McQueen sat in the transport, a small box clutched on his lap. Everything else he'd stowed in a storage locker, except for this. He'd found himself a dark corner to sit in, away from the rest of the 58th. They were busy regaling each other with tales of their leave, and he really didn't want to have to explain what he had in the box.
Ty sat back and put his feet up on the seat in front of him, his mind wandering back over his leave. It had been rather eventful, especially once Valentine had turned up. He sighed and settled himself more comfortably, being careful not to jostle the box. McQueen thought back over the row he'd had with Valentine... the horror of finding that not only did his friend work for Aerotech, but that he'd also been snooping around finding things out about McQueen. Of course Val'd also managed to calm a few of their fears, and answer the one question both he and Dill had long wondered about. He and Valentine had been sitting in the garden after lunch one day, watching the children playing happily.
"Val?"
"Yeah?" came a sleepy response. Valentine was stretched out in the hammock that they'd not long finished hanging between two Scots pines.
"You said I was supposed to be a breeder," Ty remarked tentatively. "What did they do to me?"
There was silence for so long he thought Valentine had gone to sleep. "You really want to know?"
"I was told I'd never father children naturally, Val. I have three. How?"
There was a snort from the hammock. "You want me to tell you about the birds and the bees?"
"You know what I mean!" McQueen chuckled. "I'm serious here, Val."
"You were one of a batch designed to breed psychic children. The gene was thought to be latent, showing itself only in your offspring. So they gave you certain 'attributes'."
"Attributes?"
"Do I really have to say this? Do I really have to tell you what they did? Don't you know by now?"
"Tell me. You embarrassed?"
"Yes, and you might be too," Valentine laughed. "Oh, alright. They enhanced your sexual performance. More stamina and higher sex drive. I believe you're also somewhat better equipped than the rest of us mere mortals. Anything sound familiar here?"
"Maybe," McQueen drawled casually.
"They also made sure you were attractive to the opposite sex. They wanted you to breed with natural born women, and most women will pick the blond haired, blue eyed guy, nine times out of ten." He lifted his head to stare at McQueen. "I bet you've had to beat them back with sticks!"
"Yeah, right. Especially when they discovered I'm a nipple neck!" McQueen snorted.
"Well, Dylan doesn't seem bothered about it. Was she ever?"
"No, she thought my navel was…," he hesitated, "sexy."
"That figures," Valentine laughed. "She can barely keep her hands off you."
"The kids, Val. How did we manage that?"
"They also gave you accelerated healing. You must have noticed that yourself. I mean, all invitros heal fast, but they designed you to heal even faster…." Valentine paused, looking for the right words. "Look, I guess they thought the women might be rough with you. They didn't really care, but they designed your wedding tackle to handle pretty much anything. After all, you were supposed to be servicing women all day, every day."
"So I guess my war wound healed," McQueen said softly.
"Hello? Have you been listening? See those three children in front of you? Those three, yes," Valentine pointed. "That big blond one, the tiny blond one and the one eating… oh, my God, she's eating a worm!"
McQueen was out of his seat in a flash. "Izzy! Spit it out right now!" He grabbed her and fished out the unfortunate worm, flinging it away. "Stop it, Izzy. You can't keep eating things. It's bad!" he told her, before putting her down and returning to his seat. He looked over at Valentine and quirked an eyebrow. "They didn't do anything to my taste buds, did they, that might account for the bug eater there?"
"Not that I know of. I dug as far as I could, but my security clearance isn't terribly high. I am, after all, a lowly lab tech," Valentine grinned wickedly. "I'll keep digging though, if you'd like me to. But those files are closed and rated very high in the security coding."
"So you're the geek in the lab coat with the eye dripper and the petri dish?"
"Excuse me!" Valentine feigned offence. "I'll have you know, it's a pipette!"
McQueen laughed so loudly all three children looked up at him.
McQueen chuckled to himself. At least now they knew why they had children. Dill hadn't been happy when he'd told her that from now on they were using protection, and had complained that she couldn't feel him the first time they had, but he'd been adamant and she'd not mentioned it again. He wasn't sure if he should be worried about that or not.
