Eric checked the time on his watch and bounded down the stairs, pleased with himself that he was able to triumph over the old man's persistently punctual announcement that they would be leaving soon. It was the first time ever he'd got himself ready without being asked and even though he wasn't looking forward to going and seeing Neal, he had an ulterior motive – he needed answers. Plus, it never hurt to stack up a few brownie points with the oldies. Declaring that he was, "Ready," he strutted through the living area, making his way over to where they were sitting with their bottomless cups of coffee. "I figured I'd save you the trouble before you sent your little watch dog up to fetch me, seeing as how that's so much effort on your part."

"Uh…" Peter glanced over at Elizabeth for support. They hadn't worried getting a story ready because Eric bringing it up himself was the last thing they expected.

"Peter has to help me punch out the die cuts on three hundred invitations," Elizabeth pointed to a box on the sideboard. "The supplier overlooked the specific instructions before they sent them through."

Eric eyed the two adults suspiciously, "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Peter committed to the story, "it's your lucky day, kiddo. You get to have the morning off. Why don't you go out and see if you can't hustle up a game of basketball with the neighbours?"

Eric didn't say anything as he turned and made his way across to the front door and for a moment, both Peter and Elizabeth thought they had dodged a bullet, but… "Why?" The kid asked as he turned once more to face them.

"Why what, sweetie?"

"Why is Peter having to help you this morning? This sort of thing happens all the time – you having to drop stuff off at the last minute, stuffing invitations into envelopes, clients changing their minds on the day… you're always doing stuff like this and it's never stopped Peter from taking me to see Neal before."

Elizabeth nodded in the direction of the box, "These need to be done-"

"It's okay, hon," Peter cut in as he stood and walked across to the boy. "Come and sit down for a minute, Eric."

But Eric didn't. With his face paling visibly, he took an unsteady step back towards the door, ready to do a runner. "What's happened to Mom?"

"No," Peter came across and took the kid by his arm before guiding him back to the couch. "This is nothing to do with your mom. We haven't seen or heard from your mom since Kingsbridge Road."

"Oh," Eric flopped down onto the seat with relief, "I just thought, since you both were acting all weird that something had happened…So, why don't I have to go see, Neal? I mean, obviously it's not that lamo reason you tried to spin."

"No, that was our bad, Eric. We should have been upfront with you to begin with."

"Upfront about what?"

"About your dad."

"What about, Neal?"

"Earlier in the week, he…he got hurt in prison."

"How?"

"He was in a fight with some of the other prisoners and they broke his arm and he got cut in a few places."

The boy remained silent and still as Peter continued.

"He's improved a lot and is looking a lot better but he remains over at the prison's infirmary."

"Why?"

"It's a formality – so they can keep an eye on him for a couple more days, make sure the stitches are being dressed properly and that he's taking his tablets at the correct time."

"He had to have stitches?"

"Yes, but the doctor has said that everything is healing nicely."

"I want to go and see him," Eric pushed up from the couch and stepped towards the door.

"No," Peter also stood up, "it's not a good idea."

"Why? If he's looking a lot better and he's healing 'nicely,' why can't I go and see him?"

"He's still not a hundred percent and…besides, I didn't think you'd be bothered if we didn't go so I told your dad we wouldn't be coming this morning."

"Well," Eric snatched the car keys off the hook and held them out, "it's going to be a nice surprise for him when we show up then, isn't it?"

"Eric…"

"No!" Eric wrenched open the door as determination set in, "I'm going to go and see him, Peter, whether you take me or not so are you gonna drive me or has all that talk you go on about, saying that my father has a right to see me and our visits are what he looks forward to the most every week, has that all been a scam, nothing but a con?"

"No," Peter stepped over and took the keys out of the boy's hand. "It hasn't been con, Eric. I've meant what I said. Get your coat on and let's go visit your dad."

For a second Eric felt joyous that he'd secured another win, but the feeling was short lived, for the entire journey to the prison, he was unable to suppress the niggling voice in his head that kept saying, 'be careful what you wish for.' He'd wished for Neal to get hurt so he didn't have to visit him and now, it had gone and happened.

