i apologise for the late update, but i've got sooooooooo much going on (don't we all?) anyway, here's the next chapter

Ch. 2

John sat heavily at the breakfast table, yawning.

"And a good morning to you too, Johnny," said Scott, not looking up from his own breakfast. John didn't bother commenting, instead pouring himself some coffee and helping himself to cereal. Grandma bustled over with a heavily laden frying pan.

"Are you sure you won't have some bacon and eggs, John? You're looking peaky." John smiled patiently.

"I am naturally pale and thin-"

"Make that skinny and pure white," muttered Virgil.

"-and no amount of food or tanning will change that. Honestly, I'm fine." Grandma pursed her lips.

"I'm just not convinced that those ration packs you have on the space station are what you need."

"Now, mother," interrupted Jeff. "I lived off those ration packs for months on end when I was in NASA, and they never did me any harm."

"But," said John, before all-out war could break, "I'll have a few rashers if it'll make you happy. But let me have my cereal first."

Satisfied, Grandma went back to the cooker. Above the general munching sounds, they heard another, much more terrifying sound. After a moment, John realised that it was Gordon singing:

"Mar-EE-a! Mar-EE-a! Mar-EE-a!"

John opened his mouth to tell Gordon to stop murdering West Side Story just as his little brother waltzed into the kitchen. He pirouetted more gracefully than John had thought possible and leaned backwards, smiling at John.

"I've just kissed a girl named Mar-EE-a!"

John froze as he realised what Gordon was up to, and scowled. He swiped at the red head, but his hand caught only air. Gordon had straightened up very quickly, though, John was satisfied to see, his back had made him regret it. Wincing a little, Gordon twisted himself and rubbed his lower back as he sat into the chair opposite. John aimed a kick under the table. Gordon gave no indication of having felt it except a slight tightening of his smile.

TB

"SCOTT!"

Virgil looked at his older brother, surprised.

"What have you done to upset John? I'd have thought it was Gordon who'd be on the receiving end."

"You didn't see the lovely bruise on his shin, then, did you?" said Scott darkly, standing up and scanning the room for a hiding place. "Virge, could I hide in the piano?"

"No chance, Scotty-boy. Hey, John."

The normally quiet Tracy stormed in, staring daggers at his older brother.

"Scott, why did you tell Gordon? I told you about Maria in good trust."

"Told him what? Who's Maria?" asked Virgil, looking from brother to brother.

"John met a girl called Maria last time he was in New York. She works in a bookshop, and he's been in contact with her ever since."

"And I told you in the hope you'd be sensible. But no, you went and told Gordon!"

Scott raised his hands defensively. "Hey, he would have found out anyway. Besides, you shouldn't be keeping secrets from everyone. Especially Dad."

John sighed. "I want to get to know her better before telling everyone I've got a girl. I can't even say we're an item until I've guaranteed she won't tell anyone about us."

"You told her?" asked Virgil, aghast.

"No, of course I didn't. But I really like her, and I'm sure she really likes me. I just wasn't quite ready to share it just yet."

TB

Brains mentally ticked off the items in his luggage, muttering to himself.

"Clothes, s-suit, ah, shoes, tie, n-n-notebook, er, p-pens-"

"Ready to go, Brains?"

John leaned through the door to the scientist's bedroom, his rucksack over one arm.

"Er, yep." Brains picked up his own rucksack and suitcase, tugging it out into the hall. By the time he reached the plane, he was pink in the face.

"You alright?" asked John worriedly. "I don't particularly want to be flying a sicky."

"I'm fine," gasped Brains, setting his suitcase down. "I-I-I must have, ah, p-p-packed a bit m-more than I, ah, thought." John hefted it up into the cargo hold.

"Phew, I'll say! What on earth do you have in there, Brains?"

"Ah, j-just a few, er, necessities."

"It feels like you've taken your entire lab!"

"N-n-not quite, John," frowned the scientist, boarding the plane. John watched him, wondering if he should explain the finer points of exaggeration, then decided against it. Time was ticking on, and he wanted to get there in time for at least a late lunch.

Everyone had assembled at the side of the runway. Jeff lifted his communicator to his mouth.

"Alright, John, Alan says the area's clear for you to take off. I want you to call me when you get there, understood?"

"Yes, father. Talk to you in about four hours, then."

Jeff saluted in reply and the plane took off into the clear blue sky.