Warnings/Spoilers: Modern AU.
Disclaimer: No, don't own Lancer.

~#~#~#~

Scott came around the back of the hacienda in time to see Johnny's exit from the kitchen. Seeing the strain on his brother's face brought him up short. The agitation was revealed in the unruly hair sticking up on end and the faraway look in his eyes.

"Johnny." It took longer than it should have, but Johnny focused on him.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Looking for Julie." Scott stepped closer. "Are you all right?"

He took time to think about it. "Later maybe."

"What happened?"

"The big fucking reveal is what happened." He snorted. "I'm telling you, Scott, any assumptions you've made, anything you believed, question it. Question everything, 'cause it might not have any relation to the truth."

Scott winced and recalled the conversation that wasn't with Murdoch.

"That bad."

"Yes and no." Johnny shook his head. "Shit, I can't even wrap my head around it yet."

"Need some time?"

"Yeah." He gave a faint smile. "I'm serious, Scott. Question it all."

"I will." Scott's mouth quirked. "Compare notes later?"

"Can't wait. We'll paint our nails too."

"I've got pink polish."

Johnny stared at him with dawning horror. "Pink? That's so last year!"

Swinging and missing at Johnny's head, Scott continued on his search, content that his brother would recover his equilibrium.

But Johnny's warning of question everything unsettled him.

~#~#~#~

Johnny paced around the courtyard coming to a stop when he spotted Teresa watching him from her perch on the adobe wall, legs swinging.

"Little bit of drama." A flash of teeth was all he saw of her face in the shadows.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Hiding and I didn't feel like doing it up in my room." Teresa leaned forward, elbows on knees, bringing her face into the light. "And pink polish is timeless, philistine."

"Come on, there's gotta be better colors."

"There are, but pink is a forever color. Deal."

"What about red?"

"Iconic. Are we really going to talk about nail polish?"

"I don't feel like talking about anything else."

"Parents lie."

Johnny stopped short more at the bluntness, than the statement itself. Feeling like he was maneuvering land mines again, he absorbed what she said.

"Personal experience?"

"Until I was fourteen, I thought my mother was dead until she thought to come back to fight for equal custody." The very flatness of her voice told Johnny more than her words. "What she really wanted was money. No one wanted to tell me that, but it wasn't all that hard to figure out. But my dad let me believe she was dead. Didn't want me to know my own mother didn't want me. He thought he was doing the right thing."

"Did he?"

A shrug. "Kids are a little tougher than a parent thinks, but Dad always did the best he could even if he didn't get what to do with a daughter, he loved me." Teresa slid off the wall to land in front of him. "And if I have a kid, I'll probably even understand some of it more. But what it really all comes down to, is how pissed off are you going to be about it and does it really serve any purpose?"

"It's not quite that simple."

"No, it really is, because tomorrow those fathers of yours might be gone. Poof, like that." She snapped her fingers. "And none of it will matter at all then."

As the voice of experience smacked him in the face, more tension drained away. "Did you forgive him?"

"Not right away." She grinned up at him. "I had to get a triple scoop, fudge brownie special out of him first."

Johnny laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders. "You know, that sounds pretty good right now."

Her arm snaked around his waist and she gave him a squeeze. "I think Gabriel will understand why you changed your name back."

A hard thump and his heart settled down. "You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so." She peered up at him. "Legally, I get that it was yours, but Murdoch was over the moon when you accepted it."

"Kind of awkward to be in this place."

"And they know that. Fact is they're in the great room right now looking kind of wrecked."

"You like Gabriel?"

"He's kind of hard not to like."

The very simplicity of her statement removed some of the heaviness he was carrying, because as strange as the situation was, he did want his family to like his papa.

"This is so weird."

Teresa giggled. "I dub thee king of understatement." She gave him a tug. "Come on, I made hot fudge and brownies and there's a brand new quart of organic vanilla bean ice cream in the freezer. This calls for sugar therapy."

"I thought girls worried about how much of that stuff they ate."

"Right now I am blessed with a very kind metabolism. I'm milking it for all it's worth now and times a wasting."

~#~#~#~

Julie reached the end of the back veranda and looked off into the gloom.

