A/N: The last two chapters were difficult ones for the characters and for those of us who love them. This one gives us a sweet little reprieve before diving back into more serious matters.

Burke family cabin, Catskills. Thursday morning. March 4, 2004.

Peter had taken a long walk through the woods, during which he considered everything Neal had shared last night about his childhood trauma. He'd known it would be bad. You didn't end up with repressed memories and flashbacks unless things were bad. As Neal was jumping between present day and 16 years ago, he'd asked why Peter hadn't stopped Vance. It was hard, as a law enforcement officer, to admit he was helpless to do anything to help now. The violence had occurred long ago and the perpetrator was dead.

It was also hard to admit that he didn't know what to say to Neal now. Should he bring it up, or avoid the subject? It didn't help that on his way back to the cabin he'd heard Noelle crying. If she was that shaken, what hope did he have?

Pausing on the front porch to brush the snow off his boots, Peter looked in the cabin windows to see the cousins were in the kitchen. They were eating cinnamon rolls, frosted cereal, and chocolate milk. They were like kids on a Saturday morning, heading into a serious sugar rush. For a moment he was surprised Henry was letting Neal do this, and almost barged in to tell them to eat something healthy. But as he studied Neal's expression, he changed his mind. The kid deserved a break, a chance to take time for some innocent fun.

A few minutes later, Peter opened the door. "Come on, you guys." He held a snow shovel in each hand. "There's work to do. We got a couple inches of snow last night, on top of what was already here."

They complained as he told them to shovel in front of a storage area. He told them they had to move enough snow that the double doors could swing open. But they worked together well and made quick progress, even with Satchmo getting in their way. Peter kept his expression stern whenever they looked in his direction. He'd learned this routine from his oldest brother Joe, who had a couple of daughters in college now. The girls had complained bitterly the first time Joe put them through this, but eventually it had become a favorite part of winter stays in the cabin.

"Ok," said Neal, standing up straight. "The path's clear. Can we go back inside now?"

"Not so fast," Peter said. He tossed a set of keys to Neal. "Show me the doors will open."

The cousins had to put their backs into it, because the old door frame had warped over the years, but finally the doors swung open. Henry was the first to make sense of what they were seeing in the shed. "Wow."

"Thanks for the help," said Peter. "That's all I needed. You can go back to the cabin now." He walked inside and picked up a sled.

"Not a chance." Henry laughed and grabbed another sled. "C'mon, Neal. You're going to love this."

Peter gave directions to the best sledding hill. Seeing they were about to run ahead he warned, "Don't do anything stupid."

"What does that mean?" Henry asked.

Neal shrugged. "He always says that."

"Well now I want to do something stupid," Henry grumbled. "Let me know if you have any ideas." With that, the cousins flashed matching grins in Peter's direction and ran ahead. The Labrador bounded behind them.

Peter joined them for a few runs down the hill, pleased to hear Neal laughing. Back at the top of the hill, he looked down to see Henry had initiated a snowball fight, and Neal was ducking for cover to make his own snowballs.

"He's happy," said Noelle.

Peter looked over to see Noelle and El walking in his direction.

"It's surprising sometimes," Noelle continued, "what people can endure. After what we heard last night it's hard to imagine Neal laughing, but he needs this. I'm glad you thought of it."

"How did you know it was my idea?"

El took his arm. "When we saw the area in front of the shed had been shoveled, I remembered Joe's old trick. He played it on me the first time I stayed here." She smiled up at Peter. "And I remember there you were, shoveling with me and complaining the whole time about how bossy he was."

He smiled back, basking in those memories.

El leaned against him, watching the snowball fight. "How on earth do they have so much energy?"

"Wait till you go back inside and see what they had for breakfast." Peter glanced sidelong at Noelle, glad she wasn't crying anymore. "Noelle, do you mind if I ask a few questions?"

"That's fine. What do you want to know?"

"This whole father figure thing is new to me, and I… I wonder how parents can see their kids hurt and not go crazy. What am I supposed to do for Neal, when what happened to him was so long ago? And am I supposed to let him see how concerned and worried I am, or should I hide that and be strong and in control so he knows he can lean on me?"

