Usual disclaimers - none of the Tracys are mine. Something a little lighter this time, hope you like it. Bee

Chapter One

Jeff Tracy put down the phone, turned off his laptop and pushed his chair away from the desk, taking a moment to stretch out his aching neck and shoulders. Glancing at the clock on the study wall he pulled a face. It was gone seven already. He'd had no idea it was so late, but then time always seemed to fly when he became engrossed in his work. Things were particularly busy at the moment - the business he'd set up a few years ago had expanded way beyond his initial expectations and he'd reached the point where it made economic sense to build his own factory rather than continue to outsource the production of the machinery which looked set to make him a fortune. He'd immediately decided that the new factory should be in his home state of Kansas, and so the family had packed up and returned to his old home town. It was the perfect place to raise the boys.

He shut the study door behind him, careful not only to lock it, but to pocket the key. He'd learned the hard way that giving small boys access to important documents wasn't a good idea - he appreciated a paper aeroplane as much as the next Air Force veteran, but not when it was made out of company reports or spreadsheets.

Crossing the hallway to the lounge, he smiled at the sound of the piano. Inching the door open, he watched as Lucy guided the fingers of their youngest son across the keys. Not that Virgil would be the youngest for much longer, he thought, once again experiencing that familiar mixture of excitement and anxiety which had plagued him every day for almost nine months. The new baby was due in just over a month and Jeff had organised his diary to ensure that he'd be on hand for the birth.

Lucy's pregnancy hadn't originally been planned. They'd decided to stop after Virgil, despite their disappointment that the much longed-for daughter had been denied them. Then they'd moved to this new house which had more than enough room for one more - and it wasn't as if they couldn't afford it. Even so, Jeff still wasn't sure how Lucy had persuaded him that four would be a good idea. He was exhausted running around after three, and he spent much of each day away from his boys! But she had been desperate to try for a girl and so they'd gone ahead. They'd both been a little disappointed when the scan showed yet another boy, but that had quickly passed and now they couldn't wait to meet their new son.

His two eldest had taken the news of another brother in their stride, but Virgil hadn't been at all impressed. Usually the most placid of toddlers, he'd become increasingly demanding as the pregnancy had progressed, culminating in several spectacular tantrums as the baby's arrival crept closer, though Jeff had a feeling it wasn't so much Lucy's attention he was worried about losing, but Scott's.

"Daddy!" Virgil caught sight of him, missed the right key and scowled in frustration. Lucy moved his hand back to the proper position before gazing levelly across at her husband.

"Nice of you to join us."

"Sorry. Harry had the latest figures from the Japanese deal. I didn't think it would take as long as it did."

"Well now you're here you can make yourself useful. The trash needs to go out."

"Shouldn't Scott have done that?"

"He's still got that cough. I don't want him going out in the cold."

Virgil came to the end of his piece, giggling when both his parents broke into applause.

"Come on, maestro," Jeff said, lifting him down from the piano stool. "Time for bed."

Virgil shook his head vigorously and insisted he wasn't the least bit sleepy.

"Nice try, son," Jeff smiled. "You've got five minutes. I'm putting the garbage out then I'm taking you up to bed. Say goodnight to your mother."

He made his way out into the hallway, crossing over to the coat rack and pulling on his warmest jacket. But before he could put on his shoes the phone rang. Calling out to Lucy that he'd get it, he spent the next few minutes chatting to his mother, who was possibly even more excited about the new baby than he was.

Finishing the conversation with the announcement that he was off to put out the garbage bags, he replaced the receiver and turned to the front door, only to be faced with the sight of Virgil standing there with a coat on - John's by the look of it, since it was way too big for him, reaching way past his knees, the sleeves hiding his hands. The hat which was slipping down over one eye belonged to Scott, though at least the boots appeared to be his own.

"Help Daddy!" he announced seriously.

Jeff sighed. A five minute job would now take something like fifteen - his three-year-old son's 'help' in cases like this was really more of a hindrance - and it really was freezing outside. He opened his mouth to tell Virgil he didn't need any assistance, then shut it again. The kid looked so darn cute as he gazed up at him expectantly and a refusal might lead to another tantrum, something Jeff really didn't think he could cope with right now. Plus, if Virgil wanted to prove he was a big boy like his brothers by helping with Scott's chores, that was surely to be encouraged.

