A/N: Ha ha ha…. Two new Reviews. :) Love it.

Here's chapter four, I guess… Not like more than seven out of a gazillion people are reading it, but I dun care. :3

Scout looked towards the man he hadn't seen in years with both well hidden hatred and intimidation. The idea of Scout not holding the slightest intimidation from Nathan's Father was impossible. The man still held that deathly vibe to him that left mild shivers down his spine, and Clark's cold way of talking with blunt yet incredibly sharp words made him always made him feel judged whenever he was in the older man's presence. But his intimidation was, by far, overshadowed from a sheer hatred larger than a storm ten times the size Godzilla. That was how he had greeted his son after four years. No tear-filled, 'Welcome back home, Nathan, we missed you so much!' Or a fairly caring, 'Where have you been all these years?' Or, even better, a simple question that at least showed slight interest, 'Why did you run away?' Nope. All that he said, basically, was: 'Welcome to our morgue.'

Scout looked away from Nathan's Father's gaze and instead looked around the house for any other signs of kindly life, or movement besides his twitching fingers, though he was unsuccessful. Odd. Weren't his Brothers supposed to be there?

"Where are the others?" asked Scout, changing the subject.

"Your Brothers are still heading here, and your Mother's asleep upstairs, you should wait until she wakes up before you go see her by the way. Also, we've made extensions to the house about two years after your 'departure.' You can put your luggage and pick nearly any room you want, except, obviously, for the occupied ones. I have to leave right now, since I need to buy more pain killers for your Mother. See you later, Nathan," he turned to leave, but before he headed out the door, he gave a most unreadable, almost out of character line, "Don't run off."

Scout watched as Nathan's Father left the house wordlessly. Good to know his dear-old Daddy hadn't changed much. As the door closed itself with finality, Scout shoved his bandaged hands into his pockets and decided, since he had nothing better to do, to look around Nathan's old house.

Ground level floor was nearly the same. Besides an updated T.V and a few recent magazines issues, the place was hadn't changed. The Kitchen, The Foyer, (Minus some stuffed toys) The Family Room, Living Room and Dining Room were all the same. The only giant difference was a new Rec Room, filled with papers and office supplies. Upstairs had changed quite a bit though. The old bedroom he had shared with his brothers had now been split apart into two separate rooms. One of them was a guest bedroom, and the other was an art room, filled with some of Nathan's Mother's paintings, and some rather childish sketches done rather strangely. Perhaps his Mother was experimenting with new styles? Nathan wouldn't know, as he wasn't artistic unless murder was involved. A couple new rooms here and there, with nothing to report. Nathan eventually found what he was looking for, though: The door to the attic.

Oh… The attic. He used to dread that place. He still remembered Reese tugging down the string to bring down the horrendous wooden ladder of doom, and dragging poor little Nathan by the collar of his shirt up there, then locking him in for hours on end. The first few times, it terrified him. After a while, though, he loved it just as much as the cellar. He decided to, 'Extend his Empire,' to both the cellar and the attic, and it had been awesome up there. Nobody went up in the attic unless it was Christmas, so Nathan had thrived in there as a small child. Eventually, seeing how it wasn't a punishment for his little brother anymore, Reese had stopped doing that and Nathan had gone in and out by his own free will. Scout tugged the ladder sown and crawled up into the old place he had once labeled as his, 'Realm of Coolness.'

And grinned ear to ear.

It hadn't changed at all! He gave a small chuckle and went inside. A light coat of dust covered everything, like it always had, the seven spare mattresses lay in the corner in all their cheap, foam-filled glory, and a few boxes covered the entrance to his secret crawl space. Along with all that, the giant, semi-circular window in the front wall still remained, allowing daylight to spill into the place like a flood. Seeing as how no one else would bother to take this dusty, old room, Scout began making accommodations to his stay.