"There's a question for the ages. I'd say it's good for him to see that you think it's ok to express his feelings and yours. It's important to be honest. Don't hide your feelings, but don't exaggerate them either, or pretend to feel something you don't simply because you think it's how you should feel."

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"Ok, I surrender." Neal laughed as Henry let him sit up again. The sneak attack from behind had been effective. He brushed snow off his coat and leaned against a tree. Satchmo seemed determined to lick his face, but finally subsided to sit beside him. "I'd like to paint this."

"We brought along some of your supplies," Henry said, "but how do you paint in this weather? Wouldn't your fingers freeze?"

"It helps to have a good memory. Anyway, it isn't the scenery I want to capture. It's the feeling." He looked at Henry's expression and grinned. "Yeah, I know abstracts aren't your thing."

"Hmm." Henry seemed miles away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I've been distracted recently, but I'm not stupid. I can tell you're worried about something. What is it?"

Henry flopped down on the snow, hands behind his head, ankles crossed, and looked up at the sky. He was the picture of relaxation, but it was an act. He remained silent for a while, and finally said, "I think Robert's trying to get me fired."

Neal snorted. "Yeah, like Graham's going to let that happen. Your grandfather's got your back."

"I don't want him fighting my battles. If I'm supposed to take over Win-Win, I need to handle this."

"You've decided you want to stay with them?"

"Maybe. Whether I stay or not, I can't let Robert take over. I've got a really bad feeling about what he has planned."

Neal studied Henry a moment and said, "That's not all that's bothering you."

Henry met Neal's eyes. "You left some stuff out last night. You didn't mention the Hospital Game. You told me you started playing it when you were nine."

Neal thought back, and pieced together more memories. "Right. It was when I went back to get the cast removed. They told me they had a surprise for me. Turned out my mom got a day pass from the rehab center and was there at the hospital to see me. It was ok at first. I mean, she was sober and supportive and everything. By then I'd suppressed most of the memories and I was even happy to see her. But the longer she was there, the more I started to feel panicked. Eventually I slipped away to hide. Ellen found me and made a joke out of it, saying I loved playing hide-and-seek. But I could tell from Mom's expression that she knew I was running away from her."

"And the next time you played it was in Chicago, when a doctor at the hospital there reminded you of your mom."

"I turned it into a game, after that. Instead of running away from Mom, I was just hiding from you. It went from fear to fun."

"But we're not in a hospital this time."

"Huh?"

"You think I can't tell you're considering running?"

Neal wanted to deny it, but Henry was right. "I'm a good con artist. Better than you."

"Barely."

"I can disappear into a role and fool anyone."

Henry thought that one over a moment. "Even yourself. You think you can move into an identity that wasn't abused as a child and just forget what happened to you?"

"Could be worth a shot."

"No, it isn't," said Peter.

Henry sat up, leaning on one elbow to look at the man who had snuck up on them. Neal stopped leaning against the tree and straightened his posture. "Peter, you don't understand."

Peter sat on one of the sleds. Satchmo trotted over to have his ears scratched. "I think I understand well enough. Neal, you have to promise me that if you start to think things are so bad you have to run, you'll talk to me first. Or to Henry, if you really think I won't get it. But you have to give one of us a chance to help."

Neal leaned back again. "That sounds great out here, in the middle of nowhere. You'll feel different when we're back in Manhattan. Now that you know…"

"Know what?" Peter prompted.

"Everything. I'm damaged, Peter. I'm seriously messed up. When you think it through, you aren't going to want me working at the FBI. As long as I have to leave, I might as well make a fresh start. I could -"

"Whoa," said Peter. "No one said anything about you leaving the Bureau. The whole point of sending you into therapy was that you could stay. It's a little early to give up, don't you think?"

"But -"

"It's a simple yes-no question, Neal. I'm asking you to commit to continuing therapy instead of running away. Are you going to give up?"

Neal stared at him a moment before saying, "No."

"You're really not used to having someone lay down the law." Peter studied Neal and then said, "After what you went through as a kid, your mom and Ellen let you get away with anything, didn't they?"

