Burke family cabin, Catskills. Thursday morning. March 4, 2004.

Peter took a long walk through the woods, during which he considered everything Neal had shared last night about his childhood trauma. He'd known it would be bad. You didn't end up with repressed memories and flashbacks unless things were bad. As Neal was jumping between present day and sixteen years ago, he'd asked why Peter hadn't stopped Vance. It was hard, as a law enforcement officer, to admit he was helpless to do anything. The violence had occurred long ago and the perpetrator was dead.

It was also hard to admit that he didn't know what to say to Neal. Should he bring it up, or avoid the subject? It didn't help that on his way back to the cabin he'd heard Noelle crying. If she was that shaken, what hope did he have?

Pausing on the front porch to brush the snow off his boots, Peter looked in the cabin windows to see the cousins were in the kitchen. They were eating cinnamon rolls, frosted cereal, and chocolate milk. They were like kids on a Saturday morning, heading into a serious sugar rush. For a moment he was surprised Henry was letting Neal do this, and almost barged in to tell them to eat something healthy. But as he studied Neal's expression, he changed his mind. The kid deserved a break, a chance to take time for some innocent fun.

A few minutes later, Peter opened the door. "Come on, you guys." He held a snow shovel in each hand. "There's work to do. We got a couple inches of snow last night, on top of what was already here."

They complained as he told them to shovel in front of a storage shed. He told them they had to move enough snow that the double doors could swing open. But they worked together well and made quick progress, even with Satchmo getting in their way. Peter kept his expression stern whenever they looked in his direction. He'd learned this routine from his oldest brother Joe, who had a couple of daughters in college now. The girls had complained bitterly the first time Joe put them through this, but eventually it had become a favorite part of winter stays in the cabin.

"Okay," said Neal, standing up straight. "The path's clear. Can we go back inside now?"

"Not so fast," Peter said. He tossed a set of keys to Neal. "Show me the doors will open."

The cousins had to put their backs into it, because the old door frame had warped over the years, but finally the doors swung open. Henry was the first to make sense of what they were seeing in the shed. "Wow."

"Thanks for the help," said Peter. "That's all I needed. You can go back to the cabin now." He walked inside and picked up a sled.

"Not a chance." Henry laughed and grabbed another sled. "C'mon, Neal. You're going to love this."

Peter gave directions to the best sledding hill. Seeing they were about to run ahead he warned, "Don't do anything stupid."

"What does that mean?" Henry asked.

Neal shrugged. "He always says that."

"Well now I want to do something stupid," Henry grumbled. "Let me know if you have any ideas." With that, the cousins flashed matching grins in Peter's direction and ran ahead. The Labrador bounded behind them.

Peter joined them for a few runs down the hill, pleased to hear Neal laughing. Back at the top of the hill, he looked down to see Henry had initiated a snowball fight, and Neal was ducking for cover to make his own snowballs.

"He's happy," said Noelle.

Peter looked over to see Noelle and El walking in his direction.

"It's surprising sometimes," Noelle continued, "what people can endure. After what we heard last night it's hard to imagine Neal laughing, but he needs this. I'm glad you thought of it."

"How did you know it was my idea?"

El took his arm. "When we saw the area in front of the shed had been shoveled, I remembered Joe's old trick. He played it on me the first time I stayed here." She smiled up at Peter. "And I remember you were shoveling with me and complaining the whole time about how bossy he was."

He smiled back, basking in those memories.

El leaned against him, watching the snowball fight. "How on earth do they have so much energy?"

"Wait till you go back inside and see what they had for breakfast." Peter glanced sidelong at Noelle, glad she wasn't crying anymore. "Noelle, do you mind if I ask a few questions?"

"That's fine. What do you want to know?"

"This whole father figure thing is new to me, and I... I wonder how parents can see their kids hurt and keep it together. What am I supposed to do for Neal, when what happened to him was so long ago? And am I supposed to let him see how concerned and worried I am, or should I hide that and be strong and in control so he knows he can lean on me?"

