Peter glanced over to the passenger seat, where Neal had his face turned to the side window. The younger man had been sitting like that for a while now. The silence, and the lack of activity, just didn't seem like Neal. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine."

"You're just being very quiet."

"Just enjoying the scenery," Neal said. He turned partway, a small smile on his face. "Your cases don't usually take us very far outside the city, Peter. I haven't seen open land and hills like this for a long time."

"Thought you were a city boy," Peter challenged. Still, he could understand what Neal was saying. For his own part, he knew he needed to get out of the city now and then – really needed it. And, of course, Neal couldn't...

"I don't know that I would have ever wanted to live away from a city," Neal admitted. "At least, not for very long. I guess I'd always gravitate back there. But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the beauty of nature. Even long for it at times. Especially when I can't have it."

"Neal…"

"Peter, please, spare me the lecture about how I made bad choices and have to pay the price. I've heard you before, I really have. It's just, I know there's a bigger world out there, and nothing you say can take away the memories I have up here." He tapped his head, and then turned back toward the window.

The weariness in the other man's voice was more concerning than the silence. "Are you getting any sleep?"

"Not much," Neal admitted. "You?"

"I've slept better."

Neal shifted in his seat, turning to look at Peter. "I meant what I said, Peter. I can do my job. But if you expect me to be 'on' all the time in the car too, you need to tell me."

"No, I don't expect that," Peter replied. "I'm just concerned about you."

"Really, Peter, I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind."

"We're going to figure this out, Neal."

"If anyone can, it's you, Peter. I mean that."

"I figured you'd say that to Mozzie."

"Moz might come up with the name," Neal admitted. "But if it's really internal, someone high up in the government, that's something you'll need to do."

"Don't you mean 'we'll' need to do?"

"I guess that depends on how fast something breaks."

And there it was – that weight hanging over them. For a brief moment, Peter had an image in his mind of a Loony Tunes cartoon, with the huge barbell hanging over the coyote's head after the latest ACME invention went awry. And just like the road runner, he felt the urge to run far, far away from it.

"So how did the GED class go?"

"I signed up to take the tests in all the subjects over the next couple of weeks."

"Figure you'll pass?"

Neal rolled his eyes and smiled. "I didn't drop out because I couldn't do the work."

"Want to talk about why you did drop out?"

"Not really. Let's just say that, at the time, I didn't think the piece of paper was very important."

"And now?"

"You tell me." Neal looked over, and this time his smile was one of curiosity. "Julie didn't say much, just that you and she had discussed me working on my education."

"I don't know any details either," Peter admitted. "I asked her to look at your release agreement, see if there was any way to separate the release from the funding. Unfortunately, she hasn't had any luck with that. But she said she'd look into some other possibilities, and that working on your education couldn't hurt."

"Just a little strange," Neal mused. "I mean, back to high school basics after teaching at a university."

"Not exactly on legitimate credentials," Peter pointed out.

Neal shrugged. "Details. I still maintain that those students learned more than they would have with any other professor."

"Speaking of professors, tell me about this Dr. Hunt."

"I already told you. She's a PhD in archeology, Masters in anthropology. So she understands both the physical history and the societal implications. Ancient Egypt is one of her primary focus areas. She used to spend summers on digs all over the country."

"How did she sound on the phone? Happy to hear from you again?"

Neal shifted uneasily in his seat before answering. "I didn't actually talk to her."

"You said she agreed to meet."

"She did. Through her student teaching assistant."

"Is there a personal history here that I should know about?"

Neal was silent for a long moment before answering. "We were close."

"Close?"

"Involved."

"In other words, she was a mark."

"No!" Neal's denial was firm and immediate. "No, not a mark."

Peter was genuinely intrigued by this rare open moment, and he wanted to proceed carefully. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed," he said slowly. "Tell me about her."

Neal closed his eyes, leaning back against the headrest. "We met at a faculty event," he said, remembering. "It was arranged to highlight a new exhibit of the artifacts and research she had from her work in Egypt. She gave a presentation, and afterward she was standing in the exhibit area, talking to people. And I just remember thinking that I'd rarely heard anyone speak so passionately about something they were interested in."

