A/N - content warning for references to drug use

Riverside Drive. Thursday night. June 24, 2004.

When Neal stepped inside the mansion, he saw June at the piano. She seemed to be humming, lost in a memory, and Neal hesitated. As long as he was going to take Mozzie into his confidence, should he include his landlady, too? She had a lot of contacts, and could be formidable when she wasn't consumed with sorrow. She'd mentioned a need to be left alone to work through her grief, and he understood that. But she couldn't spend every moment grieving, either.

"June?"

She looked up. "Neal, I didn't hear you come in. Did you need anything?"

"Mozzie's coming over soon. I asked for his help on a... on a case," he said, still wanting to call it a con. "It might be something you're interested in. It involves music. Do you want to join us?"

For a moment he thought she was going to say yes, but then she shook her head. "Thank you, Neal, but not tonight."

"Let me know if you change your mind. This case is gonna to take a while." He took a step toward the staircase and then paused. "I'm traveling for this one. I'm leaving town tomorrow morning and won't get back till Monday night. And there may be more trips after that. Are you gonna be okay?"

June walked to him, taking his hands. "You're very sweet. I'll be fine." She kissed his cheek and then walked away.

About half an hour later, Neal let Mozzie into his apartment. Mozzie made a show of checking for bugs, then made an equal show of tasting and approving the wine Neal had selected. Then he finally opened his laptop. "You mentioned a conspiracy. Do you need a suggestion? Because I've been looking for the right forum to announce that the NSA is dabbling in quantum computers in order to track us and hack us even more –"

"No," Neal interrupted. "I already have a conspiracy in mind." His own laptop was open and he showed Mozzie an entry in Cassie Blanca's blog, describing her meeting with Neal Legend. She mentioned the way he had disappeared, and the rumors that he was dead.

She'd wrapped up with, "Was it a ghost? Let me know if you've heard of any recent Neal Legend sightings."

"Interesting," Mozzie said. "We don't normally delve into the paranormal, but I have my own theories about ghosts." Already he was running a search. "This Urban Legend group is perfect for spinning a conspiracy. Almost no photos of them posted online. The few out there tend to be too blurry to make a good identification. You know, I predict within a year we'll have video-sharing sites that will make this type of anonymity the thing of the past for a group like Urban Legend. Hundreds of people will post footage of concerts and performances and be able to search on keywords that –"

"Yeah, well you're stuck in 2004, Mozz. Henry had a con in mind to make Urban Legend big news. It starts with the split between Shawn and Grace, and then moves into speculation about the group and their former member, all leading to a single goal. He wants to get the attention of Masterson Music, so they'll offer Urban Legend a contract. That gives us insiders who can get the information we need to bring the company's corruption to light." Neal refilled Mozzie's glass and sat down. "It involves a lot of performances and sightings to feed interest and get press. And that's gonna take a long time. But if we had someone computer savvy on our crew, someone with multiple online identities to keep Urban Legend a topic on blogs and music forums, things could move a lot faster. What Cassie posted is exactly what we wanted. I'm looking for you to pick up from there weaving a conspiracy that she and others like her won't be able to resist. Keep them talking, until Masterson can't help hearing."

Mozzie was already running more searches. "Masterson Music are bottom feeders. It would be a pleasure to bring their slimy practices to light." He sipped more wine. "This Urban Legend group is fascinating. These are obviously stage names, and the members' real names are carefully hidden. That could be an interesting twist in the conspiracy."

"No, Mozz," Neal insisted. "Stick to whether the band members will reunite, and the competitiveness between them. Don't send anyone on a hunt for their real identities."

"Fine, fine," Mozz said. "I'll leave that out, but I'm sure I can find out who they are."

"Don't waste your time. I can tell you who they are."

"Shh. I don't want to be influenced by your guess."

"It's not a guess. I've met them."

"No!" Mozzie insisted. "There are any number of means available to confuse you on that score. Your mind and senses can be misled by drugs, optical illusions, hypnotism... The list goes on. I have to be certain who we're dealing with before I spin a conspiracy around them."

"You've got to be kidding me." Neal shook his head and took away Mozzie's wine glass. He interrupted his friend's protests with, "I'll return it after you listen to me. Henry created Urban Legend years ago. He's Shawn Legend. Angela is Grace, and I'm the ghost. We don't want anyone to know we're the members. That's why I brought this to you instead of to the FBI IT department. I need to have information posted about the group, without it being traced back to me or my cousins."

Mozzie didn't pout, but he did seem to be deflated. "I don't suppose there's any chance that Shawn Legend is the love child of John Lennon?"

"We wouldn't have to worry about Robert in that case. Unfortunately, no. Shawn is Henry, and Henry's really a Winslow." Neal returned the wine glass. "Make it a great conspiracy, Mozz, but don't draw the attention of Robert, Win-Win or the FBI."

"I would have discovered their identities on my own," Mozz muttered.

"I've had to be very careful to keep you from figuring it out," Neal said to mollify his friend. Soon Mozz was absorbed in the online world, and Neal packed for his trip. He'd be catching the red-eye to Austin in the morning. When he got tired, he dimmed the lights in the apartment and went to bed, knowing his friend would come out of his computer trance in his own sweet time.

