We've had a few interested inquiries about Scottie's speech so we thought we'd just mention that he is modeled on a little five and a half year old cutie I see every day. The way he forms his sentences is what I hear in my head when I think of Scottie. But the little cutie isn't sui generis. Children develop at different rates and speech is one area where delays are common place. Children with speech delays don't necessarily have language delays. They can understand words and sentences as well as the next child, they just have difficulty pronouncing the correct sounds in the words, which leads to their speech being difficult to understand. In other words, the other developmental milestones can be met at the usual times even if the speech is delayed. Having said that, early intervention is paramount and I would have to believe that Elizabeth and Peter take little Scottie to weekly speech theraphy sessions and have told Eric to speak normally to the little guy as he will continue to learn the correct grammatical speech patterns from the language he is exposed to. But seeing as how the story is about Eric, we will have to leave that for another day :)

Eric lay face down on the bed, one arm dangling over the side, his fingers picking at the loop pile of the plush indigo coloured carpet. So far he'd managed to accumulate a small handful of the wool strands that he'd plucked free from the binding mat and he figured if he kept going, at some point he'd amass enough to fill a pillow for his bed. Not that he needed another pillow – when he'd first come to stay with the Burkes, Elizabeth had taken him out shopping a number of times for anything he needed, including trying out a variety of pillows till he found one that felt just right. He tugged another loop free and added it to the others, not caring that Elizabeth would tan his hide if she caught him doing what he was doing. Well, he probably would care…a lot. Even though his backside had stopped throbbing, it remained seriously tender and it would not be at all pleasant to get whacked again so soon. With that sensible recommendation mulling over in his head, he reached out a little further and grabbed a hold of the decorative rug, which he pulled over to conceal the small crater he'd created in the carpet. Elizabeth didn't smack very often, she mostly left that up to Peter, but on the couple of occasions she had swatted his backside for 'teaching Scott-Allen bad habits,' it had hurt!

Since arriving home, Elizabeth had been up once to deliver a plate of sandwiches, but apart from that, everyone had left him alone – including the squirt. They must have put some type of barricade at the bottom of the stairs because it was the longest the little guy had ever gone without coming up to pester him about something. Eric had been able to hear what sounded like hushed voices before the agent had departed for work again. It had come as quite a relief as he watched from his bedroom window, the Taurus driving off down the street because he was certain the old man was going to be hot on his heels, up the stairs, waving a big stick. But now, unfortunately, it appeared all FBI business was over for the day because Peter was back home and Eric understood implicitly at some point, a 'conversation' would be had regarding the stealing.

As a distraction, he started playing with the lights on his watch and tried to concentrate on the smells and sounds of dinner being prepared that were waffling up from downstairs and not on the impending consequences for his behaviour. He couldn't work out if Elizabeth was making cottage pie or a slow-cooked beef, but either way, he wished it was ready cause he was starved. The sandwiches that had filled his belly earlier had long since been digested into his system and he was ready for more.

"Air-wick!"

Eric heard the little pip-squeak's voice before he registered the pitter-patter footsteps approaching his doorway. He rolled onto his side and up onto his elbow, preparing to demonstrate just how careless and unbothered he was.

"Air-wick," the little boy smiled as he came into the room. "Momma says dinner weady."

"Did she now?"

Scottie nodded as he hopped up and landed on the end of the bed.

"Well, you can tell her that she can take her toxic smelling food and shove it…" Eric trailed off, realising just how disgusting his words sounded as they spilled out of his mouth.

"Okays," Scottie scooted off the bed and skipped towards the door.

Eric sprung off the bed himself and snagged a hold of the little one's arm. "Wait!" he spun Scottie around and smiled like everything was okay. "Never mind. I've changed my mind. No need to tell her anything. I'm coming down."

"Okays," Scottie smiled back before leading the way down the stairs.

# # #

"How was the cheesecake?" Elizabeth asked of everyone as she whisked the empty bowls away and stacked them in a neat pile beside the other dishes.

"Perfectly superb, hon," Peter declared as he wiped his chin with a napkin.

"Yummy momma. Cans I hab mowr?"

"No little one, you already had a big helping. You'll get a sick tummy if you have any more. How about you, Eric? Did you like that type? I found the recipe in one of my old cooking journals."

"It was okay. I don't know about combining the brownie mixture with a cheesecake recipe. I'd kind of think you'd have one or the other, not both together."

"Well that solves that. There were only two pieces left for tomorrow night so now I don't have to worry how I'm going to share it out. You and I can have ice-cream, kiddo."

"Fine," Eric grumbled. The cheesecake had been deliciously scrumptious and now he was going to miss out on having that last piece he'd been eying off. No doubt he'd been set up so it worked out that way.

"Scott-Allen," Peter lifted his son down off his chair and pointed him towards the living area. "Why don't you go and keep puppy company for a little bit?"

"Use nots weading to me?"

"Not yet. We'll go up in a little bit. Momma and I need to have a chat with Eric."

