"Peter…" Eric repeated quietly, barely above a whisper as he struggled to prevent the rapid withdrawal of blood from his brain by giving his head a quick shake. Suddenly, he felt too hot for what he was wearing and he pulled the front of his shirt away from his chest to allow in cool air while glancing over his shoulder to check out the commotion he could hear playing out in the background. The thug, who'd been chasing him, was now laying face down on the ground with a swarm of SWAT officers shouting out commands to each other as they secured him with cuffs.

Peter trailed Eric's line of sight and reassured, "See kiddo. I told you…it's all going to be okay."

Eric turned back, trying hard to focus his attention through his glazed over eyes. "No…it's not. Peter…they…they still have mom…and I need to-"

"Hey," Peter held the boy's shoulders firmly between his hands, not only in an attempt to engage Eric's concentration, but also to support what appeared to be extremely unsteady balance by the youngster. "We have it all under control. The agents have a lock on your mom and are about to board Lorekovic's yacht."

"No," Eric shook his head vigorously and started pulling away. The hot, salty tears that had started to well in the corner of his eyes broke free and trailed down his paling face. "That's not going to work. I…I need to go get the jades so I can make an exchange. It's the only way he'll let mom go. I need to go," he declared and once again attempted to take a step back away from the agent but found it to be a futile endeavour.

"Eric," Peter forced a firmer tone, "you need to trust me on this one-"

"No, Peter." Eric shook his head and blinked several times, while struggling unsuccessfully to clear his increasingly blurred vision. "There isn't time. He's crazy and…and Sir Marc…he's in there too and he's not…"

Peter shook the boy's shoulders gently. "Eric, listen to me, bud."

"No, Agent Burke," Eric cried as more stinging tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. "There's no time." He lifted a shaky arm and indicated back over his shoulder before twisting his wrist to check the time on his watch… Forty-six…forty-seven…forty-eight… His shallow, laboured breathing made it all the more difficult to explain, "I gotta go…please let me go…I'm the only chance Mom's got."

"Eric," Peter adjusted his weight and supported the boy against his thigh to allow his free hand to wrap over and obscure Eric's watch. "Hey…" he paused and waited for the boy to shift his eyes back to meet his own, "have I ever let you down?"

Eric's eyes gazed off into the distance while he searched his memories for an answer to the question. Eventually he looked back and gave his head a small shake.

"Have I ever lied to you?"

This time, the response was an immediate shake, no.

"And you know that I love you, right?"

Eric nodded.

"Then you need to believe me when I say everything's going to be okay. It's no longer your problem, Eric. We're going to…I'm going to take care of it."

Eric stared at the agent for a couple of beats, before glancing once again, back over his shoulder. There appeared to be an inordinate array of activity compared to moments before, seemingly plenty of reinforcements to do what needed to be done. Besides, it wasn't as if his body or brain were capable of putting forth a protest even if he wanted to. As if signalling his acceptance of what Peter had asked him to do, he leaned forward, and allowed himself to be pulled against Peter's chest…only to push away the moment the side of his face brushed against the FBI issued vest. "Peter…"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"I think I'm gonna…I think…I…" Eric turned his head and doubled over, clutching at his stomach, just as the contents came up and onto the sidewalk.

Peter narrowly escaped getting sprayed over with the mostly liquid vomit as he went about supporting the boy. Eric gagged and spat out the residue that remained in his mouth until the unpleasant episode ran itself out.

Peter patted his young charge gently on the back and assured, "You're okay, sport."

But Eric was far from it. His legs finally succumbed to the tremors that had been gradually seeping into his bones, and buckled without warning. Fortunately, Peter had a secure hold and stopped him from falling face down into the sickly mess. With his energy levels completely depleted, his mind as useless as the clump of spearmint leaves lying on the floor of the cabin lounge and his resolve to keep going no matter what, devoid of any life blood, Eric was unable to put up any resistance as Peter scooped him up off his feet and started carrying him away from the docks. By the time they had reached one of the black SVUs, the tremors had engulfed his little body and he was shaking all over with cold, with fear…and with relief.