"So you asked her out."

Neal opened his eyes and nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I did. And it was… amazing. I mean, there we were, the learned academic and the high school dropout. But we could talk about anything – and we did. Art, history, the likelihood of extraterrestrial life."

"That sounds more like Mozzie."

"Yeah, I guess it does," Neal agreed, laughing. "But at the time, it was a perfectly natural topic between Gayle and me."

"So what happened?"

"I meant what I said before, Peter. I went to Cornell to take information away, nothing else. Of course, I did lie a little to get there."

"A little?"

"It's all relative. I was going to stay for the first term, covering for a professor who was on leave, and then disappear. My timetable just got moved up a little."

"Missed a detail somewhere?" Peter guessed.

"Oh, my résumé was perfect," Neal countered. "I just didn't count on the dean of the art school I used showing up at Cornell for a conference."

"Yeah, I can see how that could be a problem," Peter deadpanned.

"No, you don't understand, Peter. This guy had not been out of the state of Georgia for thirteen years! And then, out of the blue, he comes to Ithaca, New York."

"Bad timing, yeah," Peter agreed. Though actually, it was a little funny…

"Right, bad timing," Neal said, the sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Anyway, I had to leave, kind of fast."

"And was Dr. Hunt hurt?"

"Probably," Neal admitted softly. "I didn't exactly have time to say goodbye."

Peter considered that for a moment before responding. "My combat vest is in the trunk," he offered. "If you think you might need it."

Neal grinned and shook his head. "As I recall, the ancient Egyptians were big on head shots and large rocks, so it probably wouldn't help."

"Don't forget the asps," Peter said. "Just ask Cleopatra."

Neal laughed. "Just for that, you get to walk in first."

Peter didn't reply, simply tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Maybe he shouldn't have brought up asps. He really hated snakes…

He pulled the car into a parking space near a building that looked for all the world like a castle, complete with turrets. "I feel like I should watch out for jousting knights or something," he said as they got out of the car.

Neal stood up, stretching. "It's a dormitory now," he said. "Though when I was here there were a couple of suits of armor in there. And you should see the dining hall – quite impressive."

"So where are we meeting Dr. Hunt?"

Neal pointed across the campus quad and started walking. "The history and archeology departments are over here."

They walked across the grassy quad, surrounded by years of ivy-covered history. "Can you feel it, Peter?" Neal asked as they neared one of the buildings.

"What?"

"The history! This was the first truly American university in the country. And the founders chartered the school to be open to anyone, regardless of gender, religion, or race. Do you know how rare that was in 1865?"

"I would imagine not very common."

"Not common at all." Neal walked up the stairs to one of the academic buildings and held the door open for Peter. Inside, he paused, looking at his watch. "She's probably still finishing up her undergrad class. I guess we can check."

Peter followed as Neal led the way upstairs and down a hallway, finally stopping by a set of double doors. Very carefully, so as not to make noise, Neal opened the doors and gestured for Peter to enter.

They walked into an auditorium classroom, and at a quick count he estimated there were probably about a hundred students gathered. Peter followed Neal into the back row, and they settled into a couple of empty seats.

There was a large screen at the front of the room, with a slide of the Great Pyramid projected on it. And in front of the screen, a woman was holding court. She had shoulder length auburn hair, and a trim figure, currently clad in khakis and a navy plaid blazer.

She clicked a tool in her hand and the photo on the screen changed to show some broken shards of pottery laid out on a cloth. "Now this is more likely what you find on a dig," she was saying. "Those complete pieces are pretty rare. But we can learn a lot from the fragments too." A bell rang in the background, and students began closing their notebooks and laptops. "All right, you have your assignment for the next class. And remember, there are undergraduate openings for the excavation team next summer. If you think you might be interested, make an appointment and we'll talk."

The auditorium started to empty as students walked out, alone and in groups. When almost everyone had left, Peter got up and started toward the front.