He hadn't managed to wheedle out of Valentine exactly who it was who was interested in the fact that he had kids. Valentine had declared he didn't want to wake up one morning and find a horses head in his bed. Ty'd had no idea what he was talking about until later that night. Dill had laughed, and explained about it being from an old movie, The Godfather. He decided to check it out and see for himself, at some point in the future, when he had a spare moment. McQueen sighed. There didn't seem to be too many spare moments on the Saratoga.
Ty sat and watched as the others joked and laughed, glad that they'd all obviously enjoyed their leave. He'd certainly enjoyed his, surprising himself with the enjoyment he'd got from the simplest things. After Valentine and Bella had left, they'd spent the last few days of his leave at home, doing what he considered 'domestic stuff', but things he'd not done before.
Dill had decided to redecorate Izzy's bedroom before they moved her cot back in. Ty'd never decorated in his life, and he suspected that Dill would ensure he never did again. He smiled now, remembering.
"Ty? How's that painting coming along?" Dill called from the kitchen. "Lunch is nearly ready."
He stood back and looked at his handiwork. W,hy he hadn't confessed that he'd never painted a room before he wasn't exactly sure. Stubborn pride, he suspected. After the fiasco with the paddock he was determined to prove he wasn't totally useless.
"Good grief!" Dill stood in the doorway. "The paint is supposed to go on the walls, Ty."
"It is on the walls," Ty grinned.
"It's also on the carpet, the windows, the furniture," she laughed, looking at him. "And all over you!"
"I know. I spilt a bit," he admitted.
"A bit! How do you think the 58th will feel about their C.O. returning to them with primrose yellow freckles? Oh my. It's all in your hair, too. I'm going to have to put you in the bath and scrub you up nice and clean," she chuckled, wrapping her arms around him and kissing the tip of his nose. "Mind you, my lover, what did actually reach the walls looks lovely. Well done."
"Well, I'm not used to these great things," Ty laughed, waving the roller brush under her nose. "My calligraphy brushes are a bit smaller."
"And to think Amy said you were useless around the house," Dill giggled. "Now then, my darling, how are your carpet cleaning skills?"
McQueen chuckled quietly to himself as he remembered Dill's face when she saw the state of the 'cleaned' carpet. She'd sent him off to buy a replacement without a second thought.
Shane Vansen sat and watched McQueen. She'd noticed the way he kept his box on his lap, not stowing it with the rest of his gear. She'd also noticed he had a large gift wrapped box with him too, but that had been stowed away. Whatever he had in that box was clearly something precious to him that he didn't want to get damaged.
"Hey, 'Phousse, what do you think he's got in that box?" she asked softly, not wanting him to hear her.
"I don't know, but it sure looks like he doesn't want to lose it." Shane's seatmate glanced at their boss. "Look, he's laughing to himself."
"Do you think he's finally lost it?" Vansen chuckled.
"It's probably something one of his kids made for him. He doesn't want it to get broken," Damphousse shrugged.
"Maybe it's a cake," Hawkes offered. "Think he'll offer us a bit?"
"Coop, we don't know what it is. Look at him - he sat himself away from the rest of us, and now he's smiling. Are we sure this is really McQueen?" West asked, grinning.
"I'm gonna go talk to him," Vansen nodded, as Damphousse quirked a delicate eyebrow.
Shane moved over to the seat opposite McQueen, or as opposite as she could get. He didn't move his feet. "Did you have a good leave, sir?" she asked.
McQueen looked at her, his eyes searching her face. He knew she was up to something. "Yes, thank you, Vansen. I had a very good leave."
"See much of your kids, sir?"
"Well, as I spent it at home with them, strangely enough, yes, I did," he replied dryly.
"Permission to ask a personal question, sir?"
"You can ask, but I might not answer," McQueen told her firmly.
"What do you do with your kids, sir? I mean, I can't see you actually…." Shane glanced up at his face, surprised at the way his eyes were twinkling with amusement, despite the stony face.
"What, Vansen? You can't see me what? Playing with my kids?" he asked.
"No, not that. I mean, we saw you with them last time they were on the 'Toga, sir. I meant…." She looked at him apologetically. "I don't know what I meant, sir. Sorry, sir."
"Yes, Vansen, I play with my kids. Is that what you want to hear, or do you need details?"
"Sorry, sir," Vansen mumbled.
"I have photographs if you want proof," McQueen snapped, annoyed
"No, sir. Sorry, sir," she said again, getting up and leaving him in peace.
