Fic: "Best Laid Plans" 1/2 (White Collar)

[citrinesunset]

Title: Best Laid Plans
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Sara, Sara/OMC
Rating: Teen/PG-13
Word count: ~22k total. 11170 in this part.
Summary: When Sara found out she was pregnant with Neal's child, their conflicting desires for the future closed the door on their relationship. Now, almost five years later, Neal is trying to establish himself as a legitimate businessman and a dedicated but long-distance father. When Sara moves back to New York, he sees an opportunity for a closer relationship with his son. But in order to do that, he needs to confront long-buried resentments between him and Sara.

Notes: Written for whitecollar-bb. Many thanks to slytheringurrl for making two great banners for this fic! I encourage you to check out her post here.




July 15, 2017

Dear Sara:

When you moved to New York with our son, David Ellis, in May, we had a verbal agreement that I would get to see David on a regular basis.

Since your move, I have only seen David three times. The last time I saw him was on June 12, and you told me that the visit could only last a half hour because David had a dentist appointment.

Subsequent efforts to establish contact have been rebuffed. You have continually offered excuses for why visiting with David would be inconvenient. You have also refused to discuss my interest in longer and more frequent visitation periods. Since July 1, you have been ignoring many of my phone calls.

Since David's birth, you have made it clear that you would prefer to avoid a court-ordered custody or visitation agreement, an arrangement that I have agreed with. However, if we cannot come to a mutually-satisfactory agreement, and I do not see David again by August 1, I will be in contact with my attorney, and I will petition the court for visitation.

Sincerely,
Neal Caffrey

* * *

Neal's new apartment didn't have half the view he'd had at June's, but it wasn't bad for the money.

If he'd been willing to dip further into his stash, he could have afforded something bigger. But he was supposed to be a taxpayer now, and he didn't feel like getting audited. Besides, there was the future to think about.

And he'd liquidated enough pieces since his release. Any more, and he'd be risking too much. But after four years of prison, and four more where he needed an explanation for every luxury he had, no one could blame him for wanting nice furniture and a few new suits.

The new place had two bedrooms. He could also have found a nicer place if he'd been willing to settle for just one, but that would defeat the whole point.

He was unpacking a box of books when his phone rang. Looking at the display, he saw it was Sara.

"Neal," she said the moment he answered, "what the hell are you doing?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know damn well what I mean."

Neal walked over to the window and gazed out at the skyscrapers that towered over his apartment.

"You got my letter," he said. He'd been expecting this, but he was a little surprised to hear from her so soon. He'd only sent the letter a couple days ago.

"You threatened to take me to court. You really think that's going to help us come to an agreement?"

"I think," he said, "that you've been screening my calls and denying me access to my son for the past month."

He heard the sound of traffic in the background. She was calling him on the go, which meant the call couldn't have waited. She'd probably just received the letter.

"You know what?" she said. "You have no idea what I have on my plate right now. Not everything is about you and what you want."

"All right, fine. Then help me understand. Let's meet. I think I'm entitled to that."

For a moment, Sara was quiet, and the only way Neal knew they were still connected was from the sound of cars and people on the other end.

At last, she said, "Okay. Just don't expect me to be in a good mood after getting that letter."

"I just want to talk."

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "Lunch tomorrow? We could meet at Pierre's at one, but I have to get right back to work."

"That's perfect," he said. He had an appointment at eleven, but he'd make it work.

Once they hung up, he went back to unpacking, but his movements were robotic. This was progress-Sara was willing to talk to him. No more leaving voicemails and waiting in vain for a response.

He'd only gotten through one box (with four more that were still taped up) when he heard a key in the door.

Mozzie came in with some grocery bags in hand.

"I come bearing food," he said.

"That's great, thanks. I could use a meal here that isn't take-out."

He was anxious to try cooking in his new kitchen. This one had newer fixtures and appliances than what he'd had, and he wanted to try out the glass-top range. Maybe he could get Sara to bring David over for dinner.

Mozzie carried the bags over to the kitchen and set them on the counter. He pulled out a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. "To formally celebrate the new apartment," he said.

"Sounds good. Let me just fold up this box."

Save for the bedrooms and the bathroom, the apartment had an open floor plan. The kitchen was separated from the dining room and living room area by an island.

"Hey," Mozzie asked, "are you going to have a housewarming party?"

"Why? Waiting for an invite?"

"Depending on who else is on the guest list, I might have to send my regrets. You know my stance on partying with government minions."

"No regrets needed. There's not going to be a party. I'm not exactly in the mood right now."

"Oh, let me guess: Sara?"

Neal murmured a confirmation and started to rummage through one of the boxes on the dining room table, looking for his corkscrew.

"You know," Mozzie said, "if you're really worried, I could follow her around a little. Just to make sure David is okay."

Neal found the corkscrew and handed it to Mozzie. "Thanks, but I don't think it'd look good in court if I had a fellow felon stalk my ex."

"You have to be in the system in order to be a felon. And since when is the court involved?"

Neal got a couple wine glasses out of another box and took off the protective paper wrappings. He took them over to the sink to give them a quick wash.

"I don't know. It might be my only choice."

"Okay, as your legal counsel and, more importantly, your friend, I caution you against turning this into Kramer vs. Kramer. You're not exactly Dustin Hoffman."

"You're the one who's always told me how important it is for me to be there for David. Are you really going to tell me to back off now?"

"No. I'm saying family court isn't a solution for guys like us."

Neal shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm out of that life now."

"Oh, and do you think a judge is going to recognize that?"

"Why not?" Neal said with a smile. "I'm a businessman, now."

"If you go to court, Sara can make your life hell if she wants. You know that, right?"

"She can make my life hell now. But she won't. Because she's a decent person who isn't going to screw over her son's father."

"That's funny, because I thought she already did screw you over when she took David to London."

Neal shrugged. "I let her go, Moz."

"Like you had a choice."

Maybe Mozzie was right. He'd still been on the anklet, then. Maybe he could have fought, but fighting within the system hadn't even occurred to him. If he'd tried to keep Sara from leaving, it would have ruined any chance of happy co-parenting between them. And he assumed most judges wouldn't be that sympathetic to a convict on a work release. But letting her go-letting his son go-had made him the good guy. It made him willing to compromise, to work with Sara. And right now, that had to count for something. Sara couldn't claim he'd ever given her trouble.

Mozzie had blamed him for it at the time. Neal supposed the situation reminded him too much of his own parents. But he'd come around. He seemed to accept, at least, that Neal was doing everything he could-something that Neal himself liked to believe, but was not always confident of.

