It was a rare grey and rainy day on the island with just enough wind to make the rain patter against the windows and set the trees to swaying. In something of a grey mood himself, Alan had found a quiet corner in the mezzanine library and curled up in a beanbag with a weighty leather bound photo album of actual photos, printed out on glossy paper. He'd just cracked it open when Gordon plunked himself down next to him. "Looking up the family photos?" He asked brightly.

"Yeah." Alan nodded absently, hoping Gordon's 'squid sense' would catch his vibe of 'I want to be alone' as he looked at the first photo.

It was of a very young Scott, perhaps only minutes old, in their Mom's arms, and their Dad pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. It wasn't a glamorous photo by a long shot- her hair was plastered down with sweat, they were both rumpled, tired and dishevelled, but the love was unmistakable.

"Dad said he was always in awe every time he saw Mom with one of us in her arms for the first time." Gordon commented, looking over his shoulder at the photo. "He said that was when she was at her most incredible, that she went through all of that and at the end, she had a baby and then for some reason he'd never figured out she trusted him, some crazy astronaut guy, with that baby."

Alan made a noncommittal noise in reply, turning his attention to the other photos and trying to ignore the ache in his chest.

The next one was a couple of years older Scott being held by their Dad peering over the edge of a hospital crib and looking highly skeptical at the newborn John inside. 'I'm not so sure about this.' was the caption.

'He's so small!' was the title of the next one- Scott and John looking into a wickerwork bassinet at an infant Virgil, Scott looking happy and John looking baffled by the concept of such a tiny human.

A three year old Virgil, dripping with mud and laughing in delight, was being carried by the back of his shirt by their Dad. He was also covered in mud and trying to frown but failing to hide his grin, Virgil-sized muddy handprints on his face. 'Budding artist!' had been inscribed next to it.

Gordon, in the bathtub and crowned with bubbles, was mid splash. Scott was outside the bath and mid flinch, a spray of water arcing towards his face. Alan traced the caption with his fingertips, a handwritten 'My little fish!'.

The last photo on the page was their mother, sitting in a rocking chair with the swaddled bundle he knew was himself in the crook of her arm. Warm summer light spilled in through the window beside her and she was caught in the act of stroking the downy tuft of hair on his head. 'Love you' was the simple caption.

"Mom said you had a half mohawk as a baby." Gordon was partially leaning on him to see the photos properly. "Just this one tuft of hair in the front that never stayed down."

"I miss her." Alan replied quietly, blinking back tears. "I don't remember much, but I miss her."

Gordon pulled him into a side hug, both arms around his little brother. "I miss her too." He murmured as the rain beat down, matching their mood. "She loved us all so much."

"Do...do you think she'd be happy?" Alan asked, subdued. "If she knew what we were doing? You know, International Rescue and everything?"

There was a footstep and a new voice spoke up. "She'd be so proud of you all." Grandma broke in, looking at her youngest grandsons with a smile. "The work you do, the lives you've saved, she'd be so incredibly happy and so very, very proud of you." She pulled a chair over and sat down, indicating the album. "Now, c'mere with that, there's some stories behind the other photos here you two should know about. Did Scott ever tell you about that time he and Virgil found a skunk?"

A/N- reposted with a minor edit because 'skunked' didn't mean what I'd been told it did.