Another short one guys. Been a little busy with some family stuff so please bear with me. Hope this gets you through the weekend.

Chap 11

Neal was awake long before the sun ever sent shards of glowing radiance through the windows and into his room. He watched as the vibrant colors that had painted the morning sky faded into a brilliantly glowing day. The sheer majesty of it all was enough to awe him. Elizabeth would love this. She shared his eye for beauty. Did his mother share his love of art and beauty as well? He had so few memories of her he was never quite sure where any of his traits or quirks came from. The memories of his father were too many and too painful to even contemplate. He wasn't ready to deal with those yet.

Peter slipped into the room unnoticed. His concern had finally gotten the better of him around four a.m. Changing into jeans and a button down; he found the nearest coffee shop just two blocks down the road. By four thirty, he was back sneaking into his son's room. What he found didn't surprise him.

"Peter this is incredible. The sky is so clear here it makes the hues of the morning seem alive almost."

So much for going unnoticed.

"Is that why you're up so early sketching? Wow! Neal that pops right off the page!"

"It's nothing. Just something I do when I can't sleep."

"Neal, why do you do that? Settle yourself short all the time? You have a wonderful talent."

"Yeah for forgeries."

"Are you admitting something?"

"No. Just making a point. I'm not that talented."

The defeat in the kid's voice made Peter want to strangle who ever put it there. How anyone could fail to see the raw talent was beyond him.

"Neal, son, I don't know who made you think so little of yourself, but I do know one thing. I will spend the rest of my life proving them wrong."

The gentle hand on his head and the resolution of the statement did it. After that, the tears were unstoppable. Peter didn't seem to mind though. He simply pulled Neal to him and let him cry.

After witnessing the scene, Mozzie decided calling for the morning paper could wait. At least Neal wasn't alone in all this. At first Mozzie had been skeptical of the Burkes, but now he saw just how truly awestruck they were by Neal. It didn't hurt matters that Neal trusted them so much. They couldn't be all bad if Neal could have so much faith in them.

When El woke just after seven and found the note, she immediately began making her way to Neal and Mozzie's room. Not bothering to change into her skirt before her shower, she slipped on a pair of silk pajama pants and a spaghetti strap tank top before she stepped out the door. The sight that greeted her made her heart melt. Peter sat on a sofa with Neal's head in his lap. Neal was fast asleep with his feet dangling over the other end. Peter was flipping through a sketchbook trying not to disturb the slumbering kid. The blanket that covered Neal was one El recognized. It was always on Neal's bed no matter where he went. She understood it had a special significance to him, she just didn't know what that significance was.

"Peter, have I said I love you lately?"

Peter leaned back into the arms that now encircled him and smiled as his wife's mint flavored lips pressed against his own.. Life seemed perfect now.

"Why yes you have but you can say it again if you want."

"Peter Burke, I am still so in love with you."

"And I you Miss Elizabeth."

Mozzie couldn't resist the chance to rib them a little.

"God, you two get a room. Or better yet go back to your own."

El giggled as she brushed he hand through Neal's messy hair. Glancing at the sketches in the book, she was taken aback. "Peter those are magnificent."

"Try telling that to Neal. He thinks they're little more than chicken scratch. Look at the coloring in these. And this one is you and Satchmo. I remember that night. Neal made spinach lasagna and that little pear salad. You fell asleep on the dog watching Soloist. The expression on your face is spot on. So peaceful. So serene. And he even put the blue flecks in Satchmo's eyes."

El was saddened to think that Neal brushed away his talent as if it were nothing. Neal could take the world by storm if given the chance. The art world would be ablaze with talk of Neal Caffrey if the boy had the confidence to actually exhibit his work.

"Peter look at that one. He captured every laugh line on you face. You don't laugh like that much, what were you doing there?"

"I honestly don't remember."

"What does that say at the bottom, Peter?"

"Peter laughing at my ice skating attempt."

Peter smiled as he recalled how Neal had slipped and slid across a large patch of ice trying to run down a suspect. Jones had finally caught the guy, but Neal's ice dance had continued until Neal had finally fallen on his ass.

El couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up as she pictured Neal trying to be dignified as he fell on his ass.

"Peter was that when he sprained his left wrist?"

"Yeah, I was. I thought he might have broken it. The nurse commented on how much of a mother hen I was being."

Neal breathed in a scent that grounded him completely. It was woodsy and musky. It was totally Peter.

"You're still a mother hen."

Peter brushed the hair away from Neal's face and locked eyes with his son. They were once again dancing with something that was uniquely Neal.

"If you didn't get into so much trouble I wouldn't have to be."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm getting a shower. I want to get to the cemetery early."

Peter and El watched him head for his bedroom with smiles on their faces. Neal was o.k. And with them, there he always would be.