As always, many thanks for the reads and reviews. I'm always rather chuffed when my inbox lights up with review notifications. Makes my day, it does.

Took me a long while to find a quote to pair with this conversation and that's what stopped me from posting this for almost a month. I take my quote selection very seriously, what can I say? (Hopefully it's not all for nothing...do you even read the quotes? Lol.)

A wonderful tune by the name of "Growing Up" by Run River North served as my soundtrack to writing this, check it out if you so desire.

And of course, happy reading =)

"The footsteps a child follows are most likely to be the ones his parents thought they covered up." – James Dobson

I curl up on the swing that overlooks the green area that the house backs onto. The temperature is beginning to fall, with the last remnants of summer disappearing as August comes to a close and September inches ever closer. With a gentle push off the ground, the bench begins to swing gently, suspended from the large tree branches above. As the sun begins to creep toward the horizon, I let my thoughts wander, relishing in the quiet and calm.

An hour later I'm startled out of my aimless thinking by the jingling of a dog collar, and a couple loud barks. Not long after, Kilgore jumps in front of me, his face conveying a rather pathetic expression, no doubt trying to guilt me into letting him onto the swing. When I don't acknowledge his presence his eyes seem to grow larger and, somehow he looks even more pathetic.

"You know the rules, buddy. You can't come up. Mom'll have my head if she catches you up here."

He whines loudly, dropping his head, but maintaining his gaze on me.

"Aw, c'mon buddy. Don't look at me like that."

He whines again, this time with an insistent feel to it.

After a few minutes he still hasn't given up, so I exhale loudly and pat the space on the bench next to me. "Alright then, up you come."

He cocks his head to one side and pauses for a moment as if considering how to make it onto the moving target. I drop one foot and halt the swing's movement, allowing him enough time to jump up and lay down beside me, his head settling on my lap. Once he's settled I push off again, easing the swing into its smooth rocking once more. I drop my hand and begin absently scratching behind his ear. He lets out a content sigh, and relaxes even further.

"You're such a suck, Kilgore," I tell him. "You're worse than Campbell."

A stream of fond memories flows through my mind and makes my heart ache slightly for our former pet. After Clooney, Dad's old bulldog, died, Mom bought him Campbell, an energetic and fiercely loyal Boxer puppy. A year after they got him Matthew and I were born, and Campbell appointed himself our official protector. He stood guard while we slept and was instantly awake and fetching our parents at the smallest of noises from us. We reached a lot of milestones with him in tow – rolling over, with him serving as our barrier; crawling, with his head gently nudging us away from dangerous objects; walking, with our tiny hands clutching his ear, fur, head, or whatever we could use to stay steady; sibling rivalry, with him acting as our referee. After living almost 10 years as a part of the family, we were devastated when he died. Not 2 weeks after he passed, Dad came home with another Boxer puppy, which Mom named Kilgore. He's been our loyal companion for the last 6 years, doing an impressive job filling Campbell's role as protector.

"Hey you." The soft voice startles me out of my thoughts. I turn my head toward the source, and find Mom standing there, holding a blanket.

I offer a small smile, "Hey Mom."

"Mind if I join you?"

I shrug. "If you can find room."

She narrows her gaze at Kilgore's relaxed form. "Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem. Kilgore, it's time for dinner."

At her words he jumps up and sprints toward the house. We both chuckle at his antics.

"Told you," she says as she sits down beside me, spreading the blanket over herself and offering me half of it. I take it gratefully, noticing the chill that has settled into the air.

I know she can feel the tension and stress radiating off my body. Even if she wasn't an expert on human behavior, I'm pretty sure she would've known before she even came out here. She always knows when Matty or I am "off". I guess it's a "Mom" thing.

Having her here now makes me realize exactly how much I've missed her these past two weeks while she was away at some law enforcement conference. It was a really big deal for her to go, but the look she gave me before she left betrayed how much she wanted to stay. I think maybe even then, 2 weeks ago, she knew something was "off" with me.

I'm suddenly overcome with a need to be held, and decide to lean onto Mom's shoulder. She swings an arm up and around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I curl my legs underneath me and melt into her embrace. I feel safer and more relaxed already. I'm reminded vividly of the many times she and I have been in this exact position over the years. From a broken heart to a sprained wrist to Grandma's heart attack, this swing at sunset with the well-worn blanket covering us has been our spot to heal.

"How've you been? I missed you while I was away," she says, her voice once again startling me out of my thoughts.

"Okay," I reply.

She raises an eyebrow in disbelief and speaks gently, "Tegan."

"It's been fine," I say. Even I can tell my tone is far from convincing.

"Hey, it's me."

I stay silent, unsure of how to respond.

"Derek says you've been quiet this past week."

I shrug. "I'm always quiet, you know that.

"And he says you've been out here for a couple hours now," she adds.

