Throughout all of the history of the United Kingdom, the only constant was rain. Now, despite the Weathernet, it was STILL rainy. Tyler cursed under his breath as he stared out a rain-soaked front window at the Heathrow Transport Hub. He waited by the front doors of the noisy building waiting for his mother to pick him up. Being early afternoon, his father would have just started work at the pub. He watched the people and transports zip past the crowded streets and walkways. Unlike newer cities, London never had the ability to 'grow' with new technologies, so as the population grew, the roadways shrank. The transports only had two lanes to drive in, but they were stacked ten high. Looking out the window, the memories of his adventures rapidly became distant. The reality of home rushed to the front of his mind. He was anxious to see his family... well most of his family. Being the oldest of three, it had always been assumed he would carry on the family pub as it had been for four generations.

Eventually, he recognized the beat up, brown family transport that had carried his family around for as long as he could remember. It could hold five comfortably and it had a cargo bin in the back to carry all the 'what-nots' his family deemed necessary to move. It was a little underpowered, but as his father always used to say, "Only replace what needs replacing." Tyler ran out into the rain and climbed into the opening passenger door. Once the door closed, his mother locked the engine and gave her son a big hug. She bathed him in kisses. "M'precious boy! You have no idea how worried I was about you! Oh, come here!" She hugged him tightly again. "You could have been killed out there jaunting about the stars like that. You aren't still hurt, are ya? Everything's fine?" She started feeling his arms and neck.

He finally free of his mother's grasp, and settled into the seat. "Mum...I'm fine. Everything turned out fine. The doctor's a whiz. I'm the picture of health."

His mother finally restarted the engine and merged into traffic. "Well," she said finally, "I hope ya finally got all this starship business out of your system. Your father was right, ya know. Ya should have just stayed with the family business. It provides an important service, too... and ya don't have to worry about getting blasted to pieces."

This was a discussion he had with his parents a hundred times before. It got especially bad just before he went into the Academy. "Mum, I already told you... I'm getting an award for bravery! What we did really made a difference. I did something REALLY important. Why can't ya be happy for me?"

"It's because we let ya read all those adventure stories when ya were young," she continued, apparently oblivious to Tyler's question.

"Oh, good grief. Let's not start this again. I was hoping we wouldn't bring this up again. I thought you'd see the work I was doing and be proud of me!"

Mrs. Bristol maneuvered the transport onto West M6 and headed for West Dreyton. "Sweetie," she said having finally calmed down. "You're me oldest... me first baby. Of course I'm proud of you. But you didn't have to join Starfleet for that. I would have been proud of you as a pub owner, too."

"Mum," he insisted. "We've already been THROUGH this at least a dozen times. I don't WANT to run a bar. Let Mark do it. He's still working for Dad, isn't he?"

"Sweetie, we both know your brother. He can't handle responsibility of any kind. It's a chore just to get him to wash his clothes and he's almost nineteen. The only reason why your father keeps him employed is because no one else will. Speaking of your father, would ya like me to stop by the Bayberry so you can see him?"

Tyler thought a moment. Having this discussion with another parent wasn't high on his priority list. "Na," he replied, "I'll see him tomorrow morning, when he gets home."

Her face softened. "I wish the two of you would talk to each other. Ye've got his stubbornness, ya know. Yer both hard as a brick when ye think yer right." Her voice slowed. "We won't be here forever, ya know... yer Dad and me."

Tyler's voice became indignant. "He's the one who practically kicked me out of the family because I wouldn't take over his precious bar! It's not my fault we don't talk. Part of talking is listening... and he doesn't do that worth a pip!"

"Neither of ya do," she said softly. "Perhaps ya can both change that before ya leave."

"Well, maybe," he replied, his voice toning down. "But he'll have to start it. I'm not a baby any more. I'm the main helmsman of the most powerful ship in the history of Starfleet." His self-importance faded within moments. He looked down at the stained flooring and considered his words. He hadn't meant it that way, but he wasn't about to take them back, either.

She shot him a stern glance. "Ya may have a fancy title now, but you'll always be our son."

He caught her stern look and replied with one of his own. "I may be your son, but I'm not your baby any more." He turned and stared blankly forward at the rain hitting the front window.