"You may not have heard because you've been locked up for so long, but there's this new thing where road carriages now have motors and are powered by fuel so make sure you check carefully both ways before crossing the street or you may very well get run over and before I know it, I'll be mopping up your blood and guts from all over the place."

Neal slowed down and paused at the edge of the kerb. He made a point of carefully looking both ways, even though the streets were mostly deserted with just the occasional car driving by. After a prolonged scan of both directions, he turned to his son, "All clear?"

Eric gave him a look of indifference so Neal took that as a green light to continue and began walking once more. "So what you're saying is I don't have to worry about treading in horse manure as much as I did if they're using gasoline now? It's good to know although I imagine there's still the occasional mound of poo around that I should watch out for."

Disappointed that he didn't get anywhere close to the reaction that he was after, Eric huffed and stopped at the bottom of the next stoop they came to. "Look, I get it. You haven't been able to walk around freely for a very long time so this is an exhilarating novelty for you. I on the other hand get to walk every day and let's not count the weekends when Elizabeth forces me to go to the park with her and Pip-Squeak, so you can understand why I'm happy to just take up a seat here and wait for you to get it all out of your system. I promise I won't go anywhere. I'll be waiting right here when you get back. Take as long as you want."

Neal stepped back and looked down at the spot where the kid was preparing to sit. "I'll wait with you. Just being outside is a novelty enough. We don't have to walk anywhere."

"Urrrh! Man!" Eric groaned up at the night sky. "What was I thinking when I agreed to this?"

"You were thinking-"

"It was rhetorical!" Eric groaned some more before suggesting, "Listen, can we make a deal? Hows about I'll agree to walking with you," he waved his arm back and forth indicating the length of the street, "and you agree not to talk?"

Neal nodded in acceptance, and smiled happily as the kid pushed up off the stoop and continued along the path. The pair travelled in silence for a while as Eric mulled over how, if he went back a week, he never would have envisioned he'd be strolling along a Brooklyn street, on a bitterly cold night no less…with his father! It made him angry all over just thinking about it. By now, he was supposed to be living it up, sitting on some picture-perfect Mediterranean beach, his bare feet tickled each time a wave splashed his toes with crystal clear water, eating a cannoli and not caring that the cream was spilling out the end and onto his shorts. The water would most likely be too chilly to swim in, but what did it matter. Just being there, with his mom, not a care in the world, and all their troubles behind them, was enough. But now, as he glanced up at his silent companion, he had to accept that it was just the wish of a stupid naive kid that was never going to see the light of day.

Neal caught the glance, "You ready to start talking?"

"No!" Eric spat out. "I was just…nevermind."

Neal continued on regardless, "Are you familiar with this street?"

Eric stopped walking and looked around, despite himself. They'd travelled in the opposite direction to the Seven Eleven, which Eric guessed was deliberate, had turned at Stanley Avenue and had begun heading west, towards his school.

"You know where we are?"

"Uh yeah, duh…" you imbecilic…"Instead of continuing down to the end of this road, you take the second left and about halfway along is my friend Carl's house. I've walked this same path heaps…when I'm allowed."

"Well, you're 'allowed' tonight. You want to call in and say hello."

"Yeah sure. Let's knock on his door and say, 'Hey Ms Gratony, sorry to bother you but my actual father, not the pretend one I've had for the past six months, has just been let out of prison and we're out wandering the neighbourhood. I thought I'd show him your house.'"

"You don't think it's a good idea."

"I think it would get me banned from ever seeing Carl again."

"That would be unfortunate."

"Ya think?"

"Anyway…" Neal tapped on the gate to the small brownstone they'd stopped beside. "This is what I wanted to show you."

"You wanted to show me something? I doubt it's even 20 degrees out! We couldn't have just taken Peter's car or you know, left the surprise till maybe next year, when it was like, summer again?"

"I don't have my licence back yet," Neal stated simply and pushed open the gate, signally for the youngster to follow. "You coming?"

"Seriously? You're out of prison one day and you're already dragging me into one of your B&Es?"