Neal poured the wine. Raising his glass, he said, "To new beginnings."

* * *

Neal wasn't exactly sure where things had gone wrong. When Sara had first left for London, things were over between them, but they were still good.

If he hadn't been dealing with his father's fall-out, perhaps he would have wondered more about the lack of communication from Sara. As it was, he'd felt her absence like a festering wound, wishing she would call or write but being too proud to take the initiative and make the first move.

After six months, Neal was getting back into a routine. And then Peter called him into his office with a look on his face like someone had died.

Sara was back in town, he'd said. And there was something Neal needed to know.

Part of Neal suspected that, if left to her own devices, Sara may not have told him she was pregnant.

She'd sworn she'd been planning to. She claimed she hadn't wanted to bother him when he was dealing with his father's disappearance and Peter's arrest.

Neal wanted to believe that. To this day, he still trusted there was some truth in it. But six months was a long time to not tell him, and he knew Sara never had any intention of him being her baby's father.

Sara had come over to his place to talk, and told him, "You don't need to be involved. I was planning to raise him myself."

Neal, in his shock and enthusiasm, had interpreted it as self-sacrificing. It was only much later, after David had been born and Sara took him back to England with her, that Neal realized he hadn't read between the lines well enough.

Without realizing it, part of him had expected Sara's pregnancy to reunite them. Instead, it was almost like having David had severed any remaining ties between them.

Sara only stayed in New York for a few months after David was born. Later, she admitted that she'd come back in order to have the baby on U.S. soil.

Neal bode his time. The day his anklet came off, he'd already scheduled a flight.

* * *

Neal managed to bump his appointment an hour earlier by convincing his client's assistant that it was an honor for them that he was fitting the job into his extremely busy schedule. And after he regretfully informed his client that no, the near-mint condition 1945 baseball card was not real but a reproduction, he hurried to meet Sara.

He made it to the cafe at one o'clock on the dot. Sara was already there, sitting at a table on the patio with a martini.

Neal was slightly out of breath as he sat down. He tried not to show it, breathing through his nose as he flashed a smile. "Drinking on your lunch break?" he asked.

"It's been a busy day. I can't stay too long."

"I want to see David."

Sara set down her glass and crossed her legs. "No beating around the bush, huh?"

"You said we don't have much time. So let's cut right to the point."

"Fine," Sara said. "You know, if you want to play happy family, threatening me isn't the best way to go about it. It doesn't exactly make me more inclined to listen to you."

"I didn't threaten you. I'm just saying I'll do what I need to do to get some answers and see my son. You don't have to like me; it's about what's best for David."

"Have you considered that's part of the problem? Maybe David deserves to have a dad who's not always a few steps away from fleeing the country or winding up back in prison."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Neal said, "You don't think I can be a good father?"

Sara closed her eyes. "No. No, Neal, that's not what I meant. That was harsh. I just meant-"

"That I'm undependable."

"All right, yes. Maybe that's what I mean. David's only four-he needs some consistency. I only moved back here so I could give him more of a home. But he needs time to get into a routine."

"You knew I'd want to see him more often. We agreed-"

"I know. We did. And I'm fine with you seeing David. But David has questions, and you started talking about moving into a place with two bedrooms. It's too fast. It was a lot simpler when you came to visit every few months."

"Yeah," Neal said sharply. "Must have been really convenient. You get to have Dad when you want him, without any commitment. Or compromise."

"That's not-"

"Yeah, it is."

A waiter came over, and Neal ordered a glass of merlot and some pasta, even though with his nerves, he hadn't even been able to stomach the thought of breakfast that morning. Sara didn't order anything.

When the waiter had gone, Neal said, "I'm going to be frank with you. I've been working hard. I have my own business, and I'm moderately successful. But if you're just going to see a criminal when you look at me, nothing I do is going to matter."

Sara smiled bitterly. "Don't try to guilt me, Caffrey. I know when you came to see us during Christmas, you were trying to distance yourself from that heist at the Met."

"A heist that I had nothing to do with."

She sighed. "That's not the point. The point is, I don't want our son to be with you when an FBI agent shows up at your door, or when Mozzie or Alex comes around with some scheme."

"I promise that's not going to happen."

"You're just going to give up your friends?"

Neal didn't respond.

"You have to understand," Sara said, "this is a big adjustment. I've practically raised David myself for four years. And deep down, I know it's a good thing you want to be involved, but you can't rush this. You can't just go from seeing your son on holidays to having him spend the night or weekends with you. And you can't ask me to give him up like that."

"Sara, I'm not asking you to give him up. I'm just asking for what's fair." He leaned across the table. "Look, I've been thinking a lot lately. David's about the same age I was when my father left. It's really tough not to compare myself to him."

Sara closed her eyes and shook her head. "You're not your father, Neal."

"I know. But if David doesn't know me, then it's not going to matter. I've already missed a lot."

"You were okay with me taking him to London."

Neal was quiet for a moment. Softly, he said, "Yeah. I was."

These days, he sometimes wondered if that had been a mistake. He'd told himself at the time that it just made sense, and that plenty of families lived apart. When it came down to it, he wasn't sure he had a choice. He'd still been on the anklet, and was technically a convict. Sara could have chosen not to let him see David at all, and there might not have been anything he could do about it.

But he'd finished his sentence almost three years ago. He'd spent a substantial amount of time in London since then, living out of a hotel a couple miles from Sara's old London flat. Maybe he should have tried harder to move over there, permanently. He'd been thinking about it when Sara announced she and David were moving back.

"I've visited," Neal said. "A lot. I've given you money for David. You can't say I haven't been involved."

Sara closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not, okay? It's just...this is a big change, okay? It's too fast, and I don't know how I feel about it. I've been raising him since he was born."

Neal leaned across the table. "You can't just decide I can't see him."

"I never decided that."

"You've been screening my calls."

"Look," Sara said, raising a hand. "Things have been hectic. I haven't had time to deal with what you're asking for. But okay, you're right-I was wrong not to talk to you. You should be able to see David. But if you want to see him, we need to start slow. He's four-give him a chance to adjust."

"All right. I can live with that. We'll take things slow."

"In that case, maybe we can get together on Saturday. I could bring David to Central Park."

Neal grinned. "Yeah, that's great. I'm free Saturday."

Sara downed the rest of her drink. She took some money out of her purse and laid it on the table. "I've got to run. Talk to you later, Neal."

