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Movie recommendation

This is an old movie (2003) but any fan of White Collar will find this hysterical, "The Last Shot," which, has among its stars James Rebhorn, who plays, a FBI director.

This is based on a true story, they say, and I do believe it.

Anyway I saw this last night and I'm still laughing about it. We all need a lift to our spirits so I suggest you check this out.

Spoilers for Graceland

I've been watching the new series and I really like it however the incosistances are so glaring they can be blinding. One character uses a credit card record to track the purchases of another character but then when he goes to the shop to check, the propriotor says, the purchase was made in cash. HUH????? There are others but that one practically knocked me out of my seat.

Don't you hate when this happens"

Title: Don't you hate when this happens?
Author: Ultracape
Rating: G
Characters and/or Pairing: Neal and Peter (Gen)
Warnings: Unbetaed
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: ~300
Summary: A great mystery from Neal's past is revealed.
A/N: at end

Neal dropped the newspaper he was reading and stared up at the bullpen with the look of a man who had just had an epiphany but with a self satisfied grin on his face. “So that’s why,” he mumbled, a little too loud for Peter who was bringing him a case file to peruse, not to hear.

“Nothing,” Neal said and quickly grabbed at the file to cover the article he was reading hoping that Peter wouldn’t notice his uncharacteristically clumsy attempt at hiding the evidence.

Hope died quickly with his smile as Peter took back the file and grabbed the newspaper, looking for the article Neal must have been reading.

“I don’t see anything here related to any forgeries, robberies or frauds that you allegedly might have had anything to do with,” he said scanning not only the page he thought Neal had been reading but the previous one and the next one just to be sure.

Neal leaned back and grinned up at Peter, “Actually, there is one crime on that page that I am most certainly guilty of and will confess to you with out any advice from my lawyer.”

Peter took another look and still did not see anything related to such a crime. Finally he dropped the page, “Okay, Caffrey, ‘fess up if. What did you do?”

Neal pointed at the headline his grin getting even wider and brighter, “Men Kicked Out Of Festival in Saudia Arabia For Being Too Handsome.”

Peter starred at the headline in disbelieve. “What? And what if anything does this have to do with you?”

“I could never figure out how come they would never let me into the country,” Neal laughed. “Now I know.”

A/N: When I read this article, I thought of only one person and simply could not resist.

Peter Knew

Title: Peter Knew
Author: Ultracape
Rating: Not for the un strong of stomach
Genre and/or Pairing: Gen, Peter, Neal, Mozzie, Diana, Amanda, Belmar
Spoilers: 4:15
Warnings: Some blood and gore
Word Count: 778
Summary: AU Peter knows who the culprit is and he knows he'll never be caught

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am deeply in debt.

See author’s note at the end.

Peter knew who did it.

He looked around the glass enclosed transparent office, hiding greater secrets than any vault, more to cover his own inappropriate reaction from her than for any need to connect with his surroundings.

“Jones,” he shouted, “Call a bus. Diana, call building security. Both of you know what to do.” But Peter knew. He knew who did this. He knew there would be no evidence.

Pratt’s puppet, that coward Callaway shook and fretted jamming herself away from her desk and up against the wall behind her. Maybe her own fear would get her to push herself through the window. He could only hope.

Peter knew who did it, down to the molecules of his bones.

“Blake, get ERT up here. Make sure they don’t miss anything."

Blood covered Callaway’s desk, it stained her blouse. Her hands were drenched in it. “Are you hurt?” he asked her, gathering information, not moving one inch forward to offer any modicum of comfort. He knew he'd shown more concern for Keller.

Callaway looked up from the gore, her eyes glassy. “Am, am I hurt? Am I?” she asked Peter as if she didn’t know, couldn’t understand the question.

But Peter knew, he needed no answer from her. She would not have been injured. It wasn't his way. There would be no evidence. There would be no trail of clues to follow. Callaway would recover, physically at least from the shock of what just happened.