He should have guessed that his mind would drift to the party that followed the first concert he'd seen Shawn Legend perform in. It seemed inevitable, now that he thought about it. This afternoon he'd talked to Peter about addictions, then in the evening Randy had mentioned Sam's experiences with overdosing, and even Mozzie had referred to drugs.

The band that had hired Henry invited them to a party at the home of a friend. Neal was never really clear who was the host, or how the host knew the band. The house was filled with so many people it was getting hard to breathe. There was music, and dim lights, and alcohol, and then someone offered something to Henry. Neal couldn't hear what they said to him, or what Henry said in return, but he could figure out what was going on. He grabbed Henry's arm and kept pulling until they were both outside.

"Was that cocaine?" Neal asked, keeping his voice low so they wouldn't be heard as more guests arrived.

Henry shrugged. "That's what he told me."

"And you were going to take it?" Neal still spoke softly, but couldn't hide his anger.

"Did you want some?" Henry asked flippantly. "I wasn't going to hog it all. You just had to ask."

"You... That's it. I'm outta here." Neal started walking to Henry's car.

"What are you gonna do?" Henry asked, following.

"I'm getting my stuff and then I'll hitch a ride."

"Hitch a ride where?"

"Anywhere. I don't care. Away from you. I spent my childhood dealing with an addict. In and out of rehab. All the promises she couldn't keep about staying clean. I'm not going back to that."

Henry ran ahead of Neal, sat on the hood of his car, and tossed his keys up in the air, snatching them before Neal could grab them. "Finally. I was starting to think you'd never tell me about it."

"I'm not telling you."

Henry dangled the keys. "You are if you want your stuff."

"I'll just break a window."

"Oh, come on. Tell me about it, and I'll show you how to get into this car any time you want."

Neal eyed him warily. "You mean like break in?

"That's one way. Or you could pick my pocket and take the keys."

"You can teach me that?"

"Mmm. Not in one night, but yeah, I can teach you that."

"How'd you learn?"

Henry leaned back against the windshield. "My dad taught me. He was a cop when I was a kid. He wanted me to learn stuff like that, you know, tricks of criminals, so that I could be a good cop someday."

Neal tried to imagine Henry as a cop, but couldn't see it. He would like to learn the things Henry had described. Those skills could come in handy, especially if he was on his own. He didn't really want to be alone, but some things were a deal-breaker. "I'm not sticking around if you do drugs."

"Yeah, I get that. Listen, filling in for band members is part of how I get by. I like to know who's into drugs, and then see whether they have a serious enough habit that I should practice to fill in for them."

"You weren't going to take the coke?" Neal asked.

Henry sighed. "I'm gonna be honest with you. I can't tell you I've never tried it. But tonight I was looking for a reaction, hoping you'd finally admit your mom was an addict."

"How'd you know?"

"You said some stuff in the hospital when your fever was bad."

Neal felt a moment of panic as he flashed back to some of the things he'd remembered and said under the influence of that fever and the medications he'd been given. "Th- That wasn't real."

He blinked to see Henry standing in front of him. "Enough of it was. Come on. We can talk about it at the hotel. We're getting room service tonight." He held up a hotel key card. "Lifted it off the lead singer. He's already passed out on the couch in there. Someone might as well use his room."

Then Neal transitioned from remembering to dreaming. Duelling nightmares chased him until he woke with a start when his alarm clock sounded.

###

Mozzie was gone, but he'd left notes that Neal reviewed while drinking coffee. The first set grouped sites by target audiences: musicians, music industry execs, radio DJs & producers, music critics, and music fans. The next set of notes outlined a strategy for engaging each of those groups. Neal visited some of the sites and saw Mozz had put the first stage of his plan in motion. In some cases he'd posted comments about Urban Legend or their members. In other cases he'd been more cryptic, referring more generically to urban legends and ghost stories. And in one case he'd hacked the advertising feed on a site, replacing an ad with the words "The best Urban Legends are Ghost Stories" over an image of "The Scream." It looked like an album cover, and would lead to speculation about whose album it was and when it would be released.

The last notes from Mozzie were the ID and password to access a site he'd called Urban Legend Analytics, where Neal could find counts of how many people had seen the items Mozzie had posted, how many had followed links to the Urban Legend or Urban Chaos sites, and how many people had posted related comments on any of the sites. Neal didn't have time to look at the metrics now, and didn't expect much traffic yet, but he memorized the credentials so he could check the results later.

He called Mozzie as he locked the door to his apartment and headed downstairs. "Thanks, man," Neal said. "I was afraid you'd go over the top, but that showed real finesse."

"The best conspiracies, like urban legends, sneak up on you," Mozzie said. "They don't hit you over the head. Not at first, anyway. Right now I'm looking into Masterson. They've been dodging some bad press about their staff. There's a DUI and an assault and battery, all swept under the carpet. The worst was someone using the company's distribution channels for CDs to ship child porn."

"Ugh."

"When you're closer to making your move, let me know and I'll shed a light on these. They'll be eager to move the spotlight to signing a contract with an exciting new group."