Neal stayed and finished his lunch, finding that his appetite had returned slightly. For the first time in over a month, he saw progress.

* * *

The next day was Friday. At seven that night, he arrived at a French bistro not far from the federal building. He was wearing his best navy suit and a burgundy silk tie.

Grinning at the maître d, Neal said, "Hi, I'm meeting my party here. The name is Burke."

While the man checked his list, Elizabeth came over, dressed in a black cocktail dress and heels.

"Neal! I thought I saw you come in. C'mon, we're right over here."

"Nice place," Neal said. He looked up at the crown molding. "I mean it, though, I would have been glad to have you guys at my new apartment."

Elizabeth smiled and touched his arm. "I know. But you're just getting moved in, and the last thing you need right now is to worry about entertaining us. Besides, this place has the best coq au vin in Manhattan."

"Mm. Then I look forward to trying it."

The party had a long table in the back. Peter was sitting on the bench against the wall, right in the middle. It was a small party, mostly folks from the FBI. Hughes, Diana, and Jones were there, along with a few others who had joined the white collar division after Neal had left.

Peter looked up and smiled when Elizabeth brought Neal over.

"Hey, there you are. Have a seat."

Elizabeth returned to her place next to Peter, and Neal took a seat across from them.

"Sorry if I'm late," he said.

"Oh, you're not," Elizabeth said. "We just got here, ourselves."

Looking at Peter, Neal said, "So, congratulations. How does it feel to be at the top of the totem pole?"

"Well," Peter said, "I'm not exactly at the top. But it's certainly an honor."

Neal handed Peter the gift bag he'd brought. Peter held it up and then set it in between himself and Elizabeth.

"You didn't need to get me anything," Peter said.

"It's just a small token."

He'd gotten Peter some coffee, the type that Peter would never purchase for himself. He'd also given him an engraved tie clip. He doubted Peter would wear it, but now that Peter was what Mozzie referred to as the "Uber Suit," he deserved something nice.

Neal hadn't seen Jones or Diana in a while, though he hadn't been a stranger, either. There was something strange about running into them these days. Since his release, he'd been vocally enthusiastic about going legit, and he'd put on a good appearance of it. But even he wasn't sure at times if it was real or not. In the last few years, there had been no art heists and no new counterfeit bonds. But Neal's idea of crime was perhaps looser than other people's. If he'd been truly honest, maybe he would have given away all the profits he'd made from his previous career. Perhaps he would have tried to make new friends. But his old life would always be a part of him. And these days, he didn't have a tracking anklet to give him an alibi.

Perhaps he'd naively expected things to come together more cleanly after his sentence ended.

Things were coming together well for Peter.

After the waiter brought a bottle of red wine, Neal lifted his glass, grinned, and said, "To Peter Burke, the new assistant director of the white collar division."

Everyone lifted their glasses and joined in the toast.

Peter beamed and looked down modestly.

Conversation over dinner was mild and light. There was little discussion of work, though Neal wouldn't have minded some news about what was going on.

Later, after the others had left, Neal joined Peter on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Elizabeth was still inside, settling the bill.

The night was unusually mild for July, with a light breeze. Peter had taken off his jacket and had it draped over his arm.

"So," Neal asked, "any news on who's going to get your old job?"

"It's not official yet...but I've given Diana a strong recommendation."

"Nice."

"They might think she's a little young. But she has a good record, and I have a lot of say in choosing my replacement. Jones would have been a stronger contender, but he's happy over in organized crime now."

"Big accomplishment. For both of you."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah...Diana will be perfect. Me? I dunno. You know how I like being out in the field. But it's an honor, and it'll be good for Elizabeth. I know she worries about me. And let's face it-I'm not as young as I used to be."

"I don't think you need to worry about retirement just yet."

"No, I know. It feels like such a long ways off. But it's not that long." Peter looked at him. "Hey, any luck with Sara?"

Neal shrugged. "I talked to her yesterday, and we're going to meet up this weekend. With David." He paused, unsure how much he should divulge. "I sent her a letter, saying I'd seek legal action if she didn't let me see him. Mozzie disagreed."

He looked at Peter for a reaction, but he didn't show one.

"You have the right to seek visitation."

"I know. Sara made it sound like I haven't been involved enough. Maybe she's right...."

"You've tried, that's what counts. Look, I know you don't like to talk about it, but I know that last year of your sentence was tough, knowing David was in London and that you couldn't go there. And I know you were trying to move over there."

Neal scoffed. "Yeah. The UK isn't crazy about giving Neal Caffrey, convicted bond forger, a visa."

"Well, now you don't have to worry about it anymore. This good. You've got a life here, and now David will be here. How's the business going, by the way?"

"Busy. Can't complain."

"Great, great. Listen, things are in transition right now, and I can't make any promises, but how would you feel about coming back to the FBI as a consultant?"

"I don't know, Peter, I've got my business, and-"

"It'd just be on a case-to-case basis. You could still do your authenticating."

Neal thought for a moment. "I don't know if I could go undercover again. Not that almost getting shot isn't fun, but you know, I have David to think about."

"No, I get that. You wouldn't have to go undercover. If you go out in the field, it'd just be visits to museums, crime scenes."

Neal nodded. "I'll think about it."

Peter had offered to push for Neal to be made a proper consultant when his sentence ended, but Neal had been anxious to prove that he could make it on his own. A real, legit businessman. He'd needed some space.

He missed the FBI, though. And it would be a good chance to make extra money.

When Elizabeth came out, Neal said goodnight to them and hailed a cab. When he gave the driver his address, he felt an uncontrollable wave of pride and excitement at having his own place.

Not that he didn't miss June much of the time. When she'd offered to let him stay around after his sentence ended, it'd been easy to agree.

But it was good to feel established. He'd always wanted to stay in New York, and now the arrangement felt permanent. He put off any permanence for a long time when he still thought he'd find a way to move to England to be closer to David. In the last six months, he'd even been looking into trying his luck with France or Ireland.

Maybe tomorrow, he would start shopping for kids' furniture for the spare bedroom. He wasn't sure when David would be able to use it, but at least everything would be ready for him when he could.

* * *

Later, as Neal was getting ready for bed, Sara called and she'd said she'd bring David to the Diana Ross Playground at Central Park at two-thirty. Neal offered to bring a picnic lunch.

The next day, Neal arrived at Central Park early. He found the playground and waited at the entrance. In one hand, he held a picnic basket.

