A short distance inside the small park, Huang spotted a bench that was getting a decent amount of sun and claimed a seat on it. Neal looked it over but decided to stay on his feet.

"Always the guard up... ready to disappear at a moments notice." Huang observed.

"Lack of preparation has consequences."

"You've faced them before and survived."

"I told you, I'm not the only one at risk."

"You've had partners, accomplices."

"They knew the chances they were taking. They walked into the game with their eyes wide open. This time if I go down, Peter goes too... and he did nothing to deserve that."

"Nothing but trust and believe in you." Huang poked. Neal briefly glared at him then turned and continued to gaze out into the distance.

"You've got lots of nasty crammed into that compact body."

"Not nasty. Honest. Agent Burke put everything on the line for you."

"I know. That's why I'm here."

"All I'm saying is that it wouldn't be difficult to upset the delicate balance both of you have with Burke's superiors. One mistake they catch... one lie they uncover... it'll all come down around your ears."

"I know that, too."

"This is only for him, then."

"Right."

"Altruism, plain and simple. Nothing in it for you at all."

"A migraine if you don't get on with it. Other than that... no."

"On with what?"

Finally, Neal half turned to study Huang.

"The standard line of patter. Was I hit as a kid? Did anybody touch me in a bad place? Do I get angry or sad at the drop of a hat?"

"Were you? Do you?"

"Again, no."

"Good, that's dispensed with right off the bat. Now we can get back to the important questions."

"Such as?"

"Why you're really putting up with this evaluation."

"I told you..."

"No, you threw out the answer you were hoping would satisfy me and get me to ask something else. Not gonna happen."

"The president is Barack Obama, it's... 8:22 a.m., I'm in the state of New York, the borough of Manhattan, five plus eight is thirteen. I'm lucid, competent and oriented. Anything else you need to know?"

"Excuse me?" Huang chuckled

"Look. I need this to be over so I can go have breakfast with Peter and move on with my life."

"Which consists of what?"

"I don't understand."

"What do you need to protect so badly that you're willing to deal with me? What's so fundamental and necessary to your existence that you'd agree to spend time with someone you so obviously think so little of?"

Neal frowned, aware he was slightly losing his edge in the confrontation, but unsure how to stop the slide.

"It has nothing to do with you, specifically. It's psychiatrists in general. They're the most accomplished grifters and con-men in the history of the world. It's not a profession, it's a legal scam, manipulating naïve, trusting people out of thousands and thousands of dollars."

"And you wish you'd thought of it first."

"Sometimes."

"You don't think we do any good."

"If you all joined monasteries and convents and took vows of poverty before you started trying to heal people... then maybe I'd start to believe."

"Wowww. I see Agent Burke's had a pretty profound influence on you."

"What?"

"That sounded eerily like a police detective I know. He's a dyed in the wool cynic and also a dedicated conspiracy theorist."

Neal chuckled faintly.

"At the same time? Sounds like somebody I know, too."

"If I had to guess, that would be your friend Mr. Haversham."

Neal tensed immediately.

"Nobody touches him, nobody talks to him."

"I wasn't about to."

"Then why even mention... right. To see how I'd react. Now you know, so move to the next topic. Okay?"

"He's held the most sway over you for the longest period of time out of your whole life. If I'm going to get to know you, I think we kind of have to discuss him, don't you?"

"No."

"He's that fragile? He needs total protection from you?"

"Not by a long shot."

"Then why won't you talk about your relationship? I'm not asking for confessions or a litany of the crimes you've committed, together or apart. I'd just like to know his place on your map of the world."

Neal sighed, turned and paced back the other way a few feet.

"He trusts me. He trusted me from the first day we met without ever having to hear a word about my history, without asking who I was or questioning whether I was worth believing in. He claims he saw something exceptional. I've never been able to get more than that out of him."

"Maybe he's afraid that special quality will be tainted if he talks too much about it."

"Yeah. That does sound like Moz."

"And Agent Burke? Does it bother you that he wasn't able to do what your friend did?"

"I'll earn his trust eventually. In the meantime… he gives me other things that are just as important."

"Like?"

"Friendship, freedom to express my ideas on cases, support when other agents aren't as accepting or open-minded about my situation and my ability to change. Plus, he brought two incredibly beautiful, sweet, caring women into my life, along with a golden retriever who isn't capable of hate or judgment and is happy to see me every time I show up at his door. As long as I still have those, I can be patient about Peter trusting me."

"That's a lot of gifts. Agent Burke sounds like a really great person. Your face says there might be more, though. Maybe something a little more double edged?"

Neal glared, but he finally consented to sit on the bench, so far toward the other end he was almost falling off. He dearly wished it was a longer bench.

"I wasn't a child very long. I had to grow up in a hurry if I was going to survive. By the time I was eighteen I'd forgotten what boundaries were. The world I lived in… they were optional. If you chose to live outside the rules, you learned the consequences damn fast and you learned how to avoid them."

"Making the same mistake twice can be fatal."

"No kidding. Once you had the new playbook down, though… life was whatever you wanted it to be."

"Now you suddenly have a tangible boundary around your ankle."

"One I can't ignore no matter how I try."

"So the darker side is having to adjust to society's norms and mores again. What's the lighter one?'

"Everything I gained. All the people around me who give a damn if I'm lying dead in an alley somewhere… the looks of grudging respect I get more and more often from Peter's team."

"Less and less grudgingly, too, I hope."

"Yeah, that too. The look on Peter's face when he came to my apartment and found me working on a painting that was all my own, a Neal Caffrey original… sometimes I think I'd gladly wear this anklet ten more years if he'd show me that expression again."

"What expression?"

"Pride."

TBC…