Life Part III, White Collar,
Sep. 19th, 2010 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronicasleepsTitle: Life (Breathing Through Your Body) Part III
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
veronicasleeps
Rating: R for the series, PG-15 for this part.
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth, Mozzie,
Word count: ~ 1,400
Warnings/Spoilers: AU
Series Summary: At the first art show that the artist Neal Caffrey visits after his release from prison, he meets a married couple that can almost make him forget about his recent past. Then it catches up to him.
In this part: The deal with the music box.
Notes: Before a grueling week, I leave you with an Update. Feedback is appreciated. Appreciated like air.
Previous: Part I | Part II
+
“Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
+
“So, let’s see if I got this right.” The suit seems to be a little slow on the uptake, but beggars can’t be choosers, Mozzie thinks, if he wants to clear Neal’s name, he’ll have no chance but to work with the suit couple. “Neal steals the golden music box because Kate asks him to do it.”
“Yes.” Mozzie nods, trying to hurry this recap along. “But it's amber, not gold.”
Suit throws him a glare, but Mozzie is unimpressed. “Amber, then. Alright." He clears his throat, and frowns at the papers strewn about the desk and half the floor.
“Neal steals the music box for Kate, but she doesn’t actually want it for herself, she wants it for Alex, whom she has an affair with?”
In Mozzie's opinion there’s no reason for sounding so unbelieving. It’s pure fact, after all. Besides, it’s not as if the suits can talk, if what Mozzie thinks happened the night before really happened.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“So we have to find this Alex to find out what’s up with the music box. Great.” He runs his hand through his hair in aggravation, messing it up for what must be the tenth time in less then two hours. If his wife hadn’t been supplying them with superbly brewed coffee over the day, Mozzie knows, they would have already crashed.
“And that will be a problem,” he says, taking off his glasses for a moment to rest his eyes. “because as far as I’ve heard, Alex hasn’t been in the country for more than a year."
+
Neal is surprised by her visit. That's obvious. He stares at her as if she’s a ghost or something, a tiny frown on his face and biting his lip so hard it loses colour for a moment.
She is shocked to see how bad Neal looks. He's pale, and there are dark shadows under his eyes. His wrists are beginning to bruise where the handcuffs cut into them, and being cuffed to the table in the visiting room surely can’t help.
“Elizabeth?” His voice is small, and she hates how different Neal is from the night before. It’s like he's been drained of colour, somehow, and of life. It makes Elizabeth want to hug him, but she isn’t sure that he’ll welcome that, so she simply places her right hand over his left, feeling clammy skin under cold metal.
“How- Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to visit you, Neal.” Elizabeth strokes a thumb over the bruised flesh, and smiles sadly. “I’ll keep you company for a while; Peter and your strange friend Mozzie are searching for a woman called Alex.”
Neal just stares at her.
“I don’t understand.” He says, and his fingers clench; maybe he wants to touch her himself, or maybe he's trying to shrug her off, she isn’t sure.
Elizabeth reaches out and touches her hand to his cheek. Even though there’s some stubble on his skin, it’s still so soft, and she almost drowns in memories of the last night.
She holds his gaze and nods slowly. “I don’t understand all of it myself, but we’re trying to prove your innocence.”
The relief in his eyes at those words is almost harder to bear than the sadness from before, because Elizabeth realizes that Neal was sure until now, that nobody would be able to help him.
+
Mozzie is by far the strangest person that Peter has ever met. He’s sure of that. And really, who calls himself Mozzie anyway?
Peter gets orders from him that, while easy to follow, are seriously infuriating, simply because of the purposely dumbed down language they’d been issued.
Mozzie doesn’t like him much, that’s another thing Peter is sure of.
“All you do is keep quiet, and look menacing.” Mozzie says and if it weren’t for that doubtful look in his eyes, Peter would have nodded.
Instead he grunts. Menacingly.
+
They believe him.
Neal is utterly surprised by that fact. It’s the first time anyone has ever believed in his innocence, he thinks, and it's an intense feeling. It fills his body so thoroughly, that it drives away all the cold and numbness that have been all he’s felt for hours.
He turns his hand around, so the palm faces up and takes hers in his, firmly.
“Thank you." He says, and then: “You won’t find her. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Elizabeth just keeps quiet, as if she somehow knows that Neal’s not finished, and he is thankful for that.
“Alex, she...” He clears his throat. “Alex took something from me, that was more important than just a lover, much more than that. She took more from me than just Kate,” he explains, “she took four years of my life, and I wanted to know why.”