"You forgot to say goodbye." Scott was leaning against the side of the porch strut. He motioned to the bags with wave. "What's this all about?"

Her shoulders dropped. "It's no use, Scott. I can't go through with it."

"Go through with what?"

She flinched at the hardness in his voice. "This goddamned make-believe game I'm supposed to play." She dropped her bags to the ground and rubbed her temple. "Your grandfather forced me to come here. I was a trick to get you to come back to Boston."

He stared at her. "You thought a quick lay would entice me to go back to Boston?"

"There was nothing else for me to do. He said he'd bankrupt my father's company if I didn't cooperate. Scott, my father is a sick old man. I don't want to see my father destroyed. What would you have done?"

Scott turned and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. But at least I'm grateful to know the truth."

Harlan scraped open the door. "That was an unfortunate mistake, Julie. Very unfortunate. I had counted on your discretion."

"Grandfather, I think the mistake was all yours."

The quiet resignation in Scott's voice almost unnerved her.

"I think not boy. You will return with me to Boston, if not for Julie for other more convincing reasons. A number of years ago when you were a child your father presented something of a threat to me. As a cautious man I took steps to protect myself. I had the agency investigate him. If nothing else, you'll listen to my story. Something you will want to hear—about your father."

Scott dug into his pants pocket and brought out a set of keys. He tossed them to her. "Take the Jeep and leave it at the airport. I assume you know the way. There's no need for you to hear this."

He was slipping away from her. "Scott…"

"Don't. Not ever again, Julie."

His warning was stern—and final. She clenched the keys in her hand and it wasn't until she reached for the luggage handles she realized her hands were shaking.

~#~#~#~

Murdoch just wanted to kick back. The day had been full of one emotional scene after the next. He had progress report he needed to read and printed it out before settling in on the sofa.

Johnny and Gabriel were playing a game of chess – or would be if Johnny hadn't fallen asleep draped over the ottoman. His son was worn out. Not from hard work, but finding out the truth, or as close to it that they could get, had taken a toll.

Then again, it could be a sugar-induced coma.

Teresa was reading a homework assignment by the fireplace, the partial remains of the triple scoop, hot fudge brownie special perched on the small table beside her. She had warned Johnny to pace himself and gave a wicked grin when he looked a little green after wolfing it down.

Murdoch didn't know what had passed between the two, but he was very grateful when they had burst into the great room loaded with dessert. It was almost painful to watch Gabriel agree to play a game of chess with Johnny, like he couldn't believe his good fortune. But soon, the awkwardness between the two men passed into familiarity. Murdoch had looked to Teresa, who merely licked hot fudge off her spoon and mouthed 'later'.

Later was good. He had to come to terms with what Gabriel had revealed. He would probably never understand Maria. But he had a good understanding of Gabriel Madrid.

Murdoch enjoyed the relative peace, but his hackles rose the moment Harlan walked in with Scott by his side. Scott looked off – pale and – just off. Harlan looked pleased and that never boded well.

Murdoch let the papers drop to his lap. "Something wrong, Scott?"

"Somebody wake Johnny. He might as well hear this too since we're all together."

Using her foot, Teresa nudged Johnny's side. He picked up his head, looked around for second, then collapsed back on the ottoman.

Gabriel grinned. "It's your move."

No, it was Scott's move as far as Murdoch was concerned. "Go on."

Scott swallowed. "I've decided to return to Boston with my grandfather."

Johnny shot up from the ottoman to look at his brother. Teresa dropped her book. And Murdoch wanted to find the right thing to say to stop Scott from leaving. Nothing came.

Harlan smiled, wrapping an arm around Scott's shoulders. "It was a surprise for me, too. I must say a pleasant surprise."

Scott didn't look at any of them. "Excuse me." He turned leaving the room.

Johnny wasted no time following him except to slow down as he went by Harlan. The look he gave the old man showed his distrust. The smile Harlan showed Murdoch told him everything he needed to know.

Checkmate.

~#~#~#~

Johnny didn't bother knocking before storming into the bedroom finding Scott sitting on his bed. "What the hell, Scott?"

