He'd always liked the ambience of his room, especially in the autumn time, like now, with the red foliages shadowing the small window, clothing the chamber in a mystic subdued light. It felt safe and calm, even with the austere furnishing. Being confined to his room had never been a real punishment for him; he spent most of his time in there anyway, enjoying just being left alone with his thoughts and textbooks.

Unfortunately, John House had soon spotted this phenomenon; that's when the nights in the back garden had started, locked out of the family home. The man seemed to be satisfied with himself for figuring out a new sort of training aside from icy baths and early dawn gymnastics for his son to become a "good marine".

And still he had to be let down by the damn boy, who had the guts to throw the family tradition to the dogs, and chose frog autopsies over the uniform.

But he was 21 now, of age in every state of the world, ready to leave the parental house with all the sour memories behind, as soon as possible. A few more years of university and it would be all over. But never forgotten.

Of course, there were a few things in this house that he felt a bit sorry leaving behind, like...

"Gregory, dear!"

He sighed, just a bit tense, because he knew from experience that even his mother's sweet voice could indicate something highly disagreeable. She never even tried to stand up to her husband. Nevertheless, he stepped to the door to obediently answer the call.

Autumn had always been her favorite season, even though she hadn't seen too many of them yet. She breathed deep, inhaling the rich scent of soil, dead leaves, bonfires and God only knows what more, which was autumn itself. She kept stepping right next to the sidewalk, to tread into the leaves, feeling them rustle under her small sandals and tickle her ankles. From time to time, horse chestnuts rolled out from under them and across the road, but she was afraid to go any further from her mom (moreover onto the road, even if there was hardly any traffic), and she knew she already had two shoeboxes at home full of those shiny brown balls.

And especially now, she didn't feel in the mood of playing. She mentally scolded herself and felt ashamed, as she knew she wasn't a baby anymore who cries after her mommy every time she has to be alone for a while. And actually, she won't even be alone this time... Still, her tummy felt tight and she wished that the short walk would come to an end already. Waiting for something she was afraid of was always worse than the actual thing itself.

Finally, they reached their destination: a house just a bit bigger than its surroundings, the garden just a bit stricter and less colorful than the others around.

The fence gate was locked, unlike the usual in their neighborhood, so they had to wait outside until someone came out to the sound of the doorbell.

Though her heart was pounding in her throat, the appearing of Mrs. House soothed her mind a bit. She remembered having seen her a few times on the way back from kindergarten, waving over to them in her gardening gloves; or in the supermarket, talking a few words with her mom and each time reaching down to stroke her head. This time wasn't an exception: the gentle hand on her braided hair wasn't exactly disagreeable. She muttered a low, but polite hello, and really tried to focus on what the adults were talking about. But soon a ladybug took her attention, completely mesmerizing her as it climbed up the fence with a mentionable tempo and purposefulness, then back down on the other side, with no less enthusiasm. Before she could have noticed, she lost track of the conversation.

"I'm really sorry; I wouldn't ask such a big favor if I had any other choice..."

"Oh come on, Lily, you know that any time, with pleasure... However now..."

"I simply cannot believe Martha fell sick just now... I know I can't blame her; she helped me out so many times... But now, when I really have to..."

"Hey, stop with the apologies! I'm glad to help you any time, but..."

"Still, this is a great favor..."

"That's not the problem... It's that John and I are also heading out."

The young woman's face fell, even her shoulders slumped, and suddenly she looked completely desperate.

"I simply can't bring her along..."

"Of course you can't! Please don't start to panic at once, let me finish. I absolutely have to accompany my husband: this reunion is a huge social event for the NAVY; everyone is bringing their wives... You know, it's a bit like the First Lady's presence..." – she looked back over her shoulder in a guilty way and lowered her voice – "...at least John feels just as important as the President."

She giggled and the other woman shifted her weight from one leg to another, awkwardly waiting for the chatter to end.

"But Gregory will be home."