Peter lowered him onto the back seat and shrugged out of his FBI windcheater before wrapping it over the boy. Then from somewhere, he produced a small bottle of water. "Just take a sip…a slow sip," Peter instructed as the kid proceeded to take a rather large gulp. Eric passed the bottle back and even managed a small, appreciative smile. "Peter," he whispered, as it required too much energy to do any more.

"Yeah?"

"I…I know where…the jades are."

"Not now," Peter held up a hand. "We can worry about that-"

"It's important," Eric pressed on quietly

Peter nodded, "Okay."

"The Gorilla Jade that was stolen from the Village…Neal had nothing to do with it. He doesn't have to be in jail anymore…Mom told me-"

"Eric," Peter cut him off and held a finger up to the boy's lips. "It's okay, I said I'll take care of it and I will but what I need you to do right now is to lie down on this seat, close your eyes and think about whether or not you'd like to join the school ice hockey team. I'm hoping that you'll decide, yes, that way I can give you some more ice skating lessons."

Eric's eye's brightened momentarily. "Sure you want to go there?"

"I'm game if you are. Now lie down," he nudged the boy until he flopped down onto the seat and rearranged the jacket over the top, "and all I want you to think about is ice skating and the homework assignments you need to catch up on."

"Easier said than done," Eric grumbled as his eyelids pressed together and closed off at least the visual turmoil assaulting his thoughts.

Peter took in a deep breath and patted the kid's thigh while checking over his shoulder to take an account of the situation. "I know, kiddo," he whispered for his ears only… "I know."

# # #

Eric was roused from his restless sleep by the distant rumbling of a motor starting up. He opened his eyes in attempt to locate the source of the familiar sound, feeling even more disoriented than ever. His first thoughts were that he'd been asleep in the back of his mom's little white coupe, but this seat was much longer and he noted that he was able to stretch out without having to curl up his legs too much. He continued to search his brain until he recalled Peter putting him into the back of one of the FBI vehicles and telling him to rest…but where was Peter now?

He pushed himself into an upright position and looked around. The immediate vicinity appeared quiet and uneventful with the only noticeable activity being two agents leaning against the side of the SVU parked in front of his vehicle. The two men were chatting about something they obviously found interesting and didn't appear at all concerned by the rumble that Eric could now make out quite distinctly – he'd heard it enough on the island to know it was the sound of a boat's motor warming up.

As it all fell into place in his head, Eric's brain switched to panic mode – what were the chances that it was the yacht his mom was on, trying to make a getaway from the FBI? Maybe the FBI had no idea which yacht to look for and only had a general description and a vague location to go on. Perhaps the agents were having to go from boat to boat, checking the registry and asking the crew if they'd noticed any suspicious activity on the docks. Eric mentally berated himself for not insisting that he show Peter which one it was. He took a long hard look out each of the windows but he couldn't spot his guardian anywhere.

As quietly as he could, he snatched up the FBI windcheater that had dropped to the floor, clicked open the door on the opposite side to where the agents in front were standing, and slipped out. He was sure to keep his head low and out of sight as he returned the car door to a closed position before shrugging on Peter's way-too-oversized jacket. He glanced up in the direction of the path that lead back to the docks and was somewhat surprised he couldn't see a single sign of life – not an agent or SWAT officer or even a police dog to be seen. But now that he was out of the car, the hum of the boat motor was even louder so after checking through the window that the agents on 'guard duty' hadn't detected his actions, he darted off in the direction of the docks. As he moved along, he kept his head down and his body close to the side of the buildings to ensure he was concealed as much as possible. Once at the corner, where he'd first run into Peter, he stopped and poked his head around. Again, there were no agents…nor were there any behemoth thugs so he took that as a green light to continue on his path.

As he approached the white delivery van he felt terribly uneasy but he had to believe that the second hired gun had either been taken into custody by the agents or had fled the scene before he got caught. Regardless, it didn't seem feasible that he'd just be lingering around the vehicle waiting to get caught. Still, it didn't stop the nerves tingling all the way up Eric's spine as he approached with caution. After creeping around to the blind side, he stopped dead in his tracks while gasping with fright and disturbed disgust at what met his eyes. The guy, the driver of the van, the smaller of the two behemoth thugs was lying in a pool of blood, stretched out on his side, completely void of any life. Eric started to throw up from a sudden onset of nausea before remembering he didn't have anything left in his system to throw up. So instead, he stood there staring, appallingly mesmerized by the dead body, and holding his stomach while he waited for the feeling to pass.