“But I couldn’t find her, she’s good at keeping herself hidden.”
There’s sympathy in her eyes, and it feels like clear spring water on an open wound, Neal realizes, painful and soothing at the same time.
“Your Mozzie said she’s been out of the country.”
“No, she hasn’t. She’s been patiently waiting for me to come out of prison, so she can finally get the music box. I told you, she’s good at hiding. And you know the best part?” Neal laughs, a bitter little thing. “I don’t have it.”
+
“Haversham.”
The guy in front of them doesn’t sound thrilled to see Mozzie and him, and in Peter's opinion that's a less than optimal premise for this exchange of information, especially considering that they are god-knows-where with god-knows-whom. And with his bodyguards.
Peter doesn’t let his uneasiness show, instead he just stares ahead, trying to look like a goon, and hopefully succeeding.
“Parker,” Mozzie says, sounding equally as unenthusiastic as the other man, and cutting straight to the point. “I’m searching for someone.”
Parker is unimpressed, he takes out a really big knife and starts cleaning it, slowly, precise.
It’s unnerving, really, how a man with a knife in this kind of shabby hideout sends a message. I’m dangerous, his stance says, you don’t want to cross me. Or else...
Mozzie just stands there and watches Parker until he looks up and puts the knife away.
“Everyone is searching for someone, or something. People lose things, other people find things...” Peter takes that to mean that Parker couldn’t care less about them. A bodyguard shifts behind him, and he can’t help himself, he has to get his hand closer to his gun. It’s times like these that he wishes he were still working for the FBI, he knows that his reflexes were much better five years ago.
It seems Mozzie isn’t rattled at all, though. He reaches into his leather briefcase and slowly pulls out large piece of folded paper, that looks to Peter like a map of some kind. “I might know where some people could find things they have... misplaced.”
Parker is trying to hide his interest, now. But Peter’s eyes are trained on Mozzie in surprise, that thankfully is hidden behind the sunglasses he had been forced to wear.
How someone like Mozzie, who should be hiding under the desk or something in moments like these, can be this calm with at least three guns visibly pointed at them, is a mystery to him.
“And what might that be?”
Mozzie's smug little smile says it all. He knows that he has already won this little game.
+
Author:
veronicasleeps Rating: R for the series, PG-15 for this part.
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth, Mozzie,
Word count: ~ 1,400
Warnings/Spoilers: AU
Series Summary: At the first art show that the artist Neal Caffrey visits after his release from prison, he meets a married couple that can almost make him forget about his recent past. Then it catches up to him.
In this part: The deal with the music box.
Notes: Before a grueling week, I leave you with an Update. Feedback is appreciated. Appreciated like air.
Previous: Part I | Part II
+
“Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
+
“So, let’s see if I got this right.” The suit seems to be a little slow on the uptake, but beggars can’t be choosers, Mozzie thinks, if he wants to clear Neal’s name, he’ll have no chance but to work with the suit couple. “Neal steals the golden music box because Kate asks him to do it.”
“Yes.” Mozzie nods, trying to hurry this recap along. “But it's amber, not gold.”
Suit throws him a glare, but Mozzie is unimpressed. “Amber, then. Alright." He clears his throat, and frowns at the papers strewn about the desk and half the floor.
“Neal steals the music box for Kate, but she doesn’t actually want it for herself, she wants it for Alex, whom she has an affair with?”
In Mozzie's opinion there’s no reason for sounding so unbelieving. It’s pure fact, after all. Besides, it’s not as if the suits can talk, if what Mozzie thinks happened the night before really happened.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“So we have to find this Alex to find out what’s up with the music box. Great.” He runs his hand through his hair in aggravation, messing it up for what must be the tenth time in less then two hours. If his wife hadn’t been supplying them with superbly brewed coffee over the day, Mozzie knows, they would have already crashed.
“And that will be a problem,” he says, taking off his glasses for a moment to rest his eyes. “because as far as I’ve heard, Alex hasn’t been in the country for more than a year."
+
Neal is surprised by her visit. That's obvious. He stares at her as if she’s a ghost or something, a tiny frown on his face and biting his lip so hard it loses colour for a moment.
She is shocked to see how bad Neal looks. He's pale, and there are dark shadows under his eyes. His wrists are beginning to bruise where the handcuffs cut into them, and being cuffed to the table in the visiting room surely can’t help.
