Launchpad frowned at the keypad for the security system in Mr McDee's hanger. He never could remember the dang code. "Hang on. Third time's the charm."

Ripcord hovered at his shoulder. "It'd better be. I think it's going to go off if you don't get it right this time."

"Hmm. I know Della set it. That's right! It's one of her boys' birthdays. But I only know Dewey's so…" Launchpad gritted his teeth and mashed his hand across the keypad. The system clicked off. "Phew. There we go. I guess Dewey is her favourite. He'll be so happy." He flicked on the overhead lights, revealing the Sunchaser. Crowded right up around her were a dozen smaller stunt planes. They were packed in, completely filling the hanger. Mr McDee had rented the space out for cheap, he'd said, but it looked like he'd got as many of the small planes squeezed in as he could. They effectively blocked off the Sunchaser, and Della would have had a fit.

"That's your plane?" Ripcord asked.

"Technically, it's Della's. But she said we could call it Sunchaser like I'd wanted, which was nice. And I do most of the maintenance."

"That's pretty cool. I've done some, but Gasolini never really let us muck around with his planes."

"I guess she doesn't fly like the stunt planes you used to. Or Mom's."

Ripcord squeezed his shoulder. "Hey, that's nothing to be ashamed about. You know, after I couldn't fly these little fellas anymore, but I still wanted to be up there, I was flying stuff more the size of this. They're different, yeah. But fun, in their own way. It kind of feels… I don't know, you're slow and heavy, but…"

"But you know the plane is going to support you. She's there for you, even if you mess up."

"Yeah, that's it!"

Launchpad put a hand on the Sunchaser's side. "The Sunchaser is like that. I've crashed her like a million times, but she's never hurt me once. She's got my back because she knows I'll always put her back together again, and I'll even make her better when I do…" Launchpad trailed off. "Sorry, that sounds silly."

"It doesn't," said Ripcord. "You know, if you're having trouble crashing, I could teach you some stuff. If you trust me, I mean."

"Della has tried teaching me how to land. But she hasn't had much luck." Launchpad frowned. "Wait, why wouldn't I trust you?"

His father looked away and shrugged one shoulder. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't trust me to teach you to land."

"How come?"

"You know, because of last time. The only time I tried teaching you. I completely ballsed it up, and we crashed. You and your Mom, you could've…" Ripcord's hands tightened to fists at his sides.

Launchpad gulped. Of course, his Dad would be worried about him doing something like that to him again. He forced a smile. "I get it, Dad. It's okay. I don't think I'm ever going to figure out how to land properly anyway. But don't worry. I'm good at crashing. I can make do with that."

"Yeah, of course." Ripcord swallowed and looked around. "Hey, let's see what's stashed in here, huh?"

They walked among the stunt planes where they sat nestled under the Sunchaser, like chicks under a mother hen's wings.

"Wait, I think this one is Loopey's!" Launchpad stopped at one, painted bright pink.

Ripcord laughed. "Yeah, that's hers. Man, this is a really good plane; I wanted her to have the best. And then she goes and paints it hot pink."

"I think it looks nice."

"I think she wanted to make a very clear point about exactly who was flying the plane. She gets that from her Mom." Ripcord ran a hand over the wing.

"I really wish you'd taught me too," Launchpad said quietly.

"I still can. If you want."

Launchpad swallowed and looked at his feet.

"Hey, you don't have to decide now. We're just mucking about in here, remember? No pressure." Ripcord trailed between the planes, a wistful look on his face. "Wait a damn minute." He moved towards the back to a small plane covered in a tarp. "Give me a hand with this."

Launchpad grabbed the other corner, and together they reefed the covering off. A beautiful yellow and gold biplane was revealed.

Ripcord ran a hand over the wing. "Holy crap…"

"Is that?"

"The Joyrider. I didn't know Gasolini still had this. He's given her a paint job and… holy crap…" Ripcord's eyes sparkled as he walked around the plane, running his hand over her. "Oh, girl, I missed you."

Launchpad felt a lump rise in his throat. He'd taken all this away from his father. But he'd said he'd be there for him, said he loved him, and Launchpad could not remember him telling him that as a kid. Maybe, he had forgiven him. Even though Launchpad had never got the chance to apologise. He could not let this slide any longer. Sure, his parents had made mistakes. But so had he. "Dad?"

Ripcord looked up. "Yeah? Hey, what's up?"

"I'm… I'm sorry, Dad."

"For what?"

"For that day at the airfield. For stealing a plane. For making us crash. I ruined your entire career."

"Kiddo, don't worry about that."

