Warnings for descriptions of hallucinations.

Scott looked up from the book he was reading at the beep-beep of his alarm. Damn, he'd studied through the night. Again.

He shivered, suddenly cold. Yawning and stretching the kinks out of his body, he padded his way over to the kitchen, snagging his Yale hoodie on the way.

Coffee on, Scott stared out the window at the drizzle and sighed.

The opportunity to spend a semester abroad at Oxford had seemed too good an opportunity to miss. It had taken some persuading, though. He'd thought Yale was too far away from his brothers, but with his Grandma, Dad and eldest two brothers all telling him to grab the opportunity Scott had finally been persuaded.

Oxford, England was nothing like Kansas. For a start it was wet, like 80% of the time. And even when the sun was shining it was nowhere near as hot as home. But he loved the city. The architecture was amazing, as was the history and the museums.

The semester was almost up and he had end-of-term exams in his chosen subjects of Advanced Math, Aeronautics and navigation. Plus he'd taken on an extra subject here with a short course in Advanced Statistics with Application to Business, Medicine and Economics. He loved numbers – Scott knew full well that he was a closet Math nerd – and while his main degrees concentrated on his goal of becoming a pilot with the USAF, this extra qualification would help both that and his Father's business. Scott knew full well that at some point he'd be in line to take over from his Dad, and while the opportunity was there to learn something that was both fun and helpful to both walks of life Scott was going to grab it.

Now he was regretting that decision as his exams for all subjects came so close together.

The coffee he made was too strong and too sweet, but he needed the extra kick to get going this morning. Thank goodness today was Friday. Friday midnight was the time that Scott called home and spoke to Gordon and Alan, Grandma and Dad (if he was there). Virgil and John, both away at their own universities, would be Sunday calls.

The day seemed to drag. Lessons he usually enjoyed seemed to slip through his fingers, numbers dancing around his head refusing to be caught and figured out. Scott found it very frustrating. By the early afternoon his lecturer had told him to go home and get some sleep – something about black bags under his eyes – but Scott was determined to get the numbers back under control.

He knew this stuff, he did these kinds of equations for fun for goodness sake. Yet still his brain just couldn't compute. In the end Scott sighed, packed his bag and headed for his apartment.

Jeff had offered to buy Scott a flat, as apartments were called over here, but Scott had declined. He was only here for a little over one semester, it didn't seem worthwhile. He'd shared a house for Yale, and his Dad's friend Lord Hugh Creighton-Ward had carefully vetted not only where he was living but who he was living with. One fellow math nerd, a hopeful ecologist and one who rowed but seemed to do little else had all passed vetting.

Dumping his bag in the corner by the door, Scott poured what would be the fifth…or was it sixth?...coffee of the day, thankful that it was the one luxury his dad had insisted on buying the flat. He might be home, but he still had revision to do, so after downing the hot drink and preparing another, Scott retrieved his books and settled down to read.

It was the weirdest phenomenon.

The words and numbers seemed to lift off the page and swirl around his head. Scott reached out a couple of times to pluck them out of the air, but once more they danced out of his reach. They were determined to make sure he failed next week.

With a frown Scott slammed the book shut and hurled it across the room. At least that stopped the floating figures, and he all but collapsed on the couch – the sofa. His English roommates had been correcting his Americanisms all the time. It had been amusing at first, but Scott was glad today that none of them were around.

He switched on the TV and aimlessly watched it. But it wasn't long before the images started to become almost 3D in quality. Scott sighed but ignored it. It seemed his head just wanted to mess with him today.

It wasn't until the floor lurched under his feet as he stood to grab another coffee that Scott registered that something was very wrong. Stumbling across the room to the kitchen took far longer than it should and Scott resolved to not have any more caffeine. Maybe that would help. Instead he poured himself a glass of lemonade – he'd yet to come across a soda that tasted anything like the ones back home – and made the arduous trip back.

