[Fanfiction] Death Is Not (Always) The End

[aragarna]

Title: Death Is Not (Always) The End
Author: Aragarna
Characters: Mozzie, Elizabeth, Peter, Neal C., Neal B.
Genre, rating: post finale angst/comfort, gen, G.
Spoilers: Seasons 5 and 6. Set post-finale.
Word count: 2240
Summary: When El invited him over, Mozzie wasn't aware there'd be another guest, and he's not sure he's ready to talk to Neal just yet.
Author's Note: This is the sequel of Why Does My Heart, though can be read as a stand-alone. Title modified from Bob Dylan. Many many thanks to reve_silencieux for the beta!

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Mozzie nimbly climbed the front steps of the Burkes’ home, and swept his shoes on the front doormat. He opened the unlocked door and let himself in.

As he gazed around the room, he immediately spotted Little Neal, in the middle of the living room, busy chewing the head of a plastic giraffe.

“Mozzie, great timing,” Elizabeth called him from the kitchen. Wearing an apron tied around the waist, she was stirring a frying pan full of vegetables. The smell was delicious.

Mozzie walked to her, raising an inquiring eyebrow. Seeing his confused look, Elizabeth chuckled lightly. She stopped stirring and holding the wooden spoon midair, she pointed at her son. “Neal is getting angry. Would you mind feeding him, while I finish making lunch for us?”

“With pleasure, Mrs. Suit.” Mozzie nodded happily.  He walked to Little Neal and kneeled next to him. “Hello, mini Suit,” he greeted him, delicately taking the giraffe away. Neal started to cry, but Mozzie took him in his arms and put a kiss on the baby’s cheek. “There, there, kiddo. Uncle Mozzie is going to feed you, today.”

He put Neal in his high chair, next to the kitchen island. “What’s on the menu?” he asked Elizabeth.

She pointed at the fridge. “Mashed carrots and potatoes, mixed with chicken. And an apple compote for dessert. They’re in the small blue Tupperware containers.”

Mozzie retrieved the boxes from the fridge and heated the purée and chicken in the microwave. He tied Neal’s bib neatly around the little boy’s neck and perched on one of the kitchen chairs next to him. He carefully opened the plastic box and took a spoonful of the purée to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Satisfied, he took another spoonful and presented it to Neal.

“Come on, open up, kiddo,” he said, opening his own mouth wild. Neal dutifully mirrored his gesture. “Good. You like it?”

It seemed Neal did, as he opened his mouth again, demanding more. Mozzie chuckled. “Mama is a good cook, is she?”

“You’re so sweet, Mozzie,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “I can make you your own baby food, if you want.”

“I prefer my food to be chewable.”

In his chair, Neal started whining, bending over to try and grab the spoon in Mozzie’s hand.

“Oh you little thief!” Mozzie exclaimed, retrieving the spoon.

“You know, Moz, I always find it fascinating to see what a natural you are with babies. Peter loves his son, but he’s so awkward around him. I had to show him everything.”

Mozzie smiled softly. “I’ve always loved babies. They’re innocent and trusting. At the orphanage, I didn’t have any friends of my age. So I was mostly following Mr. Jeffries around, and when he received new orphans, he would show me, and when I got older, he’d let me give him a hand. We made our own family I guess.”

Mozzie felt a wave of nostalgia threatening to overwhelm him at the memory. He waved it off, and returned his attention to Little Neal, who was not an orphan but the luckiest kid in the world.

The kid had a great appetite, and was a committed eater. He wasn’t stingy in smiles between spoons either. They were already way down the purée, when laughs from the backyard attracted Mozzie’s attention.

Mozzie looked over Little Neal’s head to peek through the window. He caught sight of Neal Caffrey, laughing as the Suit was miming a story – likely involving mini Suit by the looks of it. Mozzie’s heart tightened. They both seemed relaxed and happy, like… before.
              
He turned back to look at El. “When did that happen?” he asked, his tone a little bitter.

