'Have a nice evening, yeah right, Jack!' Tony muttered to himself as he drove rapidly to his parents' house. 'Oh, one little thing you forgot, how am I supposed to do that? You managed to send me into the field to hunt down some smuggler, and God only knows how long it'll take me to even get a place in one of his trucks! What am I supposed to do in the meantime? And yeah, what am I supposed to tell mom? She'll want to know where I'm off to, and she sure won't be satisfied with anything less than the complete truth! In fact, they'll want to know where I've been up till now!' He pushed his foot down harder, determined not to keep them waiting any longer. 'Hopefully they'll already have started dinner, or it will certainly spoil and mom will be real annoyed.'

A flash directly behind the car distracted him and a second later a siren wailed. Glancing into the mirror, he saw a police car following him, lights flashing. 'Maldita sea!' he cursed. If there was one thing to completely spoil his evening, this was it. Reluctantly he pulled over, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Focus, Almeida. Stay calm and show them your CTU card. It usually impresses these traffic police. It's done so several times before.

'Good evening, sir,' began a police officer, peering through the window at him. 'License and registration.'

Tony opened the glove box and searched through a collection of his young niece's drawings and his mother's old shopping lists and receipts, placing the entire pile on the passenger seat. His own papers were at the bottom, as he had suspected, for no matter how often he had been pulled over for speeding, his family's junk managed to accumulate even faster. Wordless, he passed it out to the officer.

'Antonio Almeida, CTU,' the officer read, frowning. 'Are you aware of the speed limit, Mr. Almeida?'

'Yeah,' Tony agreed. 'Look I'm real sorry.'

The officer continued to study his card. Come on, what's the problem? Give it back and warn me about following the road rules and let me go, I'm real late! I'd be there by now, he thought impatiently. The officer frowned, folding his hand round the card. 'Are you on active duty tonight, sir?' he inquired.

'Yeah,' Tony answered, deciding he hated the officer. It was almost true, really, if he thought about it. He was supposed to prepare for his undercover operation, and he couldn't do that until after he arrived at his parents' place and ate his dinner. Simply phoning them to excuse himself was out of the question, they would only presume he was sick and go to his apartment.

'And if I call CTU someone will confirm that?' continued the officer, not in the least impressed by the card.

Tony nodded confidently. 'Yes.'

'We'll see. You see, Mr. err, Almeida,' the officer glanced at the card again, 'our records indicate you've been stopped on this road three times before in the past two years and on a coupla others as well! You sure you were on duty every one of those occasions?'

Tony swallowed and nodded. 'Yes,' he said.

'Like you are tonight?' questioned the officer. 'Ok, I'll need to confirm that. Don't move!'

Tony placed his elbows on the steering wheel and laid his head in his hands, groaning aloud once the officer returned to the patrol car. 'Dammit! Why didn't that bastard just accept the card?' He rubbed his face, remembering that Jack and everyone else on his shift had long since left the office and Jack's evening counterpart was there, a man Tony intensely disliked. Would the guy give him an alibi? 'You're about to find out, Almeida,' he muttered, hearing footsteps crunch over loose gravel.

'I spoke to the director of CTU, sir, and he informed me that you had logged out at exactly 8:06 this evening. According to him, you're off duty till Sunday morning. In this case, sir, I'm writing you up a ticket for speeding. Now let's see,' he leaned against the door, puffed out from the short walk, at least 100 pounds overweight, Tony estimated. 'The speed limit on this street is 60 miles - and you were doing 80.' He gazed at his notes again, shaking his head. 'Step out of the vehicle, sir.'

'Why?' Tony demanded, as politely as he could. 'Just gimme my ticket and I'll pay the fine on Monday.'

'No sir. I'll ask you one final time to step out of the car and I suggest you do so!'

Tony shook his head in disbelief and opened the door, stepping onto the sidewalk. 'I'm out! Now if you'd hand me my ticket.'

'I'll need the keys,' the officer continued, ignoring him.

'What?' Tony exclaimed, startled. 'Why?'

'You've been booked at driving 20 miles over the speed limit in a built up area. That's an instant loss of a point! According to our records, you've been fined for speeding several times in the previous two years. You haven't got anymore points left! Your vehicle's going to be towed. Now hand me the keys.'

'I don't believe this,' Tony muttered under his breath, pulling the car keys off his key ring with difficulty. 'You know I'm gonna get it back tomorrow!'

'That's entirely up to your boss and my captain,' replied the officer unhelpfully. 'You might have a longer wait than you think. In any case, sir, next time you use this road, you'll be reminded of the speed limit!'

'Right,' Tony remarked, unable to keep silent. 'And you're not gonna let me drive it home and have it impounded there, you're gonna wait here with it and leave me stranded?'

'I can always take you in for refusing to obey a police officer,' the man told him, turning red. 'Any more comments from you, and I might just do so. Working as a Federal Agent does not give you freedom to drive whichever way you like. I don't allow off duty firemen, ambulance drivers, doctors or anyone else use their positions as an excuse and you won't get away with it either. Keys' he demanded, in a surly tone.

