AN: I apologize for the wait but finally here's the next chapter! I decided to elaborate on James' family so I hope you enjoy it.

As the months went by and missions occurred, Roxy performed at recitals and worked through karate, Kenton went back to Iraq and made more detail plans about his wedding, and everything seemed perfectly fine until one morning, James got a call.

After he hung up, his insides had felt like mush and a part of him had tried to convince himself that it hadn't happened. Words said in years past came back, words that he thought he'd meant at the time yet now he wasn't so sure. Finally, he called Alastair.

"Hey, Alastair I uh…I need something. If you don't mind giving it," James got out before anything else could be said.

As he waited for an answer, James could imagine Alastair's frown as he finally replied, "Of course I don't mind. What do you need?"

"Your time, if at all possible. Will you be in London in three days time?"

"I believe so. Not unless there's an emergency. I should get back the day before. May I ask why?" Alastair asked cautiously.

"Uh, yeah of course. God um…I wish I was just trying to drag you to some stupid date or I was just bugging you or getting bored on a mission or something. I wish I was asking after Roxy."

"James, if you can't tell me that's fine. Whatever it is it can wait until we meet up."

"Actually no, not really. You might not be probably dressed if I don't tell you," James replied, trailing off into silence before giving off a small manic laugh. "It's uh…it's black by the way. The color you have to wear. My brother has died."

James waited for a response and was honestly happier that Alastair didn't say the classic 'I'm sorry for your loss' line.

"You're talking about the man who basically raised you. The one you fought with constantly and haven't spoken to in years?"

"Yep," James replied, his answer a bit breathless.

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"No, not really. I probably won't but um…in case I do I'd just…I'd really appreciate it if you were there."

"Of course I'll be there. You've put up with enough of my shit. I'm happy to put up with whatever is going on in your family."

That helped a small smile to appear on James face, even if it was bittersweet. "You know, even in death he's still an asshole," added James.

"How so?" Alastair asked softly.

"He uh…didn't tell me. I didn't have a single idea. Um…and what makes it worse it probably wasn't to spite me. He was probably to narcissistic to think he'd die or he at least assumed I'd coming running back, even after all this time, before he did. I just…he didn't tell me." Another pause and then, "Do you want to know how he died?"

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious," replied Alastair, "but I don't want to push you. Don't tell me if you don't want to."

"I do but…if I say it then it makes it real. Like really real. Part of me doesn't want to admit it is but uh…it was cancer. It was fucking cancer," James got out, his voice catching and getting choked up.

He could hear the noise that escaped on Alastair's end and he knew it meant the other wanted to comfort him, do anything that would help. That in itself was somewhat comforting but he still wished he could reach out and hold on to Alastair.

"And you know, that's not even the worst part," James quickly said as he went on. "That shit head of a brother didn't want me to know, made his wife promise she would never contact me. And he's five now. He's five and I've never even seen him. Christina, my brother's wife, she's just now told him he has an uncle." Pausing to clear his head and take a couple of deep breaths, he then added, "I have a nephew."

"I feel like congratulations is the wrong word for this situation," replied Alastair which actually caused a snort from James.

"Yeah, pretty damn wrong," James said though it was clear he didn't mind. "I just don't know what to do. Any uh…any advice?"

"Well," Alastair slowly began, "in our job experience, we have to do and live with plenty of things that we have to push away so that we can sleep easy. I think, in this situation, you should do whatever makes it easier to sleep at night, even if it momentarily hurts more so at that particular moment."

"Pretty damn deep."

"I write poetry," Alastair deadpanned.

It gained the intended effect of James losing it and laughing so hard his lungs hurt. "Thanks, I needed that."

"Figured as much. I'll make sure I'm in London in three days. Whether it's going to the funeral, curling up somewhere, or doing anything else I'm fine with that."

"Then I expect to see you at my apartment at thirteen hours. No exceptions."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alastair replied. "I'll even be ten minutes early."

"I'll keep you to that."