McQueen frowned. He hadn't meant to snap, but he'd gotten irritated by the fact that everyone assumed he was a cold, heartless man with a heart of stone. He almost smiled at that. Heartless, but with a stone heart. If only they knew. Dill was right - he was two different people. His 'kids' here would hardly recognise him if they saw how he was at home, and his children would probably be terrified of him if they saw him here. Thinking that made him think of little Cameron 'feeling' him. He tried to send the little boy his love, hoping that Cameron would feel it and not be upset at the separation.
Damphousse grinned at Vansen. "Well, that put you in your place. Of course you could have been a little more tactful, Shane."
"You think? Next time you do it," Vansen grouched.
"It was your idea, girl!" Damphousse laughed. "But give him some time and I'll go say hi. See if I can do any better."
"We should have sent you, Hawkes," Vansen said. "He talks to you."
"That'd be even more obvious than us," Damphousse laughed again. "You really want to know what's in that box, don't you?"
"Who, me?" Vansen smirked.
"Yes, you!"
McQueen sat back in his seat, well aware that the 58th were talking about him, and determined that they wouldn't know what he had in his box. It was his, and it was private. It was something he'd argued with Dill about but, as she had pointed out, the children had been so excited giving it to him how could he not take it? Of course at that point he'd given in. Reluctantly he knew, but he couldn't bear to disappoint the children.
He thought again about those last few days at home. Dill had run him ragged. He'd mown the lawn, stacked wood, and been sent grocery shopping with and without the children. Suddenly they'd stopped having fun, and he'd tackled Dill about it as they got ready for bed the evening before he'd left.
"Dill?" he asked as he flung himself onto the bed, after finally clearing away the boys train track while she showered. It had taken him longer than he thought, and she was already in bed by the time he'd finished.
"Yes, my lover?" She looked up from the book she was reading.
"We haven't done anything fun this week. Why?"
"What do you mean we haven't done anything fun?" Dill closed her book and put it aside.
"Well, I mean we took the children to the farm, and when Val was here we took them out and about," Ty sighed, rolling over onto his stomach to look at her. "We did stuff. All we've done since they left is boring things. I mean, you made me paint Izzy's room…."
"No, you said that you could do it. I would have done it myself otherwise. Who do you think did the boys room? Or this room, for that matter?" Dill frowned at him.
"Well, mowing the grass then, and shopping. You know I hate shopping, but you made me go twice! And you made me stack all that wood and run that power cable down to the pig house."
"I didn't 'make' you do any of those things. I asked you, and you said yes. Go to sleep, Ty. I think you must be tired. You're whining like Hamish."
"I am not whining!" he cried, cringing as he heard himself say it. He certainly sounded like he was whining. "If I hadn't said yes then you would have done it all, and that's not fair."
"Who do you think does it when you're not here?" she asked quietly.
McQueen looked at her, realisation written large across his face. "You wanted me to see what it's like usually, when I'm not here."
"Bingo," Dill smiled. "You win and you can claim your prize."
"Why?" he asked puzzled. "Is this because you wanted me to see what it'd be like if I resigned and came home permanently?"
"Oh, you win the star prize." Dill grinned at the look on his face. "Yes, my love. When you're home we make a special effort. I want you to get the most out of the short time you get to spend with us. That's why we go out and about, take you to places you've not been. But we don't do that all of the time. Yes, we go to the farm a fair amount, but we also do the boring, mundane, everyday things too, and you don't get to see a lot of that. I thought you should, before you go and do anything rash." She frowned. "Before you do anything you might regret."
"Like resign from the corps?"
"Yes," she smiled, reaching to stroke his face. "I love you far too much to let you do anything so silly. You're a lifer, Ty. You know this, and so do I. Now shuffle up here and kiss me. You're off tomorrow and I think that tonight…," she blushed. "Well, tonight I have a surprise for you."
"Oh yeah?" Ty grinned, crawling up the bed to lie beside her and leaning forward to give her a chaste kiss on the lips.
"Call that a kiss?" she chuckled. "Blimey, if that's the best you can do I'll forget about the surprise."
He took her in his arms and kissed her again far more forcefully, grinning as he broke the kiss to come up for air. "Better?"
"Much," she gasped. "So come on, flyboy, get those boxers off and get into bed. Let me show you what I bought."