The little girl's gaze immediately left the little insect and flickered up to the middle-aged woman's face. The name she had just heard started something inside her; she tried to gather the blurred and incoherent memories about someone so mysterious that the thought alone made the hair on the back of her neck stand on edge.

She held her breath and wrinkled her tiny forehead, but all she could catch were faded impressions from her short past. A lanky figure pacing the sidewalk, heavy books under his arm, leaning over the fence (this fence) and unlocking the gate with ease, before disappearing into the house. And a pair of eyes... That had been so long ago, she'd been so little, so very-very little... They'd been walking home, she and her mom, hand in hand; and her mom had stopped at this fence to chat a few words with Mrs. House. And suddenly the front door had opened and a voice called: "Mom...". Her three year old self had been completely stunned by the fact that this very, very tall boy, almost a grown man, calls this woman Mom, just like she did to her Mommy... The boy had stopped next to them; politely said hello to the woman, but his gaze had just brushed over the tiny nothingness behind the fence that was she. Still the very sight of the icy blueness and the depth of his eyes had paralyzed her. They had been just like the scary Mr. House's, and had made a contrast with the warm brown gaze of Mrs. House. As far as she could remember, she even had dreamt about those eyes that night. It was frightening but somehow good; like listening to a fairytale and hiding under the covers when the witch appears.

And now all this was back at the mere mention of a name.

Her mother looked a bit unsure, but Mrs. House smiled at her encouragingly.

"Why are we standing here? Come in, come in!" – With this, she unlocked the gate and waved them in. She followed the adults shyly.

"Gregory, dear!" – the older woman called out loud, addressing her words to a closed door just at the top of the stairs. She immediately hid behind the doorframe, but she couldn't fight her curiosity, and carefully peaked out from her shelter.

The door opened and she held her breath. A couple of almost soundless footsteps down the wooden stairs, and he was standing just behind his mother, head slightly bowed, waiting for what they had to tell him.

At that moment, another man appeared from the direction of the kitchen, and this made her jump. John House was dressed in full uniform, back straight, almost as tall as his son, piercing blue eyes scanning the room from under thick brows. If she hadn't been big enough to know that neighbors didn't tend to eat children, she may had been chickened out and run away for good.

"Who's that, Blythe?" – John asked on his way out. Then saw the thin young woman in the doorway and briefly nodded towards her.

"Lily here needs a babysitter urgently, and I thought Gregory could..."

"Rubbish." – the marine growled, freezing the air immediately. – "He couldn't even take care of a goldfish. He has no idea of responsibility, no matter how hard I try to teach him."

The boy in question felt a wave of anger rise quickly inside his chest. He knew his father legally had no power over him anymore, still he felt nervous. Fortunately he was smart enough to know that this bullying only held him back from whatever he tried to achieve, and was fighting hard to ignore it.

"Sir" – he said in a restrained voice. – "I'm standing right here."

John stared at his son as if seeing him for the first time in his life.

"I know." – he answered mercilessly.

Greg let out a breath. He lost, again; it's impossible to find a grab on this man.

"John, dear, he's 21..." – Blythe tried gently. – "And the little one has her toys with her; she's big enough to just play by herself and not to do anything silly. They're going to be just fine, don't you, Gregory?"

Well, as for him, he had some doubts about that, but knew he had no word against his mother's decision.

"Actually, I have a test on Monday and..." – he tried weakly.

"Oh dear, you can just study next to her. I'm sure she won't disturb you."

He let out a sigh.

"Right. Where is it?" – the moment he pronounced the pronoun, he regretted it, but couldn't take it back. His mother gave him a reproachful look.

"But honey, she is not »it«, you know well, she's a sweet little girl." – She reached behind the doorframe and, visibly against the child's will, pulled her out and into sight. – "Remember little Allison, don't you?"

TBC! Please tell me what you think. Virtual hugs to all my Hameron (& misc.) readers! Love, WQ