# # #

"So how was your week?"

"Better than yours…and mine was pretty crap so yours must have really sucked."

"It looks a lot worse than it is," Neal self-consciously pulled at the cuff on his dressing gown sleeve so as to conceal his cast completely. He'd asked Peter not to bring the boy in to visit while he looked like he did but, here they were.

"Yeah?" Eric made a show of casting a pointed look at the bandage wrapped around Neal's head and the multitude of scratches and bruises colouring his face. "Cause from where I'm sitting, it looks like you couldn't be in any more pain if you got run over by a semi-trailer after falling out of a twelve story building and landing on your head."

Neal shrugged, unwilling to admit that the boy was indeed correct. "The doctor has given me some pretty strong pain killers. When they wear off, it hurts more."

"So what happened?"

"I got in a fight with some of the other prisoners-"

"I already got the watered-down, child-friendly version from Peter. If you're going to bullshit me around as well, we might as well revert back to the insipid pussyfooting topics we always chit-chat about. School is school, Scottie had to come home early from Kindy yesterday with a sore tummy, Elizabeth- "

"Enough, Eric. You know you don't have to go round with a mountain-sized chip on your shoulder thinking it's you verses the world?"

"I don't. I just get sick of people acting like they're walking on eggs shells around me because they think I'm just some simpleton baby."

"That's not what they think and you know it. I just didn't want to tell you what happened because I didn't need you getting involved and worrying about me."

"There's not much chance of that," Eric mumbled before asking, "So are you gonna tell me or not?"

Neal glanced around the room, but to what end, Eric didn't know. They were sitting in some kind of annex, attached to the hospital wing and unlike the main prison visiting room that had guards watching attentively over the interactions, this area appeared to be monitored by security cameras alone. That being said, it wasn't like someone could just up and walk out – the only exit was back through the wards and they had appeared to be securely locked off from the outside world with heavy metal doors and a guard making sure no one came and went who wasn't supposed to. Neal turned back and lowered his voice, "On Tuesday morning, I went out into the yard to do my exercises before breakfast and I was approached by two of the other inmates. We got into a fight and one of them had a small piece of blade and I got cut up here," Neal pointed to a spot above his right eyebrow, then across his chest, "and here. During the fight, I got shoved to the ground and the back of my head hit something sharp. I needed stitches here," he pointed behind his head, "and, while I was on the ground, one of the men stomped on my arm, resulting in a compound fracture of the ulna," he lifted his right forearm. "Guess I won't be doing any more boat paintings for a little while," he joked.

"No, I guess not," Eric didn't find it at all humerous and found himself swallowing hard to remove the bitter taste of guilt from his mouth. "So, why did they start the fight in the first place?"

"It was over something they thought I had, which I didn't."

"What? What were they after?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Fine! Be like that," Eric shrugged as he looked away and began taking a superfluous interest in the white panelled walls.

"Hey," Neal reached across with his good arm and placed a hand on his son's forearm. "All I meant was you don't need to get your head thinking about what happens in here and I didn't want you getting yourself all worked up."

"Like that would happen."

"Yeah," Neal shook his head. "I can't imagine why I thought it would. Anyway, before I answer anymore of your questions, I have some of my own."

"Like?"

"You said, you also had a pretty crappy week."

"That's not a question."

"You want to tell me about it?"

Eric crossed his arms and slouched down in the plastic bucket seat. "My week wasn't all bad – there was one moment when I didn't feel stabbing myself through the eye."

"Yeah?" Neal braced himself to hear about Alex and the aborted reunion. He'd practised some words of support but now the conversation was imminent, he couldn't recall any of the key phrases he'd prepared.

"Yeah… Peter and I made a deal so I don't have to go and waste an hour with Doctor Patrick every Wednesday evening. No more sitting there while Phil tries to psychoanalyse my brain. Did he tell you, I'm off the hook?"

"When he came to see me yesterday, he mentioned it. Said that it was a trial for a week."

"It's a done deal. I won't be going back, but before you go getting all flustered, it's not all fluffy clouds and rainbows for me. Did Peter tell you what he negotiated?"