Tony slapped the keys into his outstretched palm, irritated beyond words. Chewing his lip, he opened the back door and pulled his guitar out, hating the thought of carrying it but not daring to leave it in the car.

'Spoilt the fiesta, did I?' asked the officer, a sly smile on his face. 'Oh well, I'm sure you'll find one next week.'

'I'm sure I will,' Tony muttered, reaching inside the car to withdraw his gun. He slid it into his gun belt, noting the officer had fallen silent. 'Good evening!'

'Good evening,' the officer replied, refusing to allow him the last word. 'Just remember you're off duty, Mr. Almeida.' He pointed to the gun before turning his back and returning to the patrol car.

Tony picked up his guitar case and set off, muttering a string of Spanish oaths, under his breath at first, then out aloud once he reached a safe distance. He walked rapidly, desiring to put as much distance between himself and the officer as he could. At this rate it would take him two hours to reach his parents' house, whilst it would have taken a mere twenty minutes by car. Once he was far enough away in the darkness he pulled out his cell, calling his parents again. 'Come on, pick up,' he breathed, not keen on the idea of the long walk. To his intense relief it was answered after a couple of rings.

'Hi,' a young voice called excitedly and the phone was removed. 'Hello.'

'Mom,' Tony began.

'Tony, where are you? Do you realize the time? We've all eaten by now.'

'Sí, I realize. Listen mom, I had to work real late and I was in a hurry to get to you, and this b officer stopped me.'

His mother groaned aloud on the other end of the line. 'Tony! How many times have I told you to remember you're home now, not in the Middle East! They got rules here!'

'Yeah, anyway, that bastard took my license, and the car.'

'What?' his mother exclaimed startled.

'So I'd really appreciate a lift,' he begged, his face burning. 'I wouldn't ask, mom, but I got the guitar…'

'Sure, sweetheart, I'll come right away,' she told him, as he had known she would. 'Where exactly are you?'

Tony gazed at the nearest crossroad and told her, and she promised to be there shortly. He sighed, rubbing his face, placing the case carefully on the ground. He fervently hoped his mother would come personally rather than send his father. She was bound to scold him sternly, but it was preferable to his father's silent reproach. Fortunately it was indeed his mother who drove up, shaking her head at him.

'Hi mom,' he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. He placed the guitar on the back seat and laid the backpack on the ground, climbing over it. 'I'm real sorry for dragging you away from dinner.'

His mother took a deep breath and he sighed, telling himself he deserved all she would tell him. 'Tony, this is hardly the first time you've been speeding. How many times have you been stopped now?'

He shook his head. 'I don't remember.'

'That sounds right,' she continued sternly. 'And you've only been back from the Middle East two years. In that time, Tony, you've been stopped at least twelve times, as far as I recall, and that's only the occasions I know about! When are you going to realize you're back home now and drive properly?'

'I'm sorry,' he repeated.

'You should be. Ashamed too, I hope. What kind of example are you setting everyone else, a federal agent caught speeding? Don't you remember what Papa and I told you?'

He nodded. 'I do.'

He listened to her scolding for a further five minutes knowing he deserved it before he rubbed his head, leaning back against the seat. He wondered whether his mother would fall for his trick, and was delighted to notice that she did.

'Sweetheart, aren't you well?' she asked, worried, taking a hand off the wheel to feel his face. 'You're quite hot.'

Only because I've been real pissed off for the past two hours, he thought, allowing his eyes to close.

'Tony, we're nearly home. I'll warm your dinner, and then you can go upstairs to bed,' she said, clearly worried.

He turned startled. 'Mom, isn't anyone there tonight? I'm sure I heard Sandy.'

'Sure, sweetheart, Joey and Maria, Janey with Sandy, and Bobby,' she said.

She drove up and he collected the guitar and backpack, leaving them beside the door near his parents' large vase. 'Uncle Tony,' squealed a young voice, and his four year old niece rushed into his arms, demanding to be picked up. 'Grandpa said the police took your car.'

He nodded gently, ruffling her hair. 'They sure did, princess. What's for dinner?'

He followed her into the dining room, greeting his brothers and sisters and his father, throwing the latter a sheepish look. 'Wow Tony, busted,' Bobby told him, highly amused. 'Don't tell me the officer refused to be intimidated by your card.'

Tony settled at the table, piling his plate with food. 'Guess he wasn't. He was a real unpleasant overweight sonofabitch,' he said with feeling, noting his mother had gone upstairs for something.

'Antonio, that will do,' his father exclaimed, shaking his head. 'None of that explains why you were speeding.'

'He was hungry,' Bobby replied, pulling out a chair beside him. 'Weren't you, Tony?'

'Yeah,' Tony replied, to a chorus of laughter from everyone except his father. 'And I still am.'