Standing, Scott slid out of his jacket, letting it drop on the bed. "Let it go, Johnny."

"What happened to comparing notes?"

Scott didn't look at him as he went to the closet and pulled out his luggage. "I don't know anymore now than I did before." He arranged the cases on the bed, opening them all.

Now that wasn't quite the truth. "Scott, come on. Why the sudden change?"

"It's just time I headed back." The chest of drawers was hit first.

Why wouldn't Scott look at him? Sure, packing his clothes kept him moving and occupied, but why did he need the distraction?

"Is it Julie? Where is she?"

Scott stilled as he placed some t-shirts into case. Johnny could see the tension in his back muscles.

"She's headed back to Boston."

"And you're following her?"

Packing resumed. "Yes…I want to see if I can work things out with her."

"Did you fight?"

"No, she had to return." Scott glanced at his as he pulled out socks. "Her father isn't doing well."

"I can understand that, but she just left? Who took her to the airport?"

"She took the Jeep."

"Anyone of us would have taken her to the airport." Johnny narrowed his eyes, trying to see what was there. "You would have taken her."

"She wanted time to herself."

"Scott this isn't making sense. Are you going back for good?"

Scott stopped what he was doing, meeting his eyes for the first time. "Yes."

"And not planning to come back for visits now and then?"

Johnny hadn't noticed Scott had a nervous twitch with his fingers before. Something they shared.

"I'll call."

And he was avoiding answering the questions. Johnny interrogating Scott wasn't getting them anywhere. Whatever was hanging over Scott's head, he wasn't going to share it.

"You do that." Johnny turned to leave.

"Johnny."

Johnny stopped, waited.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too." Johnny closed the door behind him, stood in front of it frustrated and worried.

He needed to think.

~#~#~#~

Murdoch's sleep – what there was of it – was disturbed and restless. Dreaming about losing Scott over and over again. Sometimes it was Johnny he lost.

Now watching Scott put luggage in the trunk, he didn't know what to say. Scott had made his choice.

"What's the rush?" Johnny's anger came through in spite of his obvious effort to keep it under control.

Scott glanced at him, but continued arranging the luggage. "Grandfather has business—we have business that needs our immediate attention."

"Just seems sudden."

"Johnny."

"I want to know why, Murdoch, that's all."

Scott shifted around the bags. "I'm just not cut out for this."

"Cut out for what?" Johnny's frustration boiled over.

"You got along fine without me before. You'll do just fine from now on." Scott closed the trunk, still avoiding eye contact.

That sounded so final to Murdoch, like Scott planned on cutting all ties.

"I'm sure Scotty feels a deep regret. But after all, Boston has been his home for most of his life."

The glare Johnny shot Harlan's way left no doubt to what he thought of that.

Teresa caught Scott by the arm. "Scott, we don't want you to go."

"There's no reason why you can't come to Boston to visit me." He looked to Murdoch. Was that an invitation? Would they be welcome?

They hadn't talked after that last difficult conversation in the great room. Scott didn't look angry – more regretful than anything. Testing the waters, Murdoch walked up to him. "Taking an afternoon flight?"

Scott nodded. "Grandfather needs to make a stop in town first at the hotel. Then we'll head to the airport."

Murdoch reached out his hand. "Son." Scott gripped his hand, but looked away from him. "Take care of yourself. If you ever feel that you…"

"Scotty, we better be on our way."

Scott eased his grip, but Murdoch held on for a moment longer. Only letting go when Scott squeezed back one last time before hurrying to the driver's seat.

Murdoch watched them leave the drive.

"Seems to me, Murdoch, you could have tried a little harder. You could have put up a fight."

"He's a man, Johnny. He's not a little boy. It's his decision." Fighting for Scott hadn't worked out in the past. Scott had to stay by choice.

"Yeah, that may be good enough for you, but it's not for me." Johnny stormed off into the house.

~#~#~#~

"Johnny, you haven't said a word since you asked me to go into town with you. What do you hope to find?"

Johnny glanced at Gabriel, grateful that he hadn't asked a lot of questions before now. "I don't know. But something wasn't right with Scott."

"Maybe he was sad to leave."