"Okay, son," he agreed, deciding to leave the coat and hat as they were but adding a pair of gloves before leading his son to the door and pulling it open. He half-hoped the child would be put off by the icy blast of wind that swept into the hallway, but Virgil grabbed his hand and pulled him outside. They walked over to where the pile of garbage bags sat waiting to be taken down to the gate.

Jeff realised Virgil was shuffling along somewhat clumsily and he stopped and looked down at his son.

"Have you got your shoes on the wrong feet again, Virgil?"

Virgil studied his feet before looking up at his father doubtfully.

Wishing once again that he'd left his son in the house, Jeff picked him up and sat him down on a nearby wall.

Virgil shivered as his father pulled his boots off.

"Socks next time, kid," Jeff told him, quickly pushing a boot onto the correct foot. He took a moment to rub Virgil's other foot, blowing on his toes to get them warm before getting the second boot on, laughing as his ticklish son squirmed away, then making a quick grab for him to stop him falling off the wall. "You sure you don't want to go back in?" he asked hopefully.

Virgil shook his head. "Helping."

Why did I have to buy such a big property? Jeff thought to himself as he trudged down the drive. He'd given Virgil the smallest of the garbage bags and he just hoped the thing didn't break as his soon-to-be-second youngest dragged it along, abandoning it every so often to run off to jump through puddles. It was dark, with only the light of the half-moon to guide them, the streetlight across the way having failed. Jeff made a note to report it in the morning.

They reached the gate and piled up the bags outside. Relieved the job was done and looking forward to a hot cup of coffee, Jeff was about to lead his son back to the house when a tall figure appeared out of nowhere, a glowing cigarette in his hand. He stumbled slightly as he approached the gate, slurring his words as he spoke.

"'Lo, Mister Tracy." The words might have been friendly enough, but there was a cold edge to them.

Jeff knew the voice well, though he couldn't say it was one he particularly wanted to hear, especially not when he was alone on a dark street with a three-year-old to worry about. He reached down and pulled a protesting Virgil into his arms before replying.

"Trask."

"Tha's me."

"What are you doing all the way out here?"

"Jus' walkin'. Nothin' else to do." He took a bottle of whisky from inside his coat, unscrewing the lid and taking a long swallow. It didn't escape Jeff's notice that the man's hands shook as he did so, nor the fact that it took him three attempts to get the bottle back into his pocket.

Trask had worked as night-watchman at Jeff's factory until a few days ago. He'd started well but had become increasingly unreliable, eventually being found asleep at his post with an empty bottle of whisky in front of him. Jeff had tried to get help for the man but the problems had continued and in the end he'd had no choice but to fire him. Trask had turned nasty - he'd been drunk at the time - and sworn he'd get even one day. Jeff didn't like him suddenly turning up on his doorstep. He liked the way he stared at Virgil even less.

"Cute kid. Wha's ya name, boy?"

Virgil looked at him uncertainly. He didn't like this man, but he'd been brought up always to be polite, so he whispered obediently,

"Virgil."

Trask shot him a pitying look before breaking out into laughter. "Seriously? Ya poor kid. Still, ya daddy always was a bit of a bastard."

"Trask!"

The man ignored Jeff, leaning forward and breathing whisky fumes and cigarette smoke into Virgil's face. The boy flinched and turned his head away, his hands twisting into Jeff's jacket as he began to cough. Jeff tightened his grip on him.

"It's alright, Virgil," he muttered softly.

Mindful of the boy in his arms, Jeff decided that this was one of those situations where it was prudent to beat a strategic retreat. Edging away from Trask, he finally reached the safety of his driveway, letting go of his son with one hand long enough to press the button which slid the gate across.

"Go home," he told Trask, relieved that the man had remained out on the sidewalk. For a moment he'd feared he might follow him. "Get some sleep. And please, call my secretary in the morning and get her to book you back into rehab."

Trask laughed. Jeff turned and hurried back up the drive, doing his best to ignore the man as he shouted more abuse at him. He was more concerned with Virgil, who was clearly unsettled by the encounter. Fortunately, most of the conversation had gone over the boy's head and a piggy-back ride at top speed down the drive which left Jeff breathless, had Virgil laughing again by the time they reached the house.

Jeff swung his son down from his shoulders.

"I don't think we'll mention this to your mother," he said as he opened the door, stepping thankfully back into the warmth of the house.