He stopped after a few steps, realizing that Neal hadn't moved. "Are you coming?"

Neal nodded and got slowly to his feet. "Yeah."

Peter studied his partner, allowing himself a small grin. "You're nervous!" Now that was something one didn't often see in Neal Caffrey.

"A little," Neal admitted.

Peter looked back toward the front of the room, and found Dr. Hunt looking up at them. "Too late, I think she already knows you're here."

Neal followed the agent's glance, and nodded, clearing his throat. He straightened his shoulders, slipped out of the row of desks, and started down the stairs toward the lectern.

Peter followed a few steps behind – far enough back to be out of the line of fire, he hoped. But close enough to get to Neal quickly, should the need arise.

Because as they got closer he could see the professor's green eyes, and they were sparkling with… what? Anger? Amusement?

Hunt made the first move, stepping down off the dais to meet them. "Well, it's been a while, Nick. Oh, wait. I guess it's really Neal… Caffrey, was it?"

"Neal Caffrey, yeah." He stopped in front of her, obviously uncomfortable. "I hope you didn't have too much trouble when I left," he continued quietly.

"You mean after they found out it was all a lie – that you were a lie?" She shrugged, shaking her head. "I was just the one who fell for you. I understand the Dean had a lot of questions to answer about how you got hired."

Neal nodded, biting his lip. "Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

"It would be a start."

"Then I am very, very sorry."

She nodded, a sad smile crossing her face. "Damn, you're still looking good," she said, reaching out tentatively to brush an errant lock of hair off of his forehead.

Neal allowed himself a small smile too. "So are you," he said. "The Egyptian air must agree with you."

"I think it does," she agreed. She looked over his shoulder to where Peter was standing, and then back to Neal. "Your message said something about a robbery, and the FBI?"

Neal nodded and took a step to one side. "This is Special Agent Peter Burke, from the FBI office in New York. Peter, this is Gayle Hunt."

Peter stepped forward, holding out his ID. "Dr. Hunt. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us."

"Well, if there's something I can do to help, I'm glad to do so, Agent Burke. Can you tell me what this is about?"

"A few days ago a small museum in New York, the Wentworth Gallery, was broken into. The thieves left quite a bit of artwork and other exclusive items behind, but they took some ancient Egyptian artifacts. There was a similar theft in Pittsburgh a few weeks ago, again with Egyptian artifacts the only thing taken. Neal suggested that you might be able to give us some insight into the items that were taken, see if anything special strikes you about them."

"I assume you have photos?"

Peter tapped a folder under his arm. "Right here."

Hunt nodded and stepped back up onto the dais, gathering her materials into a portfolio. "We can go into the archeology lab," she suggested. "It might help to have some actual items for reference."

She started to pick up a briefcase, but Neal got there first. Hunt looked at him for a moment, then gave a small nod and walked toward the door at the far side of the dais. From there she led the way down a series of hallways, finally stopping in front of another door. She took a key ring from her pocket and selected the correct one from an assortment, and unlocked the door.

As Peter stepped into the room, he realized that he had had no idea what an archeology lab would look like. But if he had given it some thought, this would have to be it. It was a large room, filled with display cases and tables crammed into every conceivable space. Pieces of this and that lay spread out on the tables. He couldn't have identified most of it if his life depended on it, but he knew for a certainty that all of it was old.

As Neal would probably say, he could feel the history in this room.

Hunt put the portfolio and her keys down on a table by the door and took her briefcase from Neal, adding it to the collection. "Was there a specific age of the stolen artifacts?"

"Mostly third century BC," Neal supplied.

That earned a raised eyebrow from Hunt and she turned, making her way between the maze of tables. "I brought some back from my most recent work," she said, pulling back a plastic sheet.

The two men followed, stopping next to the table.

To Peter, the items on the table just looked like a bunch of broken pieces of… something. But from the way Neal's eyes lit up, it was obvious his partner was seeing something very different.

Neal leaned low over the table, looking closely at everything. He finally held a hand out toward the artifacts. "May I?" he asked softly.