“Why, how?”

The blood on her hands dripped down her arms as she raised them aborting a move to wipe tears of shock, of terror from her eyes.

But Peter knew.


“No problem,” Neal said just before making his way out of the van.

Peter barely waiting until Neal was away turned to his new, B, uh, boss. “You're putting Caffrey's life in jeapordy just because you don't trust him,” he said to Callaway’s back.

She turned glaring at him. “You’re over reacting Agent Burke. He’s in no danger and even if he was, he’s a criminal, he’ll deal.”

Peter was a second away from throttling that callous, bigoted, self serving, b@#$% but was stopped by a cool hand placed on his arm.

He turned to catch Diana shake her head quickly. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to drop kick Callaway’s skinny ass out of the van. He knew his career was hanging by a thread and Neal's life had less support given Callaway's supervisory outlook.

It was just an hour later when Peter heard Belmer’s voice over the microphone in Neal’s watch. “What are you doing?”

“I was looking at your handiwork again.”

“I’m pulling him out of there,” Peter said typing abort into his phone.”

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” they could hear Neal say.

“What’s that?” Belmer sounded angry.

Peter could hear Neal’s breath catch just a bit but continuing to walk away.

“Hey,” Neal yelped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want to know what that is,” Belmar said his rising temper evident in his voice.

“Get ready to move,” Peter said to Diana.

“Agent Burke,” Callaway turned to Peter. “Stand down. Caffrey will talk his way out of this. I thought you had faith in your conman.”

Peter gritted his teeth.

“Peter,” the scream of agony reverberated inside the van as the tracking data suddenly disappeared from the monitor and an alert popped up.

“Let’s move,” Peter said reaching for his gun.

“I’ll monitor from here.”

“Peter,” Neal’s voice was filled with pain.

It took barely seconds for Diana to cuff Belmar and pull him out of the studio, leaving Peter to try and staunch the blood coming from Neal’s nearly severed foot where the hand chisel stuck out of Neal’s leg, his anklet, who cared about that damn piece of metal, smashed.

“Call a bus,” Peter yelled into Neal’s watch as blood flowed onto the floor.

“My leg,” Neal could barely breath his agony was so great.

“It’ll be alright Neal. I’ve got you,” Peter held his friend, feeling him shake as the pain drove Neal into shock, seeing the extent of the injury, knowing that it would never be alright again.


Neal would recover, it would be long and difficult but he would.

"I'm signing the papers now to have Caffrey transported to a prison rehabilitation center," Callaway smiled up at Peter. "It will make up for that $15,000 you spent on marble to some extent."

"Why waste the money?" Peter smiled grimly as he sat down in the chair offered to him.

"Excuse me?" Callaway looked confused.

"The gallary has a patron who bought Neal's sculpture for $10 million. That will leave him with more than enough resources, even after reimbursing the Bureau, to pay for the best physical rehabilitation available and during his recovery, he can stay at my house.

Callaway did not look pleased. She reached out her hand for his report mumbling something about “the regrettable incompetence of your C.I.”

Peter heard the soft knock on the door and saw her look up in anticipation as a beautifully wrapped box was delivered by a a familiar face in the uniform of a courier service who he had recently investigated just before his brakes gave out.

Peter watched Amanda read the card and her mouth move silently smiling a hated name.

And when she lifted the lid and the blood exploded onto her, covering her, he knew as he saw the message appear on the other side of the card. “His blood is on your hands.”

Peter knew who the culprit was and he knew the little guy would never be caught. To some degree, justice had been done.

AN: It's a testiment to the actress' ability that I don't think I've ever hated a bad guy as I've hated Amanda Callaway. Her calus disreguard for Neal's safety garnered no consequences in the episode but it really should have for her. Also, if Neal were hurt, I just knew that Mozzie would seek revenge.

The Conversation

Nothing belongs to me.