"But you love planes! You loved flying these planes, especially the Joyrider. And I get how much that meant to you now. But, if I hadn't gone up in that plane. If I'd listened to you instead of slamming into the runway and dragging us all down, I…"

Ripcord grabbed him by the shoulders. "Woah, woah, slow down… It's okay. Take a deep breath."

Launchpad did as his father instructed. "You can't fly stunt planes anymore because you hurt your leg. And that was because I made us crash. I just… I had to make sure I said it. I'm sorry."

"Aw, Launchpad… I… argh…" Ripcord shook himself a little. "That crash was not your fault."

"But I slammed us into the runway."

"At that point, I think it might have been one of the better options. We could've ended up in the fence or the swamp otherwise. That would've been worse."

"But…"

"Hey, I think it might be your turn to listen to me. Or rather, my turn to actually talk to you. I didn't talk much about what happened that day. I probably should have. And I always wondered, if I had, if maybe you wouldn't have left. But I wasn't real good at that sort of thing then and… and that's just another excuse. Will you let me explain?"

"Sure, Dad."

They sat down, under the Sunchaser's wing, beside the Joyrider. Ripcord took a breath and began.

The training plane taxied awkwardly down the runway and took to the air. Ripcord ran a hand through his hair. "Crap." He wasn't sure he was grateful that his son had taken off fine. It'd have been better if he'd baulked or given up and stayed on the ground.

"Yup. Serious, discipline issue there, McQuack," said Gasolini. "Now, if that were my kid…"

"Shut up," said Birdie.

"Discipline issue all around," Gasolini muttered, but this time had the sense to lower his voice.

Ripcord didn't have time to argue with his manager. Gasolini would find some way to punish him for this later, but right now, he had other issues to deal with. What the hell had gotten into Launchpad head?

Birdie grabbed his arm. "We need to go up after him."

"I know. We'll get a plane…"

"Oh no," said Gasolini. "Those are my planes, and if you think you can just use them as you please to deal with your own personal family crisis, then…"

"And if we don't get Launchpad down in one piece, he's going to smash up that plane he's in. Do you want that?" Ripcord snapped.

Gasolini glared. Yup. He was definitely sweeping the hanger later. "Fine. But then you get your boy off my airfield, understood?"

They got clearance, and he and Birdie fell in beside their son.

"Launchpad, we're up here with you," Ripcord radioed.

"Dad!" And even through the radio, Ripcord could hear his son's excitement. "I can fly."

Amidst the annoyance, Ripcord felt something else stirring inside of him. Hell, Launchpad was flying a plane. Just like his old man. If the circumstances had been a little different, he would've been proud. If only he had the time to teach him himself. Gasolini would never give him the time or even a plane. And now, the stupid kid had gone and got himself banned from the airfield. So much for that.

"That's great, sweetheart," said Birdie. "And we will talk about you flying. Let's just get you down and…"

"Do you really think we should reward him?"

"I think there's a bit more going on here, Rip."

Yeah, but what? Birdie was talking to Launchpad again. And, of course, it ended up in a fight. Ripcord shot back a halfhearted response and tried to think. Maybe, he could get the kid to do something fancy. Yeah, that would do it. He wanted his old man to teach him some stunts. So he would. With any luck, Gasolini might see and think twice about banning Launchpad from the airfield. He might give Ripcord the chance to train him. He just had to show him that he had a bit of spunk and some potential. Gasolini might smell cash and be willing to see where it went.

Of course, he'd have to be careful and make sure Launchpad never signed anything with the bastard.

"You want your old man to show you how to land a plane, yeah?"

"Yes! Dad, that's all I wanted."

Ripcord swallowed the lump in his throat. Poor kid. He'd really messed up as a dad, but he was going to turn this all around. He'd find the time. He'd make this work, somehow. As long as he was flying a plane, he would figure out how to pass that onto his son. And make sure he didn't make the same mistakes he had.

"Okay. I'm going to show you a little trick me and the boys have been practising. I'll guide you in so you don't get scared, and you'll know exactly what to do. Head for the runway. Birdie, I want you to pull in under his left wingtip."

They both did as he instructed. This was kind of fun, actually. "Okay, I just need you to ease the throttle back a bit…"

"Ripcord, he's not a stunt pilot, and neither am I."

Ripcord gritted his teeth. "Will you listen to me without bloody arguing for once?" Or course, he wasn't stupid enough to transmit that comment over the radio.

And then Launchpad sped up.

"What are you, the other way!" Ripcord burst out. "We need to slow down!"