"There's a question for the ages. It's important to be honest. Don't hide your feelings, but don't exaggerate them either, or pretend to feel something you don't simply because you think it's how you should feel."

###

"I surrender." Neal laughed as Henry let him sit up again. The sneak attack from behind had been effective. He brushed snow off his coat and leaned against a tree. Satchmo seemed determined to lick his face, but finally subsided to sit beside him. "I'd like to paint this."

"We brought along some of your supplies," Henry said, "but how do you paint in this weather? Wouldn't your fingers freeze?"

"It helps to have a good memory. Anyway, it isn't the scenery I want to capture. It's the feeling." He looked at Henry's expression and grinned. "Yeah, I know abstracts aren't your thing."

"Hmm." Henry seemed miles away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I've been distracted recently, but I can tell you're worried about something. What is it?"

Henry flopped down on the snow, hands behind his head, ankles crossed, and looked up at the sky. He was the picture of relaxation, but it was an act. He remained silent for a while, and finally said, "I think Robert's trying to get me fired."

Neal snorted. "Yeah, like Graham's going to let that happen. Your grandfather's got your back."

"I don't want him fighting my battles. If I'm supposed to take over Win-Win, I need to handle this."

"You've decided you want to stay with them?"

"Maybe. Whether I stay or not, I can't let Robert take over. I've got a really bad feeling about what he has planned."

Neal studied Henry a moment and said, "That's not all that's bothering you."

Henry met Neal's eyes. "You left some stuff out last night. You didn't mention the Hospital Game. You told me you started playing it when you were nine."

Neal thought back, and pieced together more memories. "Right. It was when I went back to get the cast removed. They told me they had a surprise for me. Turned out my mom got a day pass from the rehab center and was there at the hospital to see me. It was okay at first. I mean, she was sober and supportive and everything. By then I'd suppressed most of the memories and I was even happy to see her. But the longer she was there, the more I started to feel panicked. Eventually I slipped away to hide. Ellen found me and made a joke out of it, saying I loved playing hide-and-seek. But I could tell from Mom's expression that she knew I was running away from her."

"And the next time you played it was in Chicago, when a doctor at the hospital there reminded you of your mom."

"I turned it into a game, after that. Instead of running away from Mom, I was just hiding from you. It went from fear to fun."

"But we're not in a hospital this time."

"Huh?"

"You think I can't tell you're considering running?"

Neal wanted to deny it, but Henry was right. "I'm a good con artist. Better than you."

"Barely."

"I can disappear into a role and fool anyone."

Henry thought that one over a moment. "Even yourself. You think you can move into an identity that wasn't abused as a child and just forget what happened to you?"

"Could be worth a shot."

"No, it isn't," said Peter.

Henry sat up. Neal stopped leaning against the tree and straightened his posture before insisting, "Peter, you don't understand."

Peter sat on one of the sleds. Satchmo trotted over to have his ears scratched. "I think I understand well enough. Neal, you have to promise me that if you start to think things are so bad you have to run, you'll talk to me first. Or to Henry, if you really think I won't get it. But you have to give one of us a chance to help."

Neal leaned back again. "That sounds great out here, in the middle of nowhere. You'll feel different when we're back in Manhattan. Now that you know..."

"Know what?" Peter prompted.

"Everything. I'm damaged, Peter. I'm seriously messed up. When you think it through, you aren't going to want me working at the FBI. As long as I have to leave, I might as well make a fresh start. I could -"

"Whoa," said Peter. "No one said anything about you leaving the Bureau. The whole point of sending you into therapy was that you could stay. It's a little early to give up, don't you think?"

"But -"

"It's a simple yes-no question, Neal. I'm asking you to commit to continuing therapy instead of running away. Are you going to give up?"

Neal stared at him a moment before saying, "No."

"You're really not used to having someone lay down the law." Peter studied Neal and then said, "After what you went through as a kid, your mom and Ellen let you get away with anything, didn't they?"

Neal considered that. He had been given a lot of leeway, compared to his friends. "Maybe."

Peter stood up. "Almost time for lunch. Let's put these sleds away."