This was meant to be a one-shot as a birthday present for Loopstagirl, but I couldn't get it finished in time. Still, half a present is better than none, right? Will get the second half up as soon as I can. (And I will write a one-shot eventually!)
Happy Birthday, Loopsta - hope your day is better than Scott's!
There had been better birthdays...
Which seemed particularly unfair given that this was his eighteenth, one of the great milestones. He'd finally reached the age where he was officially an adult, but, far from heralding a time of freedom and release from the restraints of childhood, Scott just felt more weighed down than ever by the demands of a future he wasn't sure he wanted anymore.
It was his father's fault, he thought - and immediately felt guilty. His father had meant well, and if he'd known his actions would have caused his son this much anguish, he'd have been devastated. But Scott knew his father had genuinely thought he would be pleased, that his decision would show him how much he was valued, respected even. That thought just made Scott feel worse. It wasn't even as if the gesture had been unexpected. Scott had always known where his future lay, he'd just assumed he might have a few years to himself first.
He'd been feeling so positive last week, looking forward to his birthday, laughing with his friends about their plans for the big celebration. But then his father had come back to town and taken him to his lawyer's office to sign the papers which would give Scott, on his eighteenth birthday, several hundred shares in Tracy Industries, along with a seat on the board as a junior executive. The days of visiting a factory or one of the offices just for the fun of it, or to sit with a book counting the minutes until his father finished whatever business had brought him there were well and truly over. Whether he liked it or not he was going to have to follow in Jeff Tracy's footsteps, entering a world where he would always be measured against his father.
"It's time you had some real responsibility," Jeff had said as he signed the various documents that were placed in front of him.
Responsibility... As if Scott hadn't had enough of that over the years. Ever since John was born he'd had responsibility. Then when the other boys had come, one after another, the pressure on him had increased: set a good example, help your mother, look after your little brothers... He hadn't minded, in fact he'd been proud. He loved the kids and it was no hardship to spend time with them, to hold their hands when they crossed the street, take them to the park, help them with their schoolwork... It had been fun for the most part, and if things got too much he could always count on his parents to help him out.
Then his mother had died. He'd only been eleven but his childhood had ended that day. He'd suddenly found himself taking on a large number of the duties that should have been his father's, his responsibility for his brothers greater than ever.
As if that wasn't enough for the boy to handle, there had been other demands on him. At an early age he'd become aware that being the eldest son of a national hero brought its own challenges and they only increased as the years went by. Now, more than ever, he had to be seen to be a credit to his father. Thankfully he was gifted both academically and when it came to sports. Handsome too (which, although he was far from vain, was one thing he wasn't complaining about, not when it got him so much attention from girls!).
He was popular, but he knew that there was still a fairly large group of his peers that resented him - resented all his brothers. The Tracys were too good to be true, they said. Rich, talented, good-looking... There didn't seem to be a single area where one or the other wasn't gifted. Music, swimming, art, science... if the school had an award for it there'd be a Tracy's name on there.
Scott could see why people might hate him and the charmed life he seemed to lead. There were times he hated it himself. They didn't see how the constant pressure to perform was wearing him down. He couldn't wait to get to Yale, to find his feet in a place where he was just one amongst many talented students: nothing special, no one who needed to be singled out or placed on a pedestal. Sometimes he wondered if he should even bother with college, whether he shouldn't just apply to the Air Force straight from high school. He was a good pilot, he'd soon rise up through the ranks. A degree would just allow him to move up the chain of command that much faster - responsibility again, only this time for people he wasn't related to, some of whom were bound to whisper that he'd only got where he was because he was Jeff Tracy's son. Sometimes he just wanted to steal his father's plane and fly away - anywhere, just as long as no one knew his name and he could be free for a while.
He smiled to himself. John had always been the rebellious one, but lately Scott wondered if he wasn't finally starting to follow his brother's lead. He just wanted to be normal, just for one day. No responsibility, no worrying about anyone other than himself. A day filled with nothing but fun with no thought for the consequences. Was that too much to ask?
At first breakfast had cheered him up, Grandma outdoing herself to cook all his favourites. Even Virgil had been persuaded to drag himself out of bed for the occasion. But then it had all gone downhill and Scott's bleak mood was back.
Presents... Should have been one of the highlights of the day. But first his father had given him an official-looking brown envelope containing Scott's copies of the documents he'd signed the other day. Scott opened it with a forced smile, shaking the hand his father held out as he announced that his eldest son and heir was officially an adult.
He couldn't help wondering what his mother would have bought him.
