wait, but didn't susan meet arthur for the first time when peter was in jail? the first time.


but then again, trust peter to pick up a cop -- pick up a federal agent -- blow his cover, and still stay in touch with the guy. on good terms, at that.

"it's cool, su," he says. "all good, s'long as we don't pull any jobs in los angeles."

"we are in la right now," susan points out dangerously.

"don't pull any jobs that can be easily pinned on us," he clarifies. "otherwise, you know, colby might feel inclined to hunt us down. although we're kind of small fry for him, apparently his team does a lot of high-profile stuff, very hush-hush."

susan may or may not whimper a little bit.

-
-

still, five years later or so, it says something about peter that he can pick up the phone and dial something with an la area code. she picks up the other line just because she has got to hear how this particular conversation goes.

the phone rings once, twice, three times, and then there's a click and a vaguely distracted voice saying, "granger."

"hey, colby," peter says in a low, silky voice. "this is peter pevensie. how've you been?"

"i'd say better than you, but i've had an interesting couple of years," colby granger says, his voice perking up a little. "how was stir?"

"food sucked. listen, you still down in la?"

"yeah. but i'm guessing you're not, what with the manhattan area code and all that."

"well," peter says, "after i finish up my business here, i have it in mind to go see the sights in california, take my kid sister to disneyland and all that --"

"lucy is twenty-eight," susan says dryly, covering the mouthpiece of her phone with hand.

peter waves his free hand at her.

"-- and i'd love to meet up for a drink. on me, of course. at least the first few rounds."

"strictly legal business?"

"of course."

she can hear the humor in colby's voice, and for a surprising moment, susan thinks that she might actually like him very much, if she'd met him for more than the two minutes she'd been in the same room with him and peter. "let me guess: you want a favor."

"you know me so well, granger."

"so what is it?" there's a muffled shout in the background, and colby says, "hey, personal call here! it happens, you know."

"sorry," he says, back into the phone. "workplace. you know how it is."

peter glances at the clock, and susan calculates the time difference between new york and la. should be around ten o'clock. at night. "sorry, i thought you'd be out of the office by now."

"i work for the fbi, pete. i'm not really sure they have a concept of the nine-to-five job. anyway, we're in the middle of a case, but i can take a couple of minutes, my boss is double-dating with his brother and his girlfriend in the av room."

"what?"

"never mind, it's complicated. what do you need?"

"a couple of new york mobsters, marco abruzzi and frederico patriso. what do you have on them?"

there's the sound of keystrokes in the background. "a lot," colby says after a couple of minutes. "although i'd rather not reel it off in the workplace. you want to talk later, or should i send you a copy?"

peter glances over at susan. "send it," he says. "you still have my e-mail?"

"yeah. listen, you're not planning to rip off the mob, are you? because they're some kind of serious."

"trust me," peter says, "i am extremely aware of that fact."