Sorry to have taken so long with this, but it's finally finished. So much for my attempt to write a one-shot! Thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed and alerted, it means a lot. Hope you enjoy the ending. Bee

If Scott hadn't already texted Greg to tell him where to pick him up, he'd have been tempted to go somewhere else for food. The pizza place was packed and the lone waitress looked harassed and exhausted as she tried to make her way round all the tables. It was going to be a long wait for a table and even longer for a pizza by the look of it. Glancing across at Isaac and Carlie, Scott sighed. The pair were oblivious to their surroundings and they clearly weren't going to notice how long it took to get a seat. Scott found himself wondering if they'd be able to leave each other alone long enough to eat anything anyway. Of course, that made him think of Marianne and he cursed the bad luck that had plagued him lately.

Flinching as a man at the table nearby bellowed at the waitress, he wondered why people put up with it. A need for money, he supposed and felt a sudden gratitude for the fates which had allowed him not to worry about such things. Five minutes in this place and he was already feeling claustrophobic. The thought of doing this every night... he didn't know how the girl stood it.

As she came hurrying over with a quiet apology for the delay in taking the order, Scott realised that he knew her. Katie... Callie... no, Cassie, that was it. She went to his school, though she was in the year below his and he'd never spoken to her before. She caught his eye as she turned around and managed a frazzled smile and a shrug as if to say sorry for not stopping to chat, before scurrying back to the kitchen.

Scott wondered whether to make Cassie's life easier and leave, but one glance outside showed him that the torrential rain which had been threatening all night had finally arrived. A rumble of thunder decided the matter. He was staying put until Greg arrived.

Ten minutes later a free table appeared and he dashed across. Isaac and Carlie managed to break apart long enough to follow him, but they soon took up where they'd left off. Scott sighed and, despite the fact that he already knew what he wanted, began to read the menu carefully from start to finish.

It was another five minutes until Cassie arrived at the table, notepad in hand.

"Hi Scott. Sorry about the wait. It's a bit busy tonight."

"So I see. Don't worry, I'm waiting for a ride home anyway."

"Good night?" she asked, looking at him curiously. "You don't usually look so..."

She was clearly trying to be tactful. Scott looked down at his dishevelled clothes and smiled ruefully. "Let's just say I won't be forgetting this birthday in a hurry - however much I might want to. But what are you doing here? It's a bit far from home isn't it?"

"My uncle owns this place. I work here every weekend. It's-"

"Hey, honey, you want to cut the chatter and start serving? Some of us are waiting for our food." The couple at the next table were clearly unhappy. Cassie explained there was a problem in the kitchen, promising them she'd bring the order as soon as it was ready, then had to stand there murmuring apologies as the man ranted about the service he'd received. Finally he ran out of steam and she turned back to Scott.

"Do people always speak to you like that?" he asked.

"It's okay. He's probably drunk. It's always like this on a Friday night. Although there are usually a few more of us. My uncle's taken my aunt off to Kansas City for their anniversary. My cousin should be here but he slipped out half an hour ago to call his girlfriend. Haven't seen him since."

"You're on your own here?" Scott asked.

"I've got help in the kitchen, but we're a bit swamped right now."

This time it was the woman at the next table who cut in. "Talk to your boyfriend in your own time, why don't you? We want to order some drinks. If it's not too much trouble..."

"I'd better get moving," Cassie said. "What did you want?"

"Come back in a few minutes, okay?" Scott watched her head across to the grumpy couple then glanced across at Isaac and Carlie. The pair hadn't separated since they'd sat down and Scott wondered how they were still managing to breathe.

"Isaac..." He wasn't surprised when his friend didn't even register his presence. "Isaac!" It was only his third attempt accompanied by a savage poke in the arm that got Isaac's attention.

"What? I'm busy."

"I can tell. Listen, why don't you just go back to Carlie's place? I'll be fine here."

"We couldn't leave you by yourself." Isaac had never sounded less convinced of anything.

"Oh, trust me, I'd rather be alone than have to watch the pair of you, especially when I think of what I missed out on earlier. Greg shouldn't be too much longer. Go on."