Then there was Virgil's gift. He knew straight away it was a painting. Knowing how talented the thirteen-year-old was and how hard he worked on his art, he couldn't help feeling pleased - if a little apprehensive. Virgil hadn't reached anything like the peak of stroppiness that John had at thirteen, but the one area in which he did seem to be displaying some quite spectacular teenage angst was in his art. Only last week Scott had overheard his Grandmother refusing to allow him to order fifteen different shades of black paint, only for Virgil to flounce dramatically out of the kitchen as he insisted that it was so unfair, it was art and she simply didn't understand...
He needn't have worried. Virgil hadn't used that much black paint on the picture, which turned out to be a painting of the family on the front porch of their house. It was wonderful in its detail and he'd have been delighted if it hadn't been for the title of the picture which had been engraved on a small plaque on the bottom of the frame. You'll miss us when you're gone. Virgil was really struggling with the prospect of losing his favourite brother. Clearly the fact that Scott had finally reached the age at which he'd be leaving home wasn't going down well and even as he thanked his brother, reaching out to punch his shoulder affectionately, Virgil made a point of looking away.
Great...
John wasn't even there, having won a place on a NASA science workshop which took place that week. He'd offered to turn it down but Scott had insisted he go, knowing how much it meant to him. He'd left a present though and Scott opened the package knowing immediately it was a book. Typical John. He flicked through the pages, his heart racing at the images of various fighter jets. He couldn't help wishing he was up in the air right now.
"A book?" Gordon's disgust was obvious, but at least Virgil seemed impressed, forgetting his annoyance with his brother as he pointed out various pictures he'd love to copy onto canvas.
Passing the book over to Virgil, Scott found himself wishing John was around for him to share his feelings with. John was the only person he could confide in, the only one who could understand what he was going through. He might not be able to cheer him up, having a lot of the same concerns himself, but he'd happily share the misery. He turned to Gordon.
"So what did you get me?"
"Socks."
"Thanks," Scott said, pretending to be disappointed. He was smiling inside though. Any moment now Gordon would give him his real present. Sure enough, a few moments went by before Gordon laughed and handed over another, much larger package.
Which also contained socks.
"Grandma's always complaining about you losing your socks," Gordon explained. "When you go to Yale you won't have her to look after you. So I thought I'd be sensible for once and give you something useful."
"You really shouldn't have." Scott didn't even bother pretending to be pleased, casting a rueful look at his grandmother. She didn't notice, too busy smiling at her second-youngest grandson. She slipped the final pancake - which Scott had been about to take for himself - onto Gordon's plate, as she murmured her approval of his choice.
Alan gave him a computer game - the latest motor racing challenge, which Scott had little interest in and which he knew his brother would insist on showing him how to play and end up spending all day on himself.
Grandma had been thinking practically about college too. Her contribution to the pile of gifts was a silver fountain pen inscribed with his name. Scott thanked her even as he wondered when he was ever going to use it. Maybe in twenty years time when he sat at a desk in his office at Tracy Industries, signing multi-million dollar contracts before heading off for yet another business lunch...
"So, what's the plan for today?" Jeff asked. "There's still time to arrange a party if you want it."
He'd been a little surprised when Scott had refused his original offer. He'd even suggested sending his mother and the three youngest boys away for the night, just so that Scott could feel more at ease, but his son had still refused, as much as he appreciated the gesture.
"It's okay, Dad, really. I've got plans with the guys." He did appreciate his father's offer and he knew the man would have done everything he could to ensure they had a good time. But it would never have worked - not unless Jeff had taken himself off along with the others, and he'd never have agreed to that. It wasn't his fault, but there was something about the presence of a world-famous space hero and billionaire that made his friends nervous, despite his father's efforts to make them feel comfortable. They'd never be able to have as good a time at the Tracy house as they could have elsewhere, not on an occasion like this where they'd want to go a little wild. Instead Scott had taken Grandma up on the offer of cooking an early dinner for some close friends before they went off into town.
"You're not planning on doing anything reckless are you?" Jeff asked, mindful of some of the stories he'd heard from other fathers whose sons had turned eighteen this past year. Not that he believed his sensible, dependable son would really do anything he shouldn't. He might be an adult now but he was still below the legal drinking age, not to mention being well-known in the town as the son of the great Jeff Tracy. No, there would probably be a few illicit beers somewhere - and Jeff really didn't want to know what else Scott and his friends had planned - but Scott would be alright. He was the reliable one, after all.
Scott assured his father he'd be perfectly sensible - wasn't he always? - then made his way back to his room. Virgil was waiting for him, sprawled across his bed, half-asleep.
"Wake up,Virg," Scott insisted, shoving his brother off the bed. "I need to get changed."
Virgil shook himself awake. "Here," he said, holding out an envelope. "It's from John. He told me not to give it to you in front of Dad."