Hunt pointed toward a box of cotton gloves sitting on the end of the table and nodded her assent.

While Neal eagerly pulled on a pair of the gloves, Peter stepped up next to Hunt. "These are from the same time period?"

"Some of them at least, yes," she replied. "They're from a site where I've excavated artifacts from that time period before. I've only started to study and categorize these."

"I thought I'd read that the Egyptians were pretty tight on letting antiquities out of the country."

"They are, but as with most things, there are exceptions. I've worked there for years, provided them with a lot of research and pieces. Technically, these are on loan for research purposes. In actuality, Cairo very rarely asks for shards back." She paused, giving him a wry smile. "Now if the pieces were whole, that's an entirely different story."

"But you can tell enough from the fragments to make it worthwhile."

"It's just like a puzzle, Agent Burke. One piece alone doesn't tell you much, but put enough pieces together and a picture starts to appear. Put all the pieces together and you get the complete picture."

"So will this give you the complete picture?" Peter asked, pointing at the table.

Hunt laughed in response. "Oh, I don't know that we'll ever have all the pieces, and see that complete picture."

"But you'll keep trying."

"Oh, yes. How can we really know where we are, and where we're going as a species, if we don't know where we've been, and where we've come from?"

He had no answer for that, so Peter turned his attention to Neal. The younger man had picked up one of the pieces and was delicately turning it over, studying it with a satisfied smile. "So tell me about when Neal was here before."

"Ah, well, he was 'Nick' back then," Hunt began. "He caused quite a stir when he came to campus."

"Neal has a way of doing that wherever he goes."

Hunt smiled. "I can believe that. But here, everyone was excited about the handsome young art history professor. You see, the professor who took a sabbatical, and whose spot Nick – Neal - took was generally viewed as an old codger who hadn't been young since somewhere around the founding of the school."

"Too bad it was all a lie," Peter observed.

"Ah, but that's just it. It wasn't all a lie," Hunt replied. "When I got the message yesterday, I was curious, so I looked a few things up. It seems that the undergrad class on art history that Neal taught scored the highest on their final exam of any group in the last twelve years."

"He told me the students learned a lot from him. I thought he was just pulling my leg."

"No, it's true. I don't have any idea where he really learned what he knows, but his knowledge of art was quite impressive. I sat in on some of the classes he did, and the passion he showed for the topic was just infectious."

Peter grinned, earning a confused look from the professor. "It's just interesting that you use the word 'passion' to describe Neal. He said the same thing about you – that he was drawn to you because of your passion for the work you do."

Hunt smiled, and Peter thought he saw a bit of a blush color her cheeks. "Oh, there was quite a bit of passion involved between us," she said softly. "Despite everything, those few months were an incredible time for me. And every man I've dated since, I still compare them to Nick – excuse me, to Neal. And every one of them has come up lacking."

Peter found he had no reply to that revelation. He just watched as she stepped away, walking over next to where Neal was still looking at the pieces of history. "What do you think?"

He pointed at the pottery shard he had just put back on the table. "The etchings here seem to match what was on the pieces that were stolen."

"It's interesting that your thieves targeted artifacts from this time period," Hunt said. "It's rather specialized and, given the time involved, there aren't that many complete pieces from the era. Most people like to collect and display a complete vase, not bits and pieces."

"Most of what was taken consisted of fragments," Peter confirmed, holding out the file.

Hunt took it, paging through the photos. "I can probably tell you a little about some of these pieces," she confirmed. She paused, glancing at the clock. "Did you eat on your way up from the city?"

Neal shook his head. "No, we didn't."

"Well, I'm willing to forego the turkey sandwich in my office in favor of the cafeteria," Hunt said. "I'm doing a public lecture later this afternoon on the most recent dig I worked on this summer, and I feel the need for sustenance."

"Sounds good," Peter agreed. Food might wake him up a little too. Even better, he'd bet the cafeteria had coffee…

Hunt picked up a plastic case and handed it to Neal. "Bring the piece with the etchings," she suggested. "Maybe it will help."