Neal grinned but didn't respond. Instead he casually ambled up the front steps onto the porch, took out a set of keys and let himself in, leaving the kid standing in a pool of indecision at the front gate.

Eric glanced up and down the street while his brain soaked in this latest revelation. This was the place Neal had rented? Surely not! Eric glanced back at the house and admitted it was nothing like he'd envisioned. The exterior didn't look like it was going to be condemned at the earliest possible convenience, in fact it appeared to be not too shabby at all. The inside had to be falling apart, otherwise there was no way in hell, Neal would be able to afford it. Without being able to stop himself, he dragged his feet in for a just a quick look.

Tossing his jacket just inside the foyer he sauntered through the second door and before he'd had a chance to lay his eyes on anything he declared, "What a dump!"

"You think so?" Neal's gaze took in the living area in which they were standing but didn't seem at all perturbed by the comment. "I know it needs some personal touches but they can be my weekend projects. I couldn't be happier with it."

Eric shrugged, "Whatever," as he shut the door behind him and moseyed on over towards the kitchen. There wasn't a lot by the way of furniture – mostly just two small couches in the living area and a small dining table but Eric was surprised Neal even had that. "You got let out of prison and your first stop was the Home Depot?" he challenged.

"No, I haven't had a chance to get there yet. Some of the stuff was already here. The rest Mozzie, Elizabeth and even June organised for me."

"Good thing these friends of yours didn't move on, seeing as how you were unavailable for so long," Eric muttered before wrapping his knuckles on the fridge door. "They even got you a fridge?"

"June had that sent over from my apartment. You want a drink?"

Eric's eyebrows rose. Not only was there a fridge, but it had stuff in it? This night truly was full of surprises. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, sure," Neal came around and pulled open the fridge door so the boy could look in. "Help yourself."

"Now there's two words I haven't heard in six months," Eric scoffed as he reached in and pulled out a soda, surprised to see the fridge fairly well stocked with juice, cold cuts, eggs and even…chocolate milk. "You know if Elizabeth finds out that you let me have soda this late at night, you're going to cop an earful."

"It's okay. She'd understand that it's a special occasion."

Eric shrugged with indifference once again as he cracked his can open and took in the room with a little more interest this time. It really wasn't what he had expected. In fact, he even thought the place appeared to be in better condition than Peter and Elizabeth's, if that were even possible. "There's no way you can afford this," Eric declared as he glared at his father awaiting some kind of explanation.

Neal also shrugged as he retrieved his own can of soda. "It's affordable with what I'll be getting from the museum. I'll manage."

"It'll be affordable if you don't plan on eating or need the electricity to be turned on."

"It's okay, I've got it covered. Peter said I would still be able to work cases for the bureau to get some extra cash and Elizabeth suggested that maybe I should start selling some of my original paintings."

"Still," Eric tried to do the sums, but something wasn't adding up.

Neal saw the clogs ticking in his son's head, so he explained further, "Mozzie sorted it all out and arranged it for me. He knew someone who knew someone who offered me this at a really great rate."

"Your bestie," Eric stated with barely concealed resentment. "So what do you have to do for him in return?"

Neal shook his head and simply stated, "Nothing," before heading down the hall. "You want to take a look."

"Why the hell not," Eric grumbled as he followed his father. Down the hall were two larger than average bedrooms and a rather roomy modern bathroom.

Eric peered into the first room and noted the absence everything other than a double bed in the middle of the room. "I see you're going for the 'minimalistic' look. Can't say it would have been my first choice."

"Most of my things are still at June's. The others have been helping to pack it up. It'll take a little while to bring it over, but I'm not in any hurry."

Without bothering with a response, Eric moved across to the second bedroom and scanned it for imperfections, but came up empty. The walls were free from marks of any description, the carpet was spotless and there didn't even appear to be any small patches where some disgruntled kid had pulled out the pile. "Man, the people who lived here before must have had a serious case of OCD. This place looks as though it hasn't even been lived in."

"Mozzie didn't say…but I know they enjoyed playing pool."

"What makes you say that?"

"The fact that there's a pool table down in the basement."