"He said that you had agreed to be more honest with him and Elizabeth, that you were going to talk things through with them if you had any worries."

"Yeah, that's the plan," Eric replied sarcastically. "Straight after I jam my head in a vice and press the crush button."

"Eric…"

"Hey, don't fret. If I did have something worrying me, they'd be the first port of call…you can count on it."

"What can I count on?"

"Let me finish my story, please. I haven't got to the good part – Peter's ingenious brainwave. Instead of going in and seeing the doctor, Peter made me go ice-skating with him."

Neal laughed, even though it hurt. "Seriously? Peter didn't say."

"I'm not surprised.

"He made me go ice-skating with him once, told me that it was a disgrace that I was living in New York and didn't know how to skate. I tried to point out that-"

"My story," Eric pointed to his chest. "You can tell yours after I've gone home."

Neal bit his lip and wondered, not for the first time, how Peter had managed to live with the brat for so long without strangling him already.

"Anyways, so Peter gets me out on the rink and I've already worked out that this is his way of forcing us to spend time together and maybe while we're doing laps, I'll open up to him about school and if I've made any friends and stuff like that…"

"Were you cold? When I went my hands didn't thaw-"

Eric cleared his throat and pointed at his chest once more. "No, I wasn't cold. Not that I noticed anyway. I'm used to it."

"Yeah, of course you are." It was Neal's turn for sarcasm.

"So, we started going around the rink. I'd never been on the ice before so it took me a couple of laps to find my feet. Peter was right beside ready to lend a hand if I slipped and I'm man enough to admit, I slipped a few times. My feet came out from under me and he would stop me from falling down onto the ice. But after a little bit, I got the hang of it and I was able to hold my own as we went around. So that's when Peter bites the bullet and throws out an opportunity for me to 'chat.'"

"About?"

"Oh," Eric looked around as he pretended to think, "I can't even remember. It was nothing, maybe something like, 'How do you feel about having to share a room with a baby?'"

"I don't think that was it."

"Nah, it wasn't but you're missing the point. So we're moving along, me taking the occasional near-spill and Peter hovering over me ready to save me and after a few more of the 'bonding' moments, I twisted my head and looked up at Peter and-"

"What did you say, Eric?"

Eric laughed, "I said, 'Peter, I've heard you and Elizabeth making out in your bedroom. Can you tell me what you guys do in there so I'll know what to do when I have to do it?'"

Neal's mouth dropped open but no sound came out.

Eric laughed some more, "Hey, that's the very same expression Peter had…right before his skates slipped out from under him and he landed flat on his back on the ice."

"Eric…that was mean."

"Hey, it was all his idea in the first place. Plus, I did try and reach out and stop him from falling down but I was barely able to stay on my on two feet."

"Because of the laughing?"

"Ice-skating is so much harder when your chest is convulsing."

"Poor Peter," Neal glanced over at the security window, unable to resist the smile that tugged at his lips. "No wonder he didn't say anything…So I take it no more ice skating?"

"Dunno. It wasn't the worst thing in the world and Peter said I had good technique. There's a team at school I could join, they play Saturday mornings…"

"Hey, if you want to do that, I won't mind. We can catch up some other times."

"Yeah, we'll see," Eric glanced at his watch and then looked over at the security window himself. "I guess Peter wants to have his turn."

"Listen," Neal reached out and used his hand to block the kid from moving away, "can you just…just sit down for a minute more."

Eric flopped back down onto his seat and pressed a button on his watch. "60 seconds."

Neal swallowed hard, if Peter could bite the bullet, he could man up as well. "You saw your mom."

"Did I?"

"Yes. Peter-"

"…told you. Of course he did."

"How was she? The last time I saw her she wasn't looking too good – all bandaged up and recovering from a nasty shoulder wound."

"Says the man who's masquerading as a mummy."

Neal tried to issue the boy a warning glare but with his face too sore to shape into anything menacing, it came across more as a lacklustre smirk. "Did she look well? What did she say?"