"What are you even trying to get us to do?" said Birdie. "Ripcord McQuack, if you are showing off for your friends, I swear…"

"Will you shut up for once in your life and listen to me?!" He wasn't doing this to show off. He was doing it for his son! Couldn't she just trust him?!

"We need to get him to land the plane safely! Not pull off one of your stupid tricks."

"I'm Ripcord bloody McQuack! I am the best pilot on this damned airfield, and if I want to show my son how to land a plane with a little bit of flair, then I can..." The runway loomed, closed. They'd been practising this trick. But, his wingmates were trained stunt pilots. They knew how to land. Launchpad had half a dozen lessons under his belt, and he had not been taught to land yet. He still hadn't even got his head around how to slow down. Even Birdie was a good pilot, but she didn't do this for a living.

"You idiot!" Birdie's reprimand blazed through the radio, even as Ripcord realised it for himself. "You are not in control of this!"

"I… I'm not…." Ripcord's thumb slipped off the radio's transmit button. The runway, the trees and the swamp at its end all loomed nearer. He should pull up. It'd be easy. But Launchpad and Birdie had to as well, and he needed to tell them. But what if Launchpad couldn't pull that off? A half dozen over maneuvers spilled through his head, but he could not teach his son in the rapidly dwindling seconds. He couldn't teach stuff!

Ripcord's throat constricted, and his hands tightened, locking onto the controls, and he couldn't even move, far less think straight enough to respond to the desperate pleas of his family over the radio. He could barely breathe.

And then his aeroplane was dragged down onto the runway in a screech of tortured metal.

Ripcord woke to the sound of screaming airfield sirens. He shifted under the wreckage, then yelped at the pain that tore through his leg. Birdie. Launchpad.

"Launchpad!" He tore at the fuselage that pinned him. The glorious creature that had always brought him so much joy was now his prison. It enclosed and clamped down on his leg like a vice. It was crushing him. He couldn't move. He could not check if his family was okay.

He was not in control.

Ripcord stared at the hanger floor. "I know you stole the plane, and we wouldn't have been up there if you hadn't. But you were a kid. You wanted to fly, and I, of all people, should have seen that. It was the only way you could get through to me. You're right. I don't always listen. But crashing? That wasn't your fault. I could have guided you through a normal landing, and even if you'd set down a little hard, it wouldn't have been so bad."

Launchpad had thought his dad had zero interest in training him for all this time. "You were trying to teach me a stunt?"

"Heh, yeah. Stupid, huh? I had no idea how to teach flying back then. Maybe that's why I got into training all the kids, because of you. At least I'm good at that now."

"How come you freaked out?"

Ripcord shrugged. "I think I realised I was going to hurt you guys, and there'd be nothing I could do about it. That's never happened to me before, and…" He swallowed hard. "I clammed up. I'm Ripcord McQuack. I was supposed to be fearless. Guess I bought into that. But the first time I found myself in a situation I couldn't control, I baulked. I just need you to know that I was the one who screwed up. Not you. Like I said, smashing us into the runway like that may have been pretty crazy, but I think you saved us from getting hurt worse."

Launchpad stared out into the hanger at the planes surrounding them. "So you're not mad at me for the crash?"

"No, I never blamed you. I was just a little sad after I figured out I wouldn't be able to fly the planes again. You know because… because of my bum leg." His voice was strained as he ran a hand over his thigh.

Launchpad gulped. "Then how come you told me to leave home?"

Ripcord's gaze shot up to meet his. "What… when, Launchpad, I would have never told you to do that!"

Launchpad felt his chest tighten. "You don't remember? In the hanger, Dad. That night I found you, and… well, I guess now I know you'd been drinking. But you'd been talking to your manager, and you said I should leave and… and I did…"

"Wait, you left home because you thought I wanted you to?"

"You said you didn't want me!" Launchpad burst out, hands tightening at his sides. How could his father not even remember?

Ripcord gripped his arm.

A part of Launchpad wanted to pull away. But he couldn't. Because at that moment, he also didn't want his dad to let him go.

"I remember talking to you, alright? But I was under a lot of stress that night. I know I yelled at you, but… look, can you give me a chance to explain? Then, we can work this out."

Launchpad's chest heaved. He bit his lip and nodded. "Okay, Dad."

Ripcord gripped the phone's handset so hard he feared it would crack under his grip. But he couldn't work up the courage to pick up, not yet. It was going to be Gasolini. He'd listened to his crap a million times. But this time was different. Because no matter how much the man belittled or bullied him, Ripcord knew he would be unable to comply with his demands.

Finally working up the courage, Ripcord picked up the receiver.

"McQuack, is that you?"

"Yeah."