Eric spun and faced his father, "No shit?"

"Nope. You want to take a look?" Neal moved back up the hall and indicated the small staircase just off to the side of the dining area.

"Yeah," Eric muttered as he followed. "If you want." He was about to step down, when he paused and pointed to the underside of the staircase that ran over their heads. "Uh, who lives in the apartment up there? Some crazy old man who chain smokes and walks around at three in the morning?"

Neal turned around and looked back up at the stairs while giving a small chuckle. "That's pretty specific. You had it happen to you in one of the places you lived?"

"If I had, I wouldn't have cared," Eric shrugged it off as nothing and began moving down the stairs once more. "Better a chain smoking old man than some lunatic cat lady."

Neal chuckled some more and continued on down, while calling over his shoulder, "The apartment upstairs is vacant. No one lives there. I'm renting out the whole house."

Eric rolled his eyes and was about to make another comment about affordability when he spotted the pool table. Without being able to help himself, he went over in awe and ran his fingers along the beautiful polished mahogany rails, fiddled with the leather tasselled pockets and finally touched the rich burgundy felt cloth adorning the nine foot masterpiece. It was indeed, the grandest pool table he'd ever laid eyes.

"You want to have a game?" Neal offered.

"Ah, nah," Eric immediately pulled his hands away like he was a little kid that was just caught touching a painting in an art gallery. He wouldn't have minded having a go, but he couldn't have Neal thinking that he was in anyway impressed… which he wasn't. "So what else is down here?" he rested his soda on the wood rails and redirected by moving beyond the pool table into the cosy living area that had a bar at one end. To his amazement he noted another small fridge, nestled in behind the bar and he couldn't help thinking how great it would be if it were stocked full of slurpees. "Man, you love your fridges. Don't have shoes, socks or underwear but you've got plenty of fridges so you'll be right."

"June sent over my shoes and socks but-"

"No, stop!" Eric screwed up his nose as he automatically imagined the guy not wearing anything under his khakis. "Ewe…man, let's not even go there."

"Okay," Neal ignored the theatrics and pointed further along, "down there is the laundry and over here is," he reached across to the door beside him and pushed it open to reveal, "a second bathroom."

Not bad, Eric assessed from the short glance that he permitted himself but didn't bother voicing his opinion out loud.

"And," Neal stepped back towards a door they'd already passed, "is another spare room."

Because he had nothing else better to do, Eric stepped around his father and into the room. Wow! "I love what you've done with the place," Eric commented sarcastically before allowing himself a small chuckle. "This is the most fantastic, big empty room I've ever seen."

Neal smiled too. "It certainly has a lot of potential, doesn't it."

"Hmmm," Eric shrugged. The room was massive, so of course it had potential. What was the point in stating the obvious? He sauntered back out and across to the pool table while he tried to make sense of everything. Too many questions assaulted his brain – how could Neal be in prison one day, and the next in a house like this? What would Carl say if he saw the pool table and a bar fridge full of slurpees? What was Peter going to do to him when he went back tonight? What was his mom doing right now? But the one thought that featured most prominently was that this was a fricken big house for just one man! Eric absently plucked a ball out of the corner pocket and pushed it across the table. "You know I'll be leaving soon, right?" he stated matter-of-factly as the ball rebounded and came back again.

Neal walked around and took up a position at the opposite end of the table. "Well, I wasn't sure. I thought you were planning on checking out but then back in Scott-Allen's room you told me that you weren't going anywhere. Now you say that you are leaving?"

"Yep. Soon as I get everything sorted." He flung the ball back across the table but this time Neal caught it before it could rebound.

"Well, you've got to do what you've got to do," he stated simply before pushing the ball back.

Eric easily caught it before remarking with increasing irritation, "So what you're saying is you don't want me to stay here? Because you know," he waved his arm to take in the whole basement, "even a blockhead," like my mother, "can work out that you went and got a place like this, right up the street from my school, in the hopes that I'd move in with you. And now you've already changed your mind? How typical." He flung the ball back with such force it almost bounced off the table.