He saw Sara and David when they were still just vague figures coming up the footpath. Sara was wearing a red dress and was holding David's hand. When they got close, Neal crouched down.

"Hey, kiddo! Long time no see! Let me get a look at you."

Sara released David's hand, and he walked over to Neal. It'd only been a month since Neal last saw him, but he could've sworn David had grown. At least his hair had. The breeze blew his curly brown hair into his face.

Neal had gone a year without seeing his son when he was still on the anklet. But somehow, the past month had felt almost as long.

Neal set down the picnic basket and wrapped his arms around David's small body. David didn't return the hug, and when Neal let go of him, he cocked his head at Neal and looked at him cautiously.

It was hard not to be hurt. But it was like this every time Neal saw him after an extended absence.

David was carrying a Batman action figure in one hand. Neal looked at it and smiled.

"You like Batman?"

David nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Do you like any other superheroes?"

"No. I like Batman."

"David's obsessed with Batman," Sara said, walking over. "Aren't you?" She ruffled David's hair and he looked up at her, smiling.

Looking up at Sara, Neal said, "I brought lunch. I don't know what David likes...."

"He's not picky. Thankfully." To David, she said, "What do you say? You want to eat some lunch?"

David looked at the playground equipment. "I wanna go on the slide."

"You can play after you eat."

David look disappointed, and didn't take his eyes off the playground. But he let Sara take his hand and lead him over to a bench.

Neal sat down on David's other side and unpacked the picnic basket.

He'd decided to keep it simple with sandwiches. David ate his without complaint, but he nibbled at his sandwich slowly, keeping one eye on the playground at all times.

"Why don't you tell Daddy what you did this morning?" Sara said with strained cheerfulness.

David took a drink from one of the water bottles Neal had brought. Some water dribbled down his shirt.

"I got a fish!" he said, smiling broadly.

"Oh yeah?" Neal said.

"Mm-hm. Her name is Mirabelle."

"I bet she's a nice fish. Are you going to help your mom take care of her?"

David nodded. "Yep. I'm going to feed her every day. 'Cause if we don't feed her, she'll die."

"He's really excited," Sara said. "He likes dogs, but I thought a fish was a better choice for our lifestyle right now. And David likes her. He named her after a character in this book he likes."

David set down the last bit of his sandwich and started to rummage around in Sara's purse.

"Hey," she said, "what are you doing?"

"I want the Joker."

"All right. Just a sec...." She picked up her purse and pulled out a Joker action figure.

Neal caught a whiff of sandalwood. "The Joker smells nice."

"That's because someone gave him a bath in my perfume." She looked down at David. "Isn't that right, mister?"

David giggled.

Sara tapped David on the shoulder. "C'mon, set the toys down until you're done eating."

"I'm done now."

"You sure? Because it might be a couple hours before we can get you anything else to eat."

"I'm full, and I wanna play."

"Okay, then go on." She patted David on the shoulder.

David set his action figures aside and ran off in the direction of the play equipment. Neal sat back and watched him climb on one of the structures.

"He's getting big," Neal said.

"You're telling me. And he has so much energy, it's like he runs on jet fuel. You don't know what you're getting into."

Neal looked at her sideways. "You don't think I can handle my own son?"

Sara smiled bitterly. "Don't put words in my mouth, Neal. No, what I'm saying is I think you could handle your son just fine if you spent more than the occasional holiday and play date with him. You haven't had to deal with tantrums, or waking up to find him pouring your perfume into bowls to give his action figures baths."

"Hey, I recall witnessing a few tantrums."

"And then you got to go back to your hotel for the night."

Neal faced forward, watching his son. Now, David was going down a metal slide. He landed on the ground, straightened his shirt, and ran back to the ladder so he could go down again.

"You can't blame me for the fact that you didn't want me involved."

"I don't. I've never blamed you for anything. But I've raised him. He's my family."

"You keep making it sound like I'm going to take him from you. I'm not."

"I know that. But he's only four. You'll just have to forgive me for not wanting to lose time with him."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Oh, like the time I've lost?"

"I just want you to realize what you're asking for. And you can't expect David to want to spend a lot of time with you. He doesn't understand any of this."

"Like you said, he's four. He doesn't know what's best."

It wasn't like Neal couldn't see what she meant, on some level. And he wasn't heartless. Sara had been David's primary caregiver since he was born. Despite any efforts Neal had made, David had been hers.

But he didn't believe her warning about David. David was young, and kids adjusted quickly.

And David was brave. Neal could see it now, watching how he scrambled up the ladder to the slide and slid down the glinting metal without hesitation. As soon as he reached the bottom, landing in the soft ground, he was up on his feet and running again.

He reminded Neal of himself, though some of that may have been the physical resemblance. The similarity wasn't unequivocally good, and it occurred to Neal that maybe that was part of Sara's problem. Maybe she believed that exposure to Neal would bring out something in David that would otherwise remain dormant.

But if it was in David's genes...no, of course it wasn't. Neal was still willing, on at least one level, to believe that he was his father's son. But he could never believe the same of David. It was a double-standard, but he knew David was a good kid, who was going to grow up to be a good man. All he could feel when he looked at him was pride.

David played for twenty minutes. He was still climbing on the equipment when Sara looked at her watch.

"We need to go soon," she said. "I have to get David home."

Neal wanted to protest. He'd barely had a chance to see David, or talk to him. He looked at David, who was trying to climb up into a wooden tower.

"Five minutes? I want to say goodbye to him."

"All right."

Neal got up and made his way over to David.

"You want a boost?"

David looked over his shoulder. "Okay."

Neal lifted David under the arms and hoisted him up. David's body felt small and fragile but surprisingly heavy. When he set him inside the tower, David stood at eye-level with him.

"I'm glad we got to spend some time together," Neal said. "Now that you and your mom live here, we can do this a lot more. Would you like that?"

David bit his lip, and then nodded.

From the bench, Sara called out, "David, it's time to go home."

David didn't respond, but stepped back into the tower and pouted. A small part of Neal was glad for the sign of resistance. He thought about suggesting that Sara go and leave David here with him. Just for another hour.

But he knew that was pushing it.

"Come on," Neal said softly, "you heard your mom. It's time for you to go home."

David whined when Neal reached into the tower and picked him up. He struggled for a second, and when he kicked his legs one of his feet connected with Neal's ribs hard enough to sting. But after a second, he relaxed.

Neal walked slowly, not particularly wanting to put David down. When they reached Sara, he let him down onto the ground.

