Author's Note: Well, we've been out of the game for more than a year and a half but we finally found our way back to finishing this tale. Hope you enjoy…

o0o

Bounce…bang…bounce…bang…bounce… "Eric!"

Bang… "What?"…Bounce…

Bang…"You know what." Bounce. "No playing ball in the-" Bang. "Eric!"

"What!" Eric cradled the ball against his chest and smiled with smug satisfaction as he listened first to what sounded like a scrap metal crane unloading but was more likely Elizabeth dumping a single saucepan into the pot drawer, followed by determined marching footsteps making a beeline to the bottom of the staircase where he was perched three steps up.

"Eric…" Elizabeth paused to take a calming breath, which gave Eric even greater satisfaction that he had succeeded in riling his guardian so easily. "Listen, sweetie…"

Damn! Eric mentally shook his head…Sweetie?... Even in the grips of frustration and parental lecturing, Elizabeth managed to put a polite and caring spin on the confrontation.

"…I know you are going through a lot and I probably should have taken Peter's suggestion and sent you to school today because I can see that you are climbing the walls with boredom…"

Unreal! Somehow Elizabeth had managed to sneak understanding into the lecture…

"and I realize that you are having a hard time putting out of your mind everything that has happened this past week…"

…and when had he become so transparent that he could be deciphered as easily as a first grade reader…

"…but you know the rules and the rule is-"

"…no playing ball in the house. Something precious might get broken. Yes," Eric pushed off the steps then ducked under Elizabeth's arm that was resting on the banister… "I know the Burke House Rules, Elizabeth. It's not like they haven't been etched into my brain for all eternity. I'm going out back," he called over his shoulder as he snatched up his jacket and headed across to the door. "If that's okay with you?"

If Elizabeth was going to respond to the rhetorical question, she didn't get a chance as Scott-Allen came darting past, jacket in hand, calling out, "Ate forw me Air-wick!"

"Oh, man," Eric groaned as he pushed open the door and stepped out into the frosty, late afternoon chill. "Always have to do everything I want to do, don't you Pip Squeak?" he complained mostly to himself as he threw the ball down onto the pavement with force. The ball bounced high before coming down to land in the hedge, running the length of the fence – any higher and it would have gone off into the neighbours yard. "I get it," Scottie announced excitedly as he raced after the damn thing and Eric couldn't help feeling a little pleased with himself that he had his own personal ball-boy.

"Give it over," Eric held out his hand and couldn't be bothered with a thank you as the ball was lobbed back in his direction. Instead he turned his back on the little one and proceeded to bounce the ball around in a circle, trying his best to block out the persistent annoyance, happily monitoring his every move. Even though in the past he'd managed to avoid harbouring any ill feelings towards the perky, not bothered by anything, 'Stepford son', since arriving back at the Burkes after his…unfortunate getaway jaunt with his mother, he'd been having a hard time resisting the jealousy and resentment complex that had begun to rear its ugly head. It was all he could do not to peg the ball, right into the brat's painfully happy face. But it would hardly be his fault if that happened and he certainly couldn't be blamed for his feelings. Over the past week, which he'd officially deemed, the second worst ever, he'd been completely screwed over by everyone that had pretended to care so he really couldn't give a rat's ass anymore.

He hadn't been back to see his mom since the first night, and he couldn't foresee anytime in the near future where he'd feel like he could stomach sitting across from her again in a little sterile FBI room that's sole purpose was to monitor and record incriminating revelations and admissions of guilt. And guilty his mom was – guilty of being monumentally stupid, selfish and completely blinded by her obsession. In the end, Eric had to concede that the Burke's fricken puppy had more brains than his mother and he couldn't being to fathom how his mom and him had been able to survive so long without her muttonhead ineptness going and getting them both killed.

It had been a rude awakening that morning at the stinking bug infested motel, when his mom had disclosed that she would be making a deal with a madman. As far as Eric was concerned, that moment had herald the beginning of the end for the honourable Hunter name. He had mistakenly grown up being proud of his family's past, listening with admiration to the stories his mother had spun about the treasure hunting escapades of his long dead relatives. But all that had been a complete load of crap – the Hunters were most likely nothing more than a bunch of try hard petty criminals that never amounted to anything, and no doubt managed to blunder everything they ever got involved in. Eric mentally kicked himself for ever aspiring to be his mother's equal. A thought that now made him cringe so hard he felt his fingernails piercing the rubber skin of the basketball he was holding. He bounced the ball hard, while trying to reassure himself that he should feel grateful that he had been fortunate enough to avoid the brain degenerating gene that had so obviously possessed his mother and also, if he tried to give his future a positive spin, perhaps there was some element of truth to his father's alleged intelligence and competence, after all, Eric had to get his genius from somewhere.

