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elrhiarhodanTitle: The Scent of Ocean Fog
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Sara Ellis, Mozzie
Spoilers: None, Post Countdown
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Moz wants to see Sara, but NYC is off limits for him these days. They meet on a foggy October afternoon in the little hamlet of Remsenburg, a few miles from Westhampton. Sara takes the meeting, she has a question for Mozzie, too. Written for Day One of the Eight Days of Fic-can-ukah, forattackfish. Her prompt is the title of this story.
A/N: I am shamelessly borrowing from the little family’verse thatvirgo_79 created in Hey There, Georgie Girl (with her permission). Beta’d by my ever-wonderful friend, jrosemary. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
__________________
For Sara, there were a very few people in her life who would be worth a nearly two hour train ride and thirty bucks on a suburban cab’s meter. Moz, oddly enough, was one of them.
The boardwalk at the Remsenburg beach wasn’t quite deserted, despite the nasty weather. Runners with their dogs jogged past, disappearing into the eerie white mist and Sara rubbed her arms through her jacket. It was mid-October and the season was definitely changing. Summer had long since given way to autumn, the leaves were splashes of vibrant reds and golds, indistinct through the heavy fog. She climbed the steps and followed the instructions to wait by the third water fountain east of the bathhouse. She wondered how she was going to find Moz – or how he was going to find her. It was impossible to see anything.
“The mockingbird sings at midnight” A voice called out.
Sara smiled. That voice was unforgettable. “What color was the mockingbird?” She gave the required reply.
A short figure stepped out of the fog and a brief gust of wind from the ocean cleared the mist. The short round figure of her friend was a welcome sight. “How are you, Moz?”
“As good as can be expected. And you?” Moz reached out, as if to touch her. “Blooming, I see.” He sounded surprised and even a little pleased.
Sara smiled. “You can touch.”
Moz laid a gentle hand almost on her belly. “How much longer?”
“Would you believe, another three months?”
“If I had known, I would have picked a meeting place a little more convenient for you.”
“This was fine. The seat across from me was empty for almost the whole trip. I put my feet up and napped from Hicksville to Patchogue.”
“You’re a brave woman, to sleep in public.”
Sara smiled. “No one has written on my face in a long time, Moz.”
He cut to the chase. “I guess you’re wondering why I asked you to meet me.”
“Yeah, I am.” But she thought she knew.
“How’s Neal?”
“Doing well, happy. Very happy.”
“Everything’s all right between him and The Suit now?” Moz’s question was filled with studied indifference, and she didn’t believe that at all.
“They are good. Better than I’d expected.”
Moz pointed to her belly with his chin. “I think that must have helped. A lot.”
She shrugged. That was probably true. Neal asking Peter to be their baby’s godfather had gone a long way to healing the breach between the two men. “So – why did you want to see me?”
Moz turned and looked out into the vast whiteness. He sighed. “Can I … ask you something?”
“Anything, you know that.”
“Do you think Neal will ever forgive me?” The question came out in a rush.
Sara cursed the fog, she wanted to see Mozzie’s face. Instead, she rested a hand on his shoulder. “Neal misses you. He talks about you all the time. He always wonders what you are doing, if you’re happy, if you’re safe and well. He wishes you were around, he wants you to be part of our little girl’s life.”
“A girl? You’re having a girl?”
“Yeah – “ Sara gasped at the sudden pressure against her belly.
“You okay?” Moz peered at her and she could make out the concern on his face.
“I’m fine, this little missy is planning on being a striker for the U.S. Woman’s Olympic Soccer Team.” She rested her arm across her belly. “Come home, Moz. It’s time.”
“All is forgiven?” There was a touch of cynicism there.
“Forgiven, no – but you’re family. You belong with us.” The baby kicked again and Sara took a deep breath, the scent of ocean fog and decaying leaves filling her soul. “Besides, I have a favor to ask.”
“For you, my dear, anything.”
“You should know better than to make blanket promises.”
“Oddly enough, I trust you. What do you want?”
“Marry me.”
“What?” Moz all but shrieked.
“Wait – wait – that didn’t come out right.”
“Okay – because I really had the impression that Neal was living up to his obligations.”
“I mean - marry us – perform the service. Neal said you’re an ordained minister.”
Moz didn’t reply at first. The air, heavy with mist, was almost unnaturally quiet, even the dull roar of the waves against the sand was muted.
“Moz?” She could see him pull off his glasses and start wiping them.
“He really does want me to come back?”
“Yeah, he does. We all do.” She touched him again, and was surprised at his shaking. “We miss you. We need you.”
“Yeah, you definitely are going to need me. Someone’s going to have to teach that kid how to get the best of the schoolyard bullies.”
“And how to do a Wally Banks.”
“And a Phoebe Cates.”
“No Phoebe Cateses, please.”
“Oh, yeah. A girl. Okay.”
Sara grinned “Come on, Uncle Mozzie. Time’s a wasting.” She pulled him into the cab. They’d have a nice long ride back to civilization and she planned on finding out just what he’d been up to for the last few months.
FIN
A/N: Post Countdown, Mozzie’s been living in a safe house in Speonk (and pronounced just like it’s spelled). Yes, there really is a place called Speonk, it’s close to Westhampton and once upon a time, if you fell asleep on a certain Long Island Rail Road train leaving the city, you could have a really nice long nap and end up there. For an urbanite like Mozzie, it’s pretty much Hell in the middle of nowhere (but otherwise, a nice, exurban town with access to all sorts of exotic things to do, like beaches and fishing and visiting the South Shore wineries).