Lunch with the professor provided some potential avenues to investigate. The community of serious collectors of ancient Egyptian antiquities turned out to be relatively small. Well, it was still a sizeable list, Peter knew, but compared to an international list of, say, Harry Potter fans, it was downright tiny.

Gayle Hunt had been able to provide names of people who regularly corresponded with her about artifacts, as well as attendance lists from some lectures she had given. She had also provided a good deal of background on the time period and the importance of the stolen pieces.

Neal seemed to have been following the history part a lot easier than Peter had, but that was fine. If anyone was going to have to make an undercover meeting, it would most likely be Neal anyway. And he had also been entrusted with a few pieces from Dr. Hunt's collection, should they prove useful in flushing out the thieves.

All in all, a successful trip to Ithaca, Peter figured. The written lists of names had been faxed back to the office, with instructions given to Diana and Jones to start running background checks. If the two agents could even get all of the names input into the search program, it would give Peter a good head start the next morning. And maybe, with an incentive or two, he could get one or both of them to come in on Saturday with him…

Peter looked at his watch as he headed for the car. It was nearly 3:00. Figure a four hour drive back to the city, maybe more depending on the traffic…

He looked back, noticing that Neal had lagged behind. "Are you coming?"

Neal picked up his pace just a little as he made his way to where Peter was waiting – impatiently. "Were you planning to walk back to the city?"

"Does that mean you'd let me stay behind?" Neal asked.

"No," Peter said quickly. "Why… Oh, you want to stay for the lecture."

Neal's expression brightened slightly. "Could we?"

"This wasn't a pleasure trip, Neal."

"I know that, Peter. But you already sent the names to the office. And it would be at least 7:00 before we got back to the city anyway."

"It'll be even later if we stay for the lecture."

"Were you planning to still work tonight?"

"No," Peter admitted. Maybe it was time for a deal. "If we stay, you come in to the office tomorrow, no arguments."

"Absolutely! With a smile, and bearing coffee."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Peter promised. "All right, where's the lecture?"

"This way," Neal said pointing and starting off.

And Peter found himself nearly running to keep up…

Peter yawned – again – and shook his head trying to wake himself up. It seemed to be taking forever for Neal to get the sample artifacts settled in the trunk.

"Maybe you'd like to ride back there with the cases?" he suggested.

Neal popped his head around the open trunk, scowling. "We have to be careful with these, Peter."

"I thought the plastic cases were to protect them."

"They are, but we still need to be careful."

"They've survived twenty three centuries," Peter muttered, yawning again.

Neal slammed the trunk closed. "All right, I'm done."

Another yawn, and Peter dropped the car keys as he started to get into the vehicle.

"Why don't you let me drive, Peter," Neal suggested, reaching down to pick up the keys.

"Oh, I don't think so," Peter said, snatching the keys back – but he couldn't help yawning yet again. "Besides, you said yourself you haven't been sleeping well either."

"Peter, the same lecture that seems to have put you to sleep has energized me," Neal said, holding out his hand. "I have enough to think about to make it home easily."

He had been nodding off in the lecture. Hopefully Dr. Hunt hadn't noticed…

"You really have a legitimate driver's license?"

Neal reached for his wallet and extracted the card. "Here."

Peter examined the license, holding it up at various angles.

"It's real, Peter."

"I don't know. I don't think anyone's real driver's license photo can look that good."

Neal grinned and took the card back, filing it in his wallet. "What can I say? They caught me on one of my three hundred sixty four good days a year."

"Right." Peter sighed and handed over the keys. "All right, you can drive for a while. But I'll take over when we get close to the city. Traffic gets pretty tricky then…"

He came awake with a start, momentarily confused. Oh, right, he'd let Neal drive. And now the car was stopped, so they must be at the outskirts…

Except that was his house.

Peter sat up straight in the seat, scowling at Neal. "I thought I told you I'd take over when we got close to the city."

Neal just shrugged. "You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you."

"Am I going to find any new dents on the car?"