McQueen sat and smiled to himself, glad they had a way to go yet. The memory of he and Dill making love was far too fresh in his mind, and the delight of finding that she'd somehow got hold of a pot of the rub he'd enjoyed so much on their yacht trip, meant that if he had to stand up now it'd be difficult to hide what he'd been thinking about. He sighed, wriggling to try and ease his discomfort, wondering if it would be easier to visit the head and make himself more comfortable. The only thing that stopped him was the fact he'd have to take the box with him, which would arouse even more suspicion. He contented himself with trying to sleep instead, hoping to catch up on what he'd missed during the night.
He woke up as he felt movement close to him. McQueen sat up fast, startling the person who'd sat down. He turned and glared. It was Damphousse. "Something I can help you with, Captain?"
"No, sir. Sorry, sir," she said quickly. "You fell asleep, sir, and your box here was falling off your lap. I just grabbed it in time." She smiled at him. "I assume it's something precious to you, sir?"
McQueen frowned at her, taking the box from her hands. "You could say that, Captain." He emphasised her rank, making her aware that he wasn't going to tell her.
"Is it a present from your children?" she pushed gently. "Sir."
"Yes, it is," he said simply.
"How are they, sir? The boys, I mean, and Isobel too. Do you have any pictures? We've not seen them since last summer, and I'll bet they've grown so much." She smiled at him, knowing that he would be prepared at least to talk about the children.
"Yes, I have pictures," he told her. "They're in my bag. Front pocket. Be careful - there's other stuff in there too." McQueen sat and watched, trying not to smile as she realised he knew what she was up to. He wasn't going to ask her to hold the box while he got them. If she wanted to see the pictures, she'd have to get them herself.
Deciding to play him at his own game, Vanessa stood up. "Front pocket you said, sir?"
"Yes, and don't touch anything else," he told her.
McQueen watched as she found his bag and rummaged for the pictures. He frowned as he saw her smile and look up at him, blushing. What had she found, he wondered. He didn't think there was anything embarrassing in there. He'd packed it himself.
Damphousse came to sit next to him again, the pictures in her hand. "Are you sure this is okay, sir?" she asked.
He nodded. "Of course." McQueen paused for a second as she opened the packet. "What made you blush? There's nothing in there that should have that effect."
She looked up at him quickly, and then down again. "I think you need to look yourself, sir," she said quietly.
Dill, he thought. What the hell had she put in there? He hoped it wasn't really bad, but he wasn't going to get up and look now. It'd have to wait until he got to his quarters on the Saratoga. He looked at 'Phousse as she gave a little chuckle. "Can I show this to the others, sir?" she asked, smiling.
"What is it?" McQueen asked, groaning inwardly when she held the picture up and he saw himself standing in the middle of the goats, a look of panic on his face. "No" he told her.
"But, sir, that is so cute!" Vanessa grinned. "And look you can see the boys' faces watching you. They look worried for you. Sir," she added.
"They were," he admitted, a small smile escaping him at the memory.
Damphousse looked through the pictures. "You know, sir, this seems really odd. I mean I'm so used to seeing you like this, in your flight suit, that it seems strange seeing you in other clothes. Like it's not really you." She looked up at him. "I mean, sir, shorts?"
McQueen nodded. "Sandals too." He watched to see her reaction. To his surprise there was none.
"Oh, this one is just so sweet," Vanessa grinned. "Sir."
"Which one now?" he asked.
"The one with Isobel asleep on you." She showed him.
"Oh yeah. The little guys fell asleep in the sand box," he told her.
Damphousse looked at him, a smile on her face. "It looks like you had a really good time, sir." She flipped through the pictures again, a small gasp escaping as she stopped at one. "A very good time, sir. Have you seen these yet yourself?"
"No," McQueen said. "Dill only got them back last night. Two sets, one each. I packed them to look at later. I've a book to put them in."
"I take it Dylan didn't look at them straightaway either?" Damphousse asked.
"No, why?" he asked, confused now.
"Well, I think you won't want everyone to see this picture, sir." She handed him a picture.
Taking it from her, he glanced at it and flushed red to the roots of his hair. One of the boys must have taken it, from the bedroom doorway, it looked like. Dill's head was buried between his thighs. "Shit," he whispered.
"It doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it, sir?" Damphousse grinned.
