It didn’t take too long to get to the bank. That was Elizabeth’s first thought.
Because she wasn’t supposed to be there—and she didn’t want to get in the way—she decided to find the backstreet of Midtown and wait behind the bank. Stay out of the way of the FBI, but still be there when they found Peter.
She was worried. Hughes and Diana were worried, which made things eons worse. Hughes had never looked at her the way he had at the office. It terrified her.
It was at times like these that she wanted to shake some sense into her husband and force him to take up a desk job somewhere. Paperwork, phone calls, filing. Something safe. Something that didn’t force her to worry constantly about him.
But he loved his job; she knew that. And what’s life if he can’t do what he loves?
But what if what he loves can kill him?
Elizabeth turned down another street, her knuckles white on the wheel. She wondered what Peter would say if he knew what she was doing. He’d yell, for sure. It’s what he does when he’s scared. He’d be furious with her.
That is, if he was still alive.
Elizabeth tried to shake the terrifying scenarios from her mind an focus on seeing him. He was going to be okay. She was jumping to ridiculous conclusions.
And what about Neal? Hughes told Elizabeth that Peter was missing, but he didn’t mention Neal.
If they were together, they were probably fine. That’s how it worked; they had a great dynamic. She liked seeing them work together, glad to see Peter care so much about him. And not only Peter. Elizabeth had really grown fond of Neal over the past few years. They’d become friends.
Elizabeth turned onto the street behind Midtown, crept the car up to the building, and she looked up as it came into view.
The building had collapsed, half on fire. Her jaw dropped. She was about to get out of the car when she saw some movement beside the building.
Squinting, she realized what she was looking at. Two men fighting. Actually, only one man was fighting, hurting the other. Strangling him. Her heart dropped in her chest.
It was Mozzie.
Without even thinking, Elizabeth got out of the car, running. She saw the men closer now, seeing Mozzie’s pale face in the moonlight, his face contorted in pain, his glasses askew.
Realizing she didn’t have a plan, Elizabeth quickly scanned the area, her breath catching when she caught sight of the gun on the ground.
She picked up the weapon, held it high, and yelled, “Let him go! Now!” Her voice shook and her hands trembled. The gun was ice cold and heavy in her hands. It wasn’t the first time she’d held a firearm, but it was the first time she’d ever aimed it at someone.
Allen turned toward her, but didn’t release his hold on Mozzie. He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, put the toy down.”
She didn’t lower the gun. A window shattered beside them. She gripped the weapon tighter and said, “Let him go, or I-I’ll shoot,” she said, her voice unsteady. The gun shook in her grip.
“Honey,” said Allen, his condescending tone both unsettling and angering her. “We both know you won’t do it.” And he increased his hold on Mozzie’s throat, making the small man sink down the wall, and Elizabeth’s instinct made the decision for her.
Her finger suddenly tightened on the trigger, and the gun went off. Allen screamed in pain as the bullet struck his right thigh, and he fell to the ground, gasping. Mozzie dropped to the ground, breathing harshly and coughing. Elizabeth nearly dropped the gun in shock. Shaking herself, she ran to Mozzie’s side, putting a hand on his arm.
“Mozzie?” she asked frantically. “Moz, are you okay?”
Mozzie coughed hard and looked up, his eyes widening. “M-Mrs, Suit?!” he exclaimed incredulously, his voice hoarse.
She smiled in relief. “Yeah, Moz, it’s me.”
“Wh-what are you doing here?” he exclaimed, coughing again as he pulled himself up. She put a hand on his back, helping him.
“The FBI said Peter was here, and I was worried,” she said shakily.
Allen suddenly cried out again. They both looked at him as he clutched his bleeding leg. Mozzie raised an eyebrow, and turned back to Elizabeth. “Did you seriously..?”
Elizabeth looked down at the gun in her hand. “I… I didn’t know what else to do—”
“You saved my life!” exclaimed Mozzie.
“I shot someone!” she gasped as the realization set in. “Oh my god, Moz, what is Peter going to think?”
“He’s going to think you’re a badass!” he said with a grin.
“Wait—what are you doing here, Moz?” she asked.
“Oh—right!” exclaimed Mozzie, straightening. “Neal!”
“What? What about Neal?” asked Elizabeth, fear tightening her chest.
“He—He was kidnapped by this guy,” He gestured to Allen, who was still writhing in pain. “Peter tried to find Neal, but he was taken too and they were both…” Mozzie swallowed.
“…They were both what, Mozzie?” asked Elizabeth, the terrified look in Mozzie’s eyes reflecting in hers.
He slowly pointed to the burning building. “They were both in there.”