"I get that. But why the rush and what business needed both of them when Scott has been out here for the last four months. Why now?" He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Why the rental car instead of one of us taking them to the airport?"

"Harlan didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"Harlan could care less if he inconvenienced anyone. No, there was a reason why Scott acted the way he did."

"Johnny, you don't know your brother very well."

"And whose fault is that?" Johnny regretted the words, but it was a valid question.

"I am sorry, Johnny."

"I know you mean it. I do." Johnny reached over to grip Gabriel's forearm. "I didn't mean it like that and I still have questions I expect answers for."

"You will get them."

"I'll hold you to it, but that's only part of it. Scott's the other. The two of us, we didn't get on at first. Two different and two much alike, you know. Got through that. We've had some challenges that sort of sped that along. Scott's a stubborn man, and I don't see him leaving Lancer without his answers."

"Johnny, your father should be the one to tell you and Scott about the past…"

"But?"

"I will say this: Mr. Garrett, from what I gathered will do anything to have his way."

"And that's who I'm starting with."

~#~#~#~

"Hey, Johnny!" Tommy looked past him.

"Sorry, Tommy, Teresa isn't with me today."

The crushed expression was brief. Poor boy had it bad. "What can I do for you?" He leaned against the counter.

Johnny waved to Gabriel. "This is Gabriel. We're looking for Mr. Garrett. Do you know him?"

"I've seen him around."

"Did he leave anything here to pick up?"

"No. All he did was talk with the Degans."

"Degans?"

"Brothers. Taller one is Carl, the shorter one is Will. They must work for him or something. He paid their way." Tommy frowned. "They've been drinking most of that away since they checked in. Mr. Garrett was just in here and handed over some cash. And you'd swear they had to get rid of it as quick as possible."

"Thanks, Tommy. Think we'll go have a chat with them."

"Tell Teresa I said 'hi', will you?"

Johnny grinned. "Sure, you know I will." There was nothing like seeing Teresa's exasperated, but coming around to fond expression whenever Tommy's name came up.

Gabriel held Johnny back before entering the bar. "How do you want to do this, Johnny?"

"See what we can shake out of them. You stay in the background." Johnny walked in, seeing two men at the bar. This early in the day, they weren't hard to find.

"Hey, boys." Johnny came up between them and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. "Did Mr. Garrett already leave?"

"Who are you?"

"Carl, I'm Johnny. I was hoping to catch Mr. Garrett before he left."

Will swallowed down half his beer. "He's gone. Left this morning."

"Did you get the job done?"

"Sure, not much to do." Will's words slurred. "From what Mr. Garrett said, he handled it himself."

Carl reached over to grip Will's arm. "Shut up!"

"No, don't worry, Carl." Johnny patted him on the back. "We're all friends here. Mr. Garrett is a rich man and can afford to spread it around a little."

Will gave a sloppy nod. "Mr. Garrett, can buy as many friends as he wants."

"You got that right. I was here just as back-up. What did he have you doing?"

"Not much." Carl kept took a swallow, but was watching Johnny.

Will weaved a little and bumped up against Johnny's arm. "We've been a long standing insurance policy against Lancer."

"Will!"

Johnny stepped back. Carl wasn't about to let Will let anymore slip. "Well, you boys enjoy your day." He walked away leaving them to their drinks.

Gabriel caught up with Johnny once they left the bar. "What do you think?"

"I think we need to know what the Degans mean to Murdoch."

~#~#~#~

Carl shoved Will, who almost toppled. "Why'd you say all that?"

"What? I didn't say much."

"We don't know who he was."

"Don't matter. Was our dad got murdered. Not like we done anything wrong."

Carl calmed down. "True, but maybe we should change that."

"What'da you mean?"

"You seen Garrett's wallet?"

"Yeah, he was loaded."

"He's headed for the airport. Maybe we should lighten his load before he gets there."

Will grinned. "Roads are twisty around here. We take back roads, bet we catch up."

"I'll drive."

~#~#~#~

Murdoch took a sip of his coffee, lost in thought. "Degan?"

