He removed his helmet and stumbled off the stolen police bike, helmet in hand. This was going to be fun; it always was. But instead of feigning the role of a cop, when he arrived at their window, he dropped his helmet and chocked. The only man who had been a real mentor, a real father. Not Nathan Foyet like everyone thinks, but this man staring up at him with confusion and a tinge of fear.

George was walking home, to his silent home. Nathan and Alexandra Foyet were out on business and apparently the neighbor across the street sensed his loneliness. He knocked on the door and George looked through the peephole before calling out, "Who are you?"

The man answered kindly from the other side of the door, "George, I'm a good friend of your parents. My name is Jason. I just wanted to check on you if that's okay." The way this Jason guy clasped his hands behind his back made the eleven year old suspicious and he refused to let the man in.

"I don't believe you." And with that he proceeded to walk away from the front door.

Jason sighed, and had to come clean. He couldn't take lying to the boy and confessed, "I don't know your parents as friends, but we've talked as acquaintances and I'm worried about you. They always seem to be out of town and they don't even leave someone to watch out for you."

George looked in the reflective glass and noticed his grim expression turning into a snarl. He returned to the door front and stated firmly, "I don't need anyone to watch over me!"

"Please, George, are you sure?" Jason pleaded.

"Completely. Now go away before I call the cops!" He looked through the peephole and saw Jason's obviously hurt expression and grinned triumphantly when he walked off the porch. Smiling, he returned to the television, mindlessly flipping through the channels.

He looked into his face, his dark eyes, and remembered he didn't give up on little Georgie. He was persistent to get the boy's trust for completely innocent relations. Subconscious tears threatened to burst but Foyet couldn't cry now! He was a little busy and didn't have time for all these unwelcome emotions.

George was sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework like a good little boy when a knock interrupts his train of thought. "Who is it?" He yells.

"It's me, Jason." They reply.

"You? I told you, I'm fine. Why can't you leave me alone?" George sat against the door.

"Like I said last time, I worry about you."

"Then why don't you call Child Protective Services! Don't worry, you're not the first!" the fifth grader sobbed, but had to admit, he liked the Foyet's much better than his real parents.

"George, I don't think you're being abused or anything like that, I just think you need someone to talk to. And no offense, but Nathan and Alex are snippy people."

"No kidding." George laughed, and Jason smiled at receiving that reaction. Finally someone who had the balls to say Nathan and Alexandra Foyet weren't little angels with halos and wings. Maybe this Jason guy wasn't so bad after all. George stood up and timidly opened the door and there was the persistent, kind man. Jason became his best friend, and he was terribly lonely when he had to go away on a case. But that's the repercussion for cherishing someone whose line of work is the FBI.

Foyet pulled the gun out of his coat pocket and the driver was smiling. But George was trembling, his hand shaking, until it gave out and became deadweight. the gun clattered to the floor. Foyet obviously didn't hear it drop as he stormed away and pulled out a knife, slashing the rear tire as an outlet of his pent up emotions. He turned around and saw his mask was being plucked off wordlessly.

"George?" He asked sadly and George felt small and childish again.

"Jason..." the words died on his lips as the tears fell. Emotions rose like they hadn't in years. The only time he ever cried in his entire life was when the social worker drove him away from his parents' house for the last time. But now here he was, gun and mask on the rain soaked asphalt and Jason Gideon holding him in an embrace. Embarrassing, but...nice. Cautiously he brought up his arms and encircled his long lost, and most likely, only friend. After calming down and staining Jason's shirt with tears he opened his mouth to speak to the one person he truly missed.

"Are you going to-" Foyet looked, almost desperately at Jason.

"Can't," Jason smiled. "I'm retired."

I am not a cryer but when I was writing this I was on the verge of tears. I may write one with Gideon.