Peter opened an eye and groaned as the sun shone brightly in. He rubbed a hand over his aching forehead and finally turned over and glanced at the other bed. It was empty.

"Shit" he muttered as he forced himself to a seated position, quelling the queasy feeling that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Neal?" Peter called out, praying that he'd get an answer. None came so he forced himself out of bed and staggered towards the bathroom.

It was there, taped to the mirror that he found the note and finally allowed himself to breathe.

Peter,

Don't panic. I went for a walk and didn't want to wake you. I'll bring back coffee.

Neal

Peter relieved himself, washed his hands and stumbled back to the bed, cursing the previous night even though he couldn't remember much. The game was uneventful but the bar hopping afterwards...why in god's name did he allow Neal to talk him into that?

"You're no longer twenty-five" he whispered as he stretched out on the bed, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. His hope was dashed when Neal walked in, whistling loudly.

"You're awake" Neal exclaimed, slamming the door behind him. "There's a Dunkin Donuts down the block if you're hungry."

Peter cursed as he threw an arm over his eyes.

"Peter, get up. You're wasting the day in bed."

Peter moaned as he struggled to sit up. "Give me an Advil and the coffee and one quiet hour. Please."

"Peter, it's already late..."

"How do you do that?" Peter asked, as he struggled to sit up and reached for the coffee, savoring the strong smell with a contented sigh.

"Do what?"

"Sound like you're four years old when you don't get your way."

"I do not."

"You're doing it again" Peter remarked, with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Neal, I promise you will get as much time as you want in the Art Institute. I just need an hour and I'll be good to go." Peter slid back down and rested his head on the pillow, briefly closing his eyes, almost asleep when Neal walked out.

Peter made notes as he checked the paper and several maps on the desk. He glanced at the clock; Neal had been gone nearly three hours, most likely sulking somewhere. He called several times but Neal refused to answer and finally Peter gave up, knowing Neal would be back when he was ready.

Peter was just finishing up the day's plans when Neal casually strolled in, carrying several bags. He placed them on the floor and then sat on the bed furthest from the desk.

"Are you done sulking?"

"I wasn't sulking."

"Come over here so you can see what I've changed."

"Don't I get a say? This is my vacation."

Peter sighed. "Neal, this is not a vacation. This is a road trip home because you begged me and I gave in. You do get a say and if you don't like the changes, we'll make more. Can you please get up?"

"You said the magic word" Neal remarked as he stood and walked over.

Peter pushed over a new agenda. "I already checked with the hotel and we can stay another night. That way you'll have plenty of time at the museum. When you're done we'll take a water taxi to Navy Pier." Peter pointed on the map. "There's a jazz fest at Grant Park tonight so after we eat I'd thought we'd go there."

Peter glanced up. "Sound ok so far?"

Neal nodded.

"Tomorrow, we can hit the Planetarium in the morning and if you'll indulge me, the White Sox are back in town and I'd like to check out the stadium tomorrow night."

"And the rest of tomorrow?" Neal asked.

"We can do whatever. Elizabeth suggested we walk down State Street or if you'd prefer we can hit another museum."

"Works for me" Neal said as he settled back on the bed. "Can we go soon?"

Peter nodded. "I'm good. Just no more bars. I don't think I can handle it."

Neal managed a small chuckle. "You had a blast last night" he said evenly, slyly glancing at the agent. "You do remember right?"

Peter shook his head no.

Neal smiled broadly.

"Don't tell me I danced on any tables."

"No, you didn't."

"Are you going to tell me?" Peter asked, after several minutes of silence.

"That's quite an area around Wrigley Field" Neal commented with a chuckle. "We must have hit every bar in the vicinity..."

"Neal just tell me what happened" Peter remarked sharply, annoyed with Neal's stalling tactics.

"Well, just for the record it was your idea to go from bar to bar."

"No it wasn't."

"Yes it was" Neal countered. "I only wanted to get a drink...it was you who wanted to check them all out."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Fine it was my idea. We made it back and I don't see any new bruises so I'm assuming no bar fights."

"Nope. No fights." Neal was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"Neal, spit it out already."

Neal's smile left...briefly. "The last bar we hit wasn't a good idea. We didn't belong there though we might have looked like we did."

Peter had it. He stood and neared the bed. "Neal, that's enough with the cryptic talk. What did I do last night?"

"It was rather sweet..."

"NEAL!" Peter yelled loudly.

"Let's just say someone complimented you on your cute boyfriend."

Peter's eyes widened a bit. "And?" he prompted.

"After you denied it, that someone started flirting with me."

"Tell me I didn't do anything stupid" Peter remarked quietly, as he sat down heavily, fervently trying to piece together the previous evening. He gave up quickly and looked pleadingly at Neal, waiting for the ex-con to spill the rest.

"You said I was taken, put your arm around me and dragged me towards the exit. And then you promptly threw up outside." Neal's smile returned. "Peter, you sure know how to ruin a moment."

Peter sighed deeply as a few murky memories waded to the surface. "No more alcohol on this trip. Understand?"

"I wasn't drunk and lucky for you I got us back...though that cab cost a pretty penny."

"We took a cab home?"

Neal nodded. "Wow, you really don't remember anything do you?"

Peter shrugged. "Why'd we take a cab?"

"Elevated train. Stairs. You weigh too much for me to carry." Neal grinned. "I had to give the cab driver a hefty tip to get you inside."

"Neal, I swear if any of this gets back to Elizabeth..."

"Scout's honor." Neal held his right hand up. "Anything that happens in Chicago stays in Chicago."

Peter eyed his friend. "Anything else I need to know?"

Neal shook his head with a smile still playing on his face.

"Are you ready to go?"

Neal jumped up. "Just waiting for you." He walked out with Peter gingerly following him.

Peter settled back against the wall and nursed his coffee, happy to take a break. After three hours of following Neal around Peter gave up. Neal was in his element and though he tried to keep Peter involved with his vast knowledge, it was Peter who finally had had enough and wandered towards the gift shop.

He knew from the brochure that the museum was big on Impressionists and Neal was staked out in the main room going over each painting with an eagle eye, taking in every detail.

He was nearly done with his coffee when he saw Neal approaching.

"Peter, are you bored? Do you want to go?"

The agent shook his head. "I'm fine and we'll stay as long as you want."

Neal smiled. "I think Mozzie would love to see the paintings in the Regenstein Hall. Both Degas and Renoir are well represented."

"See or steal?" Peter commented as Neal sat down.

"Peter."

"You didn't answer the question." Peter took something from one of the bags. "Here, I got you this." He handed Neal a book.

"Peter, thank you." Neal started flipping through the giant book showcasing the most famous paintings at the museum along with information about the artists.

"You have to come home with a souvenir..." Peter's voice trailed off as he noticed the look on Neal's face.

"Neal, what's wrong? If you don't like it we can take it back."

"No I love it." Neal glanced away with a quiet sigh as he eyed the people walking past them, his mind bringing forth memories he long ago tucked away.

He knew Peter was watching him and waiting for answers but there were some things he wasn't sure he could share.

"Neal?"

Neal turned his head.

"Does this have something to do with your mom?"

The ex-con nodded.

"I'm listening if you're willing to tell me." Peter smiled reassuringly. "Anything you say stays with me."

Neal nodded gratefully.

"My mom used to bring home art books from the library and these little tubs of paint and she'd mixed them together and make all these wonderful colors." Neal took a deep breath. "She'd danced around the table and I'd followed and stare at the blended colors as if it was magic." Neal glanced the agent's way. "It's the only time she was ever happy. The books and the paints seemed to bring life back to her..." Neal paused, momentarily lost in the few happy memories from his childhood.

"Was your mom an artist? Peter asked, pulling Neal back to the present.

Neal shrugged. "I learned how to draw from her but I think painting was just a hobby."

"She never talked about it?"

"No." Neal shrugged. "She never said much. Even when we drew and painted together, she was quiet but she was smiling." Neal chuckled softly. "It was our special time together though it never lasted for long." He shrugged. "The sadness would always creep back and I'd beg her to keep painting but she'd go in the bathroom and close the door."

Neal smiled weakly at Peter. "I wish I had known then what she was afraid of."

"Neal, what could you have done? You were just a little boy."

"I know." Neal put the book aside. "I don't know how much to blame my dad." He eyed Peter. "Is it wrong to hate him for what happened?"

"Do you hate him?"

Neal lowered his head.

"I know how much you wanted him to be innocent. Neal for your sake, I wanted that too."

"And look what it cost you" Neal quietly said. "Two months in jail for something my father did. Peter, after everything that has happened, how can you say we're going to be fine?"

"Because I don't see any other options" Peter answered with a weary smile. "Hey, look at me." Peter reached over and lightly placed his hand on Neal's arm and waited for Neal to comply. "Do you think I'd do this for anyone?"

"I know you're loyal to your friends" Neal responded as he freed his arm and sat back in his chair. "Where do I stand?"

Peter smiled as he sat back and mirrored Neal's position, crossing his arms against his chest.

"Neal, I wouldn't do this trip for everyone. But I'm doing it for you."

Neal chuckled. "Most would say that's not an answer."

"You're a smart man Neal. Read between the lines."

Neal looked away with a weary sigh. "I can't fix what my father did."

"No you can't. Neal, you can't keep living with the guilt, it's not helping you and it's not helping me."

"I know." Neal stood and took a couple of steps before returning to the table. He placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin against his fists, with his eyes never leaving Peter's face. "Sometimes I wish my father never showed up."

"Would not knowing be better?"

"It would have been for you" Neal quickly countered as he stood again and stretched. "Peter, do you like Greek Mythology?" Neal asked suddenly and Peter knew this conversation was over...for now.

"I do."

"Come with me. I'm going to see that section now and we'll see how much you remember from your college days."

"After last night I remember nothing" Peter retorted as he followed Neal. He stopped the ex-con before they entered the room.

"We will finish this conversation later, ok?"

"Can I say no?"

"Not while the anklet is off."

Neal glanced down at his ankle and then shrugged. "If I don't have a choice we'll finish it later. Do I get to ask you questions?"

"No" Peter answered emphatically. "I don't believe that's part of the deal."

"Sometimes deals are meant to be broken" Neal said as he walked past the agent, eyes shining bright with excitement.