"Thanks, buddy." Isaac stood up, dragging Carlie to her feet. She waved happily at Scott as Isaac led her to the door.

"Leaving?" Cassie asked, returning with a tray of drinks for the next table.

"Forget the pizza," Scott said. "Why don't I give you a hand until my lift arrives?"

"Oh, Scott, I don't think that's such a good idea..."

"Why? I can wait tables, Cassie. I've never done it before, but how hard can it be? Write down the orders then carry the food over, right? Come on, you look worn-out."

"It's not that. It's really sweet of you, but... Well, to be honest, the way you look right now you'd probably just scare the customers away." She leaned closer and sniffed. "You don't smell too good either. Tell you what, though, I could put you to work in the kitchen. The dishwasher's broken. That's part of the problem tonight. If you don't mind washing up, Tom can get on with filling the orders and I can handle things out here."

Scott looked down at himself and shrugged. "You might have a point. I don't know how long I can stay - my ride should be here in fifteen minutes or so, but until then I'm all yours."

Cassie smiled. "Do you know how many girls would kill to hear you say that to them?"

"Yes, but how many of them would reject me and then make me wash up?" Scott couldn't help laughing at the way his birthday had turned out as he let Cassie lead him over to the kitchen. Two minutes later as he tied the strings of an apron around his waist and looked ruefully at the pair of rubber gloves Cassie gave him, he wondered why he hadn't kept his mouth shut.

Before he put the gloves on he checked his phone and found a message from Greg.

"Looks like you get me for a while longer. Greg's only just setting off." He didn't go on to explain that Greg had been held up by having to sneak Rick into his house then get him into bed without his parents finding out what state he was in.

"Ffiteen minutes, half an hour, whatever," Cassie said. "I'm glad of any help. Now then, those dishes..." She pointed at the sink which was piled high with plates and cutlery.

Scott pulled on the gloves and got to work. It didn't take long before the prospect of an executive office and a personal assistant to bring him coffee and, more importantly, to wash up afterwards, began to seem like his idea of heaven. He thought hard about his life as he worked, the monotony of the task surprisingly soothing.

He soon lost track of time. When finally there was a lull in the restaurant and all the dishes were done, he looked around, wondering what time it was. Surely Greg should have been there by now? A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him that his friend should have arrived half an hour ago. Scott had had no idea it was so late. Pulling off his gloves he checked his phone. He'd missed a call, the sound of the running water and clattering plates clearly having masked the sound of his ringtone. Checking his voicemail he listened anxiously as Greg explained with a mixture of shame and embarrassment that he'd taken a corner on one of the country lanes a little too fast and skidded into a ditch. The car wasn't too badly damaged but it wasn't going anywhere else that night.

Scott called his friend, feeling partly responsible for what had happened. Why hadn't he gone back with Greg and Rick? It wasn't as if his dalliance with Marianne had matched his expectations anyway. He should have put his friends first...

"Scott, I've been trying to call you."

"I only just realised. You okay?"

"Yeah. My pride's hurt more than anything else. My brother's going to winch the car out tomorrow. He doesn't think it'll be too hard to fix. Look, I'm really sorry. Are you going to be okay? Can you go back with Isaac and that girl?"

Not likely, Scott thought. Actually, he had no idea how he was going to get back - he knew he didn't have enough money left for a cab. He supposed he'd have to call his father. Great - his first night out as an adult and he'd have to go crying to daddy to bail him out.

"Everything okay?" Cassie asked as Scott put his phone back into his pocket. "I'm surprised you're still here."

Scott explained what the problem was. "How are you getting home," he asked, hoping Cassie might be able to give him a lift.

"I stay with my uncle on Fridays," she said apologetically. "I'm working here again tomorrow."

"Oh. Guess I'll have to call my dad."

"He's going to love being woken up at this hour," Cassie said. "Tell you what, if you don't mind waiting another hour or so, my uncle Walt can take you back. He's a taxi driver. Works round here but lives a couple of miles from you. He always calls in for a slice of pizza when he finishes his shift. He won't mind some company on the drive home."

"You sure?" Scott asked. The lateness of the hour didn't bother him - any time would do as long as he could make it home under his own steam.