After a few moments, the sound of a boat motor shifting up notch snapped him out of his state of shock. He glanced around to see if he could alert someone and tell them his mom's yacht was taking off but it seemed he was the only person, the only living person left in the whole area. Perhaps, he considered way too late, that maybe he should have asked the agents back at the vehicles to come with him but it was unlikely they would have listened to a kid. If Peter had been there, he would have listened. Peter always listened. He didn't always agree, but he always listened. Eric looked around again just to make sure Peter was nowhere in sight before accepting that it looked like he was on his own. Once again, it had come down to him being his mom's only chance. Unfortunately, he didn't have the jades as bargaining power, so what the hell was he going to do once he got to the yacht? Say, 'Stop. You can't take my mom away, so please let her go.' The thought of how stupid he sounded even in his head, made Eric angry. He really was just a dumb ass kid after all. He checked his watch and figured he probably only had about thirty seconds left before the yacht sailed off, and then it would only be a matter of time before it entered international waters and the FBI would have to pass the problem onto another agency. By the time they were informed of the details, his mom would be long gone…and he'd never see her again.

Eric looked around, trying to scurry up a plan out of nothing but he was having a hard time peeling his eyes away from the lifeless body at his feet – a lifeless body that had a bulge in the jacket pocket. Instantly, he knew from the approximate shape that it had to be a gun. Glancing around for one final scan of the area, because he felt both uncomfortable and guilty about what he was about to do, he stepped forward, crouched down and stuck his hand inside of the jacket. It was wet and tacky and it made him cringe to think what he was touching, but his mom's time was running out and he didn't have the pleasure of being squeamish. After a moment of felling his way, his fingers touched something cold and hard. As he pulled it out, he almost changed his mind and put it back because the gun was covered in what looked like dark red paint, but regrettably, he knew better. He tried not to think about it too much as he turned it over in his hands, trying to get a feel for it. He'd never held a gun before, let alone fired one but he'd seen it on TV and in the movies enough to know what to do, and to be prepared for the counter momentum, as the force of firing would no doubt throw him off his feet. But having said that, all he probably needed was one shot and his mom could do the rest. She was no stranger to getting out of difficult situations, so if he could just give her a split second advantage, it might just work.

Holding the gun between both hands, he cautiously approached the dock that led down to the yachts. He wouldn't get too far before he was seen, particularly sporting an FBI jacket, so he decided to climb on board the first yacht and boat hop along, like he was jumping backyard fences. All the yachts appeared eerily deserted, so much so that he paused to wonder if the area had been evacuated and cordoned off by the agents already. Up ahead, he could even tell the crew, who'd been standing guard earlier, had left their post – maybe because they were involved in preparing the yacht for departure. The wake created by the powerful motor churning over was causing all the yachts in the row to sway from side to side, and the closer he got, the harder it was to keep his balance as he went over the side of one boat and into another.

Finally, he found himself landing on the correct deck but as he approached the cabin door, he slowed down after becoming alarmed by loud shouting, bellowing out from inside. It was Sir Marc's voice…and Peter's. Eric felt himself gasping for air as he forced himself to step closer and take a peek in through the side window before collapsing back down into a crouching position. What he had seen was enough to send his head into a tailspin. Peter had been holding a gun, pointed at Sir Marc and Sir Marc with his back to the door, seemed to have his mom in some kind of headlock with a gun pointed at her head. Lying on the floor in between them, in a pool of blood, was what appeared to be the lifeless body of the crazed Croatian. Eric couldn't be certain it was him…but he could only hope. From where he was with his back pressed against the wall, Eric he could easily make out the orders Peter was shouting…

'Put the gun down! There is no way out of this! The docks are surrounded and the coast guard has been instructed of the situation!'

…followed by Sir Marc's frighteningly evil voice responding with…

'If you don't get off the yacht in the next ten seconds, the death of this young lady will be on your hands, Agent.'

