Neal's phone went off as he was halfway back to Peter's house.

This time he was driving on his own. It felt strange, even wrong, to be driving Peter's Ford Taurus, even though he'd received permission to do so. He felt extra cautious driving the vehicle, certain that any mistake – his or another driver's – would be something he'd never live down. Somehow it was even more nerve wracking to have his own hands on the wheel versus Mozzie's.

He was conveniently nearing a red light when he felt the phone vibrating in his pocket. He slowed behind the car in front of him to a full stop before reaching into his pocket to extract it and look at the caller ID.

Peter.

He then glanced at the clock.

Though he hadn't realized it earlier, given a couple hours had passed, it was somewhat surprising the first call from Peter was coming now.

He flipped his phone open, quickly switching it to speaker.

"Peter..." he said slowly while keeping his eyes on the brake lights of the car ahead of him.

"Where are you?"

"So you gave me two hours before you called?"

There was a pause on Peter's line, and then the question came more firmly. "Where are you?"

"En route," Neal replied. He waited for the sigh and then quickly clarified, "En route to you, Peter. You know, I picked up so you don't panic, but I actually think it's illegal for me to talk to you while driving..."

"Only if you're not hands free," Peter replied dryly.

Neal balanced the phone in his hand, between his palm and the steering wheel. "Define hands free."

"Neal." Peter sighed. "Cut the crap. So you're headed back here?"

"Yeah, and I'd say roughly halfway back. You tell me. I'm almost at Atlantic. Traffic is bad though."

"That's halfway?"

Neal could envision Peter's calculating expression as he tried to determine what the halfway comment might mean in terms of their original destination. "Yes, halfway," he repeated, a little sarcastically. "Peter, it's not like I went to Tahiti."

"Tahiti…" Peter echoed thoughtfully. "Is that where you'd go?"

Neal frowned. "No." The light turned green and he slowly eased off the brake pedal as the car in front of him inched forward. He didn't miss the innuendo in Peter's underlying question. "And I didn't think about Tahiti. Or anywhere else, if that's what you're wondering."

"No?"

Neal sighed. "No, Peter," he stated firmly, exhausted. "Come on. I've kind of got other things on my mind in case you weren't aware."

"Just curious."

"Peter..." Neal answered with a hint of frustration. "Do you really think the second I have the anklet turned off that that's all I think about?" He rolled his eyes and gripped his hands against the steering wheel. "Thanks for the trust."

"Trust? Listen, Neal, I gave you my car keys, didn't I?" Peter replied. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have done that."

Neal hummed in response but didn't respond, refraining from reminding Peter that he hadn't quite given him the keys. Then again, he also hadn't asked for the keys back, so perhaps that was something...

Peter cleared his throat. "Well, Tahiti aside, was your detour worth it?"

"Yes, Tahiti aside," Neal muttered. He had been waiting for the question on what they'd found and, he responded simply. "Well, Peter, let's just say you should be glad I went."

There was silence on the line at first. Then an audible sigh before Peter asked, "Then what – he was listening? Tracking? Tracking I'm less concerned about since between here and the office that was basically public…"

"Seems like all of the above."

Peter cursed, barely audible on the line.

Neal could almost envision Peter pacing across his living room. But then he heard what sounded like ice clinking again a glass. "Peter…" he began, a hint of admonishment in his voice. "Have you moved on from the wine you frowned at earlier this evening?"

"I'm just having a nightcap," Peter replied stiffly.

"Nightcap..."

"If you get back here fast enough you can join me. Now what'd you find? Give me the specifics."

Neal squinted at the street sign of the next corner, judging where he was. Traffic was moving slowly. "The specifics are that, yes, the car was a means for him to listen to us," he continued. Before waiting for a reaction," he continued, "Peter, it was bugged on the inside and there was a tracking device underneath."

"Jesus."

"Well, that's why I've been saying we shouldn't say much in the car, Peter…"

"I know," Peter replied. "I know. You were right."

Neal didn't answer.

"Where's Mozzie?" Peter asked. "He with you?"

"No." Neal frowned at the question. "You didn't think he'd come back with me, did you?" he replied warily.

Peter paused and then replied. "I wasn't sure."

"Well, he's not. You didn't exactly make him feel welcome, by the way," Neal told him.

Peter sighed again. Then, to Neal's surprise, he apologized, "Sorry, Neal. That wasn't my intention," Peter replied.

Neal frowned. He tried to recall whether Peter had ever apologized to him before. And over something so trivial... "He'll get over it," he replied lightheartedly.

Up ahead was another red light. As the car in front of him braked, Neal followed suit and looked at the name on the street sign at the corner. "I should be back in about ten minutes…" he said.

"Good," Peter responded. "Then we can talk about which piece you're going to recreate."

Neal paused. "So you're going to let me do that? Knowingly create a counterfeit?"

"Don't phrase it that way."

"Well, how else do you phrase it?"

Peter sighed. "Fine. Well, in this isolated case, I'll admit that an authorized counterfeit is actually a good idea, Neal," Peter acknowledged slowly.

"Nice inclusion of the word authorized, Peter..."

"Thought you might notice that," Peter returned. Neal could almost see his smirk. "But if it'll help expedite her assistance, then we'll allow the illusion of it." He paused. "If you can pull it off."

Neal scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Pull it off? Funny. Just tell me which one."

"Ah, a challenge. Well, to be honest, Neal, I might even let you pick," Peter answered.

Neal smiled. "So that means a tour of what they had…"

"Nope. No tour. You'll get a list to choose from, and you can see the one you choose. And that one only. I'd suggest basing it off of which one you could finish the soonest."