"I got to speak to her for all of five seconds before Agent Able stepped up to the plate and thwarted our reunion. But what do you care anyway? Mom's been hurt before, got herself into lots more trouble than this. Where were you then? Why the sudden interest in my mom's wellbeing?"

Neal paused to consider his words and to decide if it was worth continuing. He didn't need Doctor Patrick's qualifications to know that the kid blamed him for everything bad that had happened since coming to New York and a multitude of other painful memories prior to their arrival. Who knew what stories Alex had spun to put herself in a good light or to aid her explanations for any and all issues they may have encountered? "Eric, despite what you may think, or have heard about me, I do care deeply for your mom and the fact that I haven't been in contact with her since you were born, was only because that was how she wanted it."

"How do you know what she wanted? Did you ever ask her?"

"No. Because, well…she never gave me the chance. One day she's here in New York and everything between us is just right, and then the next, she's gone. No forwarding address, no postcards to say how she's enjoying her new life, not even a text message."

"What if something bad had happened to her? Huh? Did you consider that it may not have been her choice to disappear?"

"Listen kiddo, I'd known your mom for a long time. We'd lived together, we'd…pulled jobs together. I knew how she felt about commitment and whenever your mom felt like her ties were getting too strong, too constricting, she'd clear out. When she left, I was saddened, but I wasn't surprised. The fact that she disappeared for more than ten years wasn't out of character for Alex."

"As if you'd know," Eric scoffed.

"There's a lot I'm yet to learn in this life, but this is one time I'm certain, Eric. And in case you were wondering, I didn't just wipe your mom from my memory. Over the years, I put feelers out to see how she was holding up. I asked around and heard through my sources that she was living around the Mediterranean…I even heard about you – that Alex had a child."

Eric raised his brows and despite himself, smiled proudly, "So you were all discussing me down at FED headquarters?"

"No," Neal stated unsympathetically. "We never discussed you. You weren't the one wanted for the theft of the Nobel Spirit stamp collection from Pittsford and implicated in a bunch of other transactions involving misappropriated artefacts …And don't worry, they were all before you were born so don't go thinking you can be incriminated as an accomplice and you're going to be locked away too."

"I wasn't thinking that," Eric dropped his gaze and started playing with his watch.

Neal felt instant regret at the words he'd chosen. "I'm sorry, Eric…what were you…"

"I was thinking Mom's been doing this for a long time."

When the boy looked up, it frightened Neal how familiar he was with the despondent expression he saw in the pained blue eyes. "You know, we've all been doing this for a very long time…but when you arrived in New York with your mom, and I saw you for the very first time and knew immediately that you were my son, I told myself, that was it. I wasn't going to do it any more, that things were going to change and that I was going to do everything I could to make things right for you."

Eric stared at his father for the longest time. Finally he asked, "Is that why you went along that night to help Mom?"

"Peter told you?"

"Not much, but some. You're not the only one that Peter gets to snitch to."

Neal sighed, "Yes, I went along to try and talk your mom out it. I told her we'd find another way, that Peter could help, but…you know your mom…"

"Stubborn as a lazy pig in the warm midday mud."

"Yeah," Neal smiled. "That sounds about right."

Eric checked his watch, "Seems like your minute was up ages back, I just didn't hear the beep." He pushed up from his chair and motioned towards the security room. "Peter's gonna be upset if I spend any longer. He'll think he's not needed anymore."

"Yeah, you better go before he goes off to find some other skating buddy."

Eric smiled and almost said something nice. But he still had one more question. It was the one reason he'd insisted on coming and he didn't want to walk off without taking something away. However, his brain was already loaded with more than he could handle and he was no longer in the mood. Advice regarding Rosie Adintay would have to wait for another time because the only question he could think to ask was, "Uh…That thing the other prisoners thought you had…it has something to do with Mom, doesn't it?"

Neal considered the boy's question and took a long moment to contemplate the time they'd just spent together. Since finding out he had a son, it was the most rewarding, honest and heart-felt thirty minutes he'd ever spent with the boy…and he'd be dammed if he was going to let it end on a lie, so he simply said, "Yes."