By Ultracape

Neal fidgeted.

That in and of itself was a contradiction in terms because Neal Caffrey, con man extraordinaire had prided himself on never breaking under any type of pressure.

Yet, he had to admit to himself, if not the man who summoned him with a double finger point just as he was leaving for the day after the take down of Cook, that SAC Reese Hughes made him nervous.

Neal straightened his jacket and his tie, partly out of playing the dutiful role of a subordinate and part out of his own jitters, and made his way to the top of the stairs. He gave a mournful glance at Peter’s empty office, startled when he looked back that Hughes’ eyes had lingered in that direction for just a few seconds longer than his own and then followed Hughes into his office.

“Take a seat Caffrey,” Hughes indicated before sitting down himself, shuffling a few papers and taking a deep sigh settling himself deeply into his seat.

Neal quickly inventoried his own actions since he’d returned from Cape Verde and he somewhat abashed could confess if only to himself, he’d been a saint and that the only somewhat questionable actions he’d taken had been under the watchful eye of Peter. He relaxed a little, sitting back, with a slight groan as his wound pulled a bit still.

“How’s the leg doing?” Hughes asked.

“Except for a slight scar it’s coming along. The Bureau’s doctor cleared me at the beginning of the week.”

Hughes sighed again and shook his head. “And yet it still pains you but you won’t admit it, will you? You still have to lie, even if it’s a little white one to salve your pride, or your facade. No, don’t answer me. I’m not as blind or dumb as some may think, Caffrey.”

Neal’s jitters, returned with a vengeance.

“Am I in trouble sir?”

Hughes’ neutral expression became even blanker which hadn’t seemed possible, “That’s what we’re here to determine. Before we go on, let me assure you that you are not under arrest and so nothing you say here can or will be used against you.” Hughes’ gestured to the corners of the room, “All cameras and recorders have been turned off and for all intents and purposes, you and I are not here and this conversation is not taking place. However, how you comport yourself to me during this conversation will determine whether you go back to your apartment tonight or go back to prison. I hope for your sake I am making myself very clear but if I’m not, do not even think about lying to me Neal or using the word, ‘allegedly’ in any answer you might attempt.”

Neal did not ever remember gulping before during a conversation but Hughes was scaring the shit out of him and so he barely nodded his understanding.

“I’m faced with a dilemma Neal. I don’t like dilemmas. You have a lot of secrets. Agent Kramer, while I disagree with his actions and deplore his motivations concerning you, was not wrong in that. I’ve also taken a much closer look at your files and as cleverly as they were written by Peter, Berrigan and Jones, there are a few things that are open to interpretation. I also don’t like ambiguity.”


“Don’t,” Hughes held up his hand stopping Neal. “You will sit and listen to what I have to say before you speak.” Hughes stood up and came around the desk and leaned against it, much like Peter did occasionally. That Hughes now towered over Neal, he realized, was a technique of body language. He could appreciate the depth use of the tactic even as he realized that the knowledge did not make him immune.

“You’ve been used and targeted by too many agents in the Bureau repeatedly.” the statement, though the truth, caught Neal by surprise.

“Fowler and Rice, if they’d done to anyone else what they put you through they’d be thrown in prison themselves. And Collins,” Hughes’ just shook his head, “I’d file charges against him for shooting you if I didn’t think it would do you more harm than good at this point.”

Neal smiled but suppressed it as Hughes expression hardened a bit. “You’ve done good work here Caffrey. You’re brave; you’ve acted within your own questionable code but given what I perceive of that code, with integrity. You’re definitely loyal to Peter and your teammates, putting your life on the line for them without a second thought. I know that and all of that is to your credit. But,” Hughes held up his hand to stop Neal from responding, “There are some unanswered questions like, how were you able to afford that lifestyle you were experiencing in Cape Verde? Don’t answer that.”

Neal could almost hear the prison bars clanging shut as he fidgeted just a bit more, feeling the ache in his thigh grow.