His mother entered with his plate and he ate ravenously, listening to the cheerful ribbing from his younger siblings. Presently the talk drifted to other topics and he leaned back with a contented sigh. He was quite full, but there was plenty of food left and he would be up till the early hours chatting. Lazily he piled his plate a second time, carrying it into the kitchen.

'I'm going shopping,' Sandy squealed, climbing onto his father's knees. 'Grandpa, look, I got SO much money!'

'Yes, princess, so you do,' Mr. Almeida muttered tenderly. 'So what are you gonna buy me?'

'A horse,' Sandy said importantly. She laid a wad of notes on the dining room table. 'Is that enough?'

'What's that?' her grandfather cried, shocked. 'Where did you get that from, sweetheart?' Sandy fell silent, while Tony leapt to his feet.

'Princess, I need that, or my boss will string me up from the nearest lamp post,' he told her, seriously. 'Thanks,' he said, collecting it all and pushing it into his pocket. A terrible thought came to him and rose hurriedly. 'I'll be right back.'

His entire family followed him over to the door, watching while he slid his hand inside the old backpack. 'Oh shit,' he breathed, and for once his mother was too startled to tell him off. 'Sandy, princess, I had something else here, some papers - about this size. Do you remember where you put it?' He gazed at her hopefully while she shook her head.

'Sandy, did you take something else?' Janey inquired, picking up her young daughter. 'Where did you put it?'

'Upstairs,' Sandy said, her voice trembling.

'It's okay, honey, just show me where it is,' Tony told her, taking her into his arms. 'You see, it's not really mine either, but I need it on Sunday,' he explained. They followed him upstairs to his old room, where they stepped over the pile of toys she had unpacked from his old toy box. 'Is it in there?'

She shook her head, bending forward to a group of soft toys she had arranged in a neat row. 'The teddies were going on holiday,' she whispered.

'It's okay princess,' he assured her, attempting to push it into his pocket.

'Tony, whose is that?' inquired his father, while Bobby removed it from him, chuckling.

'Tony, wasn't speeding enough? Now you gotta steal a passport and find another place of residence where not every traffic officer knows your name? Wow,' he exclaimed, impressed. 'It's yours.'

'Sweetheart, I don't understand,' began his mother and he groaned aloud.

'Look, I'm going on a short mission, ok.'

'No, it's not okay,' she told him, distressed. 'You told me you were working inside an office. What do you mean, going on a mission? Where are you going?'

'It wasn't my idea,' he began, rubbing his face. 'It's kinda classified.' He gazed at them all, hoping that would satisfy them while knowing deep down that it would not.

'I still need to know where you're going, Antonio,' said his father quietly. 'You might need help, and anyway, I just have to know where you are.'

'Sure' he agreed, touched. 'I got to go over to Mexico for a short while. There's an American who's causing trouble there, I got to go get some evidence on him. It's purely routine. You shouldn't worry. I'll call you whenever I can,' he concluded.

'But why couldn't you just have taken your own passport?' His father stared at him dismayed, holding the brand new passport in his hands.

'Papa, please,' Tony sighed. 'Look, I had a real bad day already.' He gazed at them pleadingly but they held his gaze. 'I gotta pretend to be Mexican,' he said shortly. 'Now I can't say anymore.'

'Antonio, come with me,' said his father, leading him into the deserted living room. He shut the door and motioned Tony towards a couch. 'You're posing as a Mexican with a considerable sum of money, trying to catch an American. I'm not convinced this mission is as safe as you said it was. When this kind of money changes hands there's always trouble.'

Tony nodded, a warm feeling in his heart. 'Papa, I'll be fine. I'm supposed to report to CTU every day, and they'll pull me out should I suspect my cover is blown. Nothing much can go wrong. The worst thing will be the waiting, trying to get the attention of this guy. I'll call you everyday, I promise.'

His father nodded. 'We'll miss you,' he said, and Tony knew that he would, being able to read his father easily.

Saturday passed rapidly, the morning occupied with sorting through a few clothes to fill his backpack. He lifted it to test the weight, remembering he had the guitar to carry as well, and decided it would have to be sufficient. He made himself a sandwich and ate it at the counter, before he cleaned up and settled down with a book. The pouring rain cleared while he read. Presently the bell rang and he got up gladly, grinning at his younger brother.

'Ready, Tony?'

'Yeah,' he replied. 'Did you bring Sandy?'

'Sure,' he said, drawing the child out from behind him. 'Do you think she'd agree to stay home? Let's go.'

They spent a peaceful afternoon at the wet beach, taking it in turns to watch the child. 'Listen, Tony, how are you gonna get to Mexico tomorrow?' Bobby inquired, completing the walls of a large castle he built for the child. 'You still haven't got your car back.'

Tony let out a long sigh. 'You know, I wasn't supposed to take it with me. I'm supposed to be carrying all my stuff in my backpack! I could use a lift.'

'You got one,' Bobby told him cheerfully. 'I still got another two days before I'm supposed to report back to the ship.'

'Thanks Bob,' he said, knowing it would be an entertaining drive with his most boisterous brother. 'Wonder where we'll end up!'