…okay, so I couldn't resist a bit more… I'm not sure about continuing or not, but there are, indeed, loose ends...

oOo

Collar 2.6.1: Loose Ends

oOo

Mozzie had received a breathless call from Neal that afternoon about the painting, and was smiling as he walked to the post office - taking his usual circuitous route. No sense in making it easy for someone who might be following him. As he entered the large building he slipped on soft black leather gloves and walked casually over to the wall of tiny doors. He found his box number and fiddled with the absurdly large bundle of keys in his pocket until he located the one for this number box at this post office – which happened, for the time being, to be the mailing address for Tuesday. The door swung open easily and there it was - a catalog from his favorite Russian Army surplus provider. A very exclusive offering indeed. He pulled it out with a smug, satisfied smile, but then frowned. A small crumpled yellow packing envelope had fallen out of the rolled catalog.

I didn't order anything to this box, did I?

His pulse raced suspiciously as he checked the envelope. It was this address all right, to the name 'Hugh Hefner Jr.'. Moz relaxed and chortled a bit. It had to be someone who knew him. Then he looked at the return address and the blood rushed from his face.

There was no name, no street. Simply the number 3.

Looking furtively around as he left the building and walked quickly toward the subway, he ducked into a nook out of the public view. His hands were shaking just a bit as he carefully took scissors out of his bag to open the envelope, keeping it pointing away from his face, just in case. When nothing seemed to explode and no powder escaped, he tipped the contents carefully out onto his gloved palm.

It was a flash drive. Small, scribbled letters on it in permanent marker spelled out 'Mah-Z', along with another '3' beneath it.

Mozzie swallowed hard, looked around as he put the catalog and envelope into his carry-all, and headed quickly home to Tuesday. He was so thrown that he took a direct route, only remembering at the last minute to overshoot his address and come around from the other side of the block.

When he finally sat down in front of his computer, he stared at the drive in his hand for a good five minutes before taking a deep breath and plugging it into his USB port. There were three files on the drive when it opened. One was a video file, with the title 'watch me'.

For a moment he hesitated. Then he shook his head, punching up his far-from-ordinary scanning software. It took three minutes for the program to run, but the file came up with a clean bill of health. With no excuses left, he double clicked on 'watch me', even though his hand was shaking as he did so. The lighting in the video was dim, but he recognized the face instantly. And even if he hadn't, the voice was a dead giveaway.

"Hey, Moz, my man."

It was a shock, even with his suspicions. The video showed a very tired, cheerful Trey. Moz felt his eyes watering in spite of himself as he listened to his old friend. The image of Trey that leapt to the front of his mind was the last time Moz saw him; a limp and bloody body in the hospital. He tried to shake it off and listened.

"Yeah, I know this isn't what we planned… but I'm telling you, man, I'm worried I'll forget something. I'm sending this part of the code as a backup, just in case, especially since where I'm going there's no computer access… yet." Trey gave a wide smile and a hearty, albeit tired laugh. "I'm leaving the laptop in the same old locker at the bus station… gonna drop it off as soon as I get this flash in the mail. Then I'm off to the airport…" he laughed, and then grew serious, his eyes moist. "I have to thank you, Moz. I have to… being able to retire, get back to my roots… this is the best thing that ever happened to me. Really, man. Thanks." He wiped at his eyes, and laughed again. "Okay, you know I'm tired. I'm outta here. Love you, man. Have a great life."

The video ended. For a long moment, Moz sat and stared at his monitor. Then he blinked, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. He found himself almost angry as he pulled himself together. Okay, what now? This'll be useless without the laptop… and Peter and Neal left it with those forensic guys in DC… With a few deft strokes, Moz was searching bus schedules to the nation's capital. Then he picked up his phone and typed a text.

Another voice from beyond. I'll be back in couple days.

oOo

After they filed their reports about the painting, Peter dropped Neal at his apartment to shower and change. "I'll go home and do the same, let El know what's going on… and should be back in plenty of time to pick Sara up at the airport. Sound good?"

Neal couldn't help but grin. Peter sounded like he was driving his little brother to the prom. "Sounds great." It seemed like no time at all until there was a knock on the door, and he strode out of the bedroom to answer it. When he opened the door, it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

Peter stood there, wearing a dark jacket and a cabby hat. "You call for a ride?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Let me grab my coat."

oOo

Later that evening on the roof, Neal told the story about recovering the painting as they sipped wine and nibbled cheese. Sara listened with rapt attention, noticing a few blank spaces in his tale.

"That's quite a story."

"Really. It's been a hell of a week."

"So…" Her eyes drifted down to her glass as she ran a delicate finger around the edge. "Are you planning to tell me anything real about Kate?"

"Sara…"

"I'd like to know."

The con man sighed, and looked long and hard at the woman sitting next to him on the roof. "I'm not comfortable admitting this, Sara."

"Okay." She blinked once or twice, and then looked up at the stars, her voice a bit chilly. "It's entirely up to you."