"I'm sure. Look, Jim's back - finally. Do you want to sit in the restaurant while you're waiting? You've earned a coffee if nothing else."

Scott smiled, looking sideways at the pile of plates she'd just brought in. "No, I think I'll carry on here. It's helping me think. A coffee would be good, though."

Cassie made the coffee then stood beside the sink as Scott worked. "So, what are you thinking about? I've been watching you whenever I've been in here and you've been miles away."

"Oh you know, the usual things. Who am I? What am I doing with my life?"

"I'd have thought that you of all people wouldn't have any problem answering those questions," Cassie laughed. "Or is that the problem?"

"Yeah. I woke up this morning realising that my whole life was already mapped out for me."

"Is that so bad?"

Scott shrugged. "No. It's a good life. It's just... Sometimes I just want to break free for a while, you know?"

Cassie nodded. "I think we all feel like that sometimes. You couldn't guess how many times I've been invited to a party on a Friday and had to turn it down. Sometimes when I'm getting ready for work I just want to run as far away in the other direction as I can."

"Don't you ever get a night off?"

"Not very often." She didn't elaborate and Scott thought he understood. He apparently wasn't the only one who had to put himself out for the sake of his family.

They chatted for a minute or two longer until Cassie's cousin came in to tell her she was needed back in the restaurant. Scott carried on with his work until she came back to tell him her uncle had arrived for his supper and was more than happy to give him a lift.

"Thanks. I owe you."

"Don't worry about it. You've done more than enough to repay me with all this." She waved a hand at the pile of dishes neatly stacked on the side. "You did a good job," she said.

"Years of training by a perfectionist grandmother," Scott smiled. He took off his gloves and apron. "Can't say I'll miss those."

"Probably not your best look," Cassie agreed. "It's almost as bad as this uniform."

"Oh I don't know," Scott said. "You look good in it."

She looked at him in surprise. "Oh. Thanks."

Scott looked back at her, a little surprised himself that the words had slipped out. She couldn't have been more of a contrast to Marianne, but that hadn't exactly worked out well. Maybe he could salvage something from this birthday after all. "Why don't we-"

An elderly man appeared in the doorway, waving his car keys and completely ruining the moment.

"If this young man wants a ride he'd better be ready to go."

"Great timing, Uncle Walt," Cassie muttered under her breath before turning to the man and smiling. "He's ready." She said goodbye to Scott cheerfully enough, though he could sense her reluctance. He felt the same way. Another promising moment with a girl interrupted - although in a very different way. Why did the world have it in for him right now?

"We'll finish this conversation another time," he promised as he followed the man out of the door.

Scott felt suddenly exhausted as he got into the car. He wanted nothing more than to get home, collapse into bed and sleep. He could have drifted off there and then, but Cassie's uncle didn't stop talking and so, too grateful for the lift to risk offending the driver, Scott forced himself to keep his eyes open and hold up his side of the conversation.

"My niece is a good girl," Uncle Walt commented.

Scott flinched, wondering if this was going to turn into the kind of conversation he'd often had with protective fathers. Fortunately, Uncle Walt didn't seem to want to take the conversation in that direction, instead telling Scott all about the girl and how hard she had to work in order to get the necessary funds together to go to college.

Once again Scott couldn't help feeling guilty. All the things other people had to strive so hard to achieve had been handed to him on a plate. Why on earth had he been feeling so resentful? He'd rather have his life than anyone else's, he knew that for certain now. Next time he found himself resenting the responsibilities placed on his shoulders, he'd remember how it felt to be hiding under a pile of trash bags in the cold and the rain. Tonight had been... interesting, that was for sure. He wasn't sure if it was the lateness of the hour or the fact that outside was wet and windy whereas the interior of the car was warm and cosy, but he suddenly found he was perfectly satisfied with things just the way they were.

Maybe his luck had finally changed, he thought.

It hadn't.

They were almost at the outskirts of town, just a mile or so from the Tracy house, when Uncle Walt rounded a corner only to suddenly slam on the brakes. A tree had come down and was blocking the road.

"Now what?" Scott asked as the driver turned on his radio to warn the authorities.

"Well, I can turn round and take the back road. Should have you home in another twenty minutes."

