Author's Note: I head-canon Juliette as aro-ace

Hell was breaking loose in his living room. At least that's what it sounded like to Conrad's still mostly asleep mind. Two voices shouting at each other. One probably a woman with a decidedly Parisian accent, the other a man with an American accent who the more awake part of Conrad's mind tagged: Oh gods not now.

Only four people, aside from himself, had access codes to enter his home. Charles and Rose Gray. Juliette Pontoin. Scott Tracy.

The accents alone ruled out Charles and Rose.

Conrad had deliberately chosen to not introduce Juliette and Scott to one another just yet. There were some people you just want to meet under controlled circumstances. Like adding acid to water. Especially when they were two people you loved very much.

And now they were arguing in his living room.

(What was Scott doing there any way? He should be with his Dad catching up on lost time.)

Conrad had eventually had eventually called in sick (and given the amount of sick leave he had, he was quite certain HR was sighing in relief that he was actually using some,) turned off his phone, wandered back to his bed and fell into a fitful sleep clutching F-14 to his chest. Eventually his sleep had even out to a deep restful one, but it was making it hard for him to wake up, even with the shouting in his living room.

Finally, he was conscious enough to get up and stagger down the hall to the door to the living room. It swung open just enough for him to see Scott and Juliette glaring at each other in a lull, and…he had forgotten about that stupid data-pad. Which was now in Scott's hands.

Conrad pulled the door shut and engaged the internal locking mechanism; even if they could find the opening mechanism on the shelves on the other side, they wouldn't be able to open it.

Then he went back to bed and hid his head under the pillows hoping it was all just a bad dream.

They both scrabbled to catch the bookshelf door before it closed, but they managed to collide into one another and neither got there in time to stop the closure.

Juliette untangled herself, and then sat down on a couch with weary resignation.

"I do not suppose you know how to open that door?" she asked, eying Scott.

"I was just about to ask you," he replied, bending down and retrieving the data-pad from where he dropped it, "you are his best friend," he stressed irritated, as she had expounded on that during their yelling match.

"Conrad," Juliette started, then slumped with a sigh, "Conrad has many protective walls, some mental and emotional, others," she gestured to the wall-spanning bookcase, "physical. The only person I know of who knows how to open that door, other than Conrad himself, is Rose Gray, and unless we have concrete reason to believe Conrad will harm himself, she will not tell us."

Scott groaned.

"Why did you not leave when I told you to?" Juliette asked, "you are the last person he wants to see right now."

The look Scott gave the ash blonde woman would have incinerated anyone else, but he thought back on why he was there in the first instead of back on Tracy Island with his Dad and family. He had tried to call Conrad and gotten his voicemail so many times. He tried Conrad's office and was told Conrad was out sick. He tried Conrad's personal phone again, and again voicemail. It just wasn't like Conrad.

So he had, with his Dad's encouragement, gone to check on Conrad.

And found a tiny, exquisitely beautiful woman sitting at Conrad's kitchen table with a cup of coffee, staring pensively at a data-pad. It had taken him a moment to place who she was – Juliette Pontoin was even more elusive than the Tracys on the media scene. She had looked up hopefully at him, frowned, and ordered him to leave.

He had tried explain that he just wanted to make sure Conrad was all right.

She, again, ordered him to leave.

It had gone downhill from there. Especially after he had read what was on the data-pad.

"Because," Scott spoken carefully, measuredly, "I can't fix this," he gestured to the data-pad, "without talking it out with Conrad."

Juliette took a deep breath, let it out, and took another, before replying:

"You are part of the problem," her voice was equally controlled, "Conrad does need to talk it out, and to eventually talk it out with you. However right now you will only make things worse. He needs talk it out with someone who is mostly impartial."

Juliette shook her head.

"Up to fifteen minutes ago I would have claimed to be that person," she muttered in French, "my god what a mess."

"It's only a mess because we woke Conrad up," Scott settled himself in an armchair.

Juliette only gave a faint wintery smile.

"He woke up and saw that you had read what he had wrote. It would have been bad enough for him to know I had read it, but now his walls will be up, and they will be thick, and breaking through them will take skill and delicacy and tact."

"I can do skill, delicacy, and tact," Scott groused.

She studied him for quite some time, her cool brown eyes assessing him as she would a pilot she was considering hiring. Scott fidgeted, unnerved by and unused to the intensity of her scrutiny; in general when people looked at him, it was usually with faint tinge of awe.

"You over-estimate yourself. You do not currently know him as well as you think you do. You cannot fix this."

Juliette held up her hand to forestall Scott's response.

"He loves you and has since he was eighteen. It has been his constant and guiding star, and it has been a painful festering unhealing wound. Conrad's capacity for love is astounding, and I am forever grateful for the love he gives me, but you and I both know he had no stable basis, no true example of how to love until very late in his life. No idea that he was worthy of being loved himself," she looked vaguely envious as she said, "You are an extraordinary person, Scott Tracy, to have helped Conrad build so many bridges that he didn't even realize he needed. He would not be the man he is today, nor capable of the extraordinary things he has done and will do, without having met you. The day you met you somehow immediately threw him a lifeline he didn't know he needed."

"He has told me you two have discussed your most annoying habits at length in the past. Conrad's is that he may not lie, but he will omit things from the truth. I know that bad habit of his well. Do you remember what he has said was most annoying of yours?"

Scott shook his head mutely, drawing a blank.

"You try to fix everything, especially for the people you love, and get angry, get frustrated when you cannot. This is something you cannot fix. At least not without a time machine," that faint smile again, "and then you and Conrad may not have ever met," she leaned over and took one of his hands in her small strong hands, "and for all the pain and conflict he may feel, I know that the man he is now would never choose two people he has never known, no matter how much he wish he could have known them, over you."

"But right here, right now, you cannot fix this. Conrad needs to face this, and deal with it," she tightened her grip, not painfully, but firmly, "and he will not do it alone, I promise, but it can't be you."

Scott looked her straight in the eye.

"When Conrad first mentioned you, I felt jealous," he said ruefