"Peter Burke and Eric Hunter," announced the security officer into the all but empty waiting room. Every other visitor had been processed through security so Eric momentarily considered the stupidity of the officer that he couldn't work out that the final two had to be the two remaining names on his list.

Nevertheless, Eric held out his photo ID that was dangling from his lanyard for the officer to scan – he'd come enough times to know the drill. Once inside the large open room, filled with picnic style aluminium tables and a dozen or so inmates sporting their fashionably repulsive fluro orange jump suits alongside their motley collection of friends and family, Eric scanned the tables for his own private slice of shame.

"There he is," Peter crouched down and pointed to the table in the far corner.

Eric looked across and was visibly disappointed to see Neal waving back. Surely one Saturday, he had to be lucky enough that the guy would be incapacitated with the flu or a sprained ankle or something that he needed to be in the infirmary and they'd have to turn around and go home…

"Over you go," Eric felt himself being nudged towards Neal.

…but sadly, that wasn't going to happen today. "I'm going," Eric grumbled as he pulled his shoulder away from the helping hand and dragged his feet over to the corner. Peter stayed behind. Peter always stayed behind. The first thirty minutes were just for him and Neal…or so Peter said. Eric wondered how someone could possibly consider a chat under these conditions to be in any way intimate with the surveillance cameras, the guards listening in, and all the other people in the room privy to everything that was being said.

"Hey, Eric," Neal got up and wrapped the boy in a warm embrace. "It's good to see you."

Eric held his breath for the duration of the hug and sighed with relief when it was finally over. He slid down onto the bench seat as quickly as he could, least there be another hug or dare he even consider, something more cringe worthy like a kiss on the forehead. "Hi," he mumbled by way of a greeting.

"How are you doing?"

And so began the endless array of aimless questions…

"Fine."

…and his one syllable replies.

"You have a good week at school?"

The questions were always the same…

"Yeah."

And his answers equally unoriginal. Not that he cared. It was just an exercise he needed to proceed through and after thirty minutes, it would be all over and he'd be allowed to reclaim his freedom. Which was more than could be said for Neal. The guy was going to be stuck in this tiresome dwelling for at least another nine months, maybe more.

"Peter said you got yourself into a bit of trouble yesterday."

Of course he did. "A bit," Eric shrugged uncaringly as he gazed around the room. There were kids sitting at almost every table and the guards always seemed very casual with their interactions with the visitors, not like the no-nonsense, all serious business types he'd seen on the TV cop shows. This was, according to 'Agent' Peter, a low security prison for non-violent offenders. In other words, it was a pretend detention centre for incompetent criminals who were stupid enough to get caught stealing paper from the copy room.

"You need to try and do the right thing, Eric. I believe the school said that would be your last warning. The next time you will earn yourself a suspension. You have to follow the school rules and also, whatever Peter and Elizabeth tell you to do."

Eric bit into his bottom lip and dropped his gaze to his lap in an effort to restrain himself from telling Neal exactly what he could do with his advice. He couldn't believe the man had the gall to lecture him about what was right or wrong, considering his current position and what had got him there in the first place. But Eric didn't care to even bother enter an argument when, ultimately, he didn't give a flying fruit basket about what he said or the advice he bestowed. "Okay," he mumbled, hoping that would be the end of the story and they could move on.

"Okay," Neal repeated, seemingly relieved himself that the issue had been raised as instructed by a higher authority and could now be pushed off to the side, never to be seen, or heard of again. "How's Scottie? He still driving you crazy with his dinosaur obsession?"

"Yeah."

"And what about Elizabeth? Did you help her with some of the cooking this week?"

"A bit." Eric rested his elbow on the table and cradled his chin in his palm, but not before checking his watch. Only five minutes down, twenty-five to go. The youngster groaned inwardly and wondered what his mom was doing. Neal never asked about his mom, he only ever asked about Elizabeth like she was somehow in place of his mom. Eric was secretly glad Neal didn't ask about his mom because he wasn't sure how he would respond, but he did know it wouldn't be in any way pleasant. For more than ten years, Neal or even Peter or Elizabeth for that matter, hadn't bothered to ask about his mom. They never made contact, they never tried to find out how everything was going, if she was doing well or not, was she in trouble, did she need help, so it really would be incredibly insulting of any of them to go asking now. Eric guessed that was why Neal steered away from the taboo topic – at least he was smart enough to do that.

"So what do you have planned for the rest of the weekend?"

"I'm sure Peter told you already, I'm grounded remember."

"Ah, yeah. Sorry, I forgot."

"I can't imagine how. It's not like you've got a whole lot to think about in here." Eric made a point to gaze around the room, like it was Neal's whole world. Eric couldn't understand why the man was still here. After everything his mom had told him about the virtuoso super criminal that could forge or steal anything, and was totally untouchable, it was such a let down to see the guy for actually who he was – a loser. If he couldn't break out of this simpleton detention centre, his mom had him pegged completely wrong.

"How are you going with your school work? Are you having any trouble with any of the subjects?"

"No." Surely sooner or later, Neal was going to have a conversation with Peter about the needless point of these Saturday morning visits. But in the meantime, Eric hoped like hell the guy would eventually get sick of the non-responsive attitude and say enough was enough, that it wasn't doing either of them any good and they should simply stick to Birthday presents and Christmas cards.

"I've been really looking forward to you visiting me this morning."

Eric couldn't possibly imagine why. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I did a painting for you."

Eric involuntarily glanced under the table.

"It's not here. You'll be able to collect it at the security gate. I've been working on it for a little while now, but I finally finished it."

Eric waited for more, but there wasn't any. He guessed it was his turn. "Thanks."

"That's okay. I hope you like it."

"Yeah." Not much chance of that. "You know," Eric indicated over his shoulder, "I think Peter is ready for his turn. I'm just gonna wait over by the exit."

"You've got to go?" Neal checked the large clock on the wall. "It's still only twenty past."

"Yeah. I think Peter has some stuff he wants to do on the way home." Eric hoped not but anything would be better than this.

"Oh. Okay then. I guess I'll see you next week?"

"I guess."

Neal hopped up and came around the table but Eric had already moved off towards the security gate. He lifted his hand and gave a quick wave.

"See you, Eric. I miss you," Neal called after him, but the boy had already turned his back and was no doubt out of ear-shot.

###

"What did you and Neal talk about?"

Peter took his eyes off the road for a second to glance in his rear view mirror at his backseat passenger. "You want to know?" If the boy did, it would be the first time.

"Not really." But, yes. Really. He did want to know if Neal had tried to tell Peter he didn't need to continue these agonizing visits so he could support the argument by agreeing that it really wasn't necessary.

"We talked about you of course," Peter went on to explain, despite the implied request not too. "Neal always wants to know how you are holding up and what you've been doing through the week."

"Is that right?"

For Neal's sake, Peter tried his best to ignore the insolent attitude. "Yes. He was saying that there's a chance he might be able to get out in as little as six months if all goes well with the parole board at the end of this month."

"Fantastic," the boy mumbled sarcastically.

"He misses you, you know," Peter declared over his shoulder, "and wants very much for you all to be together as family."

"And how is that supposed to work, Peter?"

Peter gazed off absently into the traffic ahead while he tried to figure out a plausible answer. How was it going to work? Unfortunately, for all parties involved, he had no idea how it possibly could.