Scott thought for a moment. The back road was probably flooded after the torrential rain. It would more than likely take a lot longer than twenty minutes to get there. Then the man would have to find another route to his own house. He was looking at another hour's driving at least. Scott thought back to his earlier conversation with Greg at The Dungeon. If he hadn't put himself before his friend, he would have been safely home now and Greg's car wouldn't be stuck in a ditch. Of course then he wouldn't have met Cassie...

He looked out of the window. The rain had stopped and the wind had died down. He came to a decision and opened the door.

"Don't worry about it. It's not far to my house. I can walk it easily."

Uncle Walt protested but Scott insisted he'd be fine. "Really. I'll be home in ten minutes. Thanks for the lift. You drive carefully."

Uncle Walt looked up at the stormy clouds. "I'm not so sure, boy. The rain might hold off, but if it doesn't you're going to get soaked."

"I'll walk fast," Scott assured him. He clambered over the fallen tree. "Thanks again."

He waved at Walt as he turned the car round and disappeared into the distance. Wrapping his arms around himself as a protection against the cold wind - it didn't help much, but he hoped the walk would warm him up - he set off on his way.

As he walked he thought about Cassie. Her uncle's comments about her struggling to afford college had touched a nerve. He wished there was something he could do to help, but he knew, even after just a short time of talking to her, that she'd never accept money from him. Then a thought struck him. His father had been thinking about setting up a scholarship for college students, hoping to bring some new blood to his companies. Cassie was planning on studying Business - maybe she could be the first beneficiary. He'd suggest it next time he spoke to his father. It could be his first decision as a Tracy Industries' executive. For the second time that night he found himself enjoying his new-found power.

Then it started to rain and Scott felt like the world was against him once again.

He trudged on down the road then paused as he heard the sound of a car heading his way. The driver wouldn't be able to go much further, he thought, wondering if he should flag the car down, tell the occupants about the obstruction ahead and ask for a lift to his house. But it was past 2am and he wasn't too sure who was likely to be out at this time of night. Deciding to play it safe, he moved behind a tree and watched as the car approached, knowing the driver would have to turn around and come back this way. If they looked okay he'd stop them on their way back.

They weren't okay. Scott couldn't see inside the car but the sheer speed of the vehicle suggested the occupant wasn't the safest - or soberest - of drivers. Not that that was the worst of it. He'd only got a brief glimpse of the car, but the number plate - BRND1 - told him all he needed to know. There was no way he'd be asking for a ride from one of the people who'd ruined his night, especially not when he was out in the middle of nowhere in the early hours, soaking wet, with a torn shirt. He'd never hear the end of it from Brandon - or anyone else, either. It would be all round town by lunchtime, that was for sure. Charitably hoping that Brandon saw the tree before he crashed into it, Scott carried on walking.

When, a few minutes later, he heard the car coming back, he decided to repeat his earlier trick of hiding behind a tree. It would have been fine, if the tree he'd chosen hadn't been perched on the edge of a gully. In the darkness Scott didn't see the drop and before he knew it he found himself falling.

He rolled a few times before landing flat on his face at the bottom of the ditch. He didn't lie there for long, though, since he'd managed to land in a puddle. Pulling himself up, coughing and spluttering, he listened to the sounds of Brandon's car fading into the distance, unable to believe that yet another disaster had befallen him.

Finally, when he was sure it was safe to move again, he got to his feet. If he'd thought Brandon would ridicule him for his appearance before, it was nothing compared to what he'd say now - Scott was covered in mud from head to toe.

Gingerly making his way back to the road - he'd twisted his ankle in the fall, as if he hadn't suffered enough already - Scott limped on towards his house. At least the driving rain washed some of the mud away, though he dreaded to think what his grandmother would say when she went to wash his clothes. He wondered whether he should just throw out his jeans along with his torn shirt - anything to avoid a lecture from Grandma! Still, at least she wouldn't actually see the state he'd come home in.

Or would she? When Scott approached his house, shivering violently and with his teeth chattering uncontrollably, he stopped at the gate and gazed up at the dark windows. There wasn't even a lamp on, his father clearly having trusted him not to come home in such a state of inebriation that he'd need one. Pushing aside the momentary annoyance that his father believed he'd behave even on his eighteenth birthday, he limped on up the drive, pulling off his shoes as he got to the porch.