"You're fifteen minutes early," James said. They're the first words that pop into his mind when he opens his door and sees Alastair standing there.

"I can wait out here for five more minutes if you—" cutting himself off, Alastair stopped talking as James wrapped himself around him in a tight hug. He waited for a bit before pulling slightly back and asking, "So are we going?"

"I think so," James muttered. "Christina wants me to say something while I'm there. I'm not sure whatever I could say would be child appropriate."

"Hey, don't feel pressured into doing anything you don't want to, alright? Remember what I said, just do what you honestly think will make you feel better in the long run."

"Then I think I should go. I just need to grab my scarf," James replied, pulling away completely and grabbing it. "You know he once locked me up in my room when I was being unruly. I was able to pick it and get out so he moved all my shit around and then turned my room's lights off through the breaker so I couldn't do that again."

That short story was just the beginning of what Alastair would soon hear as they made their way to where the surface was being held. On and on James went, story after story of things his brother did. Throughout it all he sounded like he really meant the hatred towards his brother that he was verbally expressing but ultimately there was something else there that he was trying to convince himself of. Alastair didn't interrupt it. He wasn't very good in situations such as this, he wasn't great at comforting, but he knew enough that James didn't need to be interrupted at the moment. He needed to vent. Maybe later he would need another hug, kisses, a hand to hold, or maybe something as simple as a cup of tea, but Alastair knew that moment wasn't now.

By the time they reached the church, Alastair had heard more stories than he had thought possible to tell in such a short amount of time when James suddenly asked, "Can you completely hate a person yet still feel connected?"

Alastair wasn't surprised that that was the question of all things. The reason he'd been telling those stories with such ferocity was to try and convince himself that he wasn't truly effected by his brother's passing. "I think it's completely possible."

James frowned slightly at that, clearly not liking that answer but nodded. "I suppose so."

He then got out of the car and Alastair quickly followed him as they made it towards the church. Nobody was outside as it had just begun to rain except for a single woman. Though James recognized her immediately, it was odd seeing the added wrinkles, the slightly different style of dress, and all of the other small changes that had occurred over the years.

James had never held any hatred for his brother's wife and he was pretty sure she felt the same way but all the same, he was surprised when she gave him a sad smile.

"I'm glad to see you here," Christina murmured, focusing mostly on James but giving an incline of her head towards Alastair as way of an introduction. "I'm sure Eric would be happy you're here."

Giving a small snort in response, James replied, "I doubt it. I'm honestly surprised his ghost hasn't popped up to chase me off."

"I only said he would want you to be here," Christina replied, not seeming at all bothered by the rather steely comment. "He'd probably assume you were coming back to your position as head of the family."

"Not that I don't mind you Christina but I'm sure as hell not part of your family and I'm definitely not the head of it," James muttered. "Besides, it's nearly the twenty-first century. You can be the head of your own family."

"Well I thank you for that but that's not what I meant. He's left everything to you."

Before he could stop himself, his mouth was dropping. James was utterly in shock. And slowly the anger was coming. "He…of course he did. Of course he bloody well did! I don't want any of it. Not a single square foot or pound. When can I sign all of it over to you?"

"Whenever works best for you," Christina responded. "I figured you'd say as much. And I'm sorry that it angers you but I figured I might as well say it now. If you don't wish to come in that's fine."

"No I…I still will," James gritted out, the anger still there but slowly ebbing away.

"Thank you then. Despite the setting, Vincent has really been looking forward to meeting you."

"I doubt that what with how his dad probably talked about me," James replied.

"Eric never talked about you. He refused to let Vincent know you even existed. I suppose in the long run it was a good thing. I've only told him the good things."

James quirked an eyebrow at that. "The good things? The little bit you saw was of me screaming my head off at my brother."

"True, but I know I'm not wrong in assuming you're a fine enough young man now. Now please, if you would, the surface is about to start. We're sitting at the front though you are welcomed to sit wherever," Christina replied as she slowly led them in.