Elizabeth tilted her head and looked at him. “A couple days ago. They talked things out. It seems it did them some good…”

“That Judas abandoned me, El!”

Mozzie couldn’t help it. The anger hit him again, like an icy hand of steel compressing his ribcage. It was a cold, deep anger, coming from the darkest abysses of his soul. Mrs. Suit couldn’t understand. No one could understand. They were not orphans. There was a time he thought Neal understood him, but apparently he was wrong about that. The one person he trusted not to betray him actually did. Damn, the betrayal hurt so much.

Elizabeth reached out over the table and put a hand on top of his. Mozzie startled slightly at the touch. She waited for him to look up at her.

“You know why he did this.”

“I don’t need protection,” Mozzie protested vehemently, withdrawing his hand. “I can take care of myself. I’m a much more hardened criminal than he’ll ever be. Hell, I conned the Detroit mob at twelve. Twelve! We were supposed to be in this together. You run, I run. That was our motto. Well, mine, apparently. I –“

Mozzie suddenly stopped mid-sentence, and clamped his mouth shut, swallowing back his tears. He wasn’t going to cry.

“Whatever,” he muttered between his teeth.

“I’m sorry, Moz,” Elizabeth said softy. She gently took the baby spoon from his hand and took over feeding Little Neal. “I know it’s a lot to process.”

Mozzie sat back on his chair, and watched them in silence, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve.

“He came back, you know,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess he was missing the Suit too much.”

Elizabeth looked up, surprised. “Now, you’re not being fair here.”

Mozzie didn’t answer. He didn’t care. He had every right to be angry. It wasn’t about being fair or friendly. His one and only friend – ex-friend – had dumped him to run to Paris alone. He had conned him. He had made him cry – tears of pain that Mozzie didn’t even know he had – all that just to show up a year later. Hello, by the way, I’m not dead.

Judas.

Little Neal had finished his lunch. Sluggishly rubbing his eyes, he was now ready for a nap. Mozzie jumped at the chance. He got down from his chair and took the kid in his arms.

“I’ll go put him to bed.”

Elizabeth gave him a long look but she simply nodded. “Don’t be too long, our own lunch is almost ready.”

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After getting him ready for his nap, Mozzie rocked Little Neal for a few minutes in his arms, until the kid went to sleep. Then he put him in his bed, delicately, careful not to wake him up. He sat on the nearby chair and simply watched him sleep, of this deep and carefree sleep characteristic of loved and trusting creatures. There was something soothing in the peacefulness of the scene.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, simply watching over Neal, when he heard steady footsteps in the hallway. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Peter.

The Suit walked in, and bent over the crib. He delicately brushed his son’s cheek and smiled softly at the sight of his little boy. Then, he sat down on the big toy box that was on the other side of the crib.

“When I couldn’t sleep, or was too afraid to go back to sleep,” he said in a low voice, his eyes still on his son, “I’d come here, in the middle of the night, and watch him sleep. Sometimes, I’d take him in my arms, and would fall asleep in the chair.”

It had taken him a long time to truly admit it, but Mozzie knew that the bond that attached the Suit to Neal was just as strong as his own. It was a genuine and deep friendship, and Neal’s loss had been just as devastating for Peter as for him. And Mozzie thought that the revelation of the con had also hurt Peter just as much as him. But apparently not.

“How can you forgive him so easily? And spare me the ‘it was to protect us’ lies.”

“Okay, then I won’t say it.”

“Are you really buying this?”

“El often says Neal does the wrong things for the right reasons. He cares about us, and he wanted to protect us. That’s a natural thing to do.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“I know, Moz. I’m not saying I agree with Neal. But I’m seeing his point of view. He’s lost a lot of people in his life, for which he feels responsible. And he feels responsible of our own fate. He faked his death to keep us safe. The same way he sold his soul to Hagen to keep me safe.”

Mozzie raised an eyebrow. “Which I thought you greatly disapproved.”