There had been some talk during the week about Neal being released, but Eric had made certain he sent Peter a clear message when he tried to discuss it that it was a topic he couldn't give a damn about, and besides, he'd been able to hear enough to get the gist and be able to follow what was going on, just by listening in from the top of the stairs when the oldies thought they were alone and through overhearing hushed conversations Peter mistakenly thought he was having privately with his team. Because Peter had been spending more time than he usually did at home, some of his junior agents had made house calls at various times to go over the case. Eric had been rather offended that they hadn't wanted to sit down with him and get and accurate account of what had taken place, seeing as how he was the only one with any fricken brains that had been party to what the FEDS were referring to as the 'Animal Jades' Case. Eric had rolled his eyes at the supposed intelligence of the bureau staff for such a simpleton title, considering the history of the Jades, the evolutionary significance of the spindle neurons and all the rest. He'd thought they'd at least want a statement of what he was witness to that morning down at the docks, but he hadn't been asked anything. Not even so much as a, 'What's up, kid?' Not that he would have told the FEDS anything anyways, but he just would have enjoyed watching them squirm and stutter and blunder their way through what eventually would have turned out to be a complete waste of time and effort on their part. Eric bounced the ball in frustration some more. Elizabeth had been right, he was as bored as all hell. Since returning home, all he'd done was watch movies, read books and draw, mostly in his room by himself. The squirt had been abnormally less in his face and even Saturday morning had come and gone without a mention of his pretend bonding session with dear old Dad. Eric had quietly scoffed at Peter and Elizabeth's 'pretend it's not there and hopefully it will go away' strategy. A woefully fragile strategy at best that would have crumbled all over Mrs B's designer rug had he cared enough to question why the pair of them had demanded for six months that he visit his father, when all he had to do to get out of visiting his mother was to tell them he didn't want to.

Each time Peter had offered to take him in to see her, he'd respectfully declined, if you could call grumbling, 'Nup, don't wanna,' in any way respectful. In fact, he'd taken a good deal of satisfaction in turning Peter down several times, which made him feel like once again, he was in control of at least some aspect of his life. When Peter's persistent asking got nowhere, Elizabeth had sat him down a couple of times while trying to explain that it would help him feel better if he went and talked to his mom. It took Eric all his restraint not to reach out and slap some sense into the woman for not seeing that visiting his mother would be nothing more than a painful reminder of everything that had made last week, the second worse week of his life. And then, as if some pathetic tag team, Peter had insisted they come out the back to 'shoot hoops,' which was nothing more than a pitifully veiled disguise for a woeful 'heart to heart.' The old man had pretended to act all caring by asking how he was doing, offering to take him in to see Dr Patrick if he needed, and to explain the progress the Bureau was making with sorting things out with his mother but each comment made Eric want to reach out and punch Peter too, mostly for not getting that he didn't give a crap about any of it, but also because he just felt like hitting the man, for no particular reason whatsoever.

Eric stopped bouncing the ball upon hearing his stomach grumble loudly. He turned proudly to the squirt to see if he had heard it too.

"Your tum-tum is gwolling at you, Air-wick," Scottie chuckled before looking down at his own tummy, willing it to do the same.

Eric smiled, "You're too little, squirt. Only us men can make their stomachs roar like an animal when their body is telling them they're hungry."

"Eye's hungwy, too."

"Do I look like your mother?" Eric glanced up at the back door and mumbled under his breath, 'not that she'd do anything about it anyways.' He turned back to the smaller child. "What are the chances Elizabeth will give us a plate of cookies to tide us over till dinner's ready?"

"Momma says no eating ust befow dinna."

"Yeah," Eric scoffed. "I got that one etched on my brain too."

"Huh?" Scottie screwed up his nose.

"Never mind," Eric began bouncing the ball once more with force as his brain began fast tracking a plan. After a minute or two, he kicked the ball into the corner of the yard and stepped over to where Satchmo was watching the affair from his doggy mat on the back landing. Eric crouched down beside the pup and smiled mischievously, "Hey, boy, you wanna go for a walk?"

Scott-Allen came over and leaned in close, placing his hands on his knees. "Where oo goin, Air-wick?" he asked as he watched the older boy attach the leash to the dog's collar.

"I'm gonna get something to eat…from the Seven Eleven," Eric declared as he led the dog around to the side gate. "I'm gonna get myself a bag of candy, an iced donut and maybe even a slurpee if the machine is fixed."

"Can I hab an iced donut, too?" Scottie asked hopefully while licking his salivating lips at the mere thought.

Eric unlatched the gate and led the small party through with smug satisfaction. "No probs, Pip Squeak. You can have as many as you want."