Neal skilfully caught the ball while quietly assuring, "I haven't changed my mind about anything Eric, but you are correct about the house. I moved in here thinking…hoping that there might come a time when you'd like to give it a go, living here with me."

"Never gonna happen," Eric dismissed as he plucked another ball out of the pocket and sent it across the table. "I've got better offers…like staying with Manny and Luisana."

"Well, you know where to find me if that doesn't work out for you, or even if you simply change your mind."

"Urrgh!" Eric moaned, "Everything I say, you're like, 'yes, certainly, whatever you think is best.' What's fricken wrong with you, Man!"

"I-"

"It was rhetorical, AGAIN!" Eric shoved the ball back into the pocket and indicated the stairs. "Can we just go. I've got to get back to the Burkes so Peter can beat the shit out of me."

"Your sentence has been commuted."

Eric spun back, "Say what?"

"I asked Peter to do me a favour and show some leniency so you're off the hook for," Neal shrugged, "what sounded like an awful lot of transgressions for a single day."

"Why?"

"Why what?'

"Why do you even give a damn?"

"Because unlike you, I know why you are doing what you're doing."

"Oh for crying out loud, here we go again with the mind reading show. You know why I do what I do? What a load of crock! What would you know about anything, least of all anything about me!"

Neal came around the table a little to narrow the space between them, "Because, I've already been through what you're going through."

Eric moved also so the distance remained the same. "So you said, 'You've lived this story and you know the ending.' Right?"

Neal nodded.

"Well, you gonna stand there and tell me next that you had both parents in prison and were stuck living with a family that was straight out of a Sears Catalogue?"

"No, but I did spend the first half of my childhood thinking my father was dead, and then the second half wishing he was. Does that sound in anyway familiar to you?"

"Certainly the second part," Eric admitted easily. "But I doubt you ever had to go through a security checkpoint just to get a hug from your mother."

"It wouldn't have mattered what I went through." Neal picked a ball out of the pocket and twirled it in his fingers while recalling, "My mother checked out on me, long before she ever moved out."

"Your point being?"

"My point being that there is nothing to be gained from me disagreeing, challenging or even being upset with your repeatedly derogatory remarks because, well, that was me twenty years ago. Twenty years ago I was disillusioned, fed up, on my own and generally angry with the world. So much so that I know if an adult had told me not to walk too close to the edge of a sheer cliff face, that's exactly what I would have done because I'd happily have fallen off and broken every bone in my body rather than have somebody else tell me what was best for me…Now does that also sound like it has a familiar ring to it?"

Eric shook his head, "Nup. Not in the slightest."

Neal smiled knowingly, "No, of course it wouldn't."

"See!" Eric happily pointed out, "I'm nothing like you!"

"Au contraire," Neal was also happy to point out, "that's exactly like me. Do you think when I was your age, I recognised that I was disillusioned or walked around with a massive chip on my shoulder?" He paused to give the boy a chance to respond, which he didn't. "No? I had no idea. I didn't work that part out for another dozen years or more. Back then, my take on life was much less complex. In my eyes, everyone was out to get me, anyone taller than five and a half feet was the enemy, and even the Ellens of this world had an ulterior motive. And like you, I didn't even begin to understand why I kept getting into trouble, I just aimlessly dug deeper and deeper holes for myself."

"I know why I would want to dig a deep hole," Eric huffed, "to get away from you bunch of muttonheads."

"Eric," Neal softened his voice and came around the table some more till they were almost within touching distance, "Something that I didn't know until a long time after I had met Peter and Elizabeth was that I instinctually pushed people away when they got too close, because, well, it was a whole lot less painful than having my heart ripped to pieces if they let me down. It took a long time for me to learn that while it wasn't always the case, sometimes the people who said they loved me actually meant it and really did have my best interest at heart." Neal reached out and began to lay a hand on his son's shoulder but the boy slapped it away angrily.

"So what? You think because you profess to know what I'm going through that makes everything better?"

"No. I know that it doesn't."

"Here we go again," Eric snapped and pointed to the stairs that his father was now effectively blocking. "I'm really growing tired of this tedious conversation. Can we just go already?"