Scott took it curiously. It wasn't a letter - he could feel something thick inside. He couldn't help grinning. Looked like John had really done it.
"Thanks, Virg." He walked over to the door and held it open.
Virgil's face darkened. "Why can't I stay?"
"Because you can't. Now get moving."
Virgil stayed where he was. "Relax, Scott, I already know what's in there."
"Really?" Scott doubted it.
"Yeah. Fake ID's for you and your friends."
Scott's face fell and after a quick glance down the hallway which, to his utter relief was empty, he shut the door and advanced on his brother. "How do you know?"
"I helped him."
"You helped him?" Scott wasn't happy. John getting involved in something like this was one thing - he was sure it was only going to be a matter of time before John got himself in trouble. The usual restrictions of security and privacy didn't seem to bother him, whether it was hacking into someone else's computer or faking some documentation. Oh, Scott had tried to be the dutiful older brother, to talk him out of doing any more of this kind of thing, but it had never worked. One area where he was a failure, he thought - and for some reason it actually felt good to know that he wasn't completely perfect. John certainly wasn't - but he had always been mature beyond his years and he knew the risks he was taking. But that was his choice. Scott wasn't going to have Virgil dragged into it.
"He couldn't fake the signatures," Virgil told him. He was obviously proud that he'd been taken into his elder brother's confidence.
Scott ripped open the envelope. The four ID cards which fell out looked absolutely genuine. How John had got hold of the cards themselves he didn't want to know. Sure enough his signature was perfect and from what he could remember of his friends', theirs too looked real.
"Useful talent," was all he could say. "Do this kind of thing often?"
Virgil grinned. "Sometimes. Just as well Gordon's teachers never think to call Dad or Grandma to check why he has so much trouble getting his homework in on time."
Scott glared at him and smacked him across the head, partly because he was genuinely concerned about Virgil's actions, but mostly - if he was honest with himself - because here he was on his eighteenth birthday trying to sort out yet another problem with one of his brothers. Surely just for today he could absolve himself from responsibility for them and have some fun? One day off, that was all he wanted!
"You have to stop it. Notes to teachers are one thing but this is forgery. You'll get yourself in trouble."
The dark look was back on Virgil's face. "Yeah, well, you won't be around to see it, will you?"
"Virg!"
"If you're so offended then don't use the ID's. I'll burn them." Virgil held out his hand.
Scott looked at him, then back at the cards. He and his friends had been planning this night out for weeks. Without the ID's it would be ruined. Why did Kansas have to have such stupid laws anyway? It was 2057 for heaven's sake!
Virgil noticed his hesitation and laughed. "Didn't think so. Have fun with your friends, Scott. Don't worry about me."
Then he was gone, leaving Scott to sit on his bed wondering what kind of chaos would ensue when he'd left for college - and whether he'd still be expected to sort it all out. He had the feeling he probably would.
After that shaky start the day did get better. Various friends called round with cards and gifts. Then there was the unveiling of the birthday cake, made by Grandma, of course: eighteen candles dotted around a magnificent drawing in icing of Scott himself at the controls of a fighter plane. He recognised the artist's hand immediately, even though he'd never seen him express himself in this particular medium before.
"She made me ice a cake!" Virgil told him in disgust. "I wouldn't have done it for anyone else. And I'm never doing it again, either! She made me wear an apron, Scott!"
Scott laughed, his earlier annoyance with Virgil forgotten. It was good to know he wasn't the only one to suffer for the sake of his brothers sometimes.
He'd had a serious talk with John that afternoon. His brother failed to share his concerns about Virgil, insisting the boy could take care of himself. "Don't feel you have to be responsible for us all the time, Scott," he said, before cutting the call short as he was called to another class. "Have fun tonight and if you get caught and they torture you..."
"I'll tell them it was all your fault!" Scott finished, laughing as he ended the call.
Then it was time to change before Greg, Isaac and Rick arrived. After one of Grandma's finest meals and the decimation of the cake it was time to go.
"No curfew tonight," Jeff announced. "Enjoy yourself, son. Do you boys need a lift?"
"No thanks, Dad. Greg's driving."
Jeff couldn't help the words of advice which slipped out as he escorted them to the door, especially those directed at Greg. He stopped himself delivering a full-blown lecture at the sight of Scott's rolling eyes. "Okay, boys - sorry, men." He couldn't help smiling as Scott's expression turned to one of satisfaction. "Off you go. Have fun."
He stood at the door and watched Greg drive sedately down the drive and turn out into the road. Any relief he might have felt disappeared when he heard the engine roar and a squeal of tyres, accompanied by whoops of joy as the car picked up speed.
"No curfew?" Grandma asked when Jeff returned to the living room. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"Not really," Jeff smiled. "But Scott does. He'll be fine."