Flash Fiction Friday prompt 245: You Never Cared. Word count: 625

Triggers for Canon MCD caused by childbirth mentions.

This fic comes between parts one and two of my Whumpay 2021 fic Crying

The house was quiet. The time was perfect. He'd spent the preceding weeks – no, months – carefully planning for today.

John was over at the observatory. Virgil at his music lessons and Grandma was with Gordon at the pool.

Scott had left a note, packed one backpack of clothes for himself and enough of Alan's baby stuff to keep them going and walked out the door with Alan in his stroller. They walked briskly to the end of the road where a cab was waiting to take them to the train station and on to a new life.

One where Scott could fulfil his promise to his Mom and look after Alan.

It wasn't like the rest of his family were going to miss him. Since he'd picked up Alan that first night his baby brother his father hadn't spoken to him and his brothers had been giving him the cold shoulder. There had been moments where he thought Gordon was going to interact with them, but John or Virgil always snagged him back.

He'd been banking on his brothers softening over the months, but there seemed little hope of that. Scott could understand John – Mom had been everything to their Stargazer – and to an extent he understood Virgil, who had inherited every ounce of Mom's creativity, but he'd hoped they'd see Alan as their Mom's parting gift.

Not the reason why Mom was no longer here.

Not the way Dad saw Alan – the child who had murdered his wife.

The last nine months had been hell on the sixteen-year-old. Only Grandma had treated him the same and had done her best to help Scott when she could.

He was supposed to be moving to Yale this summer. Instead, he'd bargained with a day care centre to work there during the day three days a week so Alan could be taken care off and he could study the rest of the time for his degree in Maths. Yale had been reluctant to offer a part-time course but his SAT scores were superb and he'd convinced them during a particularly long interview. Of course he didn't tell them about his plans, or the fact that he had a 9-month-old baby to care for.

The trip to New Haven took around 8 hours by Greyhound from Kansas City, but he had to get there first, a journey that would take another day, and Scott knew without a shadow of a doubt his brothers would know he'd gone long before he arrived.

Scott's heart ached. But he powered on.

For Alan.

For his Mom.

…

John got home first.

The house was unnaturally quiet and he frowned. Alan was nine months and, while not speaking actual words, he'd found his voice and wouldn't keep quiet, much to their Father's anger.

But there was nothing. The house felt empty.

And John's heart sank.

He dumped his bag at the bottom of the stairs and ran through every room, shouting for Scott. But there was no answer.

Snatching up the phone to call someone – anyone – he paused as the door opened. Virgil and Gordon were arguing, as usual, and Grandma was bringing up the rear. But everyone stopped as John stood there, looking like death warmed up. Grandma was the one to break the silence.

'John?'

'It's Scott. He's gone. And so's Alan.'

'Gone?'

'Gone! The house is empty!'

John stood there while Virgil and Gordon tore up the house again. But it was Grandma who thought to go into their Father's room. She came down with a letter.

Hey Dad

I promised Mom I'd look after Alan. And I will do anything to fulfil this promise. We'll be fine. You never cared anyway what happened to Alan.

Love you,

Scott.