"Yes, brothers, Carl and Will Degan. Guessing somewhere in their thirties. They knew Garrett – he was paying them. They knew you. Or at least I'm guessing the Lancer they were considered an insurance policy against is you."

Murdoch set down the coffee cup, rolling it in his palms. "Degan – I ran into him – long time ago."

"How?"

"Years ago, Catherine was pregnant. I was in Sacramento trying to work out that Haney business." He saw Gabriel's puzzled look. "Another long story for another time."

"I was walking back to the hotel – rundown area of the city. A man came at me with a knife. He sliced me in the arm. Still have the scar. I remember thinking I had to get back to Catherine. We fought and I'm not sure how it happened, but crashed into a wall. He had the knife out to gut me, but it got himself instead."

"He died?"

"Not right away. He was alive when the ambulance and police got there. Someone had called and reported the fight. I thought he had been alone, but found out he had a family. A couple boys came out of alley and tried to get to him.

"They saw their father die. I remember throwing up and an officer telling me that Degan had a history of assault. Had just been released from prison. I asked about the boys and were told they would go into Child Protective Services."

"Murdoch, I am assuming that this was considered self-defense." Gabriel's concern washed over him. "This wasn't your fault."

Still, it was hard to think about after all these years.

"Took a bit, but I was cleared and thought that was the end of it. I guess other people had different ideas."

Johnny rested a hand on his arm. "Murdoch, it's lot easier sharing this with someone."

"There are some things in this world a man tries to forget, Johnny. Killing a man is one of them."

"Old Garrett found and out and used it to blackmail Scott?"

"That's my guess. Scott went along with it because he thought he was protecting me from a murder charge." Murdoch stood up from the table. "Come on, Johnny. Let's catch a flight."

~#~#~#~

"Can't we at least talk, Scotty? It's going to be a long trip."

Very long. "I think we've said just about everything that has to be said."

"Is it possible that we could lose so easily what we had for so many years?"

"We didn't lose it. You threw it away."

"Well, there's plenty of time for mending. You'll see. Scotty, once we are back in Boston."

"Is that the answer? Boston will fix everything?" At least it would get Harlan away from Lancer and gain Scott time to plan his next move.

"And time for you to settle back in. I know you see my methods as extreme, but this is for your own protection."

Scott shot a glance at Harlan. "What happens the next time I do something you don't agree with?"

"Scotty, don't be unreasonable. I've only ever had your best interests at heart."

"No, you're only thinking of yourself."

"I'm your grandfather. I raised you and know what's best for you." The sad thing was, Harlan believed that.

"As far as I'm concerned, you've lost that right. I'll give you that you are the man who raised me - and I have a feeling it's only through the same methods you are using against me now – but as for the grandfather part – you've lost…"

Metal screeched against metal and the car lurched out of control.

"Scotty!"

~#~#~#~

"Shit!" Carl pounded the hood of his stalled Chevy. Ramming the other car stalled out their own. He and Will watched as Garrett's car limped down the road on three wheels.

"It won't be goin' far, though." He lifted out his rifle and took aim.

~#~#~#~

An explosion of glass ripped through the air. Pain knifed through Scott's head and slammed him hard against the seat belt, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

Hands pushed at him…pulled at him…then he was moving. Teeth chattering, his head spurted fire while the rest of him seemed locked in ice.

"Hide, Scotty. You were always good at that as a boy. Don't move. I've called for help."

His head lolled on his shoulder as something was pressed into his hand. Scott stared blindly at his blood-smeared fingers until even that became too difficult.

~#~#~#~

"They went over the embankment!"

Carl followed his brother down the road. Take a couple of minutes to catch up. If they were lucky, Garrett would be out or dead and they could pick up the cash and any other valuables.

"The old man's running away!"

~#~#~#~

Harlan hadn't run in years – no need. But the Degans had followed him and left Scotty behind. He shook off the memory of the pale, blood covered face. Help would be there soon. They were out in the middle of nowhere, which was likely why the Degans had rammed the car when they did. But the 911 call was twenty minutes ago.

Help would be there soon.

He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his face.

Harlan just had to hide until then and keep them away from Scotty.

~#~#~#~

Gabriel leaned forward in the passenger seat. "They park cars in the middle road now?"