It was only when he searched his pockets that he realised he'd lost his key. It must have happened when he'd fallen. It had been there when he'd started walking - he'd checked. But now his pocket was torn, the key was gone - and Scott had no way of getting in without waking up the whole house.

Debating whether to just get it over with and bang on the door, Scott thought he'd have one quick look round the back. Maybe, just maybe, something would go right for him and the back door would be open. Even a window would do; he was sure he could squeeze himself through - after all, it wouldn't be the first time that night.

As he rounded the side of the house he stopped, blinking in surprise for a moment, telling himself not to get his hopes up too much. There was a light on in Virgil's room. Wondering how on earth that was possible - the kid might put up an almighty fight about going to bed but once he was there he wouldn't wake up again without the aid of something either very loud, very cold or very wet - Scott cast his eyes around for a small stone which he could throw up. But before he could do so, the window opened and his brother leaned out.

"Scott?" he whispered. "Is that you?"

Ignoring the temptation to point out that if he'd been a burglar it probably wasn't a good idea to engage in conversation, Scott stepped out of the shadows.

"Yeah, it's me," he whispered back. "I-"

"What happened to you?"

"Long story. Will you-"

"Are you wet?"

"Yeah. Look, Virg-"

"You're freezing."

"I know. I need you to-"

"Is that mud?"

"Yes! Virg, I've lost my key. Can you...?"

Virgil pulled his head back in. A few minutes later Scott heard the bolts on the back door being drawn back and the sound of the key turning. A second later the door opened and Virgil was staring at him with an expression even Grandma would have been hard-pressed to match.

"Are you drunk?" he asked primly.

"No. But I'm cold, wet and miserable, so would you please just let me in?"

Virgil stood aside and let him through, turning back to relock the door as Scott muttered his thanks.

"What are you doing up anyway?" he asked.

"Painting. And waiting for you."

"Why?"

"You were late. I was worried."

"Are Dad and Grandma...?"

"No, they're asleep."

"You going to tell them about this?"

"No. Don't you get it Scott? I was worried. What if something had happened to you?"

"Well it didn't." Scott had no intention of telling his little brother about the night's events.

"You sure?" Virgil clearly wasn't convinced, raising an eyebrow as he looked intently at his brother. Scott had a horrible feeling the boy was registering every single detail about his appearance, ready to immortalise it in a picture later.

"Virg, I had to walk the last mile. A tree came down and the car couldn't get past it. I fell in a ditch and lost my key. All that's hurt is my pride. Okay?"

"And your ankle. I saw you limping."

"Yeah. Look, I really need to get changed. Thanks for looking out for me. I appreciate it, kid." He'd nearly reached the door before Virgil spoke again.

"There won't be anyone waiting up for you when you go away."

"Virg..." Scott gave up the fight. It was just too late - or maybe too early. Deciding that Virgil was less likely to continue the argument once they were upstairs and had to be careful not to disturb their grandmother, he turned and walked up the stairs to his room. He'd expected Virgil to follow him and it was with some relief that he realised his brother had stayed down in the kitchen.

He made his way into his room and looked around him. It was good to be home. Shedding his wet clothes, he towelled himself dry and got ready for bed. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself under the covers and sleep for the next fourteen hours.

Just as he reached his bed the door opened.

Virgil.

Scott groaned inwardly and wondered how long it would take him to get rid of his brother. When he turned round, however, he felt differently. Virgil stood there with two mugs in his hand. Scott hardly dared believe his eyes - or the smell which drifted over to him. Hot chocolate!

He bounded over to his brother and grabbed one of the mugs. "Virg, I love you!"

"Okay..." Virgil said, backing away a little uncertainly. "You sure you're not drunk?"

"No. Just thirsty." He frowned suddenly. "Grandma didn't hear you, did she? She's going to kill me for coming in this late."

Virgil shook his head. "Don't think so. She'd have come out if she had."

"Good." Scott's stomach chose that moment to let out an almighty growl. He wished he'd managed to snatch a slice of pizza before leaving the restaurant.

