"I told you I was fine" Neal said as they exited the clinic.

"He didn't say fine."Peter countered as he stopped and forced Neal to come to a halt. "He said you were lucky but you need to take it easy."

"That's my plan." Neal walked around the agent and headed towards the car.

"Neal." Peter followed. "We haven't finished our conversation from last night."

"I think we have." Neal glanced at his leg in triumph and then at Peter's face. "Are you having second thoughts? Peter I promised I will not run and I will not go after my father. Please don't make me wear it."

"Neal, that's my neck we're talking about. If you run..."

"I won't. Please Peter. For a few days can I be normal? No cons, no tracking device and no looking over my shoulder."

It was the same plea Neal had used last night and against his better judgment Peter had relented. As little as he knew about Neal's life he knew enough to know nothing had ever been normal.

"Neal..."

"I won't run. Peter I have nowhere to go and no way to find my father. I can't keep begging..." with a deep sigh Neal gave up and entered the car.

"Where to?" Peter asked as he started the car. Wordlessly, Neal handed him a piece of paper.

"A cemetery" Peter said and then glanced sideways. "Neal, who are you going to see?"

Neal didn't answer; instead he burrowed deeper into his seat and turned his attention out the window.

Peter checked the directions once more and then pulled out, keeping his focus on the street names and the unfamiliar roads. It took nearly an hour and two wrong turns before Peter saw the sign and whistled triumphantly.

Neal jumped out as soon as the car was still.

"At least you can do is wait for me." Peter hurried after the ex-con.

Neal had stopped and was studying a map of the cemetery.

"This way." Neal took off and Peter had no choice but to follow. Finally Neal stopped in front of a grave stone.

"Who was he?" Peter asked as he eyed his friend.

"He owned the bar we were at. I went there looking for him..."

"And ended up playing pool" Peter finished.

"He taught me how to play." Neal chuckled softly. "In ways he was my first partner in crime."

"Wonderful" Peter muttered. "How old were you? Ten?"

"Nine." Neal glanced Peter's way. "I was always looking into the window watching the men play and one day I snuck in. Sal caught me right away." Neal motioned towards the grave.

"He saw me eying someone's lunch and gave me a hamburger. Told me later he never saw someone finish a hamburger that fast."

Neal knew Peter was watching him and waiting for more. Sighing he knelt down and traced the letters with a finger. "He was so angry with me when I told him I was leaving. He wanted me to go to college; said I was too smart to become a bum."

"He was right" Peter quietly agreed.

After a few minutes Neal stood and started walking. He found a bench near the entrance and sat.

"In the beginning Sal didn't ask a lot of questions. He'd give me odd jobs around the bar and always made sure I had something to eat before I went home."

"Neal, did you have food at home?"

The ex-con shrugged. "We did until the money ran out and that seemed like all the time."

"Where was Ellen?"
"Working. Peter, she never said anything but I think she was paying both rents."

"And your mom? Neal did she work?"

Neal sighed. "She did until she didn't." Neal stood and walked a few feet away. "You don't get to ask about my mom. Not unless the anklet stays off."

"Neal, why does everything have to be a negotiation with you?"

"Peter, it's how I get what I want. You think everything comes easy for me. It doesn't. I learned long ago how to get what I need."

"And what do you need right now?" Peter stood. "I'm guessing you'd give anything to find your father."

Neal turned, eyes shining bright with anger. "You're right Peter. I want to find my father and make him pay. Not for this." He swung his arms around. "Not for making me grow up here with no father and a mother that checked out long ago. No." Neal's voice faded and he looked away.

Peter neared him. "Neal, keep talking."

Neal laughed bitterly. "He came back in my life and made me look like a fool and I begged him to help you and he walked away..." Neal shook his head. "He ruined the best thing I had going for me."

With a deep breath Neal turned away from Peter. It took the agent a few minutes to realize what Neal meant.

"Neal, we're not ruined. Far from it." He walked into Neal's view. "Hey. We'll be fine..."

"Peter, your wife hates me and I don't blame her."

"She doesn't hate you. Neal, it's been rough on all of us including you. But she doesn't blame you, neither do I."

"Well, you should." Neal walked by Peter and exited the cemetery.

Peter yawned; bored after nearly two hours of driving. Neal slept in the passenger seat, with his head turned towards the window.

Peter eyed the next sign and decided in twenty miles he would turn off in search of lunch.

Neal stirred with a quiet groan as his arms instinctively clutched at his stomach. Neal had refused to fill the pain killer so he was relying on over the counter medicine to relieve the pain, and so far they weren't working too well.

The doctor deemed it a deep bruise and said he would be fine, though he thought Neal should follow up with a doctor if it didn't get better.

Peter cringed as he recalled Neal's cry of pain when he was kicked in the stomach.

Neal groaned again and Peter reached over and shook him.

"Neal. Wake up." It took a couple of shakes for the ex-con to come around.

"Peter, are we there?" Neal sat up straighter.

"Not even close" Peter said wearily. "It's time for another pill. Take one."

"I'm ok" Neal mumbled as he stared out the window. "Not much to look at is there?"

"No kidding" Peter agreed. "I'm so sick of corn fields that I get excited when I see a cow."

Neal laughed and then grabbed his stomach. "Maybe you're right" he admitted as he reached for the Advil and his bottle of water.

"Is it getting worse?"

"No." Neal answered before downing the pill.

"Make sure you tell me if it does."

"Yes dad" Neal remarked sarcastically. "Why are you turning off?"

"I'm hungry and I need a break." Peter took the exit and decided to go right following the food signs.

"Where are we?"

"Middle of nowhere" Peter said as he eyed a bevy of restaurant signs. "How does Denny's sound?"

"Boring" Neal answered as he looked out the front window. "Peter, there's a Steak and Shake. Can we go there?"

"Seriously?"

Neal nodded.

"Fine." Peter didn't care as long as he got food.

A half hour later their food was ready. Peter chose a grilled chicken sandwich without fries and a diet coke. He watched in envy as a steak burger was placed in front of Neal along with a very enticing looking chocolate shake.

"Wow." Peter's eyes widened.

"Peter, you're on vacation. Order one." Neal took a spoon and scooped some whipped cream into his mouth.

"I'm saving my calories for tomorrow" Peter said before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"What's tomorrow?" Neal asked as he continued to watch Peter eye his shake. Finally he flagged a waitress down and asked for an empty glass.

"Drink it" he ordered as he pushed the glass towards Peter.

"That's good" Peter said as he licked his lips, savoring the taste. "I don't remember the last time I had a chocolate shake" he added wistfully.

"Probably before you married Elizabeth" Neal suggested as he dug into his sandwich.

"Maybe." Peter shrugged; quiet permeated the air as they ate in silence.

"OK. Tomorrow" Peter began when his sandwich was gone. "We'll check out the Art Institute and the Planetarium in the morning..."

"How much time do I get in the Art Institute?" Neal interrupted. "I was checking online and there are a couple of exhibitions I want to see."

"You'll get as much time as you want...as long as I don't see you taking notes."

"Peter, I'm insulted..." Neal smiled. "I'm just a tourist, nothing more."

"Remember that" Peter retorted. "Afterwards I'd like to check out Navy Pier and have dinner at Billy Goat Tavern."

"Cheezborger. Cheezborger." Neal repeated much to Peter's annoyance.

"Finish up" Peter said with a roll of his eyes. "We should have a little time at the hotel before catching a train to the game."

"El" Neal corrected. "While we're here, talk like the natives."

"With a shake of his head Peter stood. "I'm going to use the bathroom before we leave. I suggest you do the same."

"Yes Dad" Neal said loudly, as Peter walked away.

Newly showered and feeling somewhat refreshed Peter read the paper while he waited for Neal to get ready.

"Neal, tell me about Sal" Peter said when the ex-con emerged from the bathroom.

"No more talking." Neal toed on a new pair of sneakers.

"Neal, your negotiation works both ways." Peter eyed the naked ankle.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

Peter put the paper down and studied his friend's face. "I find it kind of odd that a grown man took such interest in a little boy."

"Peter." Neal's eyes narrowed. "Why would you go there?"

"Just saying" Peter remarked evenly.

"No." Neal shook his head. "He was married with four grown children. He emigrated from Italy when he was a child and he was so proud that all his kids graduated college." Neal shrugged.

"You said he was your first partner in crime."

Neal nodded.

"How?"

Neal looked away with a weary smile. "He was surprised at how well I took to pool so I'd come in after school and challenge someone to a game." Neal chuckled. "Sal would pretend to be angry and finally relent when the other person agreed to the game."

"And you always won right?"

Neal nodded. "I was too short for a proper shot so I'd carry this little stool around the table and..." Neal looked Peter's way. "We were supposed to split the money but Sal gave most of it to me."

"How long did this go on?"

"Until someone called the cops" Neal quietly answered. "I was told to stay away from the bar but I would sneak over there now and then."

"Did you miss the con?"

"I missed the money" Neal countered with a slight shrug. "For the first time in my life I wasn't hungry. And occasionally I would go down to the drug store and buy a comic book."

Peter looked away from Neal's scrutiny. As much as he wanted to know about Neal's childhood, it was hard to hear about it and even harder to imagine Neal as a child, longing for food.

"Neal, what did you do next?"

"I did what I had to."

Peter stood. "That doesn't tell me much." He neared the ex-con. "Did you find other ways to get money?" Neal stepped back, refusing to meet Peter's gaze.

"Let's just say my life of crime started early and didn't stop..." he paused and briefly met Peter's eyes. "It didn't stop until you put me in jail."

Peter nodded and then grabbed his wallet off the table and stuffed it in the back pocket of his shorts.

"Take a jacket with you" Peter said. "It gets cold by the lake." He grabbed his own jacket and put it on. "We'll stop by a store and pick up the disposable camera you mentioned earlier."

"Wait. Peter." Neal grabbed the agent's arm. "You're not going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say?" He shook his arm free. "I'm not going to judge you and I doubt you want my pity. I am sorry..." Peter smiled weakly. "I wish I could have helped that little boy...but maybe I can help the man he became."

"Peter, you have." Neal looked away as his eyes misted up, clearly embarrassed by his emotions.

"Don't start crying. You know I can't handle that."

Neal chuckled as a quiet sob escaped. "Sorry" he managed to eke out in a quivering voice.

Peter reached an arm around Neal and reeled him in. "I'll handle it for a few minutes" Peter whispered as he wrapped both arms around Neal.

Neal took a couple of deep shuddering breaths as he buried his face against Peter's shoulder. A few minutes later he pulled away with a weary smile.

"Thank you" he mumbled as he escaped into the bathroom, exiting five minutes later, looking more composed.

"Ready for a baseball game?" he asked.

Peter nodded as he gently guided Neal out the door.