Pretty soon the idea that something was wrong was lost to Scott. He had stopped staring at the floor and had been staring at the walls, totally mesmerised. They were melting like candle wax, pooling on the floor until it too was bubbling and swirling. Scott quickly yanked his feet up onto the couch and hugged his legs.

He ignored the knock at the door. He wasn't expecting anyone and for sure the walls and the floor were far more interesting. Eventually the knocking became annoying though, so he yelled for the person to just come in.

Scott may not have noticed the slurring of his own voice, but the person who entered did. Annoyed that he'd been left outside when he could hear the TV clearly, Jeff had knocked several times. At his son's voice the frown on his face deepened and he opened the door, striding in directly into the living room.

'Scotty?'

'Quick! Dad, you need to get off the floor!'

'Scott? What the hell? I – '

'DAD!'

The urgent, panicked tone of his son's voice made Jeff stop and jump up onto the nearest chair, pulling his legs up like Scott had. He had no idea what was going on, 'the floor is lava' was an old game that had been – and still was – one of Gordon's favourites, but it was one Scott hated to play.

It didn't feel like play, though. Scott turned on the couch so that he could see his dad, and Jeff was frankly concerned at the state his son was in. Black bags under his eyes, pale, sweaty skin, wide open pupils…if he didn't know his son better Jeff would have assumed he was on drugs.

Jeff did know Scott, though, and knew that this was a completely different problem, one that he had missed once due to being away at work. But he had been around when Scott had his end-of-school exams to get into Yale, and he'd seen a repeat the next year at end-of-terms. So while Jeff had hoped this would not be third time 'lucky' but he knew in his heart it would be too much to hope for.

He thanked his lucky stars he'd chosen this weekend to plan a surprise visit to his eldest, knowing that with the exams coming up over the next week Scott would be stressed. Scott was a genius in his own right, but he never felt like he was as clever as John or Virgil and sometimes he'd worked himself into the ground studying.

Scott was a driven young man and Jeff knew he got that from himself.

Sighing, he rubbed a hand down his face. Jeff had never been able to get through to Scott that he was good enough in anything, so why he thought that his schooling would have been any different he didn't know, but he hoped. He tried. Now, he needed to try hard to get Scott to sleep. His Ma had warned him of the dangers of sleep deprivation last time.

He wasn't going to let his son down again.

Jeff carefully stood on the chair…and jumped. The chair clattered to the ground but Jeff had landed on the chair beside the couch Scott was on. He hadn't missed Scott's flinch, but he put that to one side and climbed over onto the couch.

Scott's eyes stayed wide as his dad reached out and cupped his cheek, but he didn't look away from the corner where the floor and walls met. Jeff sighed again and added his other hand to gently pull Scott's head around to face him. As he did Jeff began to hum one of the lullabies his wife used to hum.

His Ma had sat him down before he had flown over and given him clear instructions as to how to treat Scott in various stages of sleep deprivation. Jeff had never been more thankful that his Ma had been very specific in everything. He counted through the list as his hummed, hands still holding his eldest's face and watching as Scott's eyes softened and drifted closed a couple of times.

Distract, find ways to help him relax and get him to sleep. Jeff had deliberately chosen the lullaby Lucy had sung when she'd needed to get the overtired toddler then child Scott would frequently become when the need to take care of his brothers meant that he neglected himself. Frequently.

Jeff kept humming as eventually Scott slumped into his arms asleep, and Jeff slowly and carefully adjusted his position, knowing that Scott was a light sleeper usually. He hadn't even managed to take his coat off. Eventually he managed to get his phone out and snapped a picture of the two of them and sent it off to his Ma.

The smiley face, thumbs-up and sleeping face emojis made him chuckle as held his sleeping son tightly, brushing Scott's head with a kiss before he settled a little deeper and went over the idea in his head that he was slowly forming for the future. For his future, and hopefully his son's future too, all of them.