"Hungry?" Virgil asked. Without waiting for an answer, he passed the second mug to his brother. "Be right back," he said, disappearing back down the stairs.

Scott closed the door and sat down in the chair by the window. Taking a sip of his drink he considered it for a moment, then shrugged and took another mouthful. It wasn't up to his grandmother's standard, but at least the kid had tried. It was warm, that was the main thing, and he sat back and let himself relax.

He tensed up again when he heard a stair creak as Virgil returned, followed by the one thing he really didn't want to hear - the sound of his grandmother's door opening.

"Scott?"

He flinched. Midnight snacks were strictly forbidden, let alone 3am ones. Virgil was going to be in real trouble now.

"No, Grandma, just me."

"Virgil? What are you doing up?"

"I was thirsty. Just getting a glass of water."

"Are you sick?" Like Scott, Grandma couldn't understand why Virgil was awake, immediately thinking the worst.

"No, Grandma, I'm fine." This was followed by a whiny, "Get off!" which Scott knew would have been pre-empted by the application of a cold hand to the forehead.

"Well, you just go back to sleep." Grandma was apparently satisfied. "Is Scott back? I was listening out for him but I must have fallen asleep."

"He came back ages ago," Virgil told her. "I heard him. Looks like he made himself some hot chocolate before he came up - the kitchen's in a right state."

Scott groaned. So much for Virgil's thoughtfulness with the hot chocolate - his brother wasn't the tidiest in the kitchen and Scott hated to think what kind of mess he'd made. He'd be on washing up duty for the next week now. As if he hadn't had enough of that already...

Outside, Grandma was still interrogating her middle grandson. "Virgil, are you sure you're alright? It's really not like you to be up at this hour."

"I'm fine, honest." There came the sound of an exaggerated yawn. "I'm really tired, Grandma. Can I go back to bed now?"

"Alright. Goodnight, sweetie."

"'Night, Grandma."

Scott heard the door shut again and breathed a sigh of relief. A second later his own door opened and Virgil appeared, an enormous grin on his face.

"That was close," he whispered, holding out a glass of water to his brother. "In case you get a hangover," he explained. "John told me to put one out for you before I went to bed but I forgot."

"For the last time, Virg, I'm not drunk."

"Why not?"

Scott was taken aback for a moment. He debated whether or not to give his brother an edited version of the night's events then decided against it. Instead he picked up Virgil's mug and held it out to him as his brother flung himself into his usual seat - a giant cushion next to Scott's chair.

"I thought you'd gone to get some food," Scott said.

"Oh yeah." Virgil pulled a couple of chocolate bars out of his pocket. "Here you go."

Scott couldn't have asked for anything better right then. Within seconds the first of the bars was gone. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Virgil looking hopeful, broke off half of the second bar and passed it over before devouring the rest.

They sipped their hot chocolate companionably. Making sure Virgil had finished his, Scott suddenly reached out and smacked his brother across the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Helping Johnny with those ID's... staying up past your bedtime... lying to Grandma... blaming me for making a mess of the kitchen... Honestly, Virg, you used to be such a good kid. What happened?"

Virgil looked genuinely hurt. "I did it all for you, Scott. John said you wanted to have some fun on your birthday. I'm not completely stupid, you know - I don't want to get involved in whatever else he's up to. As for the rest, do you want me to go and confess to Grandma?"

"No," Scott sighed. "Just behave yourself from now on."

He got up and limped across to the bed, throwing himself down onto the mattress before he could register Virgil's frantic cry:

"Scott, don't!"

Something dug painfully into his back for a moment before crumpling under his weight and he let out a yelp of pain.

"What the...?" Scott got back up and pulled back the covers. Virgil came to stand beside him and the pair of them looked at the battered package.

"It's your real present from Gordon and Alan," Virgil told him. "They wanted to surprise you."

"They did that alright," Scott said ruefully, rubbing his back. "What is it?"

"You mean, 'what was it?'," Virgil told him, gingerly picking up the package and handing it to his brother.

Scott pulled one of the ripped edges apart. "A model plane."

"They put it together themselves. They spent weeks on it, Scott. They wouldn't even let me help with the painting."