McQueen turned to her. "Two people know about this picture - you and I. If I hear a single breath about this anywhere - and I mean anywhere, Captain - I will know exactly where it came from. Do I make myself clear?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" she snapped smartly. "This information is to be considered compartmentalised. I understand, sir."
"Thank you, Vanessa," McQueen said softly, putting the picture into a pocket of his flight suit.
"You're welcome, sir," she smiled. "I think perhaps I'll leave you to look through the rest of these pictures by yourself. Sir." She got up and headed back to the others.
McQueen sat and flipped through them. Obviously it had been Hamish with the camera. There were a few pictures of Izzy, and Cameron too. He smiled. Considering the child was only three, he had a damn good eye for a picture.
The pilot's voice came over the intercom, telling them that they would be arriving at the Saratoga in approximately fifteen mikes.
McQueen sat up and surreptitiously checked the contents of his box to make sure it was undamaged. Looking around, he almost laughed as he saw four heads turn swiftly away, trying to make it look as if they hadn't been watching him. By the time they'd landed and disembarked, he was fighting not to laugh out loud. They'd watched him struggling with his sea bag, his large gift wrapped box, and his small box, and not one of them had offered to help him as they normally would. Afraid he'd yell at them, no doubt. He marched off to his quarters his little box perched precariously in his arms.
Once in his quarters McQueen carefully placed the box on one desk and flung his sea bag onto his bed. The gift wrapped box he opened, tearing the paper hurriedly, doing as Dill had told him and making it his first priority. Shaking his head at the things he did for his children, he carefully assembled the contents of the box, making sure that everything fit together snugly. He then rummaged in his sea bag for the few extras Dill had given him for it. adding the final few touches. He stood back and admired his handiwork, then looked around for somewhere to put it. Somewhere out of sight of the door, where no one standing outside would see it. He'd do anything for his children, but he didn't need to advertise that fact. He finally settled for on the floor, under the desk closest to his bed. It was dark under there, admittedly, but at least no one would be able to see it. Turning to the smaller box, he opened it and peered inside, smiling at the bright eyes peering back at him.
"Hey, Stirrup," he whispered. "Welcome to your new home. Sorry about the journey. I've got you a nice new house to live in. There's food and water. I'm sure you need both, and there's even a funny little boot thing for you to sleep in. Izzy picked that for you."
Carefully picking him up, McQueen placed the small golden hamster into its new home, and watched as it scurried around investigating. The boys had chosen him a hamster enclosure that allowed for extra tubes and tunnels to be attached, allowing the hamster to climb and crawl as it would naturally. And if he was totally honest with himself, he was fascinated watching Stirrup as he ran straight to the water bottle and drank before hunting out the bowl of food that McQueen had carefully placed in a corner. As he sat on the bed watching the hamster, he remembered how he'd tried to get out of bringing it back with him.
"Ty?" Dill called from the back door. "Come here a minute, will you? The children have a surprise for you."
He turned with the lawnmower and headed back towards the house. Leaving the mower by the back door, Ty peeled off his shirt and used it to wipe his face. He'd been lucky with the weather this past couple of weeks, he thought. Just the odd day of rain, and it was incredibly hot today. As he came through the door, he saw all three children watching him, excited smiles on their faces.
"Hello, my lovelies," he grinned. "You've got me a surprise?"
"So you won' be lonely," Hamish told him seriously. "We got mummy and Humfrey and Gussie, and Izzy's got Daddy, but you ain't got no one."
"Haven't got, my lover," Dill corrected him.
Hamish glared at her. "You haven't got no one."
"We got you something to keep you company," Cameron told him, almost jumping up and down with excitement. "Gamma took us out shopping to buy it specially."
Ty looked at Dill, his eyes questioning. He didn't like the way she avoided looking at him.
"So what did you guys get me?" he asked cautiously. If Dill didn't want to look at him, that meant he wouldn't like it.
Dill carefully placed a small box on the table in front of him. "Mind how you open it," she told him.
He looked at the three small faces all glowing with excitement and delight as he slowly opened the box and peered inside. Ty looked up at Dill, and then at the children. "What is it?" he asked.
"Daddy!" Cameron cried.
"Issa hamster!" Hamish told him.
"A hamster? What do I do with it?" He sat down at the table and took it out of the box, holding it in his hands.
"Careful," Dill said. "They're nimble little beggars! You don't want him to escape already."