"I like it out here," I say defensively. It's true, I've always spent a lot of time here, and she of all people should know that.

"Kilgore abandoned his new toy to join you out here. He doesn't do that just for an everyday scratch behind the ears. Even he knew something was up with you. Now spill, what's going on?"

The internal battle about whether to spill or not continues to wage fiercely. On the one hand, I desperately want to tell her, but on the other, I don't want to set myself up to disappoint her.

"Tee…" she says softly, prompting me as she rubs my arm soothingly.

"I got accepted to the FBI Youth Leadership program," I finally say, the words tumbling out of my mouth quickly.

"I didn't know you applied."

"Yeah. I didn't want to tell you. Or Dad."

She frowns, "How come?"

"Because I know you guys don't want me to have anything to do with law enforcement."

"What makes you say that?"

"I overheard you talking to Dad about it last year. You said you hope neither of us follows in your footsteps."

"Tee, I-" She stops abruptly and exhales quickly as she closes her eyes briefly. She pauses for a moment, considering her words. "I wasn't talking about you going into law enforcement."

"You weren't?"

"No. I was saying that I don't want you to follow in my footsteps and go into a career that slowly eats away at you, and makes you close yourself off from everyone you love."

I frown in confusion, "But you're not closed off." It's true. My whole life she's been nothing but a source of comfort and love, and she's always been willing to give a hug. And she and Dad talk all the time – about anything and everything.

"Maybe not now, but I used to be."

"You did?"

I feel her head nod slowly, "And it almost broke me completely. I internalized everything and shoved all my feelings and emotions down to maintain a calm, cool façade. But when you deal with the evils of the world day in and day out, and you try and compartmentalize everything, burnout is more than a possibility – it's a reality."

"So what did you do?"

"I spoke to some contacts I had and managed to arrange taking over a job to run Interpol in London, taking a more supervisory and administration-based position. I knew I had to get out of the hole I found myself in."

"You ran Interpol in London?! How come I never knew this?"

"Because I never ended up going. Uncle Dave and your Dad convinced me to stay and teach at the Academy instead. It was the change of pace I needed, but it let me stay near my family for support."

"Do you regret not going to London? I mean, that would've been an amazing job."

She answers very quickly and with confidence. "Not at all. Staying was the right choice. If I hadn't, you wouldn't be here, and your father would probably still be a bachelor," she says with a chuckle.

"What about selfishly? Do you wish you'd gotten the opportunity to lead your own team?"

"I suppose on some level, but like I said, staying here was the right choice. I'm not sure how well a move to London would have gone for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Can you imagine your Aunt Penelope dealing with me moving thousands of miles away?" she asks with a chuckle.

I let out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't have gone well."

We settle into a comfortable silence as we watch the sun creep closer and closer to the horizon. She rubs my shoulder soothingly and I feel my stress continue to ebb away.

"Listen, Tee, you're still young. You might change your mind a thousand times before actually picking a career path, but you can go into law enforcement if that's what you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah. This sounds horribly clichéd, but I really do just want you to be happy. If joining the FBI is what you want then your father and I will support you 100%. I can't promise I won't worry 24/7 though."

"But if I fail at this I'll be the kid with two FBI agents for parents who can't get into the FBI."

"So what?"

"So that's gonna suck big time."

"Yeah, probably," she agrees.

I'm dumfounded by her blasé response. "Okay, I might not be the mom in this situation, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to have sage words of wisdom for me."

"You want words of wisdom?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, here's some: you can't put in a half-assed effort to live your life."

"That's your advice?"

"Yep."

"Well that's not freaking helpful."

"Babe, you gotta go all in. You can't go through life avoiding anything and everything that might hurt you, you'd never actually live. You have to live your life throwing yourself into it all the way."

"But how do I know I'll be able to pick myself up after it does hurt me?"

"You don't. But you have to do it anyway. Besides, that's what your family is for," she says as a smile creeps onto her face. "We're stuck with you, no matter what," she teases lovingly.

She takes a deep breath and exhales before continuing. "Trust me, when you get older you want to be able to look back and say that you really lived, because if you can't, that's what you'll regret most."

The sun is halfway set by this point and I pull the blanket tighter around me. Mom pulls me even closer, and presses a kiss to my head.

"Tee, is this something you want? And I mean really want."

"Yeah," I reply in a whisper.

"Then we'll get you there."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime, Tee."

We fall into another comfortable silence as the sun finally dips below the horizon. Reluctantly, when the mosquitoes become too prevalent to ignore, we collect the blanket and begin making our way back to the house.

"Hey Mom?" I say just before we open the back door.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

She smiles and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug that I return in kind.

"I love you too, kid."

If you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

P.S. Okay, I admit I had way too much fun picking the breed and naming the dogs. In the end I went with the always adorable Boxer and of course Vonnegut characters for the names.