Chapter Text
Considering the people they are and the direction their relationship takes over the following years, the strangest thing about Neal's first encounter with Mozzie is how normal it is.
They meet at an art exhibit for a couple of Neal's old college friends, and despite the other mans clear intention to remain unnoticed, or maybe because of it, the artists attention is drawn to him almost instantly.
Up until this point in his life Neal's romantic and sexual partners have tended to fit into one of two categories, either pretty and naive, like his first girlfriend Kate, or confidently dominant with a shade of controlling, like Vincent, who he dated on and off throughout his first year at college. The short, balding, obviously awkward man who has spent much of the time Neal's been observing him looking at the various paintings in a way that suggests he can use them to divine the nature of the universe, clearly doesn't fit into either group.
That doesn't matter. Neal finds himself attracted to the other man in way that's unlike anything else he's felt previously. When he finally manages to strike up a conversation with him over their mutual disdain for the cheap wine on offer, and gets his first glimpse into Mozzie's unique mind that feeling only gets stronger.
They end up talking for over three hours and by the time the exhibit closes that evening Mozzie has earned his own category in Neal's mind, along with his number. Neal has a name, that probably isn’t real, but that’s okay, he's always preferred the mystery.
They've been together for almost five months when it happens. It's late, they're both drunk and by the time Neal realises he recognises the driver it's too late. He's unconscious a moment later.
"Hello, Neal"
Neal doesn't need to open his eyes to know who that voice belongs to, doesn't need to smell that distinctive scent know exactly where he is or feel the tightness of the cuffs around his wrists to remember everything that's happened here before, to know precisely what's coming now.
He forces himself to look anyway, to take in the small, dark room, nearly empty apart from the bed he's currently chained seated on, and the man stood in front of him, looking almost no different than the last time they saw each other.
"Hello Mathew," Neal replies, trying to keep his voice calm and detached.
It's harder to stay impassive when the the thought that's been niggling at the back of his mind suddenly decides to hit him with full force. Moz. The last time he saw the other man was just before he lost consciousness, and as much as he tries to tell himself that his boyfriend might have escaped, or been allowed to get away, he knows that's not what has happened. He knows this man too well for that.
Neal was nineteen when he met Mathew Keller. It had started as a bit of fun, a way for both of them to get over other relationships that hadn't worked out. They enjoyed spending time together, he and Mathew had a lot in common on the surface, and a few months in things started to become more serious.
For a while things were good, but then the problems began. By this point Neal, hopeless romantic that he's always been, was already completely in love with the other man, so of course he ignored the signs, until he couldn't anymore.
It started with a few choice comments, references about Neal being too flirtatious, complaints that he wasn't doing enough to dissuade people from trying to flirt with him. The comments turned to harassment, directed at Neal's friends or anyone who showed 'too much interest' in him.
He should have ended things when Mathew had punched a man for looking at him, but he blamed himself. Neal had told himself that the other man was right. If he didn't flirt so so much, if he wasn't so obsessed with getting other people's attention, then Mathew wouldn't have reason to be jealous. It was his fault people were getting hurt, just like it had been with his father.
Neal had pleaded with his lover to stop taking his anger at him out on other people. Mathew had agreed as long as Neal accepted the punishments himself and so the room had been created, in the basement of Keller's home.
The forms of 'punishment' would vary depending on how Mathew was feeling. If he was angry it would be the beatings, if he was in a jealous mood it was usually something sexual. The cutting didn't really need a reason, it was just something he liked doing. It didn't take long for Neal to recognise the patterns, although knowing what was coming didn't make it any easier to deal with.
They'd stayed together another year after that, until he learned that a college friend had been sent to hospital because Mathew had guessed that they'd slept together a few times before their relationship had started. Mathew hadn't reacted at all when he told him things were done, just left with a word. Neal thought he was gone completely from his life.
Neal dated a few people after that, but it was only when he met Moz that he allowed himself to fall in love again, let himself think that everything would be okay.
He should have known better.
Mathew was willing to nearly kill a man over a couple nights of meaningless sex before they were even together. Neal chest clenches at the very thought of what he might do to Mozzie, a man he's been in a committed relationship with for the past few months.
Mathew smiles at him in a way that suggests he knows exactly what Neal's been thinking about. He walks around the end of the bed, coming to sit next Neal and wrapping his arms around the artists shoulder in way that would almost be pleasant if not for the cuffs keeping him in place and the dangerous look in his ex-lover's eyes.
"Your new boyfriend's pretty interesting," Keller smirks, enjoyment evident on his face, "Bit of a downgrade in the looks department, but..."