“I believe in justice, Neal. I believe in punishment to fit the crime but no more than that. Right now, right at this point, I believe that the crimes you’ve committed and the secrets you still have are more than balanced by the wrong that agents of the bureau have done to you, but then we come to Peter.”

For all the crimes that Neal had committed and he knew there were several harddrives in the bureau devoted just to him, he’d barely felt a twinge of guilt. Yet for what Peter and Elizabeth had gone through because of him wouldn’t let him rest. He did not know how he could ever make it up to them. It was an unpayable debt. The expression on his face must have pleased Hughes somewhat as the line of his lips softened just a bit.

“Peter’s career will recover, Neal. He’s too good an agent and despite his sometimes questionable actions for your benefit, no one doubts his integrity or his motivations. But let me make this crystal clear. From this point on, if Peter crosses the line, you’re going back to prison for life. I don’t care if it’s a parking ticket. I’ll make it my mission in life. He has repeatedly put his career, his family and his life at risk for the sake of your actions and I won’t see him go down for it. He’s my friend to and what he’d do for the sake of your friendship, I will do for him. Therefore, until the Justice Department deems your sentence is complete and that anklet comes off I’m making his actions your responsibility. Are we clear?”

Neal felt the blood drain from his face as he nodded. “Yes sir.”

Hughes gave what passed for a smile with him. “Good, I’m glad we understand each other. Now go home and have a good night,” he said dismissing Neal, again with a wave.

Neal stood slowly, and even at that, it took a moment for him to steady himself. “Good night sir,” he said partly out of good manners, but mostly out of fear and newfound respect. Turning to leave he gave in to a slight lime as his leg ached more now than it did before. He was tired and yes and stressed, very very stressed. He’d faced many a dangerous man in his life, many a powerful man, but none had put the fear of god into him that Hughes just had.

Yet, as he made his way down the stairs he realized that Hughes had just handed him the challenge of his life, something he’d never had to face before but something that opened up endless possibilities and excited him with the question. How was he going to be responsible for Peter Burke? Now that was a life’s work that would insure he would never again be bored.

AN: This was a conversation that I felt should have been had at some point. Also, it intrigued me that more than in Power Play, Neal’s and Peter’s places in the scheme of things had been reversed.

How old is Neal Caffrey?


I am confused. How old is Neal Caffrey?

Neal tells Maya he came to New York when he was 18 after leaving St. Louis. However in Forging Bonds he said he had come to New York 8 years ago, now lets say nine years ago which would mean that if we're following what he told Maya, Neal is now 27. But, according to Keller, he was in Madrid in 2001 which would mean he was there 11 years ago when he was 16? But from glimpses of other documents and records, he's supposed to be 33 maybe 34.
An anthology of vampire stories by professional writers who got their start writing fanfiction, including White Collar, has been recently published by Wildside and is available at Amazon. It's called Vampire's Dilemma. At the end of each story, the author talks about where she got her start and how fanfiction has affected her writing.

This is the link: http://www.amazon.com/review/R1UF98D4DAWXE/ref=cm_cr_dp_title?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B0083LLIKE&nodeID=133140011&store=digital-text

You Look Good In Orange

You Look Good In Orange

By Ultracape

Genre: Gen, friendship, humor (I hope)
Characters: Neal, Peter, El, Hughes, OC
Summary: Elizabeth reluctantly sends Neal on a strange errand to the middle of a wilderness.
Spoilers: Only slightly for “Need to Know” and takes place sometime after that.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: This kind of popped into my head and so I wrote it when I was supposed to be working. And this makes me different from everyone else because?

You Look Good In Orange
By Ultracape

Except for Peter Burke and his team, Neal Caffrey was not fond of law enforcement personnel; certainly not fond of them at all.

Also, city boy that he’d become, despite his wish to have more than a two mile radius to wander the concrete valleys of New York City, these days, whenever he saw more than three trees in a group, he felt faint from fear about being stranded in the wilderness.