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Sara Ellis, Mozzie
Spoilers: None, Post Countdown
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Moz wants to see Sara, but NYC is off limits for him these days. They meet on a foggy October afternoon in the little hamlet of Remsenburg, a few miles from Westhampton. Sara takes the meeting, she has a question for Mozzie, too. Written for Day One of the Eight Days of Fic-can-ukah, for
attackfish. Her prompt is the title of this story.A/N: I am shamelessly borrowing from the little family’verse that
virgo_79 created in Hey There, Georgie Girl (with her permission). Beta’d by my ever-wonderful friend, jrosemary. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. For Sara, there were a very few people in her life who would be worth a nearly two hour train ride and thirty bucks on a suburban cab’s meter. Moz, oddly enough, was one of them.
The boardwalk at the Remsenburg beach wasn’t quite deserted, despite the nasty weather. Runners with their dogs jogged past, disappearing into the eerie white mist and Sara rubbed her arms through her jacket. It was mid-October and the season was definitely changing. Summer had long since given way to autumn, the leaves were splashes of vibrant reds and golds, indistinct through the heavy fog. She climbed the steps and followed the instructions to wait by the third water fountain east of the bathhouse. She wondered how she was going to find Moz – or how he was going to find her. It was impossible to see anything.
“The mockingbird sings at midnight” A voice called out.
Sara smiled. That voice was unforgettable. “What color was the mockingbird?” She gave the required reply.
A short figure stepped out of the fog and a brief gust of wind from the ocean cleared the mist. The short round figure of her friend was a welcome sight. “How are you, Moz?”
“As good as can be expected. And you?” Moz reached out, as if to touch her. “Blooming, I see.” He sounded surprised and even a little pleased.
Sara smiled. “You can touch.”
Moz laid a gentle hand almost on her belly. “How much longer?”
“Would you believe, another three months?”
“If I had known, I would have picked a meeting place a little more convenient for you.”
“This was fine. The seat across from me was empty for almost the whole trip. I put my feet up and napped from Hicksville to Patchogue.”
“You’re a brave woman, to sleep in public.”
Sara smiled. “No one has written on my face in a long time, Moz.”
He cut to the chase. “I guess you’re wondering why I asked you to meet me.”
“Yeah, I am.” But she thought she knew.
“How’s Neal?”
“Doing well, happy. Very happy.”
“Everything’s all right between him and The Suit now?” Moz’s question was filled with studied indifference, and she didn’t believe that at all.
“They are good. Better than I’d expected.”
Moz pointed to her belly with his chin. “I think that must have helped. A lot.”
She shrugged. That was probably true. Neal asking Peter to be their baby’s godfather had gone a long way to healing the breach between the two men. “So – why did you want to see me?”
Moz turned and looked out into the vast whiteness. He sighed. “Can I … ask you something?”
“Anything, you know that.”
“Do you think Neal will ever forgive me?” The question came out in a rush.
Sara cursed the fog, she wanted to see Mozzie’s face. Instead, she rested a hand on his shoulder. “Neal misses you. He talks about you all the time. He always wonders what you are doing, if you’re happy, if you’re safe and well. He wishes you were around, he wants you to be part of our little girl’s life.”
“A girl? You’re having a girl?”
“Yeah – “ Sara gasped at the sudden pressure against her belly.
“You okay?” Moz peered at her and she could make out the concern on his face.
“I’m fine, this little missy is planning on being a striker for the U.S. Woman’s Olympic Soccer Team.” She rested her arm across her belly. “Come home, Moz. It’s time.”
“All is forgiven?” There was a touch of cynicism there.
“Forgiven, no – but you’re family. You belong with us.” The baby kicked again and Sara took a deep breath, the scent of ocean fog and decaying leaves filling her soul. “Besides, I have a favor to ask.”
“For you, my dear, anything.”
“You should know better than to make blanket promises.”
“Oddly enough, I trust you. What do you want?”
“Marry me.”
“What?” Moz all but shrieked.
“Wait – wait – that didn’t come out right.”
“Okay – because I really had the impression that Neal was living up to his obligations.”
“I mean - marry us – perform the service. Neal said you’re an ordained minister.”
Moz didn’t reply at first. The air, heavy with mist, was almost unnaturally quiet, even the dull roar of the waves against the sand was muted.
“Moz?” She could see him pull off his glasses and start wiping them.
“He really does want me to come back?”
“Yeah, he does. We all do.” She touched him again, and was surprised at his shaking. “We miss you. We need you.”
“Yeah, you definitely are going to need me. Someone’s going to have to teach that kid how to get the best of the schoolyard bullies.”
“And how to do a Wally Banks.”
“And a Phoebe Cates.”
“No Phoebe Cateses, please.”
“Oh, yeah. A girl. Okay.”
Sara grinned “Come on, Uncle Mozzie. Time’s a wasting.” She pulled him into the cab. They’d have a nice long ride back to civilization and she planned on finding out just what he’d been up to for the last few months.
A/N: Post Countdown, Mozzie’s been living in a safe house in Speonk (and pronounced just like it’s spelled). Yes, there really is a place called Speonk, it’s close to Westhampton and once upon a time, if you fell asleep on a certain Long Island Rail Road train leaving the city, you could have a really nice long nap and end up there. For an urbanite like Mozzie, it’s pretty much Hell in the middle of nowhere (but otherwise, a nice, exurban town with access to all sorts of exotic things to do, like beaches and fishing and visiting the South Shore wineries).
