elrhiarhodan

Title: My Dog (Knows Where The Bones Are Hid)
Author:

elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Moz
Spoilers: Out of the Box, All of Season Two, So Far
Warnings/Triggers:
Word Count: ~ 1000
Summary: Be careful of what secrets you uncover.

Written for

surreal_44, for the iTunes Song Number Meme. She gave me #9715, which is My dog (knows where the bones are hid) by Oysterband, from their early album Ride . This also happens to be one of my favorite Oysterband songs, and I've been dying for an excuse to write song!fic to it. This is Panel 1 of the Honesty Triptych, and is the immediate prequel to Panel 2, It's Not For Me. Panel 3 - Fortune, completes the series.

________________________

My dog (knows where the bones are hid)
My dog's an awkward hound, sniffing
round on the ground, tail up nose down
for hours & hours & hours & hours
sniffing at the garbage cans of power
he don't smell like a flower
(take a whiff, take a shower)
but he knows what's underneath that lid
MY DOG
knows where the bones are hid

________________________

After hours and days and weeks of looking through the files that Mozzie’s collected, they are no closer to coming to anything close to an answer. Neal’s relying on Moz’s ability to sift through databases, to reach out to his “sources,” and quite often, to dig through garbage to get to the truth. That’s what Moz does best. He’s always been a bloodhound on the scent, albeit one with strange taste in living arrangements. But this time, they are both coming up empty. Every time they think they have a lead, it evaporates.

Fowler’s in the wind, and both Neal and Moz are convinced he has nothing to do with anything other than getting Peter out of the way. There are other players involved, men who have the power to make things happen, to make people disappear, to make small airplanes blow up on the runway. But they can’t get close. These people are ghosts, chimeras – you can catch a glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye, but the moment you turn your head, they are gone as if they never were.

Then something unexpected falls into Moz’s lap, a surveillance photo of Diana walking out of the FBI evidence locker. Moz refuses to tell Neal how he got it – and Neal doesn’t even speculate. Moz’s sources are inviolate – more sacred than those of a journalist. The timestamp on the photo is telling – based upon the incident report filed for the Fowler shooting, the picture was of Diana right after as she checked the music box into evidence. The picture is a captured video still, similar to the one of Kate that Moz had gotten so long ago.

As he had then, Neal presses Moz to try to get more stills, from the minutes before and after. He was unlucky with the picture of Kate. The bank had recycled its ATM video tapes, but according to Moz, the FBI used digital video, and keeps everything. Neal says nothing more on the matter, he has to let Moz do what he needs to do without interference, otherwise he was likely to go squirrely on him, especially since this involves the FBI.

A few weeks later, Moz knocks on his door, wearing his serious business face. He’s also got a bottle of scotch – 40 year old single malt and Neal knows it’s going to be bad. He takes the folder and waits until Moz pours both of them three fingers of whiskey. Neal sits at the table and opens the folder and doesn’t even blink. There’s a still of Diana taking the wooden fake out of a canvas bag, and a second one of her handing it to the evidence clerk and a third of her signing the register and yet one more of her slipping the receipt into an FBI stamped folder.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on. Diana is Peter’s creature – her loyalty is deep and personal and unquestionable. What she has done has been done at Peter’s command. Which means that Peter has the music box. Neal still doesn’t blink. He doesn’t shake. He doesn’t knock back the whiskey and rage. He’s been in this position before, and that turned out so wrong, it nearly killed both of them.

Moz waits for Neal to explode. When he saw the pictures, he started making arrangements. The same ones he made last time it appeared that The Suit had compromised his integrity. But Moz knows that Neal’s not going to run, he needs to play it through. He just hopes that his vengeance doesn’t cost him everything.

“What do you think?” Neal’s question is expected, and Moz has spent the hours since he first sees the photos trying to come up with an answer. He genuinely likes The Suit and this betrayal cuts him deeply. For the man to tell him that Neal was his friend too, all the while betraying him - Moz could be moved to violence quite easily.

“I still have friends in Detroit. Friends who believe in doing things the old fashioned way.”

Neal looks up and him, startled. “No, no. You don’t get it, do you? Peter’s protecting me. He’s not part of what happened to Kate. He’s got my back.” Neal bursts out in loud, painful guffaws – on the verge of hysteria.

Moz is genuinely puzzled. Does he really think that The Suit’s keeping the box because that will keep Neal safe? That’s not how the Feds do things. And then he thinks about all the time he’s spent with Burke – with Peter. There has never been an instance where the man hasn’t had Neal’s best interests in mind. He thinks about the crazy scavenger hunt he took him on, how patient he was. And then he thinks about how easily Burke slipped into the role of a Mafia hit man, and he shivers.

“I’ve got the cash and I can get the jewelry off – all you have to do is say the word.”

“No Moz. I’m tired of running. Peter’s going to tip his hand eventually, even if I have to force him to do it. I just wish…” Neal pauses and drops his face into his hands.

“You wish what?”

“That he trusted me as much as I trust him.”

Moz blinks at Neal owlishly. “Well, have you ever given him a reason to think that you’re completely trustworthy?”

FIN