.
"You telling me you're reading Harry Potter?"
TBConcluded