Murdoch slowed the car. "Looks like an accident." He maneuvered the SUV around the stalled vehicle and accelerated.

"Murdoch, stop the car!"

Murdoch slammed on the brakes, but Johnny dove out of the backseat before it stopped and was running down the embankment. Now he could see what Johnny had seen: A wrecked car – Harlan's rental - and Scott struggling to stand.

Johnny caught his brother as he pitched forward. Murdoch didn't remember putting the SUV in park or even leaving it.

Blood covered Scott's face, his disorientation aggravated by his distress. "Grandfather… something hit us…" He pushed at Johnny. "I've got to help."

"Don't move, Scott." With little effort, Johnny held him still.

A rifle shot sang close by causing them all to jump.

"Grandfather…"

"Stay with him, Johnny." Murdoch headed for the sound and called over his shoulder. "Call for help."

~#~#~#~

"Murdoch! No."

"I'll go with him, Johnny. Stay with your brother."

"Gabriel!" Johnny watched as both men he considered fathers run in the direction of a rifle. Unarmed. "Damn it!"

"Gotta help…"

Johnny eased Scott back to the ground, pulling off his own jacket off to tuck under his brother's head. "Murdoch and Gabriel are looking for Harlan. Don't worry."

He kept a gentle hold on Scott to keep him in place while pulling out his phone. He saw the cell phone by Scott and heard the sirens before he finished pressing in the second '1'. He called anyway to verify that help was on its way.

"Relax, Scott." Johnny used his sleeve to swipe away some of the blood from Scott's eyes.

Scott scrunched up his face before blinking his eyes open to slit. "What happened?"

"Not sure, but I have a feeling the Degans are involved."

"Degans? Here?" Scott shifted, agitated.

"Maybe. Relax, Scott." Johnny moved around until he could shade Scott from the sun. "We know about the Degans."

"But Murdoch…"

"Didn't do anything wrong. He didn't murder anyone."

"How did…" Scott swallowed, tried again. "Grandfather?"

His brother wasn't tracking like he should. Talking was hard, but if Johnny was in his place, he would want to know too. "Think Harlan wrangled the truth to fit his needs. Enough money can buy a witness or two."

Scott shivered – shock was setting in. "I thought Grandfather used that to…to keep Murdoch away from me."

"I don't know what he used, but it wasn't that." Johnny rubbed Scott's hand between his own to bring some warmth to them.

"Shit…it hurts."

"Ambulance is coming now. So are the police."

"Murdoch?"

"He'll be ok, Scott."

~#~#~#~

Harlan panted behind a large boulder, every now and again a shot ricocheted off the stone.

"We're gonna scare you to death, Old Man!"

The Degans, of course. They shouted and taunted, sounding drunk. Money well spent. He thought of Scotty, and all the blood. He hadn't been moving when he left him behind.

He was so occupied by the Degans, he almost fainted when Murdoch came in behind him. "Murdoch…Scotty, I think he's…"

"Don't make one your momentous conclusions too soon. Scott's alive." Murdoch stared him down. "Hurt, but alive." They both heard the sirens. "Gabriel is waiting to lead the police here."

"The Degans, they tried to kill me." Harlan's voice shook. "If you'd let them, your troubles would have been over. Why didn't you, Murdoch?"

"I've no troubles, Harlan. Not anymore."

~#~#~#~

A hand came down on Johnny's jittery leg, and its warmth soaked into his thigh. He welcomed the familiar comfort and the lack of platitudes that could have come with it.

The emergency waiting room wasn't busy, so it was just Johnny and Gabriel occupying a couple of the chairs. Statements given to the police, all that was left was the waiting.

And this newfound awkwardness between himself and Gabriel that Johnny knew couldn't remain, but it was up to him to change. He demanded the truth. Honesty was all he could give from here on out.

Johnny, elbows on knees, slanted a look at Gabriel. "Can't help wishing you had told me. I hated Murdoch for a long time for something he wasn't guilty of."

Gabriel sighed. "What I did or didn't do in this case, is not an easy thing to live with. Your father is a good man."