"Peter… You underestimate me."

"I don't think I do. Focus on the road, Neal…" Peter answered. "We'll talk when you're back."

"It's about nine minutes now," Neal said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Bye, Neal…."

"Bye, Peter." The phone disconnected. Neal just sighed.

The light was still red. He was about to put the phone away when unexpectedly there was a tapping sound at his driver's side window.

Startled, he looked over.

He found himself staring straight into the barrel of a gun.

Peter sighed, taking a seat on his couch. He winced slightly as he leaned back, his ribs resisting.

"Feel better?" Elizabeth asked as she approached. She had changed into more casual clothing, ready to call it a night if the situation allowed for it. Despite her indirect involvement, it had been a long week.

"Better?" Peter echoed, shifting his position. "I don't know." He looked up at his wife and watched her as she moved towards him to claim her seat on the couch. "I suppose." As she sat down, he replied, "I feel better with you sitting here."

"Cute," she replied sarcastically, mouth edging upwards into just a hint of a smile. "And you know what I mean. You spoke to him."

Peter paused, shifting his position, frowning as his body yet again objected. "I did," he acknowledged.

"So you can trust him," she replied. While it wasn't exactly a question, it wasn't really a firm statement either. Almost like she was looking for him to confirm.

"According to him, he's ten minutes away," Peter answered. He shifted his drink to his other hand and raised his wrist to look at his watch. "Or nine. He got real specific."

"You didn't answer the question."

"It was a question?" Peter asked with a small smirk as he dropped his hand. He stiffened as she elbowed him gently. While the gesture was playful, his body wasn't up to it.

She immediately noticed. "Sorry, hon. You okay?"

"Getting better," he replied. He took a sip of his drink, hoping to numb that part of his recovery. "Really. It's just these small aches."

"Good," she replied. After a pause, she added, "So you trust him."

He gave her a look. "Hon…" he answered initially with exasperation. Catching her eye he then sighed. "Fine. Yes. Yes, I do. I'll trust him until he gives me a reason not to."

"I thought so."

"Would I say that in the court of law? Not sure… But I'm saying it to you.."

She let out a soft breath in response, and then reached for his drink.

"You don't mind him staying here, do you?" he asked. He watched her take a sip of the scotch before handing it back.

She shook her head as she swallowed her taste of the drink. "Don't be silly, Peter. He's more than welcome. We have a guestroom for a reason."

"I'm not sure Neal is the reason," Peter replied sarcastically. "But fine. I just felt… You know, maybe it was safer this way."

"I agree," she replied. "We already talked about this, Peter. And it was a thirty second conversation, because it makes sense. The most important thing is everyone's safety."

He nodded. "Do you feel safe?" he asked.

She paused. She frowned a moment, but then leaned into him. "I should."

"That's not answering the question," he replied, playing back her own response from earlier.

"I'm nervous," she admitted.

He shifted his arm, despite the pain it caused, curving it around her shoulders and pulling her closer. "Everything I'm doing," he said softly, "is to ensure your safety."

"I know," she replied.

A couple moments passed in silence. She rested his head on her shoulder.

Under normal circumstances, it would be nice. Relaxing. Romantic.

This time, they were both stiff.

Eventually, Peter looked at his watch. "It's been ten minutes."

"Give him a break," she said gently. "Maybe he's looking for parking."

Peter nodded, frowning only slightly. Deep in his gut, he felt otherwise. He felt differently than he'd felt ten minutes before.

"I'll give him another ten minutes."

"Calm down," she replied. "Even with your placard it can take a while to find parking around here, and you know that better than I do."

Peter nodded again, lifting his drink to his lips. Why did something not feel right….

He couldn't wait the next ten minutes he promised. He handed his drink to his wife and took out his phone.

"Honey, really?" she asked.

"Really," he replied. He pressed the speed dial to Neal.

And it rang.

And rang.

And rang some more.

Before hitting voicemail.

He cursed.

"Isn't he driving right now?" Elizabeth replied. She took another sip of his drink. "I wouldn't overreact."

Peter pushed himself up from the couch. His back and ribs were now screaming in opposition. "I don't know, El…" he began. "I really don't."

He began to walk away, pacing. "Shit."

"Peter, come on…"

"Come on, meaning what? I can't just wait…"

"Wait a few more minutes," she urged. "You know how the traffic is."

Peter looked disgruntled and ready to argue but then just gave in. "Fine," he answered, again looking at his watch.

Another ten minutes passed.

"That's it," Peter remarked.

Elizabeth sighed, "You just said you trusted him, Hon."

"This isn't about him," Peter answered stiffly. He turned, facing her, and put his hands on his hips. "I mean it is, but not in the way you think. I do trust him. I have another feeling."

Her brow furrowed. "Another feeling? What do you think…?"

"I don't know what to think," Peter responded, slightly exasperated. He paced a few yards further and then turned again, walking back with even more frustration on his face.

Again he tried the phone.

Ringing.

Then more ringing.

Then voicemail.

Peter exhaled. "I'm going to turn his tracker back on."

Elizabeth watched him pace. "You mean it? Is that a good idea?" She frowned.

"To find out where he is, yes."

She nodded, not really understanding his thought process.

"And then, they're going to see he's out of his radius," Peter continued. "And when they ask – he isn't with me or authorized."

El frowned. "Peter."

"Trust me," Peter said, turning once again to face her. "Something is wrong. And if he ran, then I should be doing the same."

She looked uneasy.

"I know what's best," Peter assured her. "Something isn't right."

With that, he flipped open his phone to make a different call.