“Elizabeth?” His voice is small, and she hates how different Neal is from the night before. It’s like he's been drained of colour, somehow, and of life. It makes Elizabeth want to hug him, but she isn’t sure that he’ll welcome that, so she simply places her right hand over his left, feeling clammy skin under cold metal.
“How- Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to visit you, Neal.” Elizabeth strokes a thumb over the bruised flesh, and smiles sadly. “I’ll keep you company for a while; Peter and your strange friend Mozzie are searching for a woman called Alex.”
Neal just stares at her.
“I don’t understand.” He says, and his fingers clench; maybe he wants to touch her himself, or maybe he's trying to shrug her off, she isn’t sure.
Elizabeth reaches out and touches her hand to his cheek. Even though there’s some stubble on his skin, it’s still so soft, and she almost drowns in memories of the last night.
She holds his gaze and nods slowly. “I don’t understand all of it myself, but we’re trying to prove your innocence.”
The relief in his eyes at those words is almost harder to bear than the sadness from before, because Elizabeth realizes that Neal was sure until now, that nobody would be able to help him.
+
Mozzie is by far the strangest person that Peter has ever met. He’s sure of that. And really, who calls himself Mozzie anyway?
Peter gets orders from him that, while easy to follow, are seriously infuriating, simply because of the purposely dumbed down language they’d been issued.
Mozzie doesn’t like him much, that’s another thing Peter is sure of.
“All you do is keep quiet, and look menacing.” Mozzie says and if it weren’t for that doubtful look in his eyes, Peter would have nodded.
Instead he grunts. Menacingly.
+
They believe him.
Neal is utterly surprised by that fact. It’s the first time anyone has ever believed in his innocence, he thinks, and it's an intense feeling. It fills his body so thoroughly, that it drives away all the cold and numbness that have been all he’s felt for hours.
He turns his hand around, so the palm faces up and takes hers in his, firmly.
“Thank you." He says, and then: “You won’t find her. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Elizabeth just keeps quiet, as if she somehow knows that Neal’s not finished, and he is thankful for that.
“Alex, she...” He clears his throat. “Alex took something from me, that was more important than just a lover, much more than that. She took more from me than just Kate,” he explains, “she took four years of my life, and I wanted to know why.”
“But I couldn’t find her, she’s good at keeping herself hidden.”
There’s sympathy in her eyes, and it feels like clear spring water on an open wound, Neal realizes, painful and soothing at the same time.
“Your Mozzie said she’s been out of the country.”
“No, she hasn’t. She’s been patiently waiting for me to come out of prison, so she can finally get the music box. I told you, she’s good at hiding. And you know the best part?” Neal laughs, a bitter little thing. “I don’t have it.”
+
“Haversham.”
The guy in front of them doesn’t sound thrilled to see Mozzie and him, and in Peter's opinion that's a less than optimal premise for this exchange of information, especially considering that they are god-knows-where with god-knows-whom. And with his bodyguards.
Peter doesn’t let his uneasiness show, instead he just stares ahead, trying to look like a goon, and hopefully succeeding.
“Parker,” Mozzie says, sounding equally as unenthusiastic as the other man, and cutting straight to the point. “I’m searching for someone.”
Parker is unimpressed, he takes out a really big knife and starts cleaning it, slowly, precise.
It’s unnerving, really, how a man with a knife in this kind of shabby hideout sends a message. I’m dangerous, his stance says, you don’t want to cross me. Or else...
Mozzie just stands there and watches Parker until he looks up and puts the knife away.
“Everyone is searching for someone, or something. People lose things, other people find things...” Peter takes that to mean that Parker couldn’t care less about them. A bodyguard shifts behind him, and he can’t help himself, he has to get his hand closer to his gun. It’s times like these that he wishes he were still working for the FBI, he knows that his reflexes were much better five years ago.
It seems Mozzie isn’t rattled at all, though. He reaches into his leather briefcase and slowly pulls out large piece of folded paper, that looks to Peter like a map of some kind. “I might know where some people could find things they have... misplaced.”
Parker is trying to hide his interest, now. But Peter’s eyes are trained on Mozzie in surprise, that thankfully is hidden behind the sunglasses he had been forced to wear.
How someone like Mozzie, who should be hiding under the desk or something in moments like these, can be this calm with at least three guns visibly pointed at them, is a mystery to him.
“And what might that be?”
Mozzie's smug little smile says it all. He knows that he has already won this little game.
+