"Yeah, he is." Johnny leaned back. "You are too."

The grip on his thigh grew stronger, then released. "Thank you."

"Papa, my name - "

"Is Lancer."

"I'm keeping Madrid for my work."

Gabriel swallowed hard, and nodded. "Perhaps when things are settled, you can show me Lancer? I'd like to see it through a camera."

Johnny grinned. "Yeah, it is something to see."

~#~#~#~

Pain jiggled Scott awake: Persistent, unyielding and unnecessary. Scott wasn't sure where that thought came from, but knew it was true and pain could have been avoided. He felt a hand wrapped around his wrist, large enough to encompass it – Murdoch. The sounds, smells, and feeling all shouted 'hospital'.

"Scott?"

Turning his head – and taking his time about it – Scott met Murdoch's concerned face. His father looked tired, worn down.

"Are you with me?"

Now there was a question.

Swallowing, Scott licked his lips and gave talking a shot. "More than I thought I was."

Murdoch smiled, some of that worn out look dropping away. He tilted his head, no doubt wondering what Scott meant and looked about to ask.

"What happened?"

"A couple of men, Carl and Will Degan…"

The bad taste in his mouth worsened. "I know of them." That sickening, trapped feeling welled up.

"Scott, look at me." Scott opened his eyes. Murdoch squeezed Scott's arm. "It's true I killed their father a long time ago. He attacked me with a knife, a mugging. The knife got him instead. I was cleared. There is no chance of me being arrested for murder."

Breathing became easier. "Then why…?"

"From what we now know, the brothers followed in their father's footsteps."

"Not much of a family business."

"No, it isn't. They needed money."

"Grandfather gave them some, didn't he?"

"Yes, but it wasn't enough and they thought to take more. They were drunk, stupid, and looks like they thought to run you off the road."

"They managed that."

"True." Murdoch's jaw tightened in a way that Scott now recognized was his father's way of holding in worry tainted with anger. "Harlan called for help before leading them away from you. How they expected to get away, I have no idea. Neither your rental or their car was in running order."

"Where are Johnny and Grandfather?"

"Johnny's giving his statement to the police. Harlan is getting checked out. He's fine, Scott. He's just had more activity than he's had in awhile. Now we're waiting for you to get a CT scan."

"Why?"

"The fact that you're asking is reason enough." Murdoch moved his hand to Scott's hair, running his fingers through it. "It bled quite a bit. We'll get it this washed, either here if you have to stay or once we get home."

"I don't want to stay."

"I know."

Scott figured he wouldn't get anywhere with that conversation. Besides, Murdoch had a faraway look on his face.

"You have your mother's hair. Did Harlan ever tell you that?"

"What? No." Scott knew he wasn't firing on all cylinders, but he hadn't expected that.

"One of the first things I noticed about her was her hair. She had it long when we first met. Although, she'd have it pulled up or tied back most of the time." Murdoch looked lost in his memories, dreamy. "We had the worst fight when she came home one day and it was cut short. I couldn't believe it. And I so missed it when we had…"

No way, Murdoch was not going to.

"No, don't say it." Scott brought Murdoch's attention back to him.

Murdoch grinned. "Sorry, Scott. Hard to believe that you are a result of make-up sex?"

Scott closed his eyes. "How did I go from one of those kids without parents to a son trying not to have a mental picture of his parents doing it? Aren't there rules about that somewhere?" He opened his eyes to see Murdoch once again serious and concerned.

"I always wanted you, Scott. Don't ever doubt that. I fought for you, but lost."

There was a lot packed behind those words, but it could be summed up with one.

"Grandfather?"

"Now's not the place to talk about this. For one thing, I want to make sure you remember the conversation. For another, it should happen at home." Murdoch crouched in closer to him, getting into his face. "You are coming back home. I've already had your things returned to your room. Boston is for visits when you're up to it. Wherever you go from here on out, Lancer is home. Got it?"

With the pounding in his skull, it wasn't within Scott to bristle at the gruff orders. The fact of the matter was he'd already made up his mind, but some part of him still needed to hear it—from his father. Tension drained out of him and he settled back against the pillow.

"Got it."

~The End~