Well, yeah, that was a bit of an exaggeration. It would take considerably more than three trees. But Neal did prefer not having to walk more than a block to a variety of establishments where almost anything that he needed or wanted could be had, uh, purchased. He had to remember that subtle difference if he didn’t want to get Peter angry with him. Angry Peter, even severely annoyed Peter, could equal prison and Neal did not want to go back to prison again.

So of course, for some reason beyond Neal’s comprehension, Elizabeth Burke had woken him at 3 a.m. on a Sunday morning with a phone call from San Francisco, to tell him that the U.S. Marshalls had given Neal special dispensation to meet Peter at the sheriff’s office and auto mechanic’s shop in some Podunk place called Laceyville, Pennsylvania tucked away in one of the meandering bends of the shores of the Susquehanna River. He just had to file his route with the Marshals and the time of travel and all would be well.

“But,” she cut him off.

“I can’t reach Jones or Diana. Neal, I know it’s an imposition but it’s got to be you and you’ve got to hurry.”

“Well, no, Elizabeth, of course it’s not an imposition, you know I’d do anything for you and Peter.”

“Great, that’s great. Listen, take a bus. Oh, oh, no, I don’t mean take a bus. I mean travel on a bus.”

Neal chuckled, “I know what you mean. Buy a bus ticket. Got it.”

“Oh and take your F.B.I. Consultant’s I.D. and you have the $10,000 in cash that the F.B.I. gave you back from that sting a few days ago?

“Yes, I do but don’t you think you should...”

“Just bring it, all of it,” she cut him off again.

“Huh? What? How? Where? Why am I going to…,”

“Sorry, gotta go,” she hung up before Neal could even form one of the dozens of questions that buzzed around in his mind after the bombshell was dropped.

“Okkkkaaayyyy,” Neal thought as he reluctantly left his nice, warm, cozy bed to trudge over to his laptop and start a websearch. He would have felt put-upon except for the several dozens of times that he had put upon Peter at all hours, so he figured, it was only fair that he get put upon. However, when he put upon Peter, Peter only had to travel across the East River, from the semi-civilized Brooklyn suburbs to Manhatten.

Neal had never even heard of Laceyville, though he had to laugh when he found the place listed on a website labeled “Podunk.”

“Elevation 692, population 385, huh, that must be reversed,” he said to himself but as he rubbed the sleep that still clung to his eyes he realized that the first impression was right. “What the heck is Peter doing there, on a Sunday?” he asked of the computer screen, but no answers magically popped up.

Then, since he had to take a bus instead of conveniently stealing, (borrow, not steal, borrow, he had to remind himself of that) a car, or take, no hire a cab, the fare would have cost more than a Renoir anyway, and Peter had still not allowed him to apply for a legitimate driver’s license so that he could legally rent a car, he was left with buses or trains and so it took him at least an hour to find transportation. It had to be a bus, or rather a series of buses. It was going to be a very long trip.

Despite his usual sartorial splendor and expensive tastes, Neal had spent a good portion of his youth traveling by bus so except for the occasional sleepy passenger dropping a head on his shoulder and drooling on him, the screaming children and their mothers, the trip, already topping six hours, was not exceptionally uncomfortable.

Besides, this far out away from the city the scenery was green and lush and beautiful. He really hadn’t been able to see anything like this in a very long time and besides, “it’s only Peter’s own fault that he has to wait so long,” Neal thought even as he watched the mountains and forests role by while sitting safely protected from nature inside the commuter bus. It was the last one of three he’d had to transfer to from the steadily shrinking hubs of civilization.

Unfortunately there was one aspect of urban civilization that was quite evident, especially to one such as Neal who had trained himself to be aware of ever lurking agents of the law, lurking in out of the way and unexpected places, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting dishonest and guilty criminal.