Neal considered that. He had been given a lot of leeway, compared to his friends. "Maybe."

Peter stood up. "Almost time for lunch. Let's put these sleds away."

Several times on the way back to cabin, Neal looked at Henry, almost asked something, and then changed his mind. As they approached the porch, Henry lagged behind. Peter and Satchmo went inside, while Henry dropped into an Adirondack chair and said, "Here's your chance. Whatever it is, say it." Henry made a show of pulling off his snow boots and knocking off the snow, in case anyone looked out the windows to wonder what they were up to.

Neal sat on a matching chair and pulled off his boots. "What do you remember about my mom?"

"I was only five years old the last time I saw her."

"Nearly six. I can't ask Noelle, not now. She's too upset about what I said last night. If I ask for her perspective, she'll probably want to defend Mom. I just… I want to know what she was like before WITSEC, before she started drinking."

Henry took a deep breath. "I remember being confused when people couldn't tell our moms apart. I always knew which one was my mom, and they seemed different to me. They both sang and played the piano. All the Caffreys did that. But different things made them sing. My mom sang to me or Dad. She'd wake me up or say hello with a song, and she chose pop songs. Your mom sang when she was cooking or planning a meal, and she went for stuff in other languages. They spent a lot of time overseas as kids, you know, when the Ambassador was moving up in the diplomatic corps. They learned languages on their travels, but your mom picked them up the fastest. From what I've heard, I think she and David had more wanderlust and enjoyed moving around, and my mom was more of a homebody. At the times I met her, I wasn't all that interested in Meredith. I was aware of her as your mom, someone on the periphery when we were playing. The main thing I remember was the food. My mom can cook, but yours turned it into an art. Any time we went to your house, there would be lots of food to pick from. Those visits were among the few times at that age when I was willing to try new foods without making a big fuss." Henry gazed into the distance, delving into old memories.

"Anything else?"

"Not about your mom. I remember our dads had a lot to talk about, both being cops at the time, but looking back I can see they weren't exactly friendly."

"Any idea why they didn't get along?" Neal asked.

Henry looked embarrassed, which was rare in Neal's experience. "It's not important. Maybe we should go back inside."

"You know I'm not going to give up. I'll pry it out of you eventually. You might as well tell me."

Henry closed his eyes. "Money. The Winslows were loaded, and the Bennetts weren't. We had a big house especially considering Dad was bringing in a cop's salary, and your folks had a tiny place by comparison. Over the years I realized my parents accepted money from my Winslow grandparents, mostly under the guise of dividends from family ownership of Win-Win. Your parents wouldn't accept money from our Caffrey grandparents." He faced Neal. "Your dad was jealous, and mine wasn't exactly gracious."

Neal hadn't expected that. "D'you think, if we hadn't gone into WITSEC, I would have been jealous of you?"

Henry stood up and offered his hand, pulling Neal to his feet. "C'mon. I'm older, wiser and better looking. If you aren't jealous of me already, why would money have made a difference?"

Conversation remained lighthearted through lunch. They joked about Peter taking them by surprise with the sleds, and laughed about the snowball fight. El talked about Peter playing hockey and being a great ice skater, while she could barely stay upright in skates. Noelle mentioned that she loved to ski. The talk of winter activities somehow led to a challenge to build the best snowman, with the competition taking place behind the cabin right after lunch.

They had barely gotten started on the snowmen when the weather took a turn for the worse. They ran inside to escape the sleet, and built up the fire. Soon the electricity went out, but Peter started up the propane generator. By mid-afternoon, Neal had an easel set up in front of the main windows, capturing the icy scene in soft acrylic colors. Everyone else had gathered in front of the fireplace.

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Sitting on one of the sofas beside the fireplace, Peter looked around the cabin with pleasure. Neal was painting, Henry was savoring a cup of hot chocolate that was at least 50% marshmallow, El was leaning beside him with her cup of tea, and Noelle looked thoughtful. Henry seemed to notice her expression and asked, "What is it?"

Noelle looked at Peter a moment, and then back at her son. "I wondered if your being like a brother to Neal, and Peter being like a father to him makes Peter a father figure to you, too."