"We got it a house to live in, too," Hamish declared proudly. "Izzy choosed it. Tell 'im, Izzy," he nudged the toddler.
"Boot!" she crowed. "Boot, daddy!" She ran over to McQueen and tried to climb onto his lap. "Boot, daddy!" she repeated.
Hoisting her up one handedly, Ty looked at Dill. "So you get yet another nanimal to look after."
"Oh no, daddy!" Cameron cried. "It's for you to take with you, and keep in your bedroom on the 'Toga. Then you'll have someone keeping you company and won't be lonely!"
"We buyed a house an' everyfin!" Hamish told him.
Ty looked at Dill and then at the children. "Guys, I can't. I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed pets on the 'Toga. It's against regs."
The boys' faces fell.
"But why, daddy?" Hamish asked, his lip trembling as he spoke. "Don't you like him? It's a pwesent."
Cameron just burst into tears and ran from the room.
Dill shook her head. "Break it to them gently, why don't you?" she said, before heading after Cameron.
Ty deposited Izzy on the floor and put the hamster back in the box, closing it carefully.
"Hamish, I'm sorry. It's not allowed. If it was, you know I'd take it with me. I'm sorry, little guy, but you can look after it for me, can't you? Let me know how it's getting on? Send me pictures of it."
Hamish glared at him. "No, daddy! You have to take it! We buyed it for you! We buyed it 'cos we loves you! So's you won' be lonely!"
"Hamish, I can't. I'd get into all sorts of trouble if I did. Do you want daddy to get put up on charges? Do you want him to get told off?"
Dill came back into the kitchen with Cameron in her arms. The little boy's eyes were red from crying. "Hamish, Izzy, come in the living room. I've put a video on for you," she told the two children, "and you," she looked at McQueen, "in the bedroom. Now!"
She took the children with her and settled them in front of the screen to watch a film, then went into the bedroom to speak to McQueen. Closing the door behind her, she turned to him. "Don't get your hopes up, flyboy. I didn't bring you in here for fun and games. You lied to them, Ty. Cameron knows full well that you lied to them. That's why he's so upset."
"A white lie, Dill, that's all. Hell, I'm sure it doesn't specifically say I can't keep a hamster, but how can I take it? It's a hamster, Dill. I mean, come on!"
"Did you see their faces? Did you see how excited they were? You spoiled it. You bloody swine. You spoiled their surprise," she yelled at him.
"Be reasonable, Dill," he cried, sitting on the bed. "You know what my quarters are like. How can I keep a hamster? What if we get into a battle? Or I go on a mission?"
"I'm not asking you to carry it around, Ty. It's not like when you had Cashus. It'll be no trouble, no trouble at all. And it's such a tiny little thing," Dill said, pleadingly, sitting herself on his lap and wrapping her arms about his neck. "I'm sure Glen would feed it for you if you're not about. I'll send you hamster food every month. Why would anyone else need to know you have it?" Her fingers gently stroked his neck, running over his navel. "Do it for the children, Ty. Do it for me" she whispered.
McQueen sat on the bed smiling, knowing that not long after he'd been ready to agree to anything, and had found himself over dinner telling the children that yes, he'd take it with him. Yes, he'd send them pictures and let them know how it was getting on. And now here he was stuck with a hamster he didn't want, and with orders to take it out and stroke it everyday and to talk to it to stop it getting lonely. He shook his head, chuckling. He was a grown man, taking orders from two three-year-old boys.
As he began to unpack his bag, he looked in the front pocket and saw straightaway what had made Damphousse blush. There, right on top where she must have put it at the last minute, were two pairs of black silk boxers embroidered with his initials, and a white cotton t-shirt. McQueen lifted the t-shirt and shook it out, grinning as he saw it had a picture on the front. Not just any picture, but Dill, dressed in black underwear, stockings and a wicked grin. Under the picture were the words 'Sweet Dreams'.
He finished his unpacking, realising that he'd not worn most of what he taken with him - only a pair of jeans, underwear and the odd shirt. But mainly he'd worn the clothes Dill had bought for him - the shorts, shirts and sweatpants hanging in his wardrobe at home. McQueen smiled. Dill knew him far better than he realised. There'd not been one item of clothing he'd not liked. Except the sandals. But he had to admit, they were damned comfortable. He sighed. After six years she ought to know him. He just wished he saw her more often. He liked who he was when he was at home, and he was always so uptight and stressed on the Saratoga.
