I'm sorry! I know it's been a long wait, again! I'm tried to make this chapter longer to make up for it! And I'm planning to write the next chapter tomorrow too! But thank you to everyone who reviewed asking me to keep writing! I really appreciate it!

Chapter 10

Neal walked down the stairs, knowing he was stomping but unable to stop. When he reached the front door he paused. Where was he going to go? He had argued with Moz and stormed out of his room but he hadn't exactly thought out the rest.

With his hand still on the doorknob, Neal slumped forward. His forehead hit the door with a thump. Damn it. This was all so confusing. Why didn't he want to do the job for Keller? He always enjoyed doing it before. It was a rush to paint forgeries. Getting the brush strokes just so and matching the color perfectly. And the greatest part was that his work was so good people thought one of the masters had done it.

But now something was stopping him. He told himself it was for Mozzie, because he asked him to. Now he wasn't sure. The mural on his wall came to mind. It was one of the very few originals he'd done and it was by far the largest. People knew it was his. Granted, it was only Moz, El, and Peter but still; it felt good to claim something of his own for once.

Neal brought his other hand up to the door, closing it in a fist. He rapped it against the door a few times, trying to vent his frustration. He felt so torn. And it was all because he had a 'family' now. A family he never asked for. His mind made up, Neal stepped back and opened the door. It shut behind him with a resounding click.

Peter sighed for probably the thousandth time that night. He sat on his bed going through some of his notes on the Degas case. He couldn't bring the actual file home but he could take everything he himself had written. For Peter, that was basically everything he knew about the case.

"Peter, must you do that in bed?" Elizabeth asked from the adjacent bathroom where she was getting ready for bed.

"Sorry El," Peter said. He started gathering the scattered notes and placed them back into the blank folder.

Elizabeth straightened out her nightgown before she slid into bed. Peter pulled the blankets over them and turned off the light. He felt El turn over to face him and could faintly make out her light skin in the dark.

"Are you sure you're alright Peter?" she asked.

Peter started a bit. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just you haven't been this," she seemed to pause to think of the right word, "obsessive about a case in a long time."

"Oh El." Peter brought his wife in closer, nuzzling into her hair. "I'm very happy. Don't doubt that. I'm being obsessive because I don't think I have the whole picture about this case and it bothers me."

He felt her nod against him. "Are you not happy?" he asked quietly.

"What? No! I'm very happy. We have a whole family now. Everything we've always wanted."

"But?" Peter prompted.

"Do you get the feeling the boys are hiding something from us? Something big?"

"I imagine they both have a lot they haven't felt comfortable sharing with us yet."

Elizabeth was quiet. "I want them to trust us," she whispered.

"Weren't you the one who said we'd have to be patient and wait for them to feel that way?" Peter asked a small smile on his face.

With a huff, El lightly smacked his shoulder. Peter answered by hugging her closer. "The only thing we can do is keep giving them time. I believe it'll eventually all work out."

Neal slipped the small untraceable phone back into his pocket. The metal park bench was cold underneath him. Which made sense, the sun had set long ago and any heat had leached out since then.

He nervously ran a hand through his hair. He'd called and told Keller to meet him here. The park was only a few blocks away from his house but it felt like a good distance as well. Now he only had to wait for Keller to arrive.

Keller didn't announce his presence but when a figure appeared silhouetted by the streetlights at the park entrance, Neal jumped to his feet. He waited while the man slowly approached, no tension appearing in his gait.

"Isn't this a little ironic," Keller remarked.

Neal didn't try to ask what he meant; he stood and waited for the man to explain.

"Here I was just thinking I needed to talk to you and then surprise, surprise. You call me wanting to meet. Whatever could you want to talk about, Neal Caffery?"

Neal pulled himself up to his full height, even though Keller was still taller. "I'm out."

That seemed to make Keller pause. "Excuse me?"

"I said I'm out. I'm taking a break from forging for now."

The man stared at him for another second before he started laughing. Neal swallowed, unsure as to what that meant.

"Haha, oh, that's funny." Keller wiped a tear from his eye.

"It's funny?" Neal asked cautiously.

"Yes, funny. You think you can get out of this life that easy? That's not going to happen little boy." Keller stuck a hand in his pocket.

Neal felt dread shiver up his spine. His mind was telling him to get away, but his feet wouldn't move.

"I still need you, Caffery." He pulled out a small black pocket knife. Neal's already tense frame froze. Keller flicked out the blade with a practiced hand.

Keller brought the knife in front of Neal's face, letting the blade reflect in the low light. "Now there are only two things I can't damage on you." The silver blade was brought in front of Neal's right eye. "You only need one eye." Neal fought not to move sharp point slid down his skin, leaving a red line until it reached his arm. "And only one hand. Now are you right or left handed?" Keller asked with a shark-like grin.

It was that grin that prompted Neal to move, as if it had broken whatever spell he was under. Acting on instinct Neal threw his shoulder at Keller's chest, surprising the man. Using that window, Neal took off. His feet thudding on the pavement.

He didn't get that far, however, before a weight landed against his back. Neal tried to break his fall but the extra weight brought him down too far. He winced as his head hit the ground.

Neal laid there a little dazed by the pain, allowing Keller to turn him over. Even though the man was panting, the grin was still there.

"Naughty, naughty Caffery." Keller grabbed his chin, bringing their faces together. Neal was having a hard time focusing on anything beyond the pain blossoming on the side of his face.

"Fuck you Keller," Neal spat.

He saw the fist a split second before it landed against his already throbbing cheek.

"You'll do those paintings for me Neal, or it'll be more than just you getting hurt."