"No, it's not what you think… well, maybe it is. Sara… I couldn't believe it when Kate showed up again. It was…" He paused, and she looked at him as he frowned at the table. "I thought she was dead all this time, and then she was just… there."

Even though she felt unsure, Sara couldn't help but feel his pain. "It must have been a shock. I can't imagine, Neal."

"Thank you… but that wasn't the worst part. It was finding out she'd been conning me all along." He took a deep breath, and seemed to be steeling himself. "I'm going to be entirely honest with you."

Sara sighed. "Good luck with that."

His voice hardened a bit. "I'm serious, Sara. I'm not going to apologize for falling back into her arms, because I did love her. But I can't tell you how much it hurts to know that I've been fooled by her all this time. I feel…"

Sara felt a strange combination of feelings. Hurt, anger, but still… an affectionate sadness for the man. Her anger, however, bubbled to the surface, and she couldn't help but push the obvious point home.

"Neal, she's a con." She put her glass down and he looked up, blue eyes open and vulnerable. "Maybe now you know how it feels. How Peter has felt. How everyone who cares about you has felt…"

He looked like she slapped him.

"Sara –"

"It's true, and you know that. I don't blame you for 'falling into her arms' again either – I'm well aware we don't have anything exclusive."

For a long while they sat silently in the moonlight.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was small and quiet. "Thank you."

Now it was her turn to look surprised. "For what?"

"For being honest with me. For listening. And for still sitting there…"

Damn, he can be charming when he's vulnerable.

She fiddled with her glass. "Well…"

"Sara. I know things are kind of off right now… but … maybe after a while…"

"After a while, what?"

He looked at her, and the hopeful, charming smile lit up the night. "I'm just thinking, that if we both feel like it… well… maybe there could be something exclusive?"

She stared into his eyes, unbelieving. Could they really be this honest with each other? "I'm not sure, Neal. I'm really not sure what's real and what's not…" He nodded, his eyes not leaving hers, and after a moment she shook her head with a surrendering shrug. "But I guess I'm willing to see what happens."

He smiled again and leaned toward her, pausing to look from her lips to her eyes once more. "That's really all I can ask." Then he kissed her, softly.

oOo

An hour later, they chill of the evening had chased them inside, and they sat comfortably on the couch together. As usual, physical contact let them find their way back to some kind of détente.

"Wait until you see the painting. You'll love it. It's absolutely amazing."

"Where is it?"

"Locked up at the FBI office, for now. Peter's going to have Diana work on translating the contract. Archaic Italian. Should be fun for her."

Sara shook her head. "I wish I could see it."

A smug grin crept across Neal's face. "So… come to the office and see it." He pulled her close, his lips nearly brushing hers. "I can get us in…"

She tilted her head back skeptically. "Tell me you aren't suggesting that you break in to show it to me." One eyebrow lifted delicately. "Or worse, that you're using this as an excuse to 'pick it up'."

He gave her his best affronted look. "Sara, please. I do have a passcard."

"Mmhmm. And I'm sure the Raphael is just laying out on a table in the bullpen…"

"Well," he shrugged. "I'm sure I can find my way into –"

"No." She was smiling, but her tone was quite serious. "I'd like to think that you can stay out of trouble for a day or two."

"Hey! I've been very good this week… just ask Peter."

"I may just do that." She smirked at him and gave him a kiss anyway, just as his phone beeped a text. "I suppose you should check that." He smiled.

"Later."

In the bedroom, the curtains billowed in at the window.

oOo

Peter returned home after dropping Sara and Neal at his apartment, and was whistling cheerfully as he walked in. Elizabeth came downstairs when she heard the door, and giggled when she saw him.

"Did he like the hat?"

"Loved it. Not his style, though he said it suited me." He wrapped her in a hug, looking over her shoulder into the living room, and made a surprised noise. "So, Mrs. Burke. What's all this?"

"I heard you say that Neal and Sara were doing wine and cheese, and it inspired me. I thought we might watch a movie?"

Peter looked appreciatively at the coffee table, which was spread with all kinds of gourmet hors d'oeuvres, two glasses, and a bottle of pinot noir. "El, this is fantastic."

She smiled. "Well, it wasn't that much work. I had a tasting this afternoon, and took samples."

"Perfect. What are we watching?"

They settled down and chatted and nibbled, happy to steal a moment of calm, happy to be back in their own little world.

oOo

Hundreds of miles away, Moz walked into the bowling alley and looked around. Between a live band and the sounds of pins crashing, the noise level was nearly painful. He stood for a moment, then saw what he was looking for - A group of identically dressed women in black, cheering each other on wildly as they played. Panels of white in their outfits were glowing bluish in the black light.

Only one of the group was dressed a bit differently, and she was sitting at the scoreboard - a large container of cola in one hand as she absently shook out the other. The tee shirt she wore under a black jumper was glowing brightly enough to cast light up on her face and dark pigtails.

The little man took a breath, walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman turned and frowned for a moment in the dim light, then jumped to her feet and hugged him with reckless abandon as she realized who he was.

"Mozzie!"

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