"Really, Peter, I think that's something that you might have noticed."

Peter had to concede that point. "Probably." And the truth was he did feel much better having had some sleep.

"Besides," Neal said. "I happen to be a very good driver." He pointed at the display screen on the dash. "Not a single proximity warning the whole way. Unlike certain drivers who sometimes seem to get two or three a minute…"

"You can always ride in the trunk," Peter suggested. "Then you won't be able to see the alerts."

"Who would point them out to you?" Neal asked, his expression full of innocence.

Peter just shook his head slowly and opened the door, getting out and standing up slowly as he stretched. "No, the innocent thing doesn't work for you," he warned.

"No idea what you're talking about," Neal said, a little too brightly for Peter's taste, especially given the hour. He shut the door on the driver's side and pushed a button on the key fob, opening the trunk.

Peter moved to the back of the car as well, watching as Neal shifted a blanket, the FBI riot vest, and assorted car repair items which had been placed around the plastic cases. Finally, almost reverently, the younger man extracted the cases from the car. "Are they all right?"

Neal studied the cases for a moment before nodding. "As far as I can tell in this light."

Peter leaned closer to the trunk light, using it to illuminate his watch. Nearly 11:30 – which made sense given the lecture and the reception…

And it meant Neal hadn't been speeding too badly.

"How come you didn't go to June's?"

"As tired as you were, I didn't want you driving. Elizabeth would kill me if something happened." Neal reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "I can call for a cab."

"At this time, on a Friday night? It'll take forever to get here." Peter gestured toward the house. "Come on, you can crash in the guest room tonight. And since we're going in to the office tomorrow anyway, we can stop at your place so you can get a change of clothes in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. We're both tired. The last thing I need is you falling asleep in the back of a cab and winding up setting off the alarm on your tracker."

"I don't trust cabs enough to fall asleep…" Neal hesitated and then smiled broadly. "Hey, you trusted me enough to fall asleep…"

"Don't push it," Peter growled, but he turned away toward the house to hide the smile that he couldn't quite stop.

He held out his hand as he walked and Neal caught up, handing over Peter's keys. The motion detector light came on and illuminated the lock, which he quickly opened. He waited until Neal was inside too and then closed the door, re-engaging the locks.

He had no sooner turned away from the door when he heard the footsteps upstairs. "Peter?"

"Hey, honey. Sorry it's so late," he called. "Neal's here with me," he added. Just in case she wasn't dressed for company…

Feet appeared on the stairs, and then the rest of Elizabeth. She was fastening the belt on her robe.

Peter met her at the bottom step, taking her hand and kissing her. "Were you sleeping?"

"No, I was reading." She turned to their guest. "Hi, Neal."

"Elizabeth. I admit it's my fault your husband is this late."

"Hmmmm… did you hog tie him to get him to do something?"

"Not exactly hog tie, no."

"Then I'll blame both of you." She gave her husband a quick smile and another kiss. "So other than long, how was the trip to Ithaca."

"Helpful," Peter replied. He kicked his shoes off, breathing a sigh of relief for his feet. "We at least have some new leads to follow. I am going to have to work for a while tomorrow though, El."

"Well, I have that Meisner party tomorrow anyway. I'll probably be done around 4:00. Do you think you'll be free for dinner?"

"I'll kick him out in time," Neal promised.

Elizabeth rewarded him with a smile. "Thanks, Neal. He needs help like that now and then."

"I try, Elizabeth. I really do. But sometimes he just…"

Peter cleared his throat – loudly. "I am right here," he reminded them.

Elizabeth laughed and tugged his jacket lapel. "Are you going to be working so I should make some coffee?"

"It was kind of a long day," Peter admitted. "Though I guess I slept most of the way back."

"You… slept?" Elizabeth looked surprised. "I assume, since you're in one piece, that means you actually let Neal drive?"

"Neal drove," Peter admitted.

"Honey, I'm impressed. Neal always says you never let him drive."

Peter threw a glare in Neal's direction before answering. "Well, Neal never had a legal license until recently. And I still have doubts about that now."