"That was fun," Sara said to David with a note of forced cheer in her voice. "You think you'll be able to take a nap now that you burned off all that energy?"

"No."

Sara ruffled David's hair and looked at Neal. The long-suffering look on her face only lasted a second before it melted away.

"When can we do this again?" Neal asked. He'd already determined that he wouldn't leave today without an answer. He was done putting so much implicit trust in Sara's cooperation.

"I'll have to look at my schedule. We could probably come here again next Saturday."

Neal thought for a moment. The playground was nice, but he'd hoped for more variety.

"Why don't you bring David over to my place for dinner? I'll make lasagna."

Sara cocked her head. She appeared to consider it.

"All right," she said, finally. "We can do that."

"That's great. You can see my new apartment."

"I'll look forward to it. Now-" she looked down at David and squeezed his hand "-it's time for me and a certain someone to get going. David, can you say goodbye to Daddy?"

David used his free hand to wave at Neal. "Bye."

Neal crouched down. "I'll see you next week, okay, David?"

David nodded. Neal gave his shoulder a small squeeze.

When Neal stood up, Sara gave him a rushed goodbye and left, leading David by the hand. As they walked down the path, David looked over his shoulder at Neal. Neal waved and leaned against the wall surrounding the playground until Sara and David disappeared from sight.

* * *

A few days later, Neal unpacking some more things at home when Elizabeth called and asked if she could come by. She showed up a half-hour later with an insulated dish and a gift-wrapped box.

"I brought you a little housewarming present," she said. "And some homemade gelato."

"You shouldn't have. Thank you."

"I wanted to. I'd wanted to come by sooner, but with Peter's promotion...."

"I understand. You've had a lot on your plate." He set the present on the table and put the gelato in the freezer. "I'm sure you're very happy for him,"

"I am. I know it wasn't a simple decision. You know how much Peter loved his old job. But he really believes he can do a lot of good in his new position. He knows how important strong leadership is. He can do that."

"He offered me a consulting job. Part-time."

"So I heard. Do you think you'll do it?"

"I'm considering it. Why don't you have a seat? I can put on some coffee."

"I'll only stay a few minutes. I have a little time to kill before a two o'clock appointment."

She sat at the dining room table. Neal started up the coffee machine and took a seat diagonally from her.

For a few minutes, they talked about Elizabeth's work. At two, she was going to an event venue to meet with the management, and she was organizing a gallery opening for the following week.

When the coffee was finished, he poured two mugs and gave one to Elizabeth.

"Cream or sugar?" he asked.

"A little sugar, if you don't mind."

Neal got the sugar out of the cupboard and rejoined her at the table.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and said, "So...Peter says you're reconnecting with Sara and David."

"Yeah," Neal said, nodding. "We had lunch in Central Park on Saturday. David got to play. It was nice."

"I know you've been frustrated that you guys aren't on the same page. I don't want to impose, but Peter did mention you were thinking of going to court."

"Don't worry-it wasn't exactly a secret. I don't think it's going to be necessary, though. I think I've made myself clear, and Sara's willing to let me see him."

Elizabeth frowned. "Even if that's the case, it might not be such a bad idea."

"What? Going to court?"

She shrugged. "Well, yeah. Look, I know you're not exactly used to handling things through the legal system. And I know you wanted to keep things flexible. But it wouldn't hurt to have some assurances. And haven't you been giving Sara child support for a while now?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not official-"

"Maybe it should be. If this is important to you, it's only going to help to have a record of everything you do."

Neal hadn't considered it like that. Elizabeth was right-he wasn't used to handling stuff through the system. In his experience, the "system" was more of a hindrance than anything else. And child custody was outside his area of expertise.

"I don't know, maybe you have a point." He looked down at his cup of coffee. "I'm just not sure if going to court is the best idea. To be honest, when I wrote that letter to Sara, I was counting on her wanting to avoid things coming to that. I'm not so sure a judge is going to feel favorably toward me."

"Because of your past?"

Neal raised his eyebrows.

"I don't think you need to worry. These days, the courts want kids to have relationships with their parents. They'll look at you and see a non-violent ex-con who has a good job, a good apartment, and who loves his son very much."

Neal wasn't convinced. He would have felt better hearing this from Peter. As much as he trusted Elizabeth, he wasn't sure if she understood what he was facing. Peter did, but Neal would never bring himself to voice these fears to Peter.

A small part of him, that he barely dared to acknowledge, wondered if Peter would tell him that his fears were real.

When Elizabeth left, Neal unwrapped her gift. It was a small pewter picture frame.

Neal set it aside and got out the box that contained his photographs. He had a couple that he thought might look good in the frame.

As he took out the photos, he found something at the bottom of box. It was him, sitting in a chair in a hospital room. His face was sleep-deprived but elated, and he cradled a newborn David in his arms. Sara wasn't visible in the picture, but Neal remembered that she'd been a few feet away, resting after her C-section. It was the first time Neal had seen David.

A few hours after the photo was taken, he and Sara signed the papers establishing David's paternity. Without that, Neal would be having a much harder time now. But on that day, they'd been too happy and relieved to think much about the future.

Neal spent a minute looking at the photo and remembering how hopeful that day had been. Then he carefully laid it back in the box.

* * *

When Sara and David came over on Saturday, Neal made lasagna and a handmade green salad. The lasagna was in the oven when they arrived.

"You'll have to excuse me," Sara said as he answered the door. "I just got out of work an hour ago. I barely had time to swing by my place to pick David up from the sitter."

She did look a bit frazzled. Her hair was windswept and her linen dress was wrinkled.

"Working on a Saturday?"

"Art thieves work on the weekend, so I have to, too. Besides, I swear Sterling Bosch's New York office has been entirely re-staffed since I last worked there. I have several years' seniority over most of those people, but guess who gets treated like the new person?" She waved a hand. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be a good guest."

David whined and tugged on Sara's hand. "Mommy! I have to go."

"I know, I know." Looking at Neal, she said, "Mind if we use your bathroom?"

"Not at all. It's just over there."

Sara took David to the bathroom, and Neal returned to the small kitchen area to check on the lasagna.

When they emerged a few minutes later, Neal was taking the lasagna out of the oven. He heard David running somewhere behind him.

"What's that?" David said.

Before Neal could look over his shoulder, Sara said, "No, no, no. Don't touch."

Neal set the lasagna on a trivet and turned around to look. David had discovered his easel, where he'd started a painting. Sara was holding his wrist. David was stretching his arm, trying to reach for the canvas.

