Disclaimer: We still don't own them. We're just torturing…we mean, borrowing them for this story.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who is still reading this little story. Huge thanks to those who continue to read, review, and support this story. We really love the reviews and feedback from each of you. Mystikstorm and sam1

Oops, I forgot to post the tissue warning. Thanks vulcangirl1983 for pointing that out. I guess I should add the diabetic fluff warning as well since Mystik mentioned it and CC is always reminding me that I forgot it. sam1

Chapter 20

John winced as another syringe pierced his skin. "I'm beginning to feel like a pincushion." He'd already received an injection of antibiotics and now Brains was drawing more blood to run tests on.

"T-this is t-the last of the s-spec-blood draws. All that is l-left is the s-sc-scans of your head." Brains capped the used syringe before discarding it in the sharps bin.

"Then I get to leave the infirmary?" John wiped the little bit of blood that had bubbled up when Brains withdrew the needle.

Shaking his head, Brains stuttered his reply. "N-nice try, John. B-b-but the answer is n-no." He paused at the door leading to the small lab off of the infirmary. "Y-you have th-thirty minutes to pr-pre-get yourself ready for that t-t-talk your f-fa-dad wants to have." With a small grin, he was through the door. He knew that John and Jeff had thought he'd been oblivious to the slight tension in the room when he came in. They had conveniently forgotten that he was more perceptive than he let on.

John bit back a small groan of frustration. He really wasn't looking forward to or even wanting to have any kind of emotional talks. He was more like his father than he knew as neither of them was really open with their feelings. Granted, John wasn't as bad but he still managed to hide his pain from everyone. Including himself. It had been years since he'd even let himself think of how much it had hurt him and his brothers when their mom had died. He wasn't happy that all of the pain and anger he'd felt afterwards had resurfaced. Or the guilt.

"If I get up now, I could find some place to hide," he thought. Sighing, he shook his head. He knew that as much as he wanted to run, he wouldn't. Tracys never ran from anything no matter how much they wanted to. "We're just too damn stubborn." He glanced at the door then shifted his gaze to the IV that hung above and to the right of his head. Blue eyes, dulled by fever and illness, followed the IV tubing from the bag to the where the catheter was taped down on his hand. "We may not run but we are known to go walksies when we're not supposed to." His fingers played with the tape, peeling the corners up and then smoothing them down again.

His gaze settled on the view through the oversized windows. "I'd much rather be out there." Before he'd even realized it, he had completely pulled the tape off his hand. "I'm not staying in here right now. I need to be outside." His breathing quickened as the need to flee the infirmary overtook his thoughts. Grasping the IV catheter, he pulled it out and then dropped it. He watched it fall to the floor before throwing back the blanket and sheet that covered his lower body.

Such was his focus on getting outdoors; he didn't notice the door open or his father's appearance. "Gotta get outside. Need to feel…(gasp)…the sun. Want to feel…(gasp)…warm. Don't want to…remember Mom's death. Don't want…to think…hurts. Too many…hurt…Dad…Scott, Alan, Gordy…Virgil. God, don't want…to remember Virgil crying. I couldn't help him…couldn't make things right." Tears ran unchecked down his face, dripping onto the floor. Somehow during his ramblings, he had managed to prop himself up against the side of his bed. His breath came in ragged bursts. He'd taken just one step from the bed when his legs gave out. He felt himself falling then felt warm arms around his waist.

"I've got you, John." Jeff carefully helped his son sit in the chair that he himself had sat in quite a bit over the last couple of days. "What were you thinking getting up on your own like that?"

John closed his eyes and muttered. "I wanted to go outside. I wanted to…be warm again."

Watching his son closely, Jeff frowned. "John, I heard what you were saying. I have a lot to own up to and I'm hoping that you'll listen and maybe understand what I'm trying to say." Sighing, he pulled over one of the other chairs and sat down. "I'm not really good at saying what I feel but I love you and your brothers more than I can express. I'll admit I really screwed up after Lucy died but even with having you boys around, I felt this huge void in my heart. I didn't want to live anymore. It was like when she died, I died with her. What took me a long time to see was that even though she was gone, she was still right in front of me. All I had to do was open my eyes."

Despite himself, John was listening to what his dad was saying. "You mean you had reminders of her in the form of the things Mom collected in the house. Her belongings, right?"

"No, I mean I still had her in the form of you and your brothers. Each of you is a piece of her. Scott is the protective piece of her. The one who makes sure that you are all protected to the best of his abilities. Virgil is the one who most resembles her. His love of the arts was passed down from her. Gordon is the prankster part of who your mom was. The free spirit part of her. Alan…Alan is the embodiment of her fiery personality." Looking right into his son's face, he smiled. "And you, you're the sensitive and intellectual part of your mom. It took me a while to see what was right before me. And to know that I haven't lost her gives me hope that you may forgive me for how poorly I treated Virgil back then." He nervously wiped his hands on his trousers. "I know I can never take back how I treated him. Or you and the rest of your brothers. I knew that you were the one behind the removal of the tire stems. As well as the sabotaged toothbrushes, dye in my shampoo, and the vinegar scented body wash."

John picked at the hem of his t-shirt. "I was so angry at you…" His voice grew softer. "And at Mom." Tears prickled at his eyes and his vision blurred. "I needed her. I wasn't ready to let her go. It was so easy to take my anger out on you than to admit to the guilt I felt for being angry at Mom. And then when you kept ignoring Virgil, it was even easier to be angry with you. Making life more difficult for you was the easiest way for me to focus all that pain and anger. As long as I held onto that anger, I didn't have to admit to myself that I was lost without Mom and you. I…" The tears that had been threatening again, burst free and sobs wracked his body. "I didn't understand where you went. I saw you most every day but you weren't there." He covered his face with shaking hands. "I tried to push you away so that when you left me, it wouldn't hurt. As I got older and adjusted to Mom being gone, I just wanted you be a better dad to Scott, Virgil, Gordon, and Alan. Especially Virgil."

Jeff lightly grasped John's hands, pulling them away from his face. John was surprised to see tears trailing down his dad's face. "What about you, Johnny?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed. "I didn't care about me. My brothers and their well-being mean more than what I want or need." He raised his eyes to meet his father's gaze. The emotional pain that he'd tried to bury for so long was plain to read in his blue orbs. The fever and illness had weakened his defenses and he could no longer hide his pain.

His son's words tore at his heart but it was the desolation he could see in his eyes that hurt the worst. He pulled John towards him and winced when he felt the heat radiating from his body. But the fever didn't keep him from hugging his son's shaking form close to him. "John, you are just as important to me as your brothers. I've failed you in so many ways."

John let himself be drawn within his father's embrace. The devastated eight-year-old boy within him was desperate to find comfort and solace in his father's arms. "I'm s-so-sorry, Dad…"

Jeff felt John's body tense and was momentarily confused. "Sorry for what, Son?" He leaned back a little so that he could see John's face. He quickly recognized the panicked and fearful look on his face just as he started convulsing. "John, what's wrong?"

"D-d-dad…"

Moving as fast as he could, Jeff managed to get John out of the chair and on the floor. He tried to protect John from hitting his head against the hard tile flooring. "It's okay, Johnny, I've got you. Try to relax."

Staring up at his father's face, he pleaded with his eyes. "Dad, make it stop. Please make it stop." Just as his eyes rolled back in his head, he had one last conscious thought. "Virgil."