Finished with his unpacking, McQueen considered going to the Tun for a beer, but somehow he found he didn't really want to have to talk to people. He took out the t-shirt with the picture of Dill. Now why hadn't she actually worn that get up for him, he wondered. Ty glanced at his watch. He could go and see Glen, find out if there was any news on the peace talks, listen while he played Rosalyn, relax a little. He sighed. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he was too relaxed when he was home, and it didn't do him any good when he came back to the 'Toga. With aother huge sigh, McQueen undid his boots, and kicking them off, flung himself onto the bed, the t-shirt still clutched in his hands. Five minutes later he was sound asleep, the t-shirt on the pillow under his head.
He woke suddenly, aware of a strange noise. Lifting his head, he looked around. It appeared to be coming from under his desk. Peering into the dark, Ty turned on a lamp and almost laughed as he saw Stirrup racing wildly round and around in the little wheel attached to the side of his main living area. He lay and watched him for a moment or two, before getting up and stripping out of his flight suit. After a quick shower, he pulled on Dill's t-shirt and some fresh boxers, telling himself he'd save the silk ones for when he felt homesick. He looked around. Since his promotion he'd been assigned bigger quarters with his own bathroom. But with two desks squeezed in, he still didn't seem to have much more room, but he did have somewhere he could make himself coffee. And that's what he did, sitting on the bed cross legged to drink it as he watched his hamster going about its nocturnal business. As he watched, he was surprised to see that Stirrup had obviously decided that one particular area was his own personal head. With a smile, Ty realised that it would make keeping him clean a helluva lot easier. He noticed that the water was almost gone, and got up to replace it, telling himself that he must check it twice a day. It wouldn't be fair to the little animal if he didn't take care of it properly. And, of course, Dill'd kill him if he let it die. Stirrup, he thought. Damned silly name. But he had to admit it, in some weird way it suited the little fur ball.
"Ty?" Dill asked, as he sat at the table helping Izzy with her dinner, making sure that she actually ate some real food for a change, to break up her diet of creepy crawlies.
"Yeah?" he asked, trying to get Izzy to eat some vegetables as the boys laughed at her screwed up face.
"The hamster, Ty. Where is it?"
"What d'you mean, where is it? I put it back in its box and left it on the side," he told her.
"The box is here, but the hamster's gone," she glared at him. "It would appear that it's escaped."
"I swear I closed the lid," he said. "I know what you're thinking. Do you really think I'd be that underhanded?" At her silence, he turned and looked at her. "Well, do you?"
"No, of course I don't. Maybe you didn't close the box properly," she said quietly.
"I closed the box properly, Dill," Ty said firmly. He looked at the boys. "Did one of you guys touch the box, the hamster box, while me and mommy were in our bedroom?"
"No," Hamish whispered, pushing the food around his plate, his small face flushing red.
McQueen looked at him. "Hamish, I don't need Cameron to tell me that you're telling me a lie. Did you open the box?" he asked sternly.
Hamish nodded, his lip trembling and tears falling down his face. "I opened it, daddy. I din' mean to. I just did."
Ty looked at Dill, who nodded to him to carry on.
"Hamish, if you opened it, you must have meant to," he told the small boy. "Tell me what happened."
"It jumped out!" Hamish wailed. "I tried to catch it, but it was too fast. I couldn' get it!"
"Where did it go?"
"I dunno, daddy," he cried. "I tried an I tried, but it wouldn' come back."
"Why didn't you come and get me or mommy?"
"Cos the door was shut and Cam'ron said mummy was makin' you happy," he wept.
McQueen got up and knelt beside the small boy. "Hamish, it's okay," he told him, hugging him close. "I'm cross that you didn't tell us straightaway, but I understand why. Now, eat your dinner up, and once we're all finished, we'll look for it, okay?"
"You gonna smack me?" Hamish asked, his eyes still full of tears.
"No, I'm not going to smack you. Have I ever smacked you?" McQueen asked him.
Hamish shook his head.
"So why would I smack you now?"
"I dunno," Hamish whispered, looking him straight in the eye he burst into fresh tears. "Please don't smack me, daddy!"
