Sorry for being late with this chapter! Holiday trip was wonderful but the drive home (fourteen hours) was quite brutal. Thanks for reading and reviewing. :)

Chapter Eight

The meeting finished up and even though Neal was supposed to leave first, taking Cordero's escorts with him before the others made their exit, Peter stopped him before he could depart.

"Can we talk a minute?" Peter asked. The past two days had been difficult; he had talked to Neal on the phone a couple of times, but contact had been limited. Even in South America, he had only had little more than three hours to talk with him, nowhere near enough to make up for the past two years. Since Neal had been in New York, everything had centered around this operation. The majority of time they had spent together since his arrival in the City had involved other people. There had been no time to talk.

Neal nodded and stepped over near a storage rack holding several paintings. He glanced at the other agents, involved in a conversation of their own. "What's up?"

"You sure about this Philadelphia thing?" Peter had already been concerned, and the information Elliott had disclosed only worried him more.

"Of course I'm sure, Peter," Neal seemed a little impatient with the repeated question. "With all the people tailing me, anyone trying to make a move on the shipment will be in for one hell of a surprise. I'll be fine."

"So you feel good about the coverage that's been put together?" Peter's eyes had left Neal's face and now concentrated on the rack of paintings in front of him.

"Yes, I do," Neal's replied hesitantly, watching in curiosity as Peter flipped through the paintings. His impatience gone in sensing Peter had more on his mind. "No reason to think things won't go the way we've planned." When Peter didn't respond, he continued. "Compared to some of the stuff we've pulled off, this is actually pretty basic."

This wasn't the first time Neal had made that statement, and it still didn't make Peter feel any better. He couldn't help feeling that something bad was brewing for Neal in the city of brotherly love.

The canvas Peter had stopped on looked like someone had thrown up on it. "I really don't understand what some people called art," he commented, looking at Neal. "What's wrong with a nice landscape or bowl of fruit?"

"I could explain the conceptual nature of Contemporary Art, but I don't think that's what you wanted to talk to me about."

"It's just that we haven't had any time to talk since you got here," Peter dropped his voice, his tone betraying his anxiety. "Promise me we're going to get the opportunity." The last time he had let Neal go off on a job it had been the last job Neal Caffrey had ever done.

Peter saw the expression in Neal's eyes change from concern to distress as he realized what was bothering him. Neal reached out and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It was unusual for Neal to offer physical comfort, and was probably awkward for him, but he did it.

"I have a pending dinner invitation from Elizabeth Burke," he said gently, "and I have no intentions of missing out on that."

"I don't like that I won't be there if something goes wrong." Peter wasn't talking about dinner and Neal knew it.

"Nothings going to go wrong, and if it does, I have back up," Neal reminded him, dropping his hand back to his side. "You've all done a good job making sure I'm covered. Here, and in Philadelphia."

"It's not the same." Peter didn't know what else to say.

"Things aren't the same," Neal said. "And that's a good thing."

"I know you've made a lot of changes over the past couple of years, and that couldn't have been easy." Peter's hand indicated Neal's hair, then his clothing. "You're Nathan Clay. You live in Paris. You have a new life." He paused before continuing. "But I'm still Agent Peter Burke, living in New York, and it just feels wrong to send you out there like this."

"But you aren't sending me, Peter, I'm choosing to go. I came back for this." His eyes grew serious, "You're not putting me in danger, and I am not putting you in danger; we're just working together. It's the way it should be." His eyes grew distant. "It's the only way it can be."

His words reminded Peter of the conversation he had with Elizabeth. Things had changed, and both he and Neal had to learn what that meant for each of them, especially if Neal was considering a return to New York. He had wanted to talk to Neal ever since he arrived, but they had no opportunity. He wanted that chance desperately.

He nodded, and this time, it was his hand that found its way to Neal's shoulder. Neal's hand had rested gently on his, but Peter found himself squeezing Neal's shoulder tightly instead.

"Please be careful, Neal. If anything looks suspicious; if you even get a hint that something is wrong, you give the word and let them move in." Peter knew he's slipped on the name, but Neal didn't correct him. "None of this is worth you getting hurt for."

Something flickered in Neal's eyes, and it took him a moment to respond. "I'm always careful, Peter," Neal assured him, "but I'll be especially careful this time." He glanced at the other men, no longer engaged in conversation but watching them curiously. "They are waiting for me to get out of here," he said, "Everything will be fine, Peter." With that and a nod to the other men, he disappeared through the door back into the main Gallery.

"I must say," Agent Elliot remarked when Peter rejoined him, "I had my doubts, but Clay seems very capable." He glanced in the direction Neal had exited. "He looks like a rock star but acts like an agent."

"He's a man of many skills," Peter said quietly. "He can accomplish almost anything when properly motivated."

"Apparently so," Elliott said. "He went to Venezuela, somehow became a house guest of Alberto Cordero and arranged for your rescue when you were kidnapped." His smile was slight. "I take it his motivation was your friendship?"

The man had not interfered with him and Neal's exchange, but Peter knew he had, if not heard the words exchanged, seen the sentiment. Peter met his eyes. "It was."

"And his motivation for this?" Peter knew he was genuinely curious. He had mentioned more than once his questions about how this opportunity had come to them. First, he didn't understand why Cordero would suddenly hire a Gallery owner to move drugs and secondly, why said Gallery owner would accept such an offer. The second question was easy to answer; the first concerned Peter as well.

"The same. He knows I want to take these people down," Peter said, but added with a small smile, "and between you and me, he enjoys the challenge."

"I can see that," he noted, "but pulling off these kinds of things not only takes guts but talents not usually associated with the gallery owning set. And no offense Burke, but I don't see the two of you forging such a friend during art class. It seems more the forged by fire type friendship to me."

"It has been," Peter replied. "We've worked together before."

"I figured as much," Elliott admitted. "He's too good not to have done this kind of thing before." He paused. "But there might be some things going on that he's not aware of."

"Such as?"

"I've been coordinating with the Philadelphia Violent Drug/Gang Task Force. The war down there between the Cordero's and Corvi's has been ongoing, but something happened last week has caused an uptick in chatter across multiple arenas."

Neal had spent the last week in Philadelphia and when he admitted that he didn't know the location for the meeting it had begged the question of what exactly he'd been taking care of the week before. Peter had a suspicion that Neal might not only be aware of what had happened; he might have caused it.

"What?" Peter asked, mining for more information.

"It's not clear," Elliott said, "Cordero introduced an obscene amount of money into his Philadelphia operations. A lot of money changed hands. His people also made some deals with several of Corvi's rivals. That was picked up by some eavesdropping surveillance that the task force has in place."

"They're buying allies," Peter commented, "Getting ready for battle."

Elliott nodded. "So is the Corvi Gang. The timing of all this concerns me. I just hope your friend Clay knows what he's walking into."