"It's pretty!" David said.

"I know, but paintings are for looking at. Not touching."

She said the last bit firmly, and Neal frowned. Something about her tone made him wonder if David had a habit of touching things he wasn't supposed to.

He would need to keep an eye on that, whenever he had David here by himself. Neal had kept childproofing in mind, but truthfully, he'd assumed that David would be pretty harmless by now. Wasn't it just toddlers you had to worry about?

He decided not to say anything. Sara appeared to have a close eye on David.

"Dinner's ready," he said.

Sara steered David toward the table. "You hear that?" she said. "It's time for dinner."

As David climbed onto one of the dining room chairs, he asked, "Whose house is this?"

"I told you," Sara said. "It's your daddy's apartment."

"What are we eating?"

Neal spoke up. "We're having lasagna." He looked over at the table and saw that David's head and shoulders were just visible above the edge of the table. Frowning, he asked Sara, "Do you want me to get him something to sit on?"

"That'd be great."

He served the food first. He wasn't sure how much David could eat, so he guessed. For that matter, he hoped David could handle the salad okay. Would he be able to chew the carrots? They were shredded, so Neal couldn't imagine it would be an issue. But he wondered if he should have consulted Sara about the menu.

After the put the plates and bowls on the table, he went in search of something to boost David up. He found a large book, and Sara lifted David up under his arms so Neal could place it on his chair.

"There," Neal said, "that better?"

David nodded. Sara took her seat beside him.

Neal went to grab a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine, and when he returned, David was sticking his hand in his salad. Sara noticed, and touched his hand.

"We don't eat our salad like that," she said. "Use your fork, and wait until your dad joins us."

"But I want the purple stuff."

"The purple stuff is cabbage. You can get it with your fork."

Neal joined them at the table. He sat at the head, with Sara to his left. He watched while Sara helped David with his food. She put dressing on his salad, cut his lasagna into small, child-sized bites, and murmured instructions to him as she did so.

"Careful," she said. "It's hot. Just take a little bite."

David held his fork in his fist and took a bite of lasagna.

"How is it?" Neal asked.

"I like it," David said, squirming when Sara tried to wipe some tomato sauce off his chin.

"So, David, have you done a lot of fun things this summer?"

David nodded. "Uh huh. I got my fish. We went to a museum. And I'm learning how to swim!"

Looking at Sara, he asked, "Are you teaching him?"

"Oh, no. I am not a teacher. There's a class at the Y."

Leaning across the table, Neal smiled at David and said, "You know, I like swimming. Maybe you and I could go to the pool sometime. Are you going to start school soon?"

"Uh huh! I'm going to preschool!"

Sara rubbed his back. "Yeah, that's right. He got accepted to the Durant Academy."

"Oh, yeah?" Neal asked, raising his eyebrows. "That's a good school."

"It's definitely one of the better ones. I really wanted a Montessori school, but this one is closer to our new place. They have kindergarten, too."

"Where is he going now, when you're at work?"

"There's a girl who comes during the day. She's an NYU student on break."

"That's great you found a nanny already."

"She's not a nanny. Just a babysitter."

"If she comes over every day, that sounds like a nanny to me."

"She's not a nanny. She's a full-time babysitter. Short-term. When she goes back to NYU in August, she's not going to be able to help out as much. But David will be starting school then."

"What about when he gets out in the afternoon? Do you have someone to watch him?"

Neal didn't know that much about preschool, but he was pretty sure most programs let out earlier than Sara got off work.

Sara's smile tensed, as though she had an idea where he was going with this. "I'll figure something out."

"Because you know, I could pick him up from school and watch him. It wouldn't be a problem."

"We'll see."

Her tone was firm, but not unkind. Neal could tell she didn't want to discuss it now, and he could live with that. It was enough to raise the suggestion.

"So," Sara said, "I spoke to Peter last week. I called to congratulate him on his promotion. He tells me your business is doing well. That's wonderful."

"It is. Thanks."

"Now, is it a business, or are you a freelancer?"

"It's a business now. Caffrey Consulting. I'm a taxpaying businessman."

"And I imagine you didn't have a lot of experience with taxes."

That was one way of putting it. The first year of trying to file taxes as a freelancer, Neal had ended up making Peter come over to help.

"Well, not exactly. But it's actually easier now that I have my business set up. And I can write off a lot in cab fares. About eighty percent of my job is spent going to and from clients."

Sara started to respond, and then stopped as David reached for her wine glass.

Moving it out of his reach, she said, "What is it? You have plenty of water."

He pointed at her glass. "I want that."

"No, baby. This is wine. It's for grown-ups."

"But I wanna try it."

"I said no."

David whined and made a sobbing sound, though Neal could tell that he wasn't actually crying. Sara took a deep breath.

"Angel said he never took a nap today. I think he might be getting restless."

Neal looked at David's plate. He'd eaten most of his lasagna and some of the salad.

"Would you guys like dessert? I have cupcakes."

David's head shot up. "I want one!"

"What's the magic word?" Sara asked.

"Please!"

Neal smiled. "Then you can have one. I got chocolate. Do you like chocolate?"

David nodded excitedly.

David devoured his cupcake, and Sara got a damp paper towel from the kitchen to wipe his face with.

"I should be getting him home," she said.

"Is it almost his bedtime?" Neal looked at his watch. It was nearly eight.

Sara laughed. "David's a night owl. I'm lucky if I can get him in bed before ten. I don't know how we're going to do it when school starts. But since he didn't take a nap today, maybe he'll be tired."

"Nope," David said. He sounded proud of himself.

Realizing David would be going soon, Neal crouched down and gave him a hug. This time, David hugged back. When Neal stood up again, Sara was getting her purse from where she'd set it in the living room.

"This was nice," she said. "Thank you for having us."

"We should do it again."

"Actually...why don't you come to our place? We could do it in a week or two."

"I thought you couldn't cook."

He wanted to ask her why she was inviting him now. He'd gone past her new house in a cab a few times, once right after she and David moved in and then after she stopped taking his calls. Now, she was doing more than she needed to and he wasn't sure if he should trust her.

She smiled. "I've picked up a few tricks since we were together. And you could bring dessert."

"Yeah, I could do that."

"All right. Then I'll give you a call?"

"Anytime."

After Neal shut the door behind them, he started cleaning up. He put away the leftover lasagna, washed the dishes, and then headed into the bedroom.

