Elizabeth Burke woke for the fifth night in a row to find her husband was not in bed with her. She sighed and checked the clock. Two in the morning.

Sliding out of bed, Elizabeth went downstairs, unsurprised to find her husband sitting at the kitchen table watching a little dot on the map on his laptop. "Honey, I know you're worried about Neal, but you can't keep spying on him," she said, trying and failing to hold back a yawn. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin on his head.

Peter sighed. "It's been almost a week of this, El. Every night he goes and stays out until all hours. The only common theme is that he usually ends up the same cheap motel at some point."

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend?" Elizabeth said, but it didn't feel right, even to her. That kind of behavior sounded more like he was finding someone to, well… pay. But that wasn't like Neal. She couldn't see him doing that. Plus, it wasn't like he needed to. From what she'd seen and what Peter had told her, Neal could snag just about any girl he wanted. Hanging onto them was another matter.

"I don't think so," Peter said, shaking his head. "When he was dating Sara I could tell. He's not acting that way this time."

"If it's bothering you so much, why don't you just ask him?" Elizabeth suggested.

"Because if I directly ask Neal something he doesn't want me to know he either completely deflects it or answers me in half-truths," Peter said. "And then his guard will be up, because he'll know I suspect something." Her husband fell quiet, clearly thinking. "Maybe I'll check out this motel. See if I can get any hints from there."

Elizabeth sometimes felt like this cat and mouse game between Peter and Neal was never ending. In certain ways they trusted each other implicitly. But, Neal had given Peter cause to distrust him in other ways so many times that Peter had a hard time believing that not everything he did had a dark hidden motive. In turn that seemed to make Neal feel like he had to keep even innocent things from him, just so Peter wouldn't have reason to suspect him.

"I'm sure it's nothing," she assured him, kissing the top of his head. "Now I'm going to bed, Agent Burke. Try to get some sleep at some point."

The motel Neal had been frequenting was a dump, Peter realized the moment he walked in. It was almost as bad as the place the FBI had originally set Neal up in, before he somehow charmed his way into June's home.

"What are you up to, Neal?" he murmured as he looked around. This looked like the perfect place to plan a crime, and Peter really hoped he was just overreacting. There surely had to be a reasonable (and legal) explanation for why Neal had been here once a night for the last six nights. He never stayed long, which made it even stranger.

Peter walked up to the front desk, trying not to make a face as he saw the state of it – dusty, stained, and possibly a little sticky.

"Hi," he said, flashing his badge.

The man at the front desk was unshaven, wearing a hoodie and Peter had a feeling he probably hadn't showered in the last couple days. He looked less than impressed at the badge, and not at all surprised to see a Fed on the premises. Peter was sure they got a lot of shady characters through here.

"Do you recognize this man?" Peter asked, pulling out the picture of him and Neal that El had taken the day they were both in tuxes. For some reason Peter hadn't been able to bring himself to use the kid's mug shot. Neal wasn't in trouble. Yet.

The hotel clerk glanced at the picture. "Nice getups," he commented, before looking more closely at Neal. "Yeah, I've seen him. He's been coming by the last few nights. Meets up with the guy from room 202, then they usually leave."

"Who's in room 202?" Peter asked, feeling like he was finally about to uncover what was going on, and not sure he wanted to.

The man started clicking at keyboard of the old computer on the desk. "Michael Smith."

Or maybe not.

Smith? Sounded like an alias if Peter had ever heard one. And not a very good one at that. "Can you tell me what he looks like?" Peter asked.

The clerk shrugged. "A little shorter than you. Dark hair –going grey."

Peter sighed. Not exactly much to go on. "Great. Thanks for the help."

"Yeah, sure."

When he got back to the office – he'd gone to check the motel out during his lunch – Neal was at his desk, head resting in his hand and clearly dozing off. Looked like the late nights were catching up with him.

Too damn bad.

"Any headway on the case, Neal?" he asked, and his partner started, hands immediately going to the file he'd been leaning on.

"Uh. Not yet," Neal replied, blinking a few times and flipping pages as if Peter would buy that's what he'd been doing all along.

"Uh huh," Peter said, shaking his head and continuing past his CI's desk and up to his office. He sat down, watching Neal as he scrubbed his hands vigorously over his face in what looked like an attempt to wake up and legitimately do some work. It almost made Peter smile. After a moment he opened his computer and ran a search on Michael Smith. As he suspected, he ended up with thousands of matches, and he was almost positive that Michael Smith was not the real name of the man Neal had begun meeting.

So now what?

When Neal got home after work on Friday, he walked into his apartment with every intention of taking a short nap before he left to meet his dad. They'd spent the last few nights together, either with Neal showing him the city (at least the parts he was allowed to go), or just going to a little shop to get a late dinner or coffee.

The awkwardness had started to fade, and though there were still things they avoided talking about, Neal was genuinely starting to enjoy his visits with his old man. They didn't have a ton in common (except criminal records), but as it turned out, it didn't really matter. His dad wasn't much of an art person, but he listened to Neal talk about it with a small smile and no interruptions, and to Neal, just that small effort on his part meant more to him than he'd ever expected it to. He cared about something because his son did.

There was a long time where Neal had harbored resentment for his father. Growing up he had had this image of him – a cop, a good guy, a hero. An honorable, loyal, loving man. He'd always been so proud of him. That image had been shattered after Ellen had told him the truth, and Neal had felt a new emotion toward Daniel Caffrey. Hatred. Because he didn't live up to the expectations Neal had had – expectations based on lies from his mother, but they were expectations none the less.

Neal wasn't sure when the hatred shifted to disappointment and then finally to a heavy apathy. How could he be mad at his father when Neal himself was a criminal? It seemed pretty hypocritical. So instead of wasting energy on a man he barely knew, he just gave up on knowing him, understanding him, or caring about him. How likely was it he'd ever see him again, anyway?

But he was here, and he was making an effort. And Daniel hadn't yet asked him for anything but his time. Neal was starting to think that maybe this really was just about his dad trying to make amends for disappearing on him all those years ago.

"You've been suspiciously out of touch the last week or so," Mozzie said from his seat at Neal's kitchen table.

Neal bit back a sigh. He was so tired. "Sorry, Moz," he said. "It's just been busy at work." He knew he probably should tell Mozzie about his father, but for some reason he couldn't say it. Maybe he was worried that cynical Mozzie, who could always look at things with a logical, critical eye (as long as it wasn't anything relating to conspiracies), would see the situation in a way Neal hadn't. And for now, Neal wanted everything to stay as it was, with no outside opinions.

It was the first time he really had the opportunity to get to know his dad for himself, not through stories.

"I understand, I guess. Gotta make it look like you're being on the straight and narrow for your commutation, after all," Mozzie replied.

"Exactly," Neal said.

"So are you free from the tyranny of the Suit tonight?" Mozzie asked.

"Actually—" Neal began, about to lie about another stakeout. He cut off when someone knocked on his door. Frowning he turned to open it, blinking in surprise as he saw Peter.

"Hey Neal," his partner said. He held up the mortgage fraud case file and a six pack of beer. "Thought maybe we could work through this tonight. It's too simple of a case to be taking us so long."

"Guess not," Mozzie piped up, answering his own question.

"Hi Mozzie," Peter said, his smile too cheerful in Neal's opinion. "Want to stay and help? Nice case of mortgage fraud."

"Pedestrian," Mozzie said. "Where's the fun in mortgage fraud?"

"Aw, come on what's wrong with mortgage fraud?"

"I have plans," Neal interrupted.

Peter raised his eyebrows looking surprised, but it was the kind of look that he wore when he wanted Neal to think he was surprised, but he actually wasn't, which always made Neal nervous. He didn't show it though.

"Plans?" Peter said.

"With who?" Mozzie added.

Neal felt like he was being interrogated all of a sudden.

"A friend," he replied vaguely, barely managing to keep a grimace from his face – no way either of these two were going to buy that story. He was usually such a good liar. Indeed, Peter looked like he didn't believe him for a second.

"You have friends besides us?" Mozzie said, eyebrows raising. "Wait, wait. Is this a friend of the female persuasion?"

Thank you, Mozzie.

Neal merely shrugged, giving a coy smile. Let them draw their own conclusions.

"Should have known," Mozzie said, shaking his head and standing. "Guess there's no point hanging around here."

Neal looked at Peter. The man seemed… disappointed? Had he really wanted to work on the case that badly?

Or did he know something? For once though, Neal wasn't doing anything wrong. There was nothing illegal about meeting his father.

He definitely didn't want Peter to know about it though. As much as he didn't want Mozzie's opinion of his dad, he really didn't want Peter's. Firstly, because as far as Peter knew his father was dead, and secondly, he wasn't sure exactly why, but just the idea of Peter judging Daniel made him feel defensive.

Peter seemed to force a smile. "Is it Sara?" he asked. Neal knew Peter was rooting for them to get back together, but he was pretty sure Sara wasn't going to forgive him anytime soon.

"No, not Sara," he said with a shake of his head and a smile.

"Fine fine, keep your secrets," Peter replied.

Neal smiled and bid them both farewell. He wouldn't have time for a nap now, so he went to get the shirt he'd bought especially for tonight.

He couldn't remember the last time he wore a t-shirt when he wasn't breaking into somewhere.

Peter and Mozzie went their separate ways after leaving June's. That had been a bust. Peter was hoping a night of going over a case and a little alcohol, and he could get Neal to tell him what was going on. It was a long shot, but it was all he could think of, short of staking out the hotel and looking for Mr. Room 202.

Peter considered going home, resigned to another night of watching Neal's tracking data. He sat in his car thinking. Neal was definitely not meeting a woman. He was parked a block up from June's, and unknowingly found himself watching the front door.

The door opened and his jaw actually dropped as Neal stepped out, putting on a hat. A ballcap.

And – was he wearing a St. Louis Cardinals t-shirt? Had Peter fallen into an alternate dimension after getting in his car?

Neal was running a con. He had to be. Why else would he be dressed that way?

Peter watched him hail a cab. Unable to let this go, he put his car in drive and started to tail him.

"Do you remember when I took you to a Cardinal's game?" Daniel had asked Neal two nights earlier.

Neal looked at him, lips quirking, but he shook his head. "No – when was this?"

Daniel smiled at the memory. "You must have been 18 months old at the time, makes sense you wouldn't remember. I think you ate your weight in cotton candy," he added with a laugh. "And when the wave got started you couldn't stop laughing, it was the funniest thing you'd ever seen."

Neal grinned at the story. He couldn't help but wonder if his dad had been around if he would have turned into a sports fan instead of an art lover.

"This might be too weird," Daniel said, pulling Neal from his musings. "But I got tickets to the game for Friday. I saw the Cardinal's were in town and…" he trailed off a moment, then pushed on. "I don't know, if you're not into baseball, that's fine, I just thought you might like it."

The first thing that came to Neal's mind was when Peter had told him about watching baseball with his dad on the porch and playing catch during the commercials. While he'd never been much of a sports guy, something about that story had caused an ache in Neal that day.

Neal smiled and said, "Sure. That sounds like fun."

Neal made it to Yankee Stadium, and waited near the gate his dad had said he would meet him at, smiling at the good natured (and some not so good natured) boo's or jeers he'd get from Yankees fans at his Cardinals gear.

Peter was surprised when he realized that Neal had actually gone to the stadium. He wasn't a sports fan, so what exactly was he playing at? He watched where Neal went – he wasn't hard to spot, in a crowd full of Yankee's fans, there weren't that many wearing the Cardinals red.

Peter parked in an area where he could still see Neal, who hadn't gone inside yet. The young man checked his watch before scanning the crowd with his eyes. He was definitely meeting someone.

The game was getting close to starting and the crowds began to clear as people went inside the stadium, so when the guy showed up, Peter had a pretty good view.

A little shorter than he was (in fact, close to Neal's height). Dark but graying hair. Peter had no doubt this was the man the clerk had described to him. What he couldn't believe the clerk had forgotten to mention, as Peter stared, hands gripping his steering wheel, is that the man was a dead ringer for Neal if he was about twenty years older.

He watched his CI smile in greeting, and the man clapped the kid on the back and the two went inside and out of Peter's view.