Ty looked at Dill, puzzled. "I swear I've never laid a finger on any of them, Dill."
"I know, sweetheart. Don't take it personally," she told him, kissing the top of his head. "He saw one of his friends getting a smack yesterday. It's obviously stuck in his mind."
"And I threatened him with a smack the day Val and Bella arrived," he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hamish. Daddy would never smack you. I love you too much."
"I loves you too, daddy," the little boy sobbed.
"I know you do, little guy. Come on now - finish your dinner and we'll find him together, while mommy makes you guys a bath, okay?" Ty kissed the little boy's head and returned to his seat next to Izzy. "Mommy has a treat for you for pudding, if you eat all your dinner." He winked at both boys.
"Something yummy?" Cameron asked.
"Oh yes, definitely yummy. I had to hide it from daddy to stop him eating it all," Dill laughed.
"Is it ice cream?" Cameron asked, wide eyed. "Daddy likes ice cream."
"No, I'm afraid not," Dill told him.
"Is it grandpa's pie? Cos daddy likes that, too," Hamish asked, wiping his tears.
Ty nodded. "Uh huh. I bought some pie when I went to the store this morning. I know you guys love grandpa's pie, so I bought some maple stirrup, too." He looked at Dill, a lecherous grin on his face. "I know mommy loves maple stirrup."
"Mummy puts it on her pancakes," Hamish told him, shovelling his food into his mouth.
"And somewhere else," Dill muttered from across the room, grinning back at Ty.
"I'm finished!" Cameron yelled, pushing his plate away from him. "Can I have pie now, please, mummy?"
"Yes, you can, my lover. Do you want to get the stirrup from the cupboard for me while daddy gets Izzy to finish her dinner."
"Me's finished too!" Hamish said quietly, looking warily at McQueen. "Does I get pie? Or does I get nuffin for telling you lies?"
Ty looked at Dill. "I think that's for mommy to say."
Dill glared at him. "Well," she said, smiling at Hamish, "because you did tell daddy the truth afterwards, I think today you can have pie. But next time, no pudding for you."
"Fank you, mummy," Hamish smiled.
"That's okay, my lover. After all, it's daddy's last night home. We can't have everyone unhappy, can we?"
"Daddy!" squealed Cameron. "Quick, daddy!"
McQueen jumped up, his first thought that the boy had somehow hurt himself. "What?" he almost yelled.
"Look, daddy. It's the hamster. It's eating the stirrup!" Cameron giggled.
Both McQueen and Dill went to look. There in the cupboard, busily licking at the syrup encrusted around the top of an old bottle, was the hamster. Reaching in, McQueen grabbed it. "Hello, little fur ball," he smiled. "So you like stirrup too, do you?"
"Stirrup," Hamish giggled. "Call him stirrup, daddy."
Dill smiled. "It's as good a name as any, and he is that sort of colour too."
"Stirrup" Cameron chuckled. "You need to give him some to eat, daddy."
"So, little fur ball, shall we call you Stirrup?" Ty asked, it holding it up to look in its eyes. The hamster twitched its nose.
"Oh daddy, it said yes!" Cameron cried.
"Stirrup it is, then," he grinned.
McQueen finished his coffee, and with one last look at the scurrying hamster, he settled back into bed, telling himself that he'd feel better in the morning. That once he got back into his usual routine, he wouldn't miss them so much. Yeah, he thought, try and fool yourself as much as you like McQueen. You're gonna miss those little faces smiling up at you over the breakfast table. Hamish waiting to meet you as you get back from your run in the mornings. Cameron creeping into bed for a cuddle, and Izzy eating anything that moves.
He rolled onto his side facing the wall. And Dill. Oh God, how he missed her so much already. Taking several deep breaths, Ty closed his eyes, telling himself that he was Colonel T.C. McQueen, C.O. of the 58th Squadron. The Wildcards. The man who took out Chiggy Von Richthofen. He was a goddamned war hero!
So why was it that all he wanted to be was daddy to three small children, and husband to an elf? His hand wandered to his t-shirt, absently stroking the picture of Dill while he fought his feelings, conscious that Cameron might be able to feel how miserable he was.
And so he slept, one hand clutching his t-shirt, the other hugging a pillow to him. Colonel T.C. McQueen, married to the corps, and desperately trying not to admit that he wanted a divorce.
Fin.