"In a minute."

"Fine," Eric pressed a button on his watch before declaring, "You've got sixty seconds."

Neal nodded. "Sixty seconds was a long time when I was in prison."

"Fifty-five, fifty-four. You better get to wherever the frick you are going with this, fast."

"Okay…Look, I had a lot of time to think while I was sitting in prison for six months. For six months I tried to work out how I could fix it for you, make everything better, take away your pain from what you went through in Dubrovnik, the trouble with your mom, having a father you never knew forced upon you…but after many nights, lying awake wondering how I could repair it so my eleven year old son didn't have to go through what my eleven year old self did, I realised that there was nothing I could change."

"Man," Eric groaned. "You couldn't have like maybe told Peter that five months ago after that first Saturday morning visit and spared me all the grief?"

"Sadly my visionary powers weren't as strong back then as they are now."

Eric wasn't the slightest bit impressed. "Time's a wasting."

Neal nodded once more, "Eric, what's clear to me now is that I can no more fix your past than I could go back and change mine. All I can do for you, all that I can contribute to your story is…an alternate ending."

"I already like the one it has already. Besides, no one ever ends up liking the director's cut," Eric declared, even though most of the time he actually did.

"I always liked the director's cut," Neal muttered mostly to himself before continuing. "Anyway, as it stands, your mom and-"

"Mom has nothin to do with this!"

"Okaaay…some of the main players in you life have let you down big time, and so now you are planning on ditching this chapter of your life and starting a fresh one, alone."

"Let me guess," Eric sneered, "because that's what you did?"

"Yep."

"This isn't my story," Eric plucked another ball out of the pocket and sent it flying across the table, "its just a pathetic re-run of yours, and it's boring the shit out of me." A beep alert went off on his watch. "Mercifully, I am saved. Time's up."

"Okay, but before we go," Neal held up his hand as the boy began to edge past, "if it is my story, let me ask you this… when I was eleven, what do you think was the one thing that I wanted the most?"

Eric angled his watch so Neal could see it, "You're out of time, my friend."

"Just humour me a moment longer…after all I did have your sentence commuted."

"And I," Eric started but quickly stopped himself while recalling Peter's words about the first time he had a disagreement with his father, "Fine…what was the question again?"

"What do you think-"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember… What did you want the most?" Eric looked his father up and down like he was actually considering, "Dunno…probably an endless supply of cream filled donuts?"

"Yeah cause when you're eleven and have just picked a wallet with a couple of hundred dollar bills, the first thing you run to purchase is a 50c donut."

"Some would," Eric defended. "You look like the kind of guy who could use a bit of sugar and fat in your diet."

"Well, yes," Neal bobbed his head in agreement before stating with more seriousness, "beside the donut…I would have asked for a home. And not just one of those temporary fair weather places with a surrogate charged with being responsible for me but a real home. A home that was here yesterday when I was feeling like I had the world on my shoulders, would be here today when I had a fight with my best friend and would still be here tomorrow when I needed advice about a girl that I kinda liked." Neal nudged closer to his son but this time refrained from reaching out. "And Eric, even more badly than all of that, what I longed for the most when I was eleven was to share this home with someone who truly believed that I was the most important thing in the whole world." Neal soften his voice to barely above a whisper, "Son…you are more important to me than anything, and I am prepared to do whatever I can to make sure that I am here for you, today, tomorrow, and the next day and every day after that…Do you think maybe, that's how you would like to see your story unfold?"

"I…" Eric wanted to contradict all of it, wanted to scream in the man's face, 'No!' wanted to shout out that it was the last thing in the world he wanted to see 'unfold' but instead, he merely took a step back and indicated the door off to the side, "I need to use the bathroom," before making a hasty departure from the room.

