Moz visited him in prison. Once every seven months, and always on Neal's birthday (the birthday of a boy not named Neal, listed on a birth certificate he never should have been able to find). He brought books and small statues and pictures and enough money to bribe the guards to make sure they actually got to Neal.
Neal had seen Moz nervous plenty of times. Everyone had, the man wasn't what you would call well-balanced. He'd seen him paranoid and tired and angry, but never - sad. Not until he ran after Kate.
"I need you to double-check something for me. Remember the prototypes for the Canadian hundred you had? Can you see if they changed the color of the fiber from purple to red, because I think - "
"You had three more months."
"She's in trouble."
"Three months, Neal. And now - how many more years are they going to give you?"
"See if they're red, and I think I can get out. I'll be in FBI custody - you know that tracker that they've got Phil wearing?"
"Three goddamn months, you stupid fucking - "
"Moz." And Moz looked at him and Neal tried to think of anything he could say that would convince Moz that it had been worth it. Ran through all the books he'd read and poems he'd memorized and tried to dig up some quote about sacrifice and true love and the impermanence of time but Moz looked so utterly gutted that he just said his name again. "Moz," like an apology.
"The fibers are red," Moz said. And then he stood up and walked out.
If there hadn't been a Plexiglas wall between them Neal would have run after him. Run after him and shook him and forced him to listen or just - just kissed him, kissed him to shut him up, to get him to say Neal's name like he thought Neal was brilliant, beautiful, a friend.
But there was a wall between them. Walls and bars and four years. So he stayed in his seat and watched Moz walk away.
Four Times That Neal Almost Kissed Moz 3/4
Moz visited him in prison. Once every seven months, and always on Neal's birthday (the birthday of a boy not named Neal, listed on a birth certificate he never should have been able to find). He brought books and small statues and pictures and enough money to bribe the guards to make sure they actually got to Neal.
Neal had seen Moz nervous plenty of times. Everyone had, the man wasn't what you would call well-balanced. He'd seen him paranoid and tired and angry, but never - sad. Not until he ran after Kate.
"I need you to double-check something for me. Remember the prototypes for the Canadian hundred you had? Can you see if they changed the color of the fiber from purple to red, because I think - "
"You had three more months."
"She's in trouble."
"Three months, Neal. And now - how many more years are they going to give you?"
"See if they're red, and I think I can get out. I'll be in FBI custody - you know that tracker that they've got Phil wearing?"
"Three goddamn months, you stupid fucking - "
"Moz." And Moz looked at him and Neal tried to think of anything he could say that would convince Moz that it had been worth it. Ran through all the books he'd read and poems he'd memorized and tried to dig up some quote about sacrifice and true love and the impermanence of time but Moz looked so utterly gutted that he just said his name again. "Moz," like an apology.
"The fibers are red," Moz said. And then he stood up and walked out.
If there hadn't been a Plexiglas wall between them Neal would have run after him. Run after him and shook him and forced him to listen or just - just kissed him, kissed him to shut him up, to get him to say Neal's name like he thought Neal was brilliant, beautiful, a friend.
But there was a wall between them. Walls and bars and four years. So he stayed in his seat and watched Moz walk away.