Author's Note: Just a little story, if you have a moment. Not too long ago I published my first fic. It wasn't something I had intended to do but I got all caught up in some crazy thoughts and before I knew it, a short story had evolved. At the time of publishing, I had a quick squiz to see if I could disable the review button. I was already very nervous about putting my story out there to be read and the last thing my nerves needed was to get feedback saying a word was spelt incorrectly, or the fic wasn't grammatically correct, or the characters were off the mark. All these worries crossed my mind and so I cautiously posted my story during the weekend as I suspected it had more chance of been knocked off the number one spot faster than through the week. Then I nervously awaited the first review, if there was to be one, which there was. And it was a positive review and I became all excited. My smile didn't waiver for an entire day. Someone liked the story. And they even thought the story was funny. Which made me laugh because I posted the story under the angst category! Anyway, after not getting any negative feedback from the first fic and feeling pretty damn good about the reviews I had received, I gave a couple more fics a shot and was once again so very thrilled to get more positive feedback. Which leads to me this story, My Son Neal. The reviews have become an addiction for me. I can't wait to get home from work to see if there are any reviews and I get so excited when the mail icon flashes with a new message. I feel like I know some of the readers on the other end of the internet and in a way, it's like they're sending back their own little story to me, piece by piece. Where's this not so short little story going? I just wanted to let all the readers know who left feedback for this fic what it meant to me and how very kind and thoughtful you all were. And maybe to ask, what on earth I'm going to do, come Monday after work when I switch on the computer and the message icon is empty! Damn It! Hope you enjoy the final chapter. Cheers.

My Son Neal

Early Tuesday morning, Peter sat on Neal's bed. The kid was sleeping soundly and looked so young and innocent with his loveable little face pressed contentedly against the black satin pillow case. How could so much trouble be wound up in such a little bundle? Peter put a hand on the young boy's arm and shook gently. "Neal?'

The kid woke up at once and rubbed at his sleepy eyes. "Peter?"

"Sorry to wake you, Buddy. I've got to leave for work in a minute but I need to have a little chat with you before I go."

"Sure." Neal sat up, leaning on his elbow for support. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I need you to do something for me." The young boy nodded in understanding. "Do you trust me Neal?"

"Of course." More than anyone I've ever known.

"Then listen to me carefully. I want you to stay at home today okay. Watch TV, read a good book, paint a picture. Order in if you like but please don't leave the house. Can you do that for me?"

"Why? What's going on?"

"Keller was caught on surveillance video outside the Bureau Plaza last night. But I don't want you to worry. We're going to get him and put him away for a very long time, but for now, I need you to stay here with your mom and trust that my team and I will take care of the situation."

"I'm sure you will Peter."

"Thanks, Neal." Peter climbed off the bed and stepped towards the door. "Oh by the way, there's an agent downstairs. He's going to hang around here and just keep an eye on things while I'm out today. Okay son? Stay out of trouble."

"Yeah." Highly unlikely.

-W-C-

That very afternoon, Neal stood outside the Bayside Art College, preparing to implement the next stage of his plan.

"Hey, man. Thought I might catch you here."

Neal was not at all surprised to hear his best friend's voice. "How's it going, Moz?"

"Not too bad." Mozzie took in the pensive look in the young boy's eyes and the way he was absorbed in gazing up at the ornate building which stood before them. "You okay, man? What you are you thinking about?"

Not stopped staring and turned to look determinedly at his friend. "I'm thinking Moz that enough is enough. There comes a time in every guy's life when they have to be accountable for their actions and for better or worse, that's what I plan to do."

"Wow, man. You scare me when you get all crazy and bent on fixing everything that's wrong with the world. Have you learnt nothing? It never ends well."

"Well it's going to end, today in fact."

"Please tell me this has nothing to do with the creep. He's a dangerous man. Surely you're not thinking of paying him a visit or anything equally as brainless?" Mozzie pushed his glasses further up his face as though the action would enable him to see better into the young boy's line of thinking.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Oh Neal." Moz sighed deeply. "That's a really bad idea and as your best friend, I couldn't in good conscious let you go."

"Well lucky for you conscious, it's not going to involve you at all." Neal turned and stepped onto a city bus that had pulled up at the stop adjacent to the art college. "Everything's going to be fine, Moz. I'm going to take care of everything."

Mozzie started to make a move but the bus took off while he was still getting his head around Neal's latest crazy stunt. He watched as the bus pulled out into traffic and mentally kicked himself for not grabbing the kid and chaining him to the nearest fire hydrant. 'I should have stopped him. Could have, would have, should have…' Mozzie pulled out his phone and sent a text. 'Neal dnt b stupid. Get off bus. Creep is dangerous.'

Within seconds a reply came through which sent a nervous tremble through Mozzie's entire body. 'Dnt wrry Moz. Nt stupid. Nt going without protection.'

Mozzie fumbled through his preset number list but his fingers were shaking, slightly sweaty and his heart was thumping uncontrollably. Finally, he found the number.

"Hello."

"Suit?"

"Who's this?"

"That's not important. I have…"

"Is that you Mozzie?" Peter had become used to his son's friend's quirky ways. While he'd yet to be invited to dinner, Mozzie was at the wedding for crying out loud and was around enough for Peter to recognize the voice.

"Yeah. Suit. I have some information about Neal."

"What about Neal?" Peter didn't have time for this today. "Spit it out Mozzie."

The friend took a deep breath, "I regretfully inform you that Neal is off the reservation and going after Keller."

What? No way. "Damn it. I told him to trust me."

Mozzie braced himself for the thunder he was about to hear through the phone as he passed on a more critical piece of information, "But that's not the worse part….he has a gun."

-W-C-

"Jones!" Peter bellowed at the top of his voice. "Get an agent up here. Sit them in front of this screen. Tell them not to take their eyes off the dot. They're going to relay Neal's location through to you. Got it?"

"Yeah, Boss." Jones was corralling an agent before Peter had even completed his instructions.

"Diana," Peter grabbed his jacket, keys, guns and was all but running to the door. Diana and Jones were only steps behind. "Get McMahon on the phone and have him please explain why he was unsuccessful in supervising one teenage delinquent."

"Yes, Boss."

-W-C-

The young boy climbed up the empty crates and cautiously looked through the smudged glass window into the dingy, dilapidated warehouse. Two guys dressed in jeans and tight black t-shirts maneuvered equipment and played around with dials and buttons on the machinery. They were printing something and Neal had a pretty good idea what. Another large lump of a man walked into view carrying a wad of paper and dumped it down on the table next to the printing machine before stepping back out again. None of the men were Keller so the teenager sat down on the crate and waited in the bitter cold. Luckily, he didn't have too much time to kill. Less than ten minutes later, Kate's boyfriend came out of a little office at the back of the large room shouting instructions at his goons. It was a sure signal for the young boy to implement the final stage of his plan.

Neal carefully unlocked the warehouse side door and stepped inside to the semi-dark corridor. He retrieved the pistol from his satchel and removed the safety. He may have been a novice but he'd spent the morning Googling instructions on the internet after he misappropriated Peter's spare gun from the wall safe inside his parent's wardrobe.

He could hear the creep barking instructions as he approached the main room. 'Enough is enough, Keller,' the young boy whispered to himself.

Neal burst through the door, lifted the gun and fired. The bullet missed, by a country mile and the force behind the shot sent the young boy flying backwards onto his butt, the menacing weapon spiraling out his little hand and across the filthy concrete floor. Great.

Keller came and stood over the boy, laughing. He picked him up by his shirt and lifted him fair off the ground. "So glad you could drop by. We could do with another hand." The thug had an evil smile on his face as he planted the boy back on his feet.

"I told you I'm not doing it anymore, Kelly you creep!" Neal shouted into his face.

Keller grabbed the back of the young boy's neck and slammed his head down onto a nearby table. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

Neal was hurting. He couldn't tell if it was from the force Keller was continuing to apply to the back of his neck, or the pain from where his face was being pressed into the table, or the sharp pain emanating from the gash that had been caused when his head collided with something sharp on the hard surface. He only knew it was a gash because he could feel wetness slowly seeping between his face and the table. "Which name? Kelly or creep? Neal knew the rat hated both, with a passion.

Keller was satisfied with the physical pain he was applying to the cocky kid so he thought he'd throw in a bit of emotional discomfort. "Where's your girlfriend now, Pip Squeak?"

"She's not my girlfriend." Neal tried to sound menacing but it was hard to be taken seriously while your head was being squeezed like a lemon.

"That's funny. I was pretty sure that you were utterly captivated under her spell. You and I both know you only ever did 'your thing' to impress her." Keller leant in real close and whispered. "Oh she was impressed alright. She thought you were adorable. She was just like kid with a favourite toy."

Neal somehow managed to get his neck loose from Keller's grip and spun around throwing a punch in the older guy's direction. Keller deflected it easily, laughing away the pitiful attempt. He gave a signal for one of his off-siders to approach. "Got cojones on this one. Get rid of the bag, no telling what Peter Piper has planted in it to keep an eye on his little mouse."

"No! I need my gear from inside it!" Neal watched in horror as one of the goons collected the bag from where Neal had dropped it right after he fired the shot. "Please, I can't do any of my work without the equipment in my bag!" Neal struggled to go after it with zero success.

"Nonsense, we have everything you need right here." The lanky thug walked out the warehouse carrying the young boy's treasured satchel. As Neal watched it disappear from sight, he felt for all the world like someone had just removed his heart.

"All righty then." Keller continued to hold the young boy by his upper arm. "What's it going to be Pip Squeak? Are you going to work off your debt or am I going to start breaking your fingers one by one and then casually make my way over to Federal Plaza to see if I can catch a piper crossing the road?"

-W-C-

Peter pulled the car into reverse before the junior agents were even fully seated. Seat belts were highly recommended.

"Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"I just got off the phone to Elizabeth. She's in a bit of a state."

"Why didn't you call McMahon like I asked!" Peter had no time for incompetence this afternoon.

"I did call McMahon. Elizabeth picked up his phone."

Peter gave Diana an alarmed look. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah. Well…"

"Just tell me already." I promise I won't push you out of a moving car. "What happened?"

"Elizabeth found Agent McMahon handcuffed to a fixture in Neal's bedroom. His mouth was taped up and when Elizabeth checked the safe, it was open and your gun had been removed."

"So did McMahon give any description of the suspect?" Peter was so not hoping his son had accosted a federal agent.

"Yeah, Peter. It was Neal."

-W-C-

The Taurus screeched to a halt outside a run down warehouse minutes later. Peter all but jumped out while the car was still running before being reined in by Jones. "Peter!" The junior agent put a firm hand on the older agent's shoulder.

Agent Burke swung back around, affronted by the restriction. "What?"

"You're not going to be any good to your son if you get a bullet through your chest before you even put one step inside. Put on the vest." Jones handed a Kevlar vest to his superior. The other agents, including the ones from the second vehicle had suited up on the way.

"Thanks, Jones." Peter had needed that minute to pull himself together. He'd had very little experience in rescuing a wayward son, packing a gun, going after a lunatic so it had probably caught him off guard. "Okay." Peter spoke to the group huddled close. "Keller's got my son in there. Let's go get the bastard and bring Neal home safely to him mom."

-W-C-

Two agents after getting the all clear, pulled back the battering ram and slammed open the door.

"FBI!"

Keller grabbed Neal and pulled him to his chest. "Come a step closer Burke and your kid is dead". Keller held the gun barrel to Neal's temple as he stepped away from the agents next to the demolished front door. Keller's three heavies immediately threw their hands in the air, realizing quickly that without the shielding of one lone child, they were open slather for the array of FBI guns pointed in their direction. They were shouted orders to lie face down on the ground with their hands behind their heads which they complied to swiftly.

Keller, still holding Neal close, took a tentative step towards the rear entrance. Evidently, it was Keller's intention to use Neal as a shield until he was clear of the FBI and then what? Dispose of the child. Peter knew it wouldn't end well.

"Neal." Peter spoke in a soft, caring tone. "Look at me Neal." After a long moment, Neal lifted his eyes away from the chaos taking place in the room and focused on Peter. "Neal,Fermez vos yeux et vos oreilles couvrir une en moi." Neal continued staring at the agent who stood firm and certain, two qualities far removed from the feelings the young boy felt. Neal was beyond terrified and had to dig deep to indeed trust the man who was standing across the room pointing a gun surely in his direction. But the frightened child did as the agent asked, almost on autopilot as he closed his eyes and reached his hands up to cover his ears. Neal then promptly drifted off to a place that was far away from the chaos of the room, from the terrifying position he found himself currently in and instead into a land of picnics and fishing trips, of family excursions to the city's museums and art galleries, to a warm room of movies with popcorn and soda, to crossing over New York Harbor in a ferry with the chilly autumn breeze blowing in his face, to Christmas time with delicious food, singing and lots of holiday cheer. He found the place he always wanted to be in and his brain made a subconscious decision to stay there forever.

"Neal. Neal, Buddy?" Neal hadn't realised he had drifted so far from his current reality until he felt Peter shaking his shoulder gently. He felt Peter lift him up from his position on the ground and cradle him in his arms. He felt Peter use his suit jacket to wipe something off his face and hair. He felt Peter lifting him up as the agent stood himself and he felt the cool breeze of the open air as they walked outside the warehouse. Only then did Peter say, "You can open your eyes now, Buddy. Everything is going to be okay."

Neal lifted his head off Peter's shoulder and blinked at the bright sunlight. He didn't say anything as his dad carried him to the Taurus and gently lowered him into the passenger seat. Peter reached across and did up the buckle before reaching into the back seat and grabbing a throw rug which he wrapped around his young boy. "Let's go home, son."

-W-C-

Peter carried the young boy up to the master bedroom and laid him on the king bed. El unbuttoned the boy's shirt and replaced it with a soft clean t-shirt. Peter retrieved a warm damp cloth and once again wiped at a couple of spots on the kid's head. Neal lay still on the bed and didn't utter a word as his parents fussed over him.

"I'm going to call Andy," Peter stated after tossing the damp cloth onto the dresser.

-W-C-

Peter stood staring at the beautiful painting hanging in the master bedroom. A family portrait. A frozen moment in time. He longed for that moment. El had an angelic smile and was clearly enjoying the occasion. Peter thought he was depicted younger in the painting, not so many blemishes as he noticed in real life. In the scene, El and he sat together in a park. Of course he had seen this portrait in its early development. Thinking it was just going to be of El and himself, he hadn't realised it was missing an important addition. He didn't get to see the complete picture until the day before the wedding and was delighted to see the inclusion of the young boy, leaning over the top of the two adults, one arm around each parent's shoulder. He had a cheeky grin, the type of grin that could get someone out of even the stickiest of situations. The painting had been a wedding gift for his mom, and she treasured it more that any present she'd ever received. It held a very special place in their bedroom for every day, as El got out of bed, it reminded her to say a prayer of thanks for the incredible family she was so fortunate to have.

"Peter?" The agent felt his wife's hands on his arm bringing him back to the here and now. He turned to El who had more tears threatening to escape from the corner of her eyes. "What's happening?" Peter looked over at his friend Andy who was stitching up the gash on the young boy's forehead. Neal, for his part, lay unmoving with his arms by his side, staring up at the ceiling, having not whispered a single word since Peter picked him up off the warehouse floor. "I don't understand. Neal can't even handle a flu shot. He throws a hissy fit if I try to put a band-aid on him and he hasn't made a single complaint about Andy sticking the needle through his skin. What's going on, Peter?"

Peter put a gentle hand on the side of El's face. "He's just in shock, honey. But he'll be okay, I promise."

Andy came and joined the couple and spoke in the same hushed tones that the parents were using. "It's not unexpected. The events of today have been very traumatic for him and his little brain is working overtime, trying to manage an overload of messages. As a coping mechanism, he's shut down. Hopefully he'll snap out of it shortly. As soon as his brain makes the connection that the situation is now under control." Andy glanced back at his patient before continuing. "The gash on his head isn't too severe and didn't need too many stitches. He doesn't have concussion but it's still important that you keep a close eye on him tonight. I'm going to give him a shot to help him relax, otherwise he might start to panic and stress as he becomes more alert."

"He doesn't like shots." El's thoughts were going all over the place.

"It's okay Elizabeth. I'll be gentle."

The three adults returned to the bed while Andy prepared the injection. Peter sat on the opposite side to the doctor and El wrapped her arms over the top of her husband while standing behind him.

"Okay Neal." Andy squeezed the syringe slightly to release any air pockets. "I'm going to give you a little shot to help you sleep well tonight." The doctor wiped an antibacterial cloth across the top of the young boy's arm. The kid didn't even flinch. "Do you understand, Neal?" Andy wasn't expecting a response but it was good practice to continue talking to the patient, in any case, he knew Neal could hear him.

"Every story needs a hero, Dr Bryant."

Where did that come from? Andy had been about to apply the needle but stopped and looked at Neal's face. The young boy was still staring at the ceiling. The doctor looked over at Peter who just raised his eyebrows in response. Andy continued with the injection. "So who's the hero of this story young Neal?"

For the first time since being placed on the bed, Neal moved his head and rested his eyes on Peter. "Dad, of course." Then he reached out with his free arm and grabbed a hold of his father's hand and squeezed. "Thank you, Dad. Thank you for coming to get me."

Peter squeezed Neal's had back. "It was no trouble at all, son… I love you, you know."

"I love you too, Dad."

Dr Bryant collected his gear and left three extremely emotional people to battle through possibly a very sleepless night. Maybe he should have given them all a shot?

Fourteen hours later, Neal finally awoke, thirsty, hungry and sore, snuggled under the comforter in the king sized bed, securely between his parents who looked like they were totally out to it, while one loving little puppy sat on the end of the bed, watching guard over the family.

-W-C-

One week later and life was gradually returning to normal. Peter had Neal stay away from the office while the agent got his head around the recent events and considered options for the young boy's future. With Kate out of the picture and Keller... gone...agents weren't trained to maim and even if they were, well the guy had a gun to his son's head and that was a good enough reason in anyone's book, with Keller gone, could the teenager be trusted to start living a life within the law? Could he afford to remove the tracker? Would there be any other temptations too great for the impulsive teen to refuse? He was staring at Neal's empty desk when Reece Hughes walked in carrying a very familiar looking khaki satchel. "Recognise this, Peter?"

"Yeah, maybe." Peter joked. Anyone who worked at the unit would recognise the well worn bag as belonging to one Neal Caffrey. "Where'd it come from?" Peter was amazed to see the bag. Neal had been extremely depressed about the loss of his beloved satchel which he explained had been disposed of by one of Keller's henchmen.

"It just came across my desk. Seems it's been floating around down at NYPD for the past few days. Someone handed it in when they realized it had a police badge inside."

René's? "So why'd it get sent to you?"

"Someone went through the bag and they recognized your photo amongst the interesting collection of bits and pieces inside. They thought you might know something about it since there was no ID."

"There's a good chance I might." Hughes gave Peter a rare smile and left his agent to take care of the recovered treasure.

Peter opened the bag. He felt guilty but it wouldn't be right to return it to the child without an inspection of the contents. Who knew where it had been or whether anything had been added to the bag since it was misplaced.

A quick inspection revealed the agent's little stolen note book. Unbelievable! How long since he'd returned to his car to find his notebook missing? Almost a year. He flipped through the book and of course the page with the number plate hastily scrawled had been removed. Little devil! And what the hell was he still doing carrying it around? After that the find, the guilt had dispersed so he upended the satchel and tipped its contents out onto his office desk.

There weren't too many items but a couple grabbed Peter's attention. René's NYPD badge. Peter had never seen a photo of Neal's father which was not surprising. It wasn't like El needed any reminders. The guy didn't look a lot like Neal. Apparently the kid had taken after his mother. The badge had lost its shine and Peter suspected it had been pulled in and out of its folder many times in the past ten years.

Peter picked up the photo. The one that had led to the satchel's return. It must have been taken with Neal's camera phone because the agent never remembered a shot being taken in the office. It must have been done covertly. In the picture, Peter was standing at the end of the long table in the briefing room, one hand on his hips, one holding a folder. There were a couple of agents in the foreground with their back to the camera. It was a good photo. Peter liked it but he wasn't sure why Neal was carrying it around.

The agent picked up a yellowed piece of newspaper that had been carefully cut from a local paper. It was an article about El's new business and had a particularly sweet photo of his wife standing proudly in front of the new shop window that read, Burke Premier Events.

There was also letter from Kate which he returned to the pile before reading and then found amongst the collection a small black folder with fine metal tools. 'I wonder what this is for?' he thought sarcastically to himself. That item went straight into his desk draw.

Neal's photocopied adoption certificate was folded amongst the array of other mementos now lying across the agent's desk.

And then of course in every little treasure collection there's always the gem. The crown jewels of the find. It was only tiny but size was not every thing where stolen treasures were concerned. From the bottom of the pile, Peter picked up a little item that caused him to plant his face into both of his palms while shaking his head. He found a spare key to what could only be, Neal's electronic monitoring anklet!

-W-C-

Agent Burke pulled up at the children's park. Across the field he spotted his son, tossing the baseball with proficiency and confidence. Peter suspected that Neal had the talents to do anything easily that he ever tried in his life. One of the lucky few in this world for which that would be the case. He beeped the horn gaining the attention of both boys. He watched as Jerry pulled his bike up off the ground and rode off in the opposite direction. Neal collected his jacket and jogged back to greet his dad.

The young boy opened the front door and stopped with bewilderment when he identified his cherished satchel sitting on the passenger seat. He glanced up at Peter for an explanation but was too frightened to touch the bag least it burst the bubble. "Where did you find it?"

"Long story. Hop in."

Neal nursed his bag while he buckled in. They took off for home and Peter explained during the journey about how the satchel managed to find its way home. Neal was impressed but also concerned about what the agent may have discovered amongst his personal possessions. They were yet to have 'the talk' regarding the events of last Tuesday and Neal wasn't silly enough to bring it up. He suspected Peter was allowing time for him to heal emotionally as well as physically before sitting down to have a discussion about his many transgressions. It was a long list and would take some time to work through but Neal knew the conversation would come to pass, eventually. And now, Peter could add a copied anklet key to the list. Neal sighed, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Peter looked over at the young boy deep in thought and considered that hopefully things were stable enough for him to ask a question he'd been desperate to know the answer to. "Neal?'

"Yeah?"

"Why did you try to take on Keller yourself? Why didn't you trust me?"

Neal looked out the window, ashamed. After a long moment of staring at the traffic he turned back to his dad. "I knew what Keller was like. I'd spent a lot of time with him and I knew he wouldn't really harm me. But I was worried about what he might do to you." Neal took a deep breath before adding. "I couldn't lose you Peter. I never want anything to happen to you. I was frightened Keller was going to take you away from me."

Peter took a while to respond to his son. He was too busy concentrating on fighting off a few stray tears that were threatening to escape. The car had stopped at a set of lights and Peter placed a caring hand atop of the young boy's head. Eventually, he was able to reply. "My little man, you still have a lot to learn…Don't you know anything?…Heroes live forever."

-W-C-

Agent Burke escorted his son up the stairs and through the grand entrance of the Bayside Art College. Neal had never been through the front door before. Peter spotted the principal at the far end of the room and he approached her, unaware that his kid had stopped to check out some of the pieces of art work just inside the door.

"Hello again, Peter. I'm so happy you were able to come today. Where is he?"

Peter looked first at his side and then back towards the entrance. Across the large studio he spotted his son admiring a young female student's painting of a desert sunset. "Hey Buddy!" He gave the boy the two finger point.

"Coming Dad." Neal strolled over to stand beside his father.

"Principal Belding," Peter proudly put his arm around the young boy's shoulders. "This is…my son Neal."