Five Missing Pieces (or, five times Neal and Peter talked that we didn't see onscreen.)

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to White Collar.

One

"You're going to call your G-Man? Seriously?" If Moz had been astonished earlier to learn Neal had stolen the Haustenberg, he now looked like he thought an alien had taken over Neal's body.

Neal picked up his phone, feeling faintly sick. "Moz, I can't protect her. Maybe I could if we really were friends, but I barely even know her. Peter's got the resources to make sure no one gets hurt." Neal liked risk-taking, within reason – his own reason – but he absolutely didn't want responsibility for anyone else getting hurt.

Still blinking with shock, Moz asked, "What will you tell him about the painting?"

Good question. He could very well be giving up his hard-earned freedom. But that was the kind of risk he was comfortable with. "I don't know yet," he admitted. "I'll know when I can see him." He thumbed Peter's speed-dial.

"Neal? What is it?" Peter sounded wary, as well he might with a late-night call from Neal.

"Hi Peter." Neal took a calming breath and chose his tone of voice carefully. "I need to talk to you. In person. Tonight."

"What is it?"

"Something's happened and it can't wait until tomorrow. I need to see you." Neal used his second-most persuasive voice. He needed to sound urgent but not panicky.

"Neal, it's late. I'm in my pajamas. I'm not going anywhere." Okay, Peter was going to make him give him something.

"Dorsett called me. He thinks I have his painting. If he doesn't get it back in two days he's threatened Taryn. He'll send one of his thugs to beat her up or … worse."

His ploy to distract Peter with the threat to a beautiful woman failed. "Wait," Peter said. "How did Dorsett reach you?"

Peter was firmly in suspicious FBI investigator mode. Neal's stomach started to tighten with fear that somehow Peter knew he'd taken that painting. "From my credit card. You really should have spotted me the twenty."

"And why does he think you have his painting?" Dammit, Peter did know. Now Neal had to save his own ass as well as Taryn's.

"He's pulling Taryn into this because he thinks she's my girlfriend. This is your specialty, not mine." Neal heaved the sigh he hadn't allowed himself earlier. Sometimes the truth actually was easier; he just preferred being forced into it. "C'mon, Peter, don't make me tell you this on the phone. Can I come to your place?"

He held his breath. It was practically an admission of guilt right there.

Peter paused, and Neal heard a muffled exchange with Elizabeth. "Last time you didn't bother to ask," Peter said, sourly.

Neal let out the breath. Peter would let him come over. If he could see him face-to-face, give him his best earnest, I'm-sorry-I-let-you-down expression, maybe explain why he'd done it, he'd have a chance. "And you were very upset about that," he said. "I don't want you upset."

"I'll kill the alert on your tracker. But if that GPS shows you even made a stop along the way –"

"I'm on my way. Straight there," Neal promised and hung up. He called a cab before he could look at Moz.

"You're going there?" Moz asked. "Why?"

Neal hurried to the mirror to put on his jacket and check how he looked. "I have to tell him I took the painting. It sounds like he already knows, so I've really gotta come clean." He decided against the jacket. He needed to look un-armored, as if he was so concerned about doing the right thing that he gave no thought to his appearance. He would go as he was.

"You're out of your mind," Moz said, sounding truly worried. "You'll be back in prison before dawn."

"They do executions at dawn, Moz, not incarcerations." He was touched that Moz worried about him, so he gave him his apologetic face. "If I'm going to have any chance of convincing him my intentions were good I've got to talk to him in person."

He headed out the door, running over in his head the best way to pitch this to Peter.

-tbc