Eric checked his watch, ten seconds! All his mom had were ten, short, measly seconds. Before he could even formulate a plan in his head, he heard Sir Marc counting down…ten…nine…eight…Eric pushed to his feet, and flung open the door…seven…six…he raised his gun, just as Sir Marc spun around to see who'd come through…five…four…and Eric saw the relieved expression in his mom's eyes instantly replaced with sheer horror as she figured the trajectory of the bullet…three…two…Eric heard Peter shout, 'NO!' but it was too late. He'd already pulled the trigger…one…

"Mom!" Eric screamed out as his mom began to fall, but before she hit the ground, his brain ripped him from the depths of his nightmare and he sat up and screamed out for real this time, "Mom!"

In an instant, his world transformed from the bloody carnage of the yacht's lounge cabin to a place that was smaller, darker and even less familiar. He had no idea where he was or how he'd got there but something made him believe it was okay to feel relief. As he forced his brain to adjust and understand what was happening, somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Peter's voice instructing someone to, 'Pull over,' then his dazed vision registered the familiar form climbing in beside him before being wrapped up in arms that were suddenly the most comforting, warmest and most secure place in the whole world.

Such was his feeling of how right it all felt, that he would have easily stayed in that one spot forever, but the pleasure of such a carefree existence wasn't his reality, it was someone else's. He pushed out of the embrace, twisted his body around and addressed Peter with alarm, "Where's Mom?"

"Suush," Peter held up a stop hand in an attempt to quell the boy's anxiety. "You must have been having a bad dream. Everything's fine. You're mom is in the vehicle behind us."

"She is?" Eric wasn't convinced. It had felt far too realistic to be a 'bad dream.' "Is she…" has she been shot…. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, Eric. Your mom is all good." Peter nodded at something over Eric's shoulder and soon after, Eric felt the hum of a boat motor…no, actually…the rumbling of the SUV's engine as it started back up and pulled away from the curb. Peter's focus returned to his young charge as he went about refastening Eric's seatbelt. "We're taking your mom back to DC with us."

Eric searched his brain, attempting to fathom whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, but seeing as how she wasn't lying on the floor of the luxury yacht in a pool of blood… "Where's…where are…the others?"

"Your Mom's business partner, Mister Campbell?"

Eric stared ahead blankly, not following.

"Uh…" Peter tried again. "Sir Marc?"

This time there was recognition in the boy's eyes that instantly evoked an expression of dark disappointment as he recalled the betrayal. "Sir Marc is no partner of Mom's."

Peter noted the remark before responding, "Marc Campbell is in custody, along with the crew of the yacht we boarded."

"They're not back in the car with Mom, are they?" Eric asked anxiously as he looked back over his shoulder as though he were able to answer his own question.

"No, Eric. You need to calm down, buddy." Peter assisted the boy to twist back so he was once again facing forward. "Interpol is handling the scene back at the docks. They'll be taking everyone else into local custody."

Eric appeared to release a long placated breath with that welcome snippet of information and as he leaned back into the seat, Peter hoped that might be the end of it for a little while at least…

"Is that how you found me?"

Then again, this was Eric they were talking about…

"At the docks? I believe you found me."

"No," Eric sat forward once more and angled his body so he was facing the older man. "Interpol. Is that how you tracked us down…after mom collected me from…" although it had been less than a day, Eric had a hard time recalling… "From outside Kwan's?"

"Since your mom snatched you up and absconded with you after El sent you out to get the oregano?" Seems Peter didn't have any trouble recalling at all and by the tone of his response, his emotions on the subject were still quite raw.

"Yeah…after that…" In a rare moment, Eric suddenly felt quite self-conscious and his eye's dropped down to his watch to check the time… "Did Interpol tell you where we were?"

"No," Peter paused and waited for the boy to look back up. "You did."

"Huh?" Eric screwed up his nose. "I did not."

"Yes, you did," Peter reached out and taped the boy's watch with his finger.

Eric considered for a long while, thinking back to how that could have been the case but came up empty. "What? I still don't get it."

Peter allowed a small smug smile. "I put a tracking chip in your watch."

There was no way. If anyone had even attempted to remove his watch from his arm, even while he'd been in the deepest of sleeps, he would have known about it, and most certainly had something to say about it! "No, you didn't."

"Yes," Peter corrected. "I did...Well, not me exactly, but you know last month when you came home from school all distraught saying you'd been sitting in class pressing the buttons when you started to panic about what would happen if the battery in your watch packed it in?"