"For god's sake, answer the phone properly. Where have you been? You missed training," said Gasolini. "I don't want to have to keep chasing you up like a five-year-old. You already missed one show because of your idiot son. But, it's going to be alright. Supply and demand, I guess… you weren't there, so now, everyone wants to see you more than ever. I'm going to make a killing at this next show. Isn't that great?"

Oh, how Ripcord wanted to go. But he knew he couldn't. He'd tried. At training, when he'd finally got away from Gasolini, Dave had realised he was struggling and had offered to give him a hand. He'd been a bit more understanding and helped him up into the plane. This time, despite the twinge of protest from his leg, Ripcord had managed to get into the damned thing.

But he hadn't been able to get the plane off the ground. He'd thought, with his leg better enough, he could manage it. I mean, it wasn't like he had to do much with it once he was in the cockpit. And it had hurt, so bad. Not his leg. But the realisation that something else was wrong, and it had hit him like a slam to the gut. He could not do this. He'd held it together on the airfield, at least. Dave probably could see that something was going on, but he was one of the nicer guys and didn't say anything.

Ripcord had bailed and returned to the hanger. And still, bloody Gasolini hounded him. He had to stand up to him. And somehow, although he had no choice, which should have made it easier, it still scared him.

"You know there's no way I'm going to make the next airshow." He'd meant to be firm. He just sounded tired.

"Don't try and bail on me, McQuack," Gasolini exploded. "You have a contract. You fly all the main airshows, and whatever the hell else I tell you if you know what's good for you. So what the hell's wrong? You've been spending too much time with that family of yours. That's what it is. I'd told you they'd drag you down, especially your wife. You've got more important things in your life. Like a legally enforceable contract…"

He should've defended Birdie. But he never had, and he didn't this time either. Ripcord just wanted this conversation to be over. At least the contract no longer held the weight it once had. He and Birdie had been over it enough times. He knew where the holes were. "I don't care about the contract. Good luck making that thing stick. My leg's busted up good. And I can't fly a plane in an airshow like this." He physically couldn't. And that was his out. Good luck arguing with that.

Gasolini was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, you see, I'm not so sure I believe that. I saw you get into that plane just fine, and as far as I'm concerned, if your leg's the problem, that's the hard part. Once you're in the cockpit, there is no damned reason you shouldn't be able to fly it. Besides, I spoke with your doctor. And he told me it's healed up fine. There's no reason physical reason you can't fly a plane, so if this is some…"

"You what?!" Ripcord exploded. His heart hammered in his chest. "You have no right talking to my doctor. He has no right talking to you and…"

"I have a vested interest in you. I own you…"

"I don't care!" Ripcord felt his chest tightening again. No. Just, just go away. But he wanted to fly the planes. Even if it was under Gasolini's stupid contract. But… "I can't!" And as the words tore from his mouth, they brought tears to his eyes. "My leg's busted up good. And I cannot fly those stupid tiny planes..." He slammed the phone back into its cradle. And it punched straight through into the wall.

Ripcord stood, chest heaving. He could not fly the planes. Whatever Gasolini thought had happened in that crash, whatever his doctor thought, it didn't matter. He couldn't. End of story.

End of being a pilot.

"Dad?"

The voice brought Ripcord spinning around. "Launchpad? What are you doing here, son?"

Launchpad looked up at him, eyes wide. He was growing into a man, Ripcord realised. When had he missed that? But there was a softness there, in his eyes, looking up at his father with concern. "You seemed sad at dinner. I wanted to see if you were okay?"

Of course, he did. Launchpad cared deeply about, well, everybody. It was something Ripcord had only come to realise in the past few months. Stuck at home, sure he'd been happy to spend the time with Birdie and the kids, but he still felt stuck, and he'd known it'd made him a little quiet. Launchpad had always asked him how he was. Or got out a board game and asked him if he wanted to play, to distract him, even though he almost always lost.

Now he was here, checking on him again. "Am I okay? Heh." Ripcord glanced at the bottle he held in his hand. He'd pulled it out of the hanger fridge, always stocked, when he'd got here. He'd hardly gotten through it, though he'd planned to consume many more before the night was over. He didn't want Launchpad to see him in that state.

He chucked the bottle in the bin, hard. "Well, I only just told my good-for-nothing manager I can't make it to the next airshow."

"Aw, Dad, I'm sorry. I know you were really looking forward to it."

Ripcord stepped away from his son's touch. He didn't deserve the sympathy. He should've listened to Launchpad when he said he wanted to fly. Then they wouldn't be both in this mess. At least his son was only banned from the airfield, and that wasn't so permanent. He walked across the hanger and laid a hand on the Joyrider's wing.