He hadn't anticipated how nice it would be to have an apartment with separate rooms. He'd never minded living in a studio apartment, but the extra privacy was a welcome change. Peter would tell him that anything was better than a prison cell, and in a way that was true. But Neal had always had high standards.

After loading the dishes in the dishwasher, Neal picked up his cell and gave Peter a call.

"Hello?" Peter said.

"Hey, this a good time?"

"It's fine. What did you need?"

"I've been thinking more. About the consultant position."

"Oh, yeah?" Peter asked, sounding pleased.

"Yeah. If the offer's still on the table, I'd like to do it."

The extra money would help. Besides, Neal missed the FBI. Some days, he wondered if it had been a mistake not to stick around after his sentence ended.

"How about we have lunch? You, me, and Diana. I know Diana would like to have you on board, too."

"You've talked to her?"

"Yeah, she thinks it's a great idea. Anyway, her promotion is official now. It might be a couple weeks before she's ready to talk to you. But if you want to do it, we'd love to have you on board."

"Thanks, Peter."

After he hung up, Neal wondered what it would be like to work with Diana. He'd worked with her before, of course. But now that Peter had moved up, things would be different.

But then, everything had changed, and everyone. No one, perhaps, more than Neal himself.

* * *

Sara's new house wasn't far from her previous one. Neal arrived at six-thirty on a Friday night, carrying a paper bag with a German chocolate cake inside.

He hoped he'd have enough time before dinner to spend time with David.

He rang the doorbell and looked up and down the street while he waited. After a few seconds, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

He expected to see Sara, but instead, a short, young woman with long black hair opened the door. She was wearing pink shorts and a white t-shirt with 'Angel' across it in jeweled letters.

"Hey," she said, "you must be David's dad. Come on in."

"Let me guess-you must be Angel."

"That's right. I'm keeping an eye on David while Sara tries to cook."

Neal followed her inside. She led him to the kitchen, where he could smell food cooking.

"David's dad is here," Angel said.

Sara was standing at the stove, stirring a pot. She looked at them over her shoulder and said, "Hey. Angel, did you want to stay for dinner?"

"Thanks," she said, "but I should get home. Now that he's here, do you mind if I take off?"

"No, not at all. You don't mind keeping an eye on David for me, do you, Neal?"

"No," Neal said. "It'd be great to spend some time with him before dinner."

Angel turned around and headed back toward the front of the house. Neal put the bag with the cake on the kitchen counter and followed Angel to the living room. When he got there, he found David on his hands and knees playing with some toy cars.

Angel crouched down in front of him. "Hey, Monster, I have to go home, so this is goodnight, okay?"

David looked up at her. With a whine, he said, "No...you were supposed to play Batman with me."

"It'll have to wait 'til Monday. It's almost dinner and your dad's here. Maybe he'll play Batman with you."

With that, David noticed Neal. He sat up and fixed his gaze on Neal while Angel grabbed a messenger bag from the sofa.

"Sara tells me you're a student at NYU," Neal said.

"Yeah," she said as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. "I'm a dance major."

From the kitchen, Sara yelled, "Angel, before you go, there's some cash for you in the table by the door."

"Thanks," Angel yelled back. "I'll see you Monday."

She walked past Neal and over to the front door. There was a small end table beside the door that had a single drawer, and she opened it to reveal a wad of bills.

Angel turned to Neal and smiled. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"I'm sure I'll be back. Stay safe getting home."

"Thanks."

After she left, Neal returned to the living room. He looked around. It was sparsely decorated, but looked cluttered thanks to the large number of toys spread out on the rug by the sofa. There was a plastic tub lying on its side, with a cascade of toy cars spilling out.

By the window was a large aquarium with a single goldfish swimming back and forth.

He walked over to where David was playing and crouched down.

"Hey there. What are you playing?"

"Car chase," David said. He looked up. "Do you want to play Batman?"

Neal sat down and crossed his legs. "That sounds fun."

David pushed his cars aside and grabbed a couple action figures. He held onto the Batman one and handed the sandalwood-scented Joker to Neal.

"Here. You be the Joker, and I'll be Batman."

"Okay. What are we playing?"

"The joker is stealing signs. Batman's gonna stop him."

"Signs, huh? What kind of signs?"

"Road signs."

"That isn't good. Road signs are important."

David nodded solemnly. "Yeah. If you don't have them, people crash. Now come on-I want to play."

"Okay." Neal cleared his throat and wiggled the action figure. "You can't stop me, Batman. By tomorrow, I'll have every sign in Gotham."

"Oh no you won't! I'm Batman!"

David clashed his action figure against Neal's. He pressed Batman's head against the Joker's neck.

In his normal voice, Neal asked, "What's Batman doing now? Kissing him?"

David giggled and wrinkled his nose. "No! He's biing the Joker in the neck. He's a vampire."

"I didn't know Batman was a vampire."

"Yep. That's why he only goes out at night."

Neal was pretty sure that Bruce Wayne went out during the daytime, but he didn't argue with David.

Sara appeared in the doorway to the living room. Poking her head in, she said, "Hey, you guys. Dinner's ready."

David dropped his action figure and clambered to his feet. He ran to the doorway and Sara halted him with a hand to his shoulder.

"And after we eat," she said, "I want you to pick up your toys. Can you do that?"

David nodded.

"Now let's go wash your hands."

A few minutes later, they were sitting in the small dining room. Sara had made jambalaya.

"This looks great," Neal said. "I guess you were telling the truth when you said you said you learned how to cook."

"Oh, so you doubted me, huh?"

"Hey, you were the one who downplayed your abilities."

"Well, I don't mind living on takeout, but I'm hoping if I cook, it'll rub off on David and he'll be more competent in the kitchen than I am."

"Preparing to have someone cook you meals in your elder years?"

"Oh, no," she said with a smile. "I'm hoping he can start when he's at least thirteen."

Neal took a bite of his food. It wasn't bad, but the rice was rubbery and overcooked, and the seasoning was too strong.

"This is great," he said. "You're certainly learning."

Sara cocked her head. "You don't have to pretend," she said with a laugh. "I know it's not exactly five-star restaurant fare."

"It's a great effort. Is that better?"

"Much."

David had no complaints about Sara's cooking. He seemed to inhale his food.

When they were finished with the main course, Sara brought in the cake Neal had provided.

After dinner, they headed into the living room. Sara prodded David to put his toys back in the plastic tub on the floor.

To Neal, she said, "Do you have time to stay? I need to give David a bath, but I was hoping we could talk afterward."