Even though his priority had been to escape whatever the hell was going down out in the pool room, Eric realised once he got into the bathroom and closed the door behind him that he did indeed need to relieve himself, which he did. As he was washing his hands he splashed water on his face several times before looking up at himself in the mirror. What a mess! He barely recognised the uncertain, dithering jellyfish that stared back. He'd never felt so unsure of anything as badly as this in his whole life. He'd always been a guy who knew what he wanted and half of his brain was screaming at him for being so insanely incompetent to even consider what had just been offered and that he should simply shoot through tonight and show them all that he wasn't the dumb ass kid they all thought he was.

But the other half was lured by the offer. It appeared to be a solution that wasn't without merit and that half of his brain was ticking off valid reasons why considering the proposal wasn't so idiotic after all. He had to admit, living in this house wouldn't be too hard to take. He could have the huge basement bedroom, just one door along, wouldn't have to share it with a baby and he'd even have his own bathroom. In fact, he could see himself occupying the entire basement and the first thing he'd do would be to stock up the fridge with slushies and iced donuts and invite Carl around.

Carl would be happy if he stayed, someone to have laughs with in the lunch room, even if school did suck most of the time. He could still spend time with Scottie because he felt a little bad that he hadn't taught him enough tricks on how to give Elizabeth a run for her money, and an added bonus of living with Neal would be that he wouldn't have to worry about getting his ass wacked every time he stepped out his box. And if he stuck around, maybe he'd get to find out what Rosie Adintay was on about with her note, because the whole thing puzzled him to no end. Plus when his mom was finally released, he would probably feel like he could stomach visiting her eventually without yelling at her for being a bungling dingbat. Eric considered momentarily that maybe his mom could even move into the empty apartment upstairs, but…he leaned down and splashed more water on his face… that was probably Neal's master plan was all along – one big happy family? Well, he wasn't going to be sucked into anyone's plan like some gullible five year old. He dried his face, and strode back out feeling much more sure of himself. "Okay, it's been a real swell night, Neal," he declared with obvious sarcasm. "We should do it again sometime, but I've really got to get back to the Burke's. It's way past my bedtime."

Neal contemplated his son for the longest moment before forcing a small smile, "Yeah, you're right. It is getting late." He indicated the half empty can resting on the far end of the pool table. "Do you want to bring your soda?"

Eric glanced behind him before moving back around to collect it, then without conscious thought, he ran his fingers for one last time along the smooth polished mahogany wood where his can had been sitting, hoping that he hadn't left a mark. It sure was a fine piece of art and he had to admit, he was a little disappointed that he wouldn't ever have an opportunity to play a game on it.

"Eric," Neal cleared his throat at the other end of the table to get his son's attention. "You don't strike me as a guy that would easily pass up on a tempting wager, so how about this? I'll verse you in a game of pool, snooker, whatever your game may be, and if I win, you'll trial moving in here for a little while, and if you win, I'll contribute to your travel expenses to wherever it is you are heading, with a little spending money."

It was Eric's turn to contemplate his father for the longest time. Eventually he asked, "Seriously?"

"Yes. Of course and the way I see it, you haven't really got anything to lose. If I win, you give it a go, staying here with-"

"For how long? How long would I be forced to stay here for?"

"No one would be forcing you, Eric. There'd be no set time. We'd simply take one day at a time. I can't say it would be easy all the time, you're no doubt going to get frustrated with me, and at times, I'll have a problem with some of the stuff you do, but we have to start somewhere, and all I'll ask of you is to try and keep an open mind and give things a chance to sort themselves out."

Eric considered as he turned his back on his father and took in the bar area. Eventually he spun back, "How much?"

"Excuse me?" Neal shrugged.

"How much would you contribute to my travels should I beat you in whichever game I choose?"

"Ah…" Neal obviously hadn't thought that far ahead. "Uh…let's see. I don't have a lot. Maybe I could scrape together about a hundred and fifty dollars?"

It wasn't much, but it would do in a pinch to get him on his way. Eric plucked one of the balls out of the pocket and twirled it in his fingers, just like his father had earlier. "Okay…I'll accept your challenge, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That if I lose, and move in here, I still get to keep the hundred and fifty bucks."

Neal deliberated on the counter offer for a moment before reaching behind him and collecting a pool stick off the wall, "Okay, you're on. Rack em up."