"That's your plane, isn't it? The Joyrider? It looks really cool."

"My plane. Hah. Don't let Gasoilni hear you say that. I only flew it." Past tense. "And now I can't."

"Because I made us crash, and you got hurt. Dad, I'm so sorry. But, there's always next year, right?"

Next year? No. Ripcord felt something well up in his chest. Tears filled his eyes. "I can't fly these planes again. Not just this year. Not ever."

"But… but why?"

Ripcord whirled around. "I tried, okay? I tried! With Gasolini harassing me and everything. But I can't! I can't even get in the cockpit, far less get one in the air. You were there. I busted my leg. Right? That's a legitimate reason? Isn't it?!" Launchpad was there! He knew what had happened. He would believe him when he said this was something he could not do. "And I can't… it just won't work with these small planes… I…" He turned around, resting a hand on the Joyriders wing. The tears he had so desperately been trying to hide from his son squeezed from his eyes. He needed to feel this. He needed to tell someone. And Launchpad, with all his understanding that Ripcord had been too stupid to see until these last few months, he would get that, right?

"Dad, I'm so sorry," Launchpad said softly, "Don't cry…" And he laid a hand on his arm.

"I'm not crying! I'm a man!" Ripcord snatched his arm away. No. His son could not see him crying over a stupid machine. A machine that had always made him feel more alive than anything in the world. "Why'd you have to steal the plane, huh?"

"I wanted to fly, just like you…"

"Yeah, well, so do I. And now I can't! Not like this!" The anger pushed away the pain for only a brief moment. And then it was back. "I tried, LP. I tried really, really hard and… I can't and…"

"Dad…"

"You did that to me." And that wasn't fair. He knew it even as he said it.

"I'm sorry." Launchpad grasped his shoulder.

Ripcord shrugged him off. "I don't want you here. Leave."

"Dad…"

"I said go!" Ripcord felt his control slipping, even as his hands started shaking down at his sides. "I don't want you…" He choked off as tears spilled over his beak. I don't want you to see me like this. "Now, get the hell out of here."

He didn't turn around. Couldn't. Couldn't check if his son had gone. Because if he did, he would see him fall apart.

Launchpad had left.

Ripcord slumped over the Joyrider's wing, hugging the cold metal, and broke down.

Ripcord traced a finger through the dirt on the hanger floor. "It hurt, you know. Knowing I'd never fly like that again. I was scared of you seeing me like that. I was young, stupid, now I know you would've been there for me. And I'm sorry. I was such a wreck that night; I guess I didn't realise how you might have interpreted what was going on. But I never said I didn't want you."

Launchpad stared at his father. "I thought…" he said thinly. "When… when you told me to leave the hanger, you just didn't want me to see you break down, but I only heard…" His stomach twisted up in knots, so bad it physically hurt. He wrapped his arms around his middle, hanging his head as his next breath came out a gasping sob.

"Hey, hey…" Ripcord put his arms around him and pulled him into his side. "It's okay, buddy."

Launchpad buried his face in his father's shoulder. All those nights with his family those last few months. Playing games, watching movies, hanging out. It all flashed before his eyes, too short. He thought his father had snatched it away from him. If he'd only stayed a little longer, confronted his dad. Or told Mom and got her to do it. But instead, Launchpad had left. He'd thought he had to.

Launchpad wanted to explain this to his dad. But he was shaking, his breath coming out in sobs, and all he could manage was: "Dad, I wanted to stay."

Launchpad pressed against his father's side, letting him get an arm around him as they walked. It was far too close to really be comfortable, making keeping pace a little awkward. But he hadn't cared.

His parents had mucked up a lot, sure, made many mistakes. But he had still been the one who had chosen to leave, and somehow that hurt more. But it meant he didn't need to be angry with them, keep them at the same distance. They were trying to be here. And they had wanted him. What he'd missed out on still hurt, more deeply than anything Launchpad could remember feeling. But if he could make a choice to leave, he could make a choice to try this again.

"Hey, we're here." They stood outside Mr McDee's garage. Ripcord squeezed his shoulder. "You okay?"

"I don't know." Launchpad did not move to open his door. He wanted to stay here, at his dad's side. "I'm not sure I want to be alone just yet. But, you know, if you need to go home, or…"

"We have a spare room in the apartment."

"Yeah?"

"Come on. If it'll help you sleep better. Me and your Mom'll make you breakfast in the morning."

A/n: Whew, okay. I promise the next chapter won't be as sad. Please leave me a review!