Peter had been putting it off but he told himself it was time to finally bite the bullet. Being on the third level and having absolutely no genuine reason to do it earlier, he was ashamed to admit he had never been in the teen's room. Neal kept the door closed and Peter felt like he needed to afford his 'son to be' some level of trust and privacy. That's what he had been telling himself. But in reality, he knew he was nervous about what he might find. He didn't want it to be something that would turn into an official investigation and as a result jeopardize what he had with El and Neal. It wasn't worth taking the risk. Plausible deniability! But he was about to marry this kid's mother and adopt the child and in light of recent events at Enbrook Plaza, he could no longer afford the luxury of putting off the inevitable. He hadn't once stepped into Neal's room, but that was about to change.

Peter waited till Neal took his puppy for a walk, knowing that he would be at least 30minutes. He turned the knob on Neal's door and stepped through the looking glass.

It was more like stepping into a story book, less like a teenager's bedroom and certainly nothing like he ever expected. The room was quite overwhelming and Peter didn't know where to settle his gaze first. His eyes wandered over the beautiful paintings that adorned the walls. He stared at the drawings framed on dressers and sideboards throughout the room and his eyes stopped roaming at the canvas resting on the easel. An unfinished painting of El and Peter sitting in a park. It was so real, Peter reached out and touched El's face. Damn, the paint was still wet. Peter wiped his finger across the rag at the base of the easel. So much for being covert! There was a drawing table filled with a collection of pastels, pencils, paper, paints, a sketch book with discarded pages sitting loosely on top. The art work was incredible and Peter forgot where he was. The bedroom was huge, taking up the entire third floor with a small ensuite at one end. It was clean, it was tidy and nothing was out of place. Peter found himself suddenly too nervous to touch anything else. He expected the owner of the room would notice anything slightly out of place. The bed was carefully made, sitting perfectly under the window and on the sill were a half dozen ceramic ornaments. As Peter investigated further, he became aware of an amazing accumulation of models, ornaments, sculptures and the likes placed on shelves throughout the room. And books, lots of books – classics, not your usual teenage fare, expensively bound that would have looked more at home in an antique shop than in a fourteen year old's bedroom.

Peter went to the wardrobe and opened the twin antique doors. Finally he was greeted with an expected sight. Junior sized dress shirts and casual pants - Neal's attire of choice. Quickly deciding on a drawer, Peter pulled out the one containing socks, and only socks. Socks sorted into black and grey. No white socks here - come to think of it, Neal never wore shorts so he probably had very little need for sports socks. Peter found himself getting sidetracked, again. Pulling out the next drawer down, Peter discovered the 'buried treasure'. He wasn't overly surprised to find the box locked but it had both a built in combination lock plus a padlock and Peter knew there was no chance of viewing the contents without leaving some clue behind so he reluctantly placed it back into the drawer wishing badly for some type of special power like x-ray vision. Peter suspected that had he been Superman, a number of questions could have been easily answered. Having to give up on that plan, Peter moved to the bottom draw which he found filled with paper materials and a small selection of books and cards. Neal's fourteenth birthday card was sitting on top - the one El and he had given to the teenager. As he picked it up a library card slipped out and dropped to the floor. Bending down to pick it up, Peter couldn't help a self-satisfied smile spreading across his face. What are you up to Neal? The day following the boys little weekend adventure touring around the city, Peter had taken a photo of Neal back to Enbrook Plaza and shown it around. Amazingly, no one had recognised the young boy in the photo despite the fact that he had been a very familiar face the day before. Of course Neal had told Peter it was all a misunderstanding and he had only used alternate names because he had been helping out one of his friend's parents unpacking various equipment for the markets and he didn't want to ruin a perfectly good reputation by being labelled a goodie two-shoe. What a load of crock, Peter had thought at the time but because he was a patient man and because he knew Neal was running out of options and he'd have to give up his little secrets sooner or later, Peter let it go. For now. The agent placed Steve Tabernacle's library card deliberately back into the birthday card and closed up the twin antique doors.

Agent Burke stepped back out into the hall, carefully closing the door as to not disturb the inanimate objects residing in the room. Overwhelmed by what he had seen and with no earthly idea of what he should do with that information, he headed down to the kitchen to collect a beer from the fridge and hopefully to find a game on the telly.

-W-C-

Mozzie adjusted the glasses on his face, "I don't know man. You really are just getting yourself in deeper with every move you make. Don't you think it's time you cashed in on the fact that you now have a Fed in your back pocket?"