"Peter thinks the license must be fake because the photo is too good," Neal explained, rolling his eyes to indicate what he thought of that theory.

Elizabeth grinned and held out her hand. "Well, license photos are notoriously bad. Let's see." She took the card Neal handed over, one eyebrow raising in surprise. "Wow, that is a good photo."

"See," Peter said, sensing vindication. "I told you it was too good to be true."

"Mmmmm…. maybe." She turned back to Neal. "Was the photographer by any chance a young, good looking woman?"

"Well, now that you mention it…"

Elizabeth laughed and handed the license back to Neal. "There you go, Peter. Mystery solved. Neal just had a reason to look his best and smile."

Neal just grinned as he put the license away and Peter "hmmmmppphd" in mock annoyance. "I told you it was legitimate," he said. "You can check with Jones."

"Well, I'm glad Peter let you drive," Elizabeth said to Neal. "He hasn't been sleeping well." She ran a finger lightly along the younger man's temple. "From the looks of things, you aren't either."

Neal shrugged. "A few things on my mind."

"And no new information, I assume?"

Peter shook his head, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Not yet."

She reached out her free arm, taking one of Neal's hands in hers. "There's still time, Neal. This is going to work out."

"Yeah, there's time," Neal agreed.

It didn't escape Peter's attention that Neal avoided the part about things working out. But with nothing new to offer, there really wasn't much sense in opening that whole conversation up again right now. "Since it was getting late, and we have to work tomorrow, I told Neal he could sleep here tonight."

"If it's a problem, I can still call a cab," Neal offered, speaking to Elizabeth.

"Don't be silly," she replied right away. "Of course it's no problem. The guest room is all made up."

"Thanks," Neal said softly, squeezing her fingers gently.

As promised, the guest room bed was made up and ready for… guests. And, as usual, there were some extra new toothbrushes in the guest bath in the hall, along with assorted travel size toiletries.

Neal cleaned up and then crossed the hall back to the guest room. While he had been in the bathroom someone had neatly laid out a pair of Peter's sweat pants and a t-shirt on the bed.

Probably Elizabeth – Peter would have just tossed the clothing on the bed.

He changed, grinning when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Definitely not his style – but comfortable enough to sleep in for a night.

The guest bed welcomed him, and he settled into the comfort, closing his eyes. He was so very tired…

But a few thoughts intruded before he could give in to sleep. It had been good to see Gayle again, and to find out that while she had been hurt before, there might be a chance for forgiveness. At least she had agreed to the meeting, which was a big step in and of itself. And overall, the meeting had been cordial…

He also couldn't help but think about something he had said to Peter – that it was curious how the academic and the drop-out had managed to connect at Cornell. Even as sleep tried to claim him, the similarities to where he was now struck him. Here he was, an ex-con, welcomed into the home of a FBI agent and his wife.

Life really could be strange at times.

And it was exactly moments like this that made even the idea of going on the run again so very painful…

"Really? She was one of Neal's ex-girlfriends?"

"Yup. Apparently there was a lot of passion involved on both sides."

Elizabeth tried to stifle a giggle as she climbed into bed. "Oh, I wish I'd met her. What's she like?"

"Well, she's a tenured professor at an Ivy League school, so really smart. And, yes, very passionate about what she does," Peter replied. He pulled a t-shirt on and got into bed. "She's also very nice."

"And were they still interested?"

"What, in each other?" Peter considered that for a moment. "You know Neal, he flirts with every woman he meets."

"Flirting isn't the same as interested."

"El, you know I'm no good at the emotions thing."

She laughed and turned toward him. "I know, and I love you anyway."

Peter reached over and turned out the bedside lamp, and then he wrapped his arms around his wife. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"You bought me Italian food."

"Is that all it took?"

"Well, no," she admitted, her smile evident in her voice. "But I'm not going to remind you of the other part with a guest in the house."

Peter groaned, and the groan turned into a soft laugh. "Love you, El," he whispered, burying his head against her shoulder.

"Love you too, Peter."