Author's Note: It has been years...I wrote this tonight after recieving multiple reviews and still continue to get emails notifying me that Racing Time is still being added to favorite stories and alerts. I need to finish it, and I am going to do my best to do that.

Believe it or not, I am still without a computer. Life has a way of making decisions for us and other things have taken precedent over what I would much rather be doing. This was all written on the notes app of my iPhone, please forgive any glaring mistakes. When I edit, I like having a full screen to see, only having a small section to look at at a time on the phone made that difficult.

Please enjoy this small oneshot, while reading back through Racing Time, there were moments that I literally cringed at my own writing. It's been FIVE years since I originally posted, and I hope that I have improved.

It was the house that never slept. Locals would sometimes claim that it was because the owner never slept.

Wilbur Robinson snorted at that thought, staring blankly past the trails of rain water tracking down his bedroom window. Of course they slept, they weren't mechanical beings. His father might have been a key role in creating the future but that didn't mean he was from the future.

He wrinkled his nose at that thought, focus drawing inward now and away from the window. Before he could become distracted on another tangent of thought, he looked back toward the textbook in front of him.

It still looked like a foreign language.

It wouldn't have bothered him so much if it was, but this was his mathematics book. All printed in English.

He tapped his pencil against the desk, shifting restlessly in the chair and glaring at the work in front if him. No answers miraculously came forward, nothing popped off the page at him the way they showed in the movies where the genius made the big break in the problem and saved the day.

He wasn't a genius. He was an average high school kid, attending the classes meant for his age group. Well mostly, save a few...

He wasn't his father.

With a loud slap, he slammed the pencil in the middle crease of the book and stood from his place at the desk. Stalking to the window, he pushed it open to allow a rush of cool, damp, air to sweep into the room. Wilbur looked out across the property his family owned, out towards the glittering lights of Todayland. Talk about The Robinson house never sleeping, that city never slept.

The door to his room creaked open and he glanced to the side without turning around. Brown eyes falling from the city lights to focus wearily on the edge of the windowsill before him.

"The time machine's been put away, Carl. I learned my lesson."

"I knew I was quiet but never thought I was that quiet."

Wilbur's spun around, covering his surprise quickly as he took in the figure of his father at the bottom of the stairs. The man's white coat nearly glowing in the faint light of Wilbur's room.

"It's after one, Will. What are you doing up?"

The teen leaned back against the sill of the open window and waved a hand almost dismissively. "Contemplating the workings of the universe..."

The blond standing on the lower level blinked a few times at that, clearing his throat and putting his hands in his pockets as he started up the stairs.

"That's lofty thinking for this time of night."

"Seemed as good a time as any."

Robinson took a moment to take in the boy's stance, the rigid body language a sharp contrast to his usual fluid, self confident poise. He sighed and pulled his glasses off briefly to pinch the bridge if his nose.

"What's the matter Will?"

"Nothing. Why?"

He returned his glasses and paused before replying, knowing he just had to wait before his son broke and explained himself. After a few moments, he looked back towards Wilbur, growing slowly more concerned when he didn't seem to be gaining any ground. Planning on joining his son at the window, he passed the desk and glanced down at the books and papers strewn about. He stopped and tilted his head to read Wilbur's writing, then rounded back to see it better.

"This your homework?"

That certainly got a reaction, though, not an explosive one. The boy seemed to tense even further and his eyes took on an uncharacteristically hard edge.

"Yeah."

"Want me to check it?" He glanced up to gauge the response.

"There's nothing to check."

"Then do you want any help?"

The question was met with silence, and he felt like he was caught up in some kind of standoff. Wilbur wasn't like this, it was disconcerting.

"Will, do you want-"

"No! I'll get it, I'll figure it out! Just-!" The teen stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing the aggressive attitude he'd adopted. He rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his voice. "I just needed to take a break."

Robinson was silent for a moment, letting the statement hang in the air and looking between his decidedly angry child and the open book beside him. The comment the boy made when he first entered the room came back to him suddenly.

"Will-"

The reply was slow in coming, Wilbur's voice much lower than before. "Yeah?"

"When did you get back...with the time machine?"

Wilbur's shoulders tensed even further and he crossed his arms while looking to the side. "An hour or so ago..."

The more he looked at the book, the more he felt he had seen it before. A nagging thought grew steadily in the back of his mind.

"Did-"

"I went to you for help-" Came the strangled reply. Cornelius had never heard this tone from his son before and felt the air in the room thicken.

Wilbur took a deep breath and lowered his brows, glaring at the book on the desk instead of his father.

"That's why I had the time machine, I thought you could explain it better than they did-" He drew his eyes away from the book and up to his father.

"I don't remember ever helping you with-"

"You didn't." The teen finally stepped away from the window, sounding exhausted. "I never showed it to you. I mean-...I'd gotten it out to work on but never asked-"

"Why?"

"You were working on your project for Wilkes University." Was the muttered reply, Wilbur standing on the other side of the desk now.

Everything clicked into place then, the memory coming to life with the comment. Like a gear sliding into motion and slowly catching up with the rest of the machine.

He'd been writing and rewriting the specks, covered in chalk dust, oil and grease. Wilbur's company had been welcome but he'd seemed distracted, watching silently as the equations on the board changed over and over again and offering few comments when asked for his thoughts. Watching the boy genius, not even sixteen years old and rivaling the grad students. While trying to decipher the much more simple equations in front of himself.

"Wilbur-"

"I'm not you."

"I never-"

"They all think I should be perfect at everything! Because I'm heir to 'The Father of the Future' I'm supposed to just know all this-"

The blond reached across the desk abruptly, unable to stop the tirade any other way, and set his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Will. No one's asking you to be me."

"But I just don't get it."

"This is pre-calc, that's not exactly your age level either. That's a senior level course and you're only in ninth grade."

"Did you even go to high school?"

"Well...a little." The elder Robinson shrugged one shoulder.

"See? That's-"

"This is what I see." Cornelius cut him off, picking up a report from the corner of the desk. The returned paper nearly flawless, with a lengthy comment in red ink across the cover page from the teacher.

"Your talents lie elsewhere, Wilbur. Your knowledge of history, combined with your writing skills have ALWAYS far surpassed my own. I learned so much from you then and I STILL do."

Wilbur's eyes scanned the paper his father held out to him before he gently took it from him, reading over the teacher's comment again before looking up as his father continued.

"I remember you sharing things you'd learned, on your own, mind you. For hours while I was working, you'd paint pictures with words over events and past lives of people neither of us had ever met. That's just as important as what I do. You can't have a future without knowing the past, your own as well as others."

Wilbur grinned faintly and set the paper down, looking over other reports, textbooks and materials.

"Thanks..."

"Hey." Robinson flipped the mathematics book closed, smiling warmly with a paternal pride. "We all need reminded now and then."

He wrapped his arms around his son and patted his back before stepping back to allow the boy to make his way to bed. Starting down the stairs and pausing to look back when he heard Wilbur's voice.

"Hey dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you help me with that tomorrow?"

"Of course, son." He grinned turning to continue down the stairs. "All you ever have to do is ask."