"Good thinking. We'll also need more content for the Urban Legend site," Neal said, "something to keep people coming back to see what's new." He put down his luggage at the front steps to lock the mansion's gate behind him.

"Let me know when one of you is going to do something newsworthy. And a recording of some performances would be good. Not many people have actually heard Urban Legend's songs."

"Yeah, I'm working on that." A town car driver had walked up and nodded at Neal, who gestured his approval for the driver to take the luggage. Neal walked toward the open door of the backseat. "I should have something for you in a few days on both fronts. Do you need a specific file format? There are some archives I can..." He slid into the backseat, saw Peter, and said, "I'll call you back," as he ended the call. He slid the phone into his pocket. "This is a surprise."

"Consider this your first check in," Peter said. "And your first warning. Next time confirm your driver's identity, and check the car is from the company your reservation indicated. I could easily have been Robert."

Neal nodded. Being settled into a home and a job at the FBI, he felt safe. Safer than he'd felt in years. He'd grown complacent. "Good point."

###

Peter looked at Neal with concern. The kid looked pale, and not particularly rested. Not good when heading out on a potentially risky job. He was staring out the window as they headed to the airport, but Peter would guess his mind wasn't on the scenery. "Tell me what's wrong," Peter said.

Neal looked startled. He glanced at Peter and then resumed staring out the window. "I'm fine."

"You're jumpy. Not what we want right now. Tell me, or I'm grounding you."

"Excuse me?"

"No flying out of town until I'm convinced you're steady enough to handle this assignment."

"So you're... you're saying that as a boss, not as..."

Peter floundered a moment, and then recalled being grounded as a punishment from his parents. "Oh. Grounding. Yeah, as in a boss clipping your wings."

Neal nodded. He leaned back, rubbed his face, and then started talking. "When I was in the hospital and figured out I'd been given a massive overdose of Flashback, my biggest fear was that I'd be hooked on it. It's a fairly new drug, not a lot known about the effects of high doses yet. After taking so much care not to mess around with any addictive substances, I thought maybe I'd had an addiction forced on me. And maybe I'd be just as weak as my mother, never able to break free." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, I had a nightmare about that last night."

"You weren't addicted, though," Peter said.

"No. Just a passing fear."

"Have you talked to Noelle about it?"

Neal shook his head. "By the time I got out of the hospital, I wasn't worried about it anymore. I haven't thought about it again, not until last night."

Why last night? Peter wondered. What had triggered this fear? The first thing that came to mind was that they were digging into Neal's past. "They say most teens experiment with drugs at some point."

"I didn't." Neal said. "I was too determined not to end up like my mom."

That left one other option. "What about Henry?"

"He didn't do anything, not when I was with him. That was part of our deal. If he'd broken the deal, I'd have left."

"And before he found you in Chicago?" Silence greeted that question, confirming Peter's suspicion that Henry did have a history with drugs and that Neal knew about it. "Are you afraid he'll do something like that again?"

"He knows better," Neal said, but he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. "He knows he needs to be on top of his game now if he's going to stay a step ahead of Robert."

Peter knew plenty of examples of people who turned to cocaine and other drugs in the belief that those drugs would make them sharper. No wonder Neal was worried. And it was a worry he wouldn't take to Noelle because it involved her son. "Is there any way to get a message to him, to remind him of your deal?"

"No," Neal responded immediately. "He's ditched his phone, won't answer email. He's gone off the grid. If I had a way to communicate with him, I'd already..." He trailed off. "Mozzie."

"Your expert on off the grid. You think he's helping Henry?"

"No. But I think Mozz can help me get a message to someone who's gone off the grid. And he's obsessive enough to make it a message Henry can't ignore."

Peter had mixed feelings about this. Neal looked much more positive now, which was good. But Mozzie's distrust of the FBI and his own criminal endeavors were influences Peter would prefer Neal avoid. "Let's think this over. What's Mozzie going to ask in return for this help? I'm not having you aiding and abetting a known felon."

Neal grinned. "He takes great pride in being an unknown felon. Anyway, he's currently wrapped up in his latest conspiracy theory. That's something I can safely help with."

"Nothing illegal," Peter cautioned.

"I might need to look up the legal definition of stalking," Neal said, "if he decides to get closer to his latest source of corrupt, capitalist power-mongering. Otherwise I think we're safe."

Peter wasn't convinced that anything involving Mozzie was safe, but they were approaching the airport and there were other things he needed to say. "Remember to check in with Tricia frequently. Play it safe. Call us if there's any sign of Robert. We might not be there with you, but you're still part of a team."

"Yeah, yeah," Neal muttered as he climbed out of the back seat.

"By the book!" Peter insisted as Neal picked up his luggage.

The kid turned toward him with the mischievous expression Peter associated with comments like "you're such a dad" but this time Neal simply frowned and walked away.

On the ride back to the Federal Building, Peter fretted about this latest odd behavior. Was this simply his enigmatic consultant needing space, or was there something more serious going on?

A/N: YouTube didn't launch until 2005, but of course Mozzie would be aware of it in advance.