Scottie looked across with concern at Eric but the older boy dropped his gaze and pretended to study something in his lap. "Okays, Dadda," he accepted before trotting off to play with the Labrador.

"Eric," Peter returned his attention to the table. "We need to discuss you actions on Friday."

"You mean at breakfast how I swapped the salt and sugar lids over. It was a joke and I'm sorry."

Peter bit his lip and took a deep calming breath.

"We're not talking about that, Eric," Elizabeth's tone took on a quiet seriousness, "and you know it. Please don't make this anymore difficult by going on with nonsense."

"Like it's not difficult already? What do you want me to say, Elizabeth? I already admitted to stealing the money."

"I suppose Peter and I would like to know why?"

"And," Eric sighed with mock boredom, "I already confessed to that as well…the scooter ring any bells?"

"If you're going to start being disrespectful to Elizabeth," Peter pointed a warning finger, "I will turn you over my knee so fast, your head will spin. Do I make myself clear?"

Eric mumbled a barely audible response.

"I didn't hear you."

"I said, yes…sir."

"Good, now what Elizabeth and I would like to know is why you felt so…badly done by that Elizabeth wasn't going to buy you the scooter immediately, that you felt it was justifiable that you simply take the money."

Eric sighed and slumped down in his seat, but not before shrugging his shoulders.

"It's not what people do, Eric. They don't think well, I can't have that but I'll go and steal it anyway."

Eric sat forward in his seat and spat out, "It's what my father would do. I guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree this time."

Peter sighed inwardly and he imagined Elizabeth was doing the same. Eric never referred to Neal as his father unless he was in some way able to hold him accountable for his less desirable actions. It was a losing battle. There'd be no getting the kid to admit to it being a choice on his part and having nothing to do with genetics at this point. "Okay, Eric. Whatever your motivation, you shouldn't have done it."

"No kidding."

"No, I'm not. Now, tomorrow you'll be home with Elizabeth and June has offered to look after you on Wednesday and Thursday. I'll take you to the office with me on Friday."

Eric groaned, "Seriously? Can't I just stay here on Wednesday and Thursday?" He'd only met Neal's landlady a couple of times but she seemed way too serious. "I don't need to be looked after like a baby."

"Apparently you do, otherwise you'd be at school like all the other children your age."

"Whatever."

"Tomorrow morning," Elizabeth explained, "you can do what you need to do for school, but after lunch, I'm going to get you to do the washing and folding and the bathrooms will need cleaning out."

"Great for you guys, free slave labour."

"Not free," Peter reminded the boy. "This ones costing us about five hundred dollars if you remember correctly?"

Eric remained silent rather than implicate himself.

"And on Saturday afternoon," Peter continued, "you are going to help me scrub the pavers out the back."

"Awesome," Eric replied sarcastically, then his eyes brightened, "Because I'm going to be spending the day with Lady Cheerypants, does that mean I get to skip my session with Doctor Patrick on Wednesday evening?"

"No," Peter happily informed the boy. "I'll collect you from June's and take you directly from there."

"Faaaaantastic. Can I go to my room now or is the lecture still in progress?" Eric began to push to his feet but Peter pointed him back down.

"No," he paused while he waited for the boy to settle back into his chair. "What did I tell the last time you took money from my wallet?"

Eric shrugged, "Don't do it again."

"And…"

"And if I wanted or needed something I had to ask for it, which I did!" he hastened to add.

"I told you it was wrong to steal and if you did it again, I would…"

"But the headmaster already punished me for stealing! Remember? You were there right?"

"Yes I was, and you heard me telling the headmaster that I would take measures to punish you accordingly at home. You were there right?"

"And isn't that what you just did, telling me I'm going to have the most excruciatingly boring week from hell?"

"That's simply to keep you busy and out of trouble because you're not allowed to go to school and the chores are to start paying back the money…neither of which are punishment for the stealing."

Eric started to panic a little – he didn't want, didn't need another butt tanning. "This isn't fair."

"I understand," Peter offered, "that you are still getting over today's paddling so I'm going to wait until Sunday night to give you the spanking I promised you if you ever stole again."

"You're going to make me wait a whole week? Isn't that considered to be cruel and unusual punishment?"

"How long before, did you plan to steal the money from the cafeteria? About a week? I think it'll do you good to have this on your mind for a week, and maybe next time you premeditate some inappropriate action or behaviour, you may recall how it felt to be waiting for the consequences."

"It's not fair," Eric repeated, this time with signs of a thin layer of moisture wetting his eyes.

"If you really think so, you can head up to your room now and I can take care of your punishment tonight?"

Eric considered. That idea sucked even worse than the other one. He shook his head.

"Okay then, you go up and have a shower. I'm going to help Elizabeth with the dishes and then I'll be up to read to both you boys."

Eric checked the time on his watch. It was still early."I don't want to listen to some stupid baby story."

"Suit yourself. You can listen to your music instead."

"Fine," Eric grouched as he made his was through the living room. He always missed out when the story got to the good part.