Eric nodded. It was something he couldn't easily forget. All the while Mister Zamir had been rambling on about algebraic fractions, he'd been having a slow meltdown thinking how any connection with his mother would be lost if the battery on his watch went dead. When he'd finally been able to explain in words the problem to Peter and Elizabeth, Peter had put forth a suggestion that the electronics department at the bureau could install a brand new, longer lasting battery while still being connected to a power source. Eric had been satisfied enough with the proposal to agree.

"But…I was there the whole time while Agent Carter put the battery in." Eric was mystified. "I didn't see him put in anything like a tracking device."

"There was a small chip under the casing of the battery," Peter stated as if it was obvious.

"Couldn't have been any bigger than a miniscule dot," Eric commented more to himself.

"It wasn't, and as a result, the signal wasn't powerful enough to break through a jamming device your mom was carrying around in her handbag."

"Yeah," Eric appeared somewhat impressed. "Mom outsmarted all you guys?"

Peter scoffed. "Only while you and her were in close vicinity to each other. The signal came online just outside of Washington-"

"I was hungry. Mom stopped to get us something to eat and I…" no need to mention that he needed to take a leak, it probably went without saying. "I got out to stretch my legs."

"Yeah, well, it was enough to start tracking the direction you were heading, up until then it had been anyone's guess, and then the signal went dead again until Charleston."

"Mom sent me to the store to get some supplies," Eric explained as he leaned his head against the backrest while recalling how he'd been feeling. Even though it had only been this morning, it felt like a lifetime ago. "I…passed a pay phone…"

"And called the house," Peter finished for him.

"Did you have a tracer on your home phone?"

Peter shook his head. "No, Elizabeth just knew it was you. She rang me immediately after but I was already on my way with the team."

"How did you know where to come to?"

"Interpol already had Lorekovic under their radar, and when his yacht entered our waters it sent up a red flag. Apparently, not only was he on their list as a victim of an international art theft but he had been running drugs into the country under the guise of his company's luxury charted boat tours. When we notified the LEO's to be on the lookout for Alexandra Hunter, Interpol's ears perked up at the mention of one of their most wanted and stepped forward with Intel that they also were tracking Silvano Lorekovic in the area. After that, it was just a matter of pinpointing the location of where we assumed there was going to be an exchange. We were in the middle of co-ordinating our teams when you came barrelling around the corner."

Eric turned his head and looked out the window while wondering for how long this particular nightmare would plague his sleep. "You know, it's not going to matter what my mom says, they're going to let that lunatic go free and then he's going to come after both of us."

"Eric…" Peter pulled the boy in close against his chest and held him tight before continuing. "No, he's not."

"I know you mean well, Peter," Eric continued to stare out the window like it held a vision of his future, "but you don't know this guy. He can buy his way out of anything and he even managed to turn Sir Marc against us. If you're not careful, he'll come after you too."

"No, he won't," Peter assured in gentle whisper. "Eric…Lorekovic is dead."

Eric's eyes darted around to question the agent's sincerity. "You sure?"

Peter cleared his throat. "Yes…I am."

"Did you…" dare he ask, "did you…shoot him?"

Peter nodded. "He wouldn't lower his weapon as directed and when he turned it on one of my team, I fired."

Eric returned his gaze to the window and slunk down even further in his seat. There were so many more follow up questions he had swirling around in head such as what was his mom doing while all this was happening, was Sir Marc using her as a shield, did it all happen just like in his 'bad dream,' why were they heading back to NYC without the jades and what was going to happen to everyone once they got there…but it was all he could do to stop himself from caving into the blubbering mess that was beginning to fester under the surface so he maintained his silence and continued to stare out into dark, bleak night and watch the street lamps pass by…one…two…three…four…

No doubt Peter sensed that his little brain had finally overloaded and taken in all that it could because he called over into the front seat and asked the driver if he could find a game on the radio. As the sounds of football and an announcer's voice drowned out the silence, Eric leaned back into Peter's arms and once more found that same comfortingly warm and secure place he'd encountered earlier. It may not have been his reality, but it wouldn't matter too much if he borrowed it for just a little while longer.