Peter shrugged. “I did. And I’d just wish he’d stop doing this. I still hope that one day he’ll trust me enough not to keep secrets from me anymore.”

Mozzie snorted. “Good luck with that.”

A smile brushed Peter’s lips. “That’s something we’ll have to work on,” he said. “But that’s not the point. What matters is that we do have that chance to work things out, because he’s not dead anymore.”

“Except he never was dead.”

Peter looked up at Mozzie. “To us, he was. And that hurt like hell, and we wished he wasn’t. Didn’t you miss him, every single day, Moz?”

“I did,” Mozzie admitted reluctantly. “But that’s because I thought he was dead. If I knew he was sipping French wines…”

“You remember Agent David Siegel?” Peter asked abruptly.

Mozzie looked up at him, surprised, and a little uncomfortable. Of course, he remembered. How could he forget the one guy that destroyed his empire – and who was killed by that schizophrenic psycho of red head.

“David is actually dead, for real. And he’s never coming back. He was my responsibility and I failed, and he’s dead.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Suit,” Mozzie said quickly.

Peter waved it off. “My point is  Neal isn’t actually dead. He’s right there, downstairs, in my house, setting the table for us all. He came back to us, and I want to believe that it means something. To tell you the truth, at this point I’m not even sure I’ll ever be able to trust him, not completely. But the one thing I’m sure of is that Neal is still there, and I prefer a world with him in it than without.  So, yes, I’m willing to forgive him.”

Peter paused. Mozzie wasn’t sure what to say. The Suit was right – damn it – but he still had so much anger in him…

“Look,” Peter said finally. “I know how you feel.”

“No, you don’t.”

Peter raised his hand in a sign of peace. “Well, at least a little. I know the betrayal hurts. The realization that Neal could run on you and leave you in the dark, it’s a hard pill to swallow. And we each have our reasons that make it even more painful. But sometimes, you just have to accept it. Drop the grudge and move forward.”

Peter got up and walked toward the door. As he reached the door, he turned around to look at Mozzie. “Just give it a try. You’ll see, it’s easier than you think.”

“Like I’m gonna take advice from a Suit,” Mozzie grumbled.

Peter chuckled and overdramatically rolled his eyes. “And I’ll be damn if I ever leave a criminal alone with my boy… But you know, sometimes, life… “

They exchanged an amused look.

“Please, switch off the light when you leave,” Peter added. And with that he went back downstairs.

Mozzie sighed heavily and his gaze fell back on Little Neal, who was still peacefully sleeping, oblivious to all this grown-up drama.

“Your dad,” Mozzie said, “he’s something, you know.”

Finally, he got up, switched off the light and left Little Neal’s room. Slowly, he walked down the stairs. Neal, Peter and Elizabeth were already sitting at the table. There was a fourth chair, in front of a plate and a glass, waiting for him.

Neal looked up and their eyes met. Neal’s gaze was filled with apprehension, regret, hope – or maybe Mozzie was just over-reading it. In any case, Neal definitely looked like he was asking for forgiveness as he shot Mozzie a tentative smile.

“Moz, do you want some chicken with your wine?” Elizabeth asked to break the awkward silence.

Neal bit his lips, holding back a laugh, while the Suit almost spat in his glass. Ignoring them, Mozzie walked with dignity to his chair and took his place at the table.

“It’s the wine you gave us for Christmas, a couple years ago,” Peter said. “It should be good.”

Mozzie shot a wary look at the bottle, but it was actually a very good pick – he must have been in a good mood when he did his Christmas shopping that year. Or more likely, the bottle must have come from Neal’s stash. Satisfied, he took the bottle and poured himself a generous glass.

A family, Mozzie wanted to believe, is made of the people who’ll be there when you need them. And in return, you’ll be there for them. You don’t turn your back on your family. Neal, the Suit, El, and himself, this was a rather oddly assorted family. And he wouldn’t want to be the one to abandon his family.

This was a place where he felt like he belonged. And this was a sweet feeling.  And this is all he would admit.



FIN.

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