"Make me feel bad, why don't you," Scott said. He held it out to his brother. "Can you fix it, Virg?"

There was a tap at the door and both boys froze.

"Scott, is that you? Are you alright?"

Virgil cast Scott a panicked look before throwing down the model plane and diving under the bed. Scott jumped into the bed himself, pulling the covers up to his chin and turning off the lamp. Just in time, as the door opened and his grandmother poked her head in.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, Grandma. Sorry, I just had a bad dream, I guess. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Is something wrong?" she asked in concern. "It's not like you to have nightmares."

Scott smiled. "I'm fine. Honest."

"You should stay clear of the drink, dear," Grandma said. "It obviously doesn't agree with you."

"Yeah, guess so," Scott agreed. "'Night, Grandma."

"Goodnight, darling."

The door closed. Scott held his breath until he heard the gentle click of Grandma's door closing. Then he relaxed, getting up and helping Virgil extricate himself from under the bed.

"Who's lying to Grandma now, then?"

"Shut up, Virg."

Virgil sat himself down on the bed and picked up the model.

"Can you mend it?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, I think so." He yawned. "I'll do it in the morning." He lay down and closed his eyes.

"Virgil?"

"Mmm?"

"This is my bed. Find your own."

"It's a nice bed. Comfy..."

"So's your's." He poked his brother in the ribs. "Come on, Virg, move." He took hold of Virgil's arm and pulled him to his feet. "Get to your room."

"Tired!" Even Alan would have been impressed by the whine in Virgil's voice at that moment.

"Me too." Scott gave up, slung his brother over his shoulders and carried him to the door. He was tempted to dump him outside, but knowing Virgil he'd just curl up and go to sleep on the floor, so he took him into his own room, pulling back the covers and dropping him on the bed.

"'No wonder you don't want to sleep in here," he said. "How do you stand the smell of that paint?"

"'S nice."

"Right..." Scott moved across to the easel to see what Virgil had been working on - a moonlit sky on a stormy night. "Oh, so this is what you wanted all that black paint for?"

"Mmm."

"Only used one shade in the end though, huh?"

Virgil snapped awake at this. "One? I used eight!"

Interesting, Scott thought. It looked as though he could add criticism of an artwork to the very small list of things that would get Virgil to wake up quickly.

"Eight? I don't see it, Virg."

Virgil dragged himself out of bed and stomped over to his brother, pointing out the different shades and shaking his head when Scott just looked bewildered.

"Guess I just don't have the eye for this kind of thing," he said. "You can really see eight shades of black out there?"

Virgil glanced out of the window. "Nine now."

Scott followed his gaze. "Nope, just the one." He let his eyes drift round the room as Virgil made his way back to his bed. His gaze rested on a copy of the picture which had been on Marianne's tee shirt. She'd have been able to appreciate Virgil's painting, he thought.

"The girl I met tonight would love you," he said.

"Really?" The glimmer of interest made Scott laugh. Just a short while ago the merest suggestion of a girlfriend would have elicited exactly the same disgusted response from Virgil as did the thought of homework, spinach and playing the piano for Grandma's church group.

"She's a bit old for you, maybe," he said, moving towards the door. "Sleep well, Virg."

"Night, Scott," Virgil said, snuggling under the covers.

"Hey," Scott said, suddenly. "Want to come out for a drive tomorrow? Just you and me?"

Virgil's look of delight said it all. "Sure. Where to?"

"Oh, just out and about. We could stop for pizza on the way home."

And just maybe, if Cassie needed an extra pair of hands, his brother could do the washing up whilst Scott got to know the girl a little better. Not that he'd mention that little detail, of course...

Shutting the door gently behind him, not wanting to risk waking Grandma, he wandered down the hallway to his own room, happy to be back in the place he felt most secure.

His eyes fell on the envelope containing the Tracy Industries' documents which was lying on his desk and he thought for a moment. All the things that had bothered him that morning seemed unimportant now. He didn't have it so bad really, he thought. It wasn't as if life wouldn't have something unexpected to throw at him. His future couldn't be that inflexible, surely?

He paused to look out of the window for a moment before pulling the curtains and heading towards his bed with a smile. No black at all, Virg, he thought. Not any more.