"Stay away from Moz," Neal growls, hoping the threat in his voice is enough to disguise the building panic.
"It's a bit late for that," another smirk, completely unfazed, "I've been having a bit of fun with him while you were sleeping. Don't worry though, you haven't missed much, I saved the best bits so you could enjoy it too."
The fear ratchets up a notch, but now it's combined with a growing anger.
"Leave him alone, it's not.."
"Him I want to hurt it's you. That's true, but see I know you. This," he says gesturing to the room, "is just a reminder. It doesn't matter what I do to you, not now, but I could destroy that weird little boyfriend of yours so easily and that, that would destroy you."
With that Mathew slides of the bed, retrieves a key from his pocket and proceeds to unlock the cuffs chaining Neal.
As soon as the last lock is free Neal throws himself forward, pushing Mathew back and runs for the door. The effects of whatever he's been given to knock him out still haven't warn off completely and he stumbles, which allows the other man to grab him.
"The more you struggle now, the worse it will be for him" the soft voice he uses forces a stab of rage through him, but Neal makes himself calm down, allowing Keller to lead him through the house to where he's keeping Moz.
This room is slightly larger, much brighter and not as sparsely decorated as the one Neal's just left. As well a decently sized bed there are a couple of drawers, a bedside table with a lamp and a small chair in the corner. Mozzie is sat on the floor, arms chained to the bed leg. His eyes are blank and unfocused and it takes a moment for him to show any awareness of their presence. It's only when Neal crouches down and puts a hand on his shoulder that he turns to look at him.
"Neal," he whispers, glancing at him with a mixture of panic, uncertainty an a sliver of relief, "Are you really there?"
"I'm here Moz, it's okay," Neal moves to wrap his arms around the smaller man but Mathew pulls him away, letting go only when he stops struggling.
"What did you do to him?" he demands, turning to face Keller, fury rapidly taking over the fear and concern that have been gripping him since he's been in this building.
The other man ignores him, leaning down to whisper something to Moz that causes him to flinch with fear. Neal can't hear what Keller says but the look Moz gives him is enough to know that it probably involves threats towards himself if his partner doesn't accept whatever is planned for him. 'Don't listen to him' Neal mouths, silently, although Mathew clearly notices the action.
"What I've done isn't really important right now," He says standing up,"You should be more focused on what I'm going to do."
Mathew nods towards the bed and Neal feels his stomach tighten as sees the arrangement of items lying out in front of him. When he notices the knife he freezes, memories shooting into his head, the feel of metal against flesh as as Keller slides the blade down his chest, the tight grip on his arm as he's forced onto the bed, the coldness on his wrists and ankles as cuffs are snapped around them holding him down. He remembers the look on Keller's face, the mixture of fury and exhilaration as he readied himself for whatever as about to come.
He's wearing that same look now, only this time Neal is not going to let it go any further. Grabbing the lamp from the table next to him he swings it, knocking Mathew to the ground. He doesn't get up.
The small part of his mind that is still thinking rationally screams at him to run, to grab Moz and get out of there, but he doesn't. He does grab the keys from Keller's pocket and free Moz, but instead of making their escape Neal just pulls him close and they hold onto each other for a while, Neal's anger at Mathew further heightened by the way his partner is still shaking in his arms, gripping tightly to him as if he's still not sure Neal is really there. He glares at Keller's unconscious body, thinking of all the people Neal has cared about that this man has been responsible for hurting, for keeping him away from, about the way he always made Neal feel that he was the one responsible, the one to blame for everything he did. Neal knows now that he isn't, that he never was. But he will be responsible for making sure it doesn't happen again. He will make sure that this is the last time anyone uses the people he loves against him.
The knife is still on the bed, the cuffs on the floor next to his body. Moz is no longer shaking and has calmed down enough to recognise that Neal is formulating a plan. His eyes still show a high level of fear, but now they also contain a manic glint, one that he knows is reflected in his own eyes.
They leave the man cuffed to the bed in the basement room, throat slit. Neal cleans up and on Moz's request they douse the place with oil from the garage and torch it. Neal isn't sure what's more beautiful, the flames destroying the man, and house responsible for so much of the pain and guilt he's felt over these last few years, or the child like joy and excitement on his boyfriends face as they take one more glance at the burning building before heading into the night unseen.
Neal spends the rest of the night painting. The resulting piece is dark and abstract, but the symbolism is obvious. It's a sign of freedom, escape, retribution, and beginnings. It's the first of many. It will be a long time till anyone else sees it.