Neal had an appointment in the morning, but it was still early. He had a few hours yet before he needed to get home.

"No problem," he said.

Sara took David upstairs. Neal walked around the living room, taking everything in. There was a bookshelf in the corner that held a mixture of children's books and books on art and antiquities. There were pictures on the fireplace mantle, mostly of David.

Finally, Neal settled in on the sofa and started to surf the internet on his phone.

After about a half hour had passed, he heard the sound of small, bare feet on the stairs behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw David bounding downstairs, dressed in his pajamas. His hair was wet.

He ran around to the front of the sofa and climbed up.

"I took a bath!" he said.

Neal touched his damp hair. "Yeah, I see that."

"Will you come back and play with me?"

"Definitely."

David pouted. "You never came over when I was in London."

David snuggled up to Neal. Neal stroked his arm.

"I saw you at Christmas, remember?"

"That was ages ago."

"Yeah," Neal said, frowning. "It was, I know. I wanted to stay longer."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Well, because when you go to another country, you have to get permission to stay there. I wanted to move to London, but it was taking a long time to get permission."

"Why was it taking long?"

Neal didn't often find himself without an answer, but he did now. He'd always known that, eventually, he would have to explain some things to David. At the very least, David deserved it. Neal knew what it was like to grow up believing a lie.

But actually being honest was a different matter entirely.

Before he could come up with an answer, Sara saved him. As she came down the stairs, she showed no sign of having overheard their conversation.

"I thought there was a little boy down here who ran away," she said.

David giggled.

"Do you want to say goodnight to your daddy?"

"But it's too early to go to bed."

"Well, you can play or read upstairs. Daddy and I need some time to chat."

"Okay...." David grumbled. He climbed off the sofa and ran over to the plastic tub. The Batman figure was sitting on top, and he grabbed it before running over to Sara.

She took his hand and led him upstairs. A few minutes later, she returned.

"Thanks for waiting."

"No problem. You wanted to talk about something?"

Sara joined him on the sofa. She looked down at her knees.

"Nothing in particular. I just thought, since you're here, we should talk."

Neal nodded. "Is it about why you're suddenly being so accommodating?"

She looked at him sharply. "I thought this is what you wanted. Family dinners. Playing with your son."

"It is. I'm just questioning this sudden reversal."

Sara shrugged. "Okay. Maybe I can admit I was unfair before. Are you happy?"

"Is this an apology?"

Closing her eyes, she said, "I don't know, I guess it is. It's just...it's been hard for me. I realize it's better for David if you're in his life. I know it's ideal. But you have to understand-I never planned to have a child with you."

"Well, that's what happened."

"I know it is. But I told myself you wouldn't want to be tied down. I thought I could do it, raise David on my own."

"If you didn't want David to have another parent, you could have used a sperm donor."

"I know, okay?" She shook her head. "I'll be honest. When I got pregnant, I thought about not keeping it. But...I always knew I wanted to have a kid someday, and there I was, with a chance to have one. I couldn't help but think, what if that was my only chance? And I love David. I've never regretted having him."

"I always wanted kids, too."

"I didn't know that, at the time."

"You convinced yourself I didn't. To make it easier."

"Not intentionally, but can you blame me? It seemed easier that way. Now...I guess I haven't been realistic. I had this idea of what I wanted my life to be like. What I wanted David's childhood to be like. I wish I could say I have a good handle on things, but I don't."

Looking at her, Neal couldn't help but feel sympathy. His anger and frustration started to melt away. For the first time, he noticed that Sara looked tired. Her makeup didn't quite conceal the bags under her eyes.

"You're clearly doing a great job," Neal said. "David is a wonderful kid. You should be proud."

She took a deep breath. "Thank you. And I know you can be a good father, if I give you a chance."

"That's all I want. A chance. I want you to know you can depend on me."

Nodding, she said, "Would you like some coffee?"

"That'd be great."

He followed her to the kitchen. While she started the coffee maker, he looked around the kitchen. The house was old, and solid.

"This is a great place," Neal said.

"Thanks. It's a little out of my budget, but I wanted a house. The move was sort of sudden, so I'm lucky I found this place."

"Why did you decide to move back to New York?"

Sara got a couple coffee mugs out of a cabinet and set them on the counter.

"I've been telling everyone that it's because I missed the city, and because I decided I wanted to raise David in the city. And that's true."

"But?"

She sighed. "Look, I wasn't lying when I said you don't know what's been going on in my life. The job in London wasn't working. I tried, I did. But I know when it's time to cut my losses."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, I preferred my old job, anyway. I just hate the gossip around the office. I didn't get demoted, but that's how some people see it."

The coffee finished brewing, and Sara poured two mugs. Neal sat down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen, and Sara brought the coffee over.

For a while, they drank in silence. It was nice, Neal realized, to spend time with her like this. He couldn't remember the last time they were in a room together and there wasn't an air of conflict hanging over them.

"But your job is going well?" Sara asked after a while.

"It is, yeah."

"I mentioned that David was starting pre-school this fall," she said, hesitantly. "The Durant is a great school, and I want David to have the best I can give him. I can afford it, but I'll be honest: it's not cheap. If you were willing to help out...."

Neal frowned. He'd already given Sara a lot of money for David, without being asked. But he didn't know what their living expenses had been like, and Sara was right-David deserved the best. Neal had loved school as a child, but he'd never had the chance to excel as much as he could have. Maybe things could be different for David.

The extra expense concerned him, though. He was far from impoverished, but he wasn't making much more than enough to cover his bills.

But with the promise of extra work from the FBI, he thought he could do it.

"All right," he said, "I can do that."

Sara looked relieved, and Neal felt a pang of cynicism. Was this why she'd invited him over, and opened up to him? Had she realized she needed his help with David's education?

As he finished his coffee, he said, "I should really get heading out. I have an early appointment in the morning."

"Okay. Yeah, I should check on David."

"Do you mind if I say goodnight?"

"No, not at all."

They went upstairs to a narrow hallway. David's door was only partly closed, and there was warm light coming from inside. David was curled up in bed, but was still awake and playing with his Batman figure and another action figure that was missing a head.

Sara walked over to him and said, "What happened to Iron Man's head?"

"I dunno," David said.

Sara just gave him an exasperated sigh.

Neal walked over to David's bed and crouched down. Suddenly, he didn't want to go home. He wanted to stay right here, rooted in this spot until David fell asleep.

But instead, he brushed David's hair out of his eyes and said goodnight.

Part 2

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