London, England

December 18 1991

Laying on his bed, tossing a baseball in the air with one hand, catching it with the other as it fell back down towards the mattress, John Ross' mind raced, his thoughts both more and less clear now than they had been earlier in the day.

He'd been afraid things would be awkward, that everything they'd said to each other on the phone and in letters would be forgotten when they saw each other in person, that the way he'd left Dallas and the way his daddy had made him feel before he did that would all come back in the moment, but that hadn't happened.

"John Ross."

He was there, his father, on their doorstep.

"Dad."

Trying hard to control the tone of his voice, he didn't succeed, hearing the shakiness of the single word.

"It's good to see you son."

There wasn't much to it on the surface, but the short sentence meant a lot.

"I've missed you."

He'd spent weeks thinking about the moment but none of that came close to how it was actually developing.

"I've missed you too."

Pulled into a hug, he felt like he hadn't felt for a long time. His mother was a hugger and that affection brought him comfort when he needed it, even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, but there was something about his daddy's hugs that were different. He needed both of his parents but he'd rarely had the opportunity to experience what they had to offer him as a pair. Almost as soon as he got used to them living life as a couple, as his parents, not his mother individually or his father individually, they were right back to splitting their time with him, and he was aware that he was missing out on something other people had.

Shivering as a gust of wind blew between them, he realised that he'd been so preoccupied with their initial reunion that he hadn't considered their location.

Inviting his father in, taking his coat, he showed him into the reception room, and without really thinking about it, he followed the same pattern he'd observed his mama and Don do so many times before.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Do you drink tea?"

Thinking about the question, he didn't really know why he'd asked it. He didn't consider himself anything other than Texan but apparently the British greeting had rubbed off on him.

"No, but everyone else seems to."

Laughing heartily, his father didn't dwell on the strangeness of his question, instead answering in a way that made him feel very comfortable.

"I'll have whatever you're having."

Wincing as the baseball landed on his stomach instead of in his mitt, he rolled onto his side, not in enough pain to call out to his mama but knowing that if he did she'd come running, that was who she was.

What he didn't know about his mama was just how she felt about his daddy. She was certainly more even-tempered when she was around Don, but he'd never seen her as happy with Don as she had been in rare moments with his daddy, not even last November when she'd become Mrs Lockwood.

He couldn't decipher his parents relationship most of the time, whatever method they had of communicating was silent to him, relying on a series of looks, thoughts, and rules he didn't understand and probably never would, as hard as he tried to.

"…it's not the same, but I have plans…"

Stopping in the middle of a sentence, his father's attention shifted from the past and the future to the present.

"JR."

Standing in the doorway between the hall and the reception room, his mother made her entrance, looking as she always did to him, but apparently appearing enchanting to his father.

"Sue Ellen."

Getting up, his father walked across the room, kissing her on the cheek, causing her to blush, the reason why apparent a few seconds later.

"JR."

"Don."

Shaking hands, the two men exchanged few words, leaving his mother to do the talking.

"We're just popping out to run some errands. We'll be about an hour."

It had felt like a flimsy excuse at the time and now thinking back on it he was sure his mother had been trying to create some space between them, however he didn't know why.

If she was in love with Don and he was right beside her then there was no chance of his father doing or saying anything that would sway her opinion on her marriage, was there?

He didn't dislike Don, he didn't think of him as a particularly fatherly man, but he didn't need to, he had a father. Once he'd settled into his new life it had become apparent that Don's foreign behaviours were fairly normal in his home country, which made him a bit easier to understand; he wasn't warm, outgoing, or funny in a traditional way, but he had his moments, moments that became far clearer in context.

"I was thinking we might do the same, if that's ok with you?"

"Run errands?"

Her surprise had been obvious. He liked London, but he had his own ideas about what fun was and walking in and out of several boutiques, the post office and the film studio was not it, which she knew.

"Go out, get some fresh air."

"I think it's a lovely idea. Just make sure he wears a coat."

His mama could be overly maternal at times but she knew him. Dallas was cold in the winter but London was colder. Things were different, but he was getting used to them and even rather liked them, not that he was overly enthusiastic about expressing those thoughts though, it wasn't the done thing.

"Peter Pan. I read this to you when you were younger."

Turning away from the sculpture, he nodded at his father in confirmation of why their walk through the park had led them there.

"You like this place then?"

Unsure whether he was referring to the sculpture, the park, or the city itself, he nodded again.

"Yeah."

It was far too soon to say what he saw for the future but what was clear to him was that he'd arrived in London not expecting a whole lot, mostly just running from what he perceived to be an unfairness in Dallas, but he'd found something he liked and he wasn't ready to give it up yet.

School was academically more challenging and it had taken a while to get used to keeping his uniform looking presentable at all times, but he'd made friends, ones that didn't expect him to be anything other than American. They asked him to say things, claiming he spoke like the television, whatever that meant, but they weren't cruel about it and he was growing used to the change.

His home life was far less complicated too; his mama and Don weren't interested in children of their own, they'd made that very clear when he'd asked, so although he missed Christopher, he was content to stay right where he knew he was the first priority. His daddy insisted that James was gone and wasn't coming back, but it was going to take more than those assurances to get him to move back to Dallas.