Title: Tuesday
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: Gen
Length: 1,130
Content notes: Tag for S2E7 "Prisoner's Dilemma. Highlander!Immortal!AU-Verse.
Summary: The Suit has been to Tuesday. In Mozzie's world, this is a disaster.



"Well that was a disaster!" Mozzie declared the moment they made it into Neal's apartment.

"Oh, I don't know," Neal smirked and shrugged out of his jacket, "we caught both bad guys, you got revenge on Stan through his Lambis, we saved the good guy, you got to drink wine with El, Peter owes you a favor, I got a fun little present…"

"Tuesday is ruined!" Mozzie burst out.

Neal froze. "You took them to Tuesday?"

"Your Suit picked the meeting place and it was only two blocks away. Was I supposed to have them drive twenty more minutes to Friday? With Stan after them?"

"It's a thought!" Neal replied sharply. He immediately walked over to the wine rack and grabbed a bottle of Syrah he'd been hiding in the back corner. This conversation called for something special. When he stood back up, Mozzie had already gotten two glasses and was sitting at the table.

"You were the one that insisted we hide them-"

"I'm not going to just let a dirty US Marshal shoot Peter!" Neal snapped back. Peter was his friend, and despite the fact that he was mortal, Mozzie even seemed to like him. "Would you have wanted to explain that to Elizabeth?"

Mozzie paused. "No," he finally admitted quietly. They each sipped their wine for a moment before Mozzie cleared his throat. "But now that we're stuck with the disaster fallout, what are we going to do?"

Neal considered this for a moment. Had it been any Safehouse beside Tuesday, he would have simply told Mozzie to find another location, but Tuesday was special. Tuesday was a Shinto shrine, a sacred place, and the ground beneath it was hallowed. It was not your standard Safehouse, but an Immortal-proof one. On the other hand, this wasn't their first desecration… "So find another space."

"Oh, because it's that easy! There's so much hallowed ground lying around Manhattan with empty buildings above it that have defensible space!" Mozzie ranted dramatically. "And of course, I've only got a four mile diameter to work in because it has to be inside your radius!"

"That would be nice," Neal agreed.

Mozzie sputtered at him, and Neal resisted the urge to smirk.

"I'll admit, Tuesday was a particularly nice find, but there are other ways," Neal said calmly. "Moz, we don't have to start from hallowed ground; we can create it ourselves. Or am I misremembering why you've been ordained? Twice."

"It takes slightly more than a simple blessing to create holy ground!" Mozzie protested, but he couldn't deny that that actually was the reason for his multiple priesthoods.

"I know," Neal replied. "And I know it isn't ideal. Usually we've created a new one before the old one is compromised, but we don't really have that option this time. But we've done more with less."

Mozzie considered this.

"And," Neal pointed out, "in the meantime, we are in the city of Churches."

"Churches run by the Man," Mozzie muttered, but there was no heat in it. Neal could tell that he was mulling over the problem.

He sipped at his wine, giving Mozzie time to puzzle though the logistics. Finally, he prompted, "So, Shinto again, or has J. Edgar forever tainted that serenity?"

Mozzie gave him the look, but then sighed and took a sip of his wine. "As much as I want to say that the idea is forever ruined for me, the shrine had a certain comforting feeling. And I'm not inclined to go back to all of the Latin chanting right now."

"Shinto it is!" Neal decided. "How much time to find the right place?"

"Oh, give me a week," Mozzie decided.

Neal nodded, doing the math in his head. The blessing would take a few weeks, and then a few more to make sure it had taken hold. They'd made that mistake once in the past and Neal had sworn to never slip up that way again. "So roughly seven weeks," he said.

"Give or take," Mozzie nodded.

"So we're only vulnerable for two months. And in the meantime, there's always All Angel's and Living Word." Neal named a church that was a few blocks from June's and the one across the street from the Federal building. Neal knew Peter would be shocked to learn how familiar he was with the Churches of New York, especially as one who claimed agnosticism.

"Right." Mozzie seemed much calmer now, and Neal hoped that his panic was gone. Not that Neal also hadn't suffered a miniature heart attack when Mozzie had delivered the news, but he hadn't considered a life-ending disaster. He had certainly taken the loss of their sanctuary better than the older man.

Mozzie had always relied on having an escape route to holy ground, which was, in part why he was still alive. Neal had always relied on his wits and his words before resorting to his sword work or fleeing. Mozzie was the 'run first, ask questions later' type, however, and Neal knew what it meant to him to have a patch of holy ground to run to.

And in fairness, had they run into any other Immortals recently, Neal might have been more concerned, but as it was, he was enjoying this break from the Game. He wasn't sure what message Mozzie had spread when Neal was arrested, but it had certainly worked.

Neal let his thoughts drift as he finished his glass of Syrah, allowing Mozzie's muttering to wash over him as he unwound from the stressful day. Though he couldn't tell Peter this, today hadn't actually been Neal's first time on the lawful side of a manhunt. However, there was something different about Peter – about his whole life here. Knowing that Peter was in danger, knowing that Elizabeth was waiting at home for her date night, knowing that Jones and Diana and even their boss's boss's boss had his back and was going to follow their play…

He hadn't felt that way in a long time, like he had people he could rely on, other than Mozzie of course. It had been – Neal did some quick mental math – at least a couple of centuries since he had had this kind of social circle. And, the tracker on his anklet notwithstanding, Neal felt trusted. It was almost enough to make him want to get out of the Game entirely. At least for this lifetime.

About the time he realized that Mozzie had switched to muttering in Japanese, Neal's thoughts had also circled around. "What do you want to call this one?" he asked suddenly. "Tuesday the Second?"

"I'm over the days of the week thing," Mozzie replied airily. "I'm thinking of something in a color."

"You look good in aubergine," Neal pointed out.