Henry glanced at Peter with a surprised expression, and then gazed into the fire as he thought it over. Finally he nodded. "Possibly. But Neal is the baby of the family. He's everyone's favorite."

Peter experienced a moment of panic. Feeling like a father to one trouble-prone young man had been overwhelming. Now he had somehow collected another son?

Neal had seemed so absorbed in his painting that Peter didn't think he heard the conversation, but he said, "Wait. Does that mean Henry is jealous of me?"

Henry had opened his mouth for what was likely a sarcastic response, but he remained silent when Noelle put a firm hand on his shoulder. Instead Noelle said in the calm tones of a therapist, "Is that surprising?"

"Well, yeah." Neal kept painting. Peter guessed that Noelle was reaching a part of the kid's mind that normally stayed in the background, but was currently answering the questions while the more creative, defensive part of his mind was still absorbed in art. "I'm the one who's jealous. Henry grew up knowing who he really was, with two parents, awesome grandparents, and was pretty much doted on. We've got identical twins for moms. You clearly love him. My mom wanted me dead. Makes me wonder. Was it just bad luck, or did I do something wrong?" A moment later the rest of his brain seemed to catch up. He put down the brush and ran his hands through his hair.

Noelle stood up and walked to him. "Neal, these are exactly the questions I expected you to start asking now that your memories have returned. It's common for victims of abuse to wonder if they did something to deserve it. It wasn't your fault, but it's going to take some time for you to accept that. Will you come upstairs with me for another session? We should talk this through while it's pressing on your mind."

Neal looked at her, indecision in his expression. "You don't hate me for the things I said about Mom last night?"

"No, Neal. I still love you. And that introduces a host of other issues as your therapist that we'll deal with later."

With Neal and Noelle upstairs, Peter focused his attention on Henry and asked, "What have you learned about Win-Win's source of Flashback and this Mr. Hyde character?"

Henry shook his head. "I can't share that information with the FBI."

"You're under contract with the FBI as a consultant on this case."

"I'll have to check with Allen Winston, but I think an internal Win-Win investigation is exempt from our contract."

"I can't believe you're pulling this jurisdictional crap. This is about someone trying to kill Neal. Stop playing games and tell me what you've learned, or so help me I'll…" Peter trailed off as he took in Henry's expression.

The kid was radiating innocence, but his eyes were full of mischief. "You gonna tell my mom I'm misbehaving?"

"I should," Peter said.

Henry grinned. "She's right. You're really getting into Dad mode." He relaxed into the sofa, letting his head rest on the back so that he was looking up at the ceiling. "All I've got so far are dead ends. This Hyde guy knows what he's doing."

"When you did that research on Flashback a year ago, did you get a sample of the drug?"

"The manufacturer offered it, but I turned it down. I wasn't doing clinical research. It was more a compilation of others' research results and a recommendation of whether or not we should invest. I see where you're going, Peter, but a sample wouldn't have been enough for what Highbury was doing. They needed a steady supply."

"It crossed my mind at one point that you might have been behind things, trying to get Neal to take the drug to make him face his memories, but there were too many holes in that theory."

"Yeah, if you seriously thought I'd try to kill Neal, you'd turn my whole world upside down. I'd probably need therapy, too."

"You ever had therapy?"

Henry shook his head. "They did a psych assessment when I joined Win-Win. I was boringly normal and well adjusted."

But that had been over a year ago. Peter couldn't help noticing Henry was making a show today of being relaxed. Beneath that show, tension lurked, and Peter wondered if there was more to it than worry about Neal. Before Peter could decide how to broach the subject, he heard a vehicle on the road leading to the cabin. The sleet that brought down the power lines had also taken down the telephone landlines, and cell coverage was nonexistent this far from any towns. That meant it was probably one of the local Burke family members checking up on them. Walking over to the window, he could see a familiar red truck pulling up. "Joe's here," he told Elizabeth.

"Is it still sleeting?" she asked as she stood up.

"It's slowed down, but yeah, it's still accumulating." Peter opened the door as his brother ran up to the porch. "Get in here," he said, closing the door as soon as Joe was inside.