There were an unusually high number of police cars, artfully tucked away in curves, and hidden drives and behind signs the mountainous Route 6 as it traversed the Adirondacks. The way they were placed he could tell that few others would readily notice what must have been speed traps. But it wasn’t worth more than a thought. He was a legitimate paying passenger on a bus and if anyone would be in trouble for a driving misdeed, it would be the bus driver, not him.

Finally, the bus turned down a sharp curve and a steep decline and onto a street that was lined with vacant lots and an occasional store, church or bar. It finally came to a stop in front of the only open establishment, a feed and grain store.

Unbending himself and climbing down the steps to an actual wooden sidewalk, he stretched a bit while looking around. “So here I am,” he thought as he took in the one and a half streets that made up the bustling metropolis looking up one and down the other for the mechanics shop/sheriff’s office.

He saw a saw a small grocery store, an actual video tape rental, a furniture store, a post office, a library which was sadly smaller than his closet, and the aforementioned feed and grain store, a hardware store and five bar and grills, but no mechanic’s shop.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?”

Not wanting to stand out was what a con man did and so though his jeans cost more than the car rental would have been, his button down was made of silk, and the boots he’d chosen were of hand tooled leather, the general form of his attire at least conformed to that of the local costume he’d seen a couple of individuals wearing before they’d ducked into the feed and grain store as well as that of a man leaning against the open hood of a pick-up truck.

It was not without a little paranoia, actually a lot of paranoia that fortunately he was able to conceal a lot better than Moz that he realized his large, bearded interrogator was wearing on his shirt, a brightly shining silver star with “sheriff” stamped into it and one point ominously dented in with a round hole.

Instinctually, Neal knew that with the way the man was wiping his hands with a dirty rag and looking him up and down, this was not a time for sarcasm.

“No, sir,” he said in as polite and diffident a manner has he could manage, “You’re right. I’m not. From your badge I believe I’m here to speak to you, actually, Sheriff Clyde Foster, is it.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s me,” he said closing the hood of the truck.

“I’m Neal Caffrey,” he said holding out his hand.

“Ah, you must be the fella they sent to fetch the mooks,” he said taking Neal’s hand and shaking it with a not surprising amount of strength in the crushing grip.

“The ….” Neal cut himself off. He didn’t want to fall into any rooky mistakes and admitting that he had no idea what the guy was talking about would not bode well.

“You sure you can handle them fellas, puny guy like you?” The Sheriff said as he released Neal’s hand and watched him rub it. “I’ll tell you, those two city slickers have given me more smart ass back talk than any six drunks on a Saturday night.”

Conceal, conceal, conceal, was all that Neal could think before the sheriff offered up more information. And where the heck was Peter? And mooks? He was supposed to transport mooks? Those were what law enforcement called suspects.

So him, Neal Caffrey a felon on parole, was supposed to transport criminal suspects? What type of monumental screw-up, the best case scenario, or frame-up, the worse case scenario, had he been thrown into? But it was Elizabeth who had called him and she was the last person in the world who would be involved with anything incompetent or sinister.

The unvoiced questions mounted as he followed the sheriff to his mechanic’s shop and then down some back stairs to a well lit basement, half of which was furnished with an ancient but serviceable desk, chair and file cabinet.

The Sheriff pointed with his chin to behind Neal but before he could turn around, he heard a familiar voice bellow in an ever increasing louder voice, “What do you mean Jones isn’t coming? You, no, no, don’t tell me that El, just don’t. You called Neal!”

Slowly Neal started to add two and two together and before he completely turned, there was a grin on his face that no amount of con man artistry would ever be able to erase.

“You look good in orange,” he said.

Peter, dressed in a brightly covered jump suit, dropped his cell phone as he stared at Neal in horror.

“Not one word Caffrey, not a single word or I swear,” Peter said his hands clutched around the iron bars of the jail cell keeping him captive.