He took one mattress, a spare blanket and pillow, and lay it down on the floor. Having gotten used to the stiff beds in the Wars, Scout was more comfortable sleeping on the floor as opposed to a comfy bedstead, and this humble mattress would do nicely. He then took his suitcase, put it next to the mattresses, and smiled, as everything was now accomplished. …What's that you say? That's it? Yes, it was. Scout did not care much for material objects. He only brought the essentials: His clothes, toothbrush, comic books and his baseball equipment. That was all the lad needed. There was nothing more for him to do.

…Which left him bored out of his mind.

…God, he missed his teammates-!

Ring Ring…

Scout's trained ears caught the soft chime of a bell. It's source was the Master Bedroom. Scout gingerly walked out of the attic and towards the white door to the Room.

And upon opening the door, had his heart skip twelve beats.

In the big, dim, candle lit room was a big white bed and a sickly woman lying in it. She had pale skin, black, greying, slightly curled hair, glassy dark eyes and the slightest of wrinkles forming around her cheeks. The woman was Blair Hawthorne. His dying Mother.

His Ma looked up weakly, half-awake towards the door. Scout honestly didn't know how to feel in this circumstance. Misery, for the soon-to-come death of his Ma? Regret, for running away? As sick as it sounded… Relief, as this was the last bit of time he'd see her? Pity, for the once healthy, confident woman lying sick in front of him? There was no proper way he could view it… It was just too complicated. …Scout HATED complicated stuff…

"W-Who're you?" questioned Blair, voice raspy and cracking, "You… You look real familiars…"

Scout looked around a little, then turned his gaze to the floor.

"…Cheddy," he said, referencing his six-year-old title for cherries, his favourite fruit.

Blair's eyes widened in shock. Slowly, she rose up to a sitting position on the bedspread, mouth agape, and looked at her little Nathan's face, studying his features.

"…N… Nathan?" she asked in complete shock. Scout nodded in confirmation.

"H-Holy shit… Come heres…" she murmured.

Scout approached the ill woman and sat next to her on the bed sheets. Slowly, she raised a calloused, old hand with faded scars towards him and gently touched his face. She read his eyes as she began confirming her relation to the nineteen year old as he looked back to hers with pity.

"You grew up," she whispered in disbelief.

"I know, right?" said Scout with a half-hearted smile, "Still feel like I'm twelve. …Ma, I'm-"

"I'm so sorry, Nathan."

Scout paused. What? What did she did say?

"What was dat?" asked Scout, confused.

"I was such an awful Moth'ah to ya," said Blair, on the verge of tears, "I want ya ta know sum'thin: Re'gardless 'a how we treated ya… We always loved ya. Remem'bah dat."

Scout joyfully surprised expression suddenly combusted in flames. He frowned and bit back his rage.

"Bullshit." he snarled. On that note, he stormed away and slammed the door behind him before his Mother could say anything else.

He was about to go back into the attic, until Scout heard the chime of the doorbell. Was Nathan's Dad back already? Or was it one of Nathan's Brothers? He quietly hopped out of the attic and down the stairs towards the already open front door – And was shocked to see none of his assumptions. Instead, there was a little girl.

She looked about five years old, wearing a red sweater, a pink skirt and black hunting boots. A toy rabbit dangled from her arms and a surprised look covered her features. The main details that struck him the most though, was that she looked almost exactly like he did as a kid, minus the long ponytail. Skinny, small, straight chocolate brown hair and cobalt blue eyes. Had the child been a boy, the youth would've been an exact duplicate.

"Who're you?" asked Scout, looking curiously to the nervous child.

Just then, his Father's Pickup Truck pulled into the driveway, and Clark marched into the house with a brown paper bag filled with groceries. He looked down to the child with the same emotionless look.

"You walked home again?" he asked, curiously, "I was gonna pick you up at the school."

The girl hugged her rabbit closely and store at the floor, avoiding the older man's gaze. Clark looked over to Scout.

"Oh, I see you two have met," he said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder, and gestured towards Nathan, "Sweet-heart, this is one of your older brothers, Nathan."

He looked over to Scout.

"Nathan… This is your little sister, Ally."

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. :)

Anyways... Thank you to all the people who have read the bore of a tale that is this story, and I hope ta hear from ya next time.