"Thanks," said Joe. "We thought someone should come up and check on you city slickers. I've got an extra propane tank in the back of the truck."

"That can wait," Elizabeth said. "Take off your coat and give me a hug." When she stepped out of the hug she insisted Joe sit down. "Coffee, tea? We may have some hot chocolate left."

"Coffee would be great. Thanks, El." Joe settled into the chair facing the fireplace. "We were pretty sure the cabin was stocked to keep you through the storm, but Mom was going to fret if we didn't double check. I brought along some supplies, mostly pantry stuff."

"I hope you plan on staying here tonight," Peter said, as El brought each of them a cup of coffee. "The sun will be going down too soon for you to make it home, and no one should be driving in this weather in the dark." After Elizabeth settled beside Peter he said, "Henry, you've probably guessed by now this is my brother, Joe Burke. Joe, Henry Winslow is one of our guests. The others are upstairs."

Henry stood and reached over to shake Joe's hand. "Nice to meet you. I can bring in those supplies while you catch up."

Peter nodded, and Joe handed over the keys to the truck. "Couple of boxes behind the driver's seat. You probably want to make two trips."

Soon Henry was bundled up and outside. Joe took the opportunity to be nosy. "When you called to ask if the cabin was free, you didn't say why you suddenly wanted to use it. I think half the reason Mom insisted on me coming up here was so I could tell her what finally dragged you away from the city."

Peter rolled his eyes. "We were up here for Thanksgiving. You'd think we haven't visited for years."

Elizabeth squeezed his hand. "My mom's the same way. We're here to help out a member of Peter's team. Neal was…" She paused. "Have you told Joe about Neal?"

"No." In December Peter had called his father for advice in dealing with a young man who had started to think of Peter as a father figure, but he hadn't mentioned the scenario to anyone else in the family. "I hardly even know how to describe him. Brilliant, creative, mischievous. I recruited him to keep him out of a life of crime, and because he's… he's like the kid El and I would have had if we'd gone that route and if we were older. A week ago we sent him undercover in an op and he almost died. The hospital released him over the weekend, but the things that happened to him…"

"Too bad to talk about?" Joe asked. "Or is this one of those FBI need-to-know things?"

"Some of each," Peter said. "He needed to get away, and this place seemed to fit the bill. He's upstairs now talking to a therapist, Noelle Winslow. She's Henry's mom, and Neal's aunt. She terrifies all of us."

"Peter!" El admonished. "She's a lovely woman, very kind hearted. And very well suited to keeping Henry and Neal on their toes. Speaking of which," she nodded toward the front porch. "I think Henry's bringing up the second box now."

Peter opened the door for Henry and then picked up the first box, which Henry had left on the porch.

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When Neal followed Noelle back downstairs, he was surprised to see a stranger talking to Peter. The man looked a lot like Peter, maybe ten years older. Peter introduced the newcomer as his brother Joe, who had come to check on them and replenish their supplies. Joe would be staying the night, apparently, and then heading out again in the morning.

They had hamburgers, and once again Neal was too absorbed in his own thoughts to contribute much to the dinner conversation. Everything Noelle had said in their session about the abuse being Vance's fault made sense logically. But there was still a part of Neal that felt tainted and unworthy. The idea of escaping into another identity had crossed his mind again. Even if he couldn't escape his memories, he could at least do everyone a favor by taking the ugliness away.

Noelle had insisted that running away wasn't the answer, and Peter had said much the same thing this morning, making Neal promise to keep going to therapy. Peter had sounded more like a Dad than ever, and maybe it was selfish, but Neal didn't want to give that up. So he'd keep his promise and stay.

A/N: Next week's chapter delves deeper into the father/son relationship between Peter and Neal. The next two chapters will be set mostly at the cabin, and then in chapter 29 we'll be back in Manhattan again for Neal's birthday party.

Thanks to Silbrith for continuing to act as beta reader, and for brainstorming a plotline for Joe Burke to play out over several stories. With so much of Neal's family being introduced in this AU, I wanted to bring in at least one member of Peter's family. Joe has kids near Neal's age and can offer Peter some advice.