“You threatening an officer of the law?” said the sheriff, “You’re in enough trouble the way you were speeding down the road. You want another charge added to your sheet?”

Suddenly Peter was pulled behind by none other than Reece Hughes, also adorned in an orange jumpsuit.

“No sir, no he doesn’t and neither do I,” he said to the Sheriff. “Mr. Caffrey,” he turned to the con man who was making soft choking sounds as he was attempting and miserably failing to keep not only laughter but any sort of amusement from his face. “Why don’t you pay our damages so that we can get back to New York some time this year.”

Neal barely managed to nod as he looked over the list of offenses and charges. Speeding, he had already gathered, but endangering the wildlife was a new one on him, property destruction, destruction of an historical monument, the list went on and on. No wonder Elizabeth and told him to bring a lot of cash. He just hoped he had enough.

“With the condition that all the damages are paid today, you can take them out on probation and you won’t have to bring them back as long as they keep their noses clean for six months,” he told Neal.

“You got that,” he called back to Peter and Hughes.

Then to Neal’s utter shock and surprise, he was handed the keys to Peter’s beloved Taurus. “Oh, yeah, you’re the only one who can drive it.”

Neal looked at him questioningly, “Both their licenses have been revoked. They must have been going 65 and in a 20 mile zone.” Neal’s mouth formed a silent “O.” This was just getting better and better.

He turned back to Peter and Hughes as Neal stared open mouthed at the car keys. “Remember. I got the word out. We’ll be watching you all the way to the state line.”

The devil on Neal’s shoulder poked him and he just couldn’t resist, “that’s right, you wouldn’t want me sending you back here behind bars, now would you?” he grinned at his handler who was turning redder at an alarming rate.

“Mouth closed, right,” he reminded himself silently.

The sheriff reached into a cabinet and pulled out two sets of neatly folded clothes and handed them to Peter. “You’re fishing gear is still in your car. Now you change while I help this young fella square away the violations. You two would do well to follow his example you know. It’s good to see a nice polite young fella with the proper respect for the law, come through here even if he is from the city.

Neal was sure he was hearing Peter’s teeth grind and growls coming from his direction. “A fishing trip, a great new place you heard of for a weekend fishing trip, Burke, and we end up here.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Peter practically whined. “Can I help it if my foot slipped onto the gas when I saw that huge bear?”

The Sheriff had his arm over Neal’s shoulders now, “Its bear season, no reason for them to get hysterical about one little cub, the judge’s son’s pet no less, crossing the road. I mean it and he had to be blind to plow into the mayor’s memorial cannon lawn ornament.

Neal just nodded politely. “Yes sir, we’ll look into the driving, I promise you.” The sounds coming from the cell were getting really frightening.

“Now listen, you seem like a sensible young guy, so I’m paroling them into your custody and I’ll trust that you can keep those two out of trouble.”

Neal didn’t have the nerve to open his mouth. He knew that he was way beyond being able to form words without bursting out in hysterical laughter. Also, Peter looked like he was ready to kill him if he said so much as a word. Yes, keeping as quiet as possible was his best strategy for survival in the wilderness right now, especially with these two dangerous and one possibly homicidal prisoner in his custody all the way to New York City. So he just crossed his heart and made a scouts pledge which seemed to satisfy his new, best buddy, the sheriff of Laceyville, which Neal was nominating as the most beautiful and desirable vacation spot on Earth. He could not wait to tell Mozzie.

Besides, as Neal followed the sheriff upstairs to the mechanic’s shop he started thinking of all the blackmail material and how to best use it. Top of the list was a dinner, on Peter, outside his radius at a nice five star restaurant, for Elizabeth. He’d definitely invite Diana and Jones to thank them for whatever reasons they could not make the trip.

Did Peter Make...?

Title: Did Peter Make...?
Author: Ultracape
Rating: For teenagers
Genre and/or Pairing: P/E/N
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Implied sexual relationship and some language