Neal slipped the security box covertly into his satchel and made for the front door of the Art-Emporium. The security case set the alarm off at the door and the two boys stopped at the direction of a young shop assistant.

Mozzie held out a small box that he'd been holding in his hand. "Sorry man, I was distracted here with my friend. Didn't realise I was still holding it. What was the price again, $209? I'll go check out my savings account and hopefully I'll be back."

"Okay. Thank you." The young assistant took the box and put it on the counter.

Outside, Mozzie asked, "Tell me you'll think about it Neal. I know you don't want to hear it but she doesn't always have your best interests at heart."

"Thanks for the pep talk Moz. I have work to do so I'll catch you later."

"Be careful man."

-W-C-

Neal deposited his satchel onto the dining table along with the security box and headed into the kitchen to retrieve a makeshift tool. He was about to walk out through the swing door again when he froze. His mom and Peter were coming through the back door with their empty coffee mugs and cake plates laughing about something that had happened at the bakery this morning. Neal dropped the metal meat skewer onto the tiled floor and jumped a couple of feet in the air with the scare.

Peter and El were equally as surprised and were lucky not to drop their crockery onto the floor as Neal had with the skewer.

"Mam'ma, Peter, what are you two doing here?"

"Peter came home and we had lunch together Baby, you Okay?"

"Yeah but don't you two normally have lunch out?"

"Mostly, but I had some things to collect from home so we thought we'd eat in for a change."

"What's up Buddy? You're like as white as a ghost."

Neal was desperately trying to strategize a way to move Peter and his mom away from the evidence on the table. They presently had their backs to the security box but it was only a matter of time. Neal was readying himself to announce a twisted ankle when Peter turned back to place his coffee mug and plate on the table.

Neal sighed deeply. What was plan B?

-W-C-

Neal sat with his 'parents' around the dining table with the locked security box sitting ominously in the middle like it was a centre piece. Peter had one hand supporting his chin, the other rapping his fingers on the table top. El sat with her arms folded looking ready to throttle her young son.

"Neal. Please explain." Peter began.

"What's there to say Agent Burke? I found…."

"Peter." The older man insisted knowing full well that while Neal might not have too much trouble telling a bogus story to 'Agent Burke', lying to 'Peter' wouldn't be so easy.

Neal paused for a moment or two before continuing. "Peter…Look. I didn't think. I'm sorry."

"Did you steal it Neal?"

The young boy nodded.

"Why?"

"I need the paints for an art piece I'm working on."

"Why didn't you buy them? You surely have some saving for this," El asked purely out of curiosity.

Not the $185 shelf price. No. "I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." Neal repeated his earlier defense.

"Neal, what did we tell you about stealing after that incident a little while back?" Peter was very serious.

"Don't do it." Neal sighed, yet again.

"And what did you promise us?"

"I said I wouldn't steal."

Peter took a deep breath, looked to El and then ordered, "Go up to your room and wait for me please, Neal."

"What about the paints?" Neal's pitch went up a notch or two.

"I'm going to return them," the agent replied matter-of-factly.

"But I need them."

"Well in that case you should have paid for them with your money like other people do."

"Mère?"

"N'avez pas même envisager il, Neal."

Neal gave up on that angle and tried again, "You can't take them off me Peter!"

"They're not yours, Neal."

Peter remained calm while Neal's composure went downhill fast. "Why do you have to make this so difficult!" The young boy shouted. This was the first time Neal had ever lost his cool in front of the agent. "I hate you Peter!" Neal stormed off and the older couple could hear the footsteps all the way to the third floor.

"That went well."

"He didn't mean what he said, Honey." El looped her fingers through Peter's across the table.

"I know. He's done pretty well in fact to wait until now to blurt that out. It's almost like a rite of passage for a teenager." Peter hoped up and pushed his chair in. "I need to go and take care of this El."

As Peter walked slowly up the stairs, giving the young man a little time to cool his heels, he thought back to the altercation. He was a little surprise by Neal's reaction. It seemed like the implied punishment was a distant second to an ordinary little set of oil paints been taken off him. Another mystery to file with the rest.

Peter knocked on Neal's door. When he didn't get a response after a minute or two, he hesitantly opened the door and knew instantly that the young boy had absconded from custody. The window was slightly ajar and the porcelain ornaments that he saw last time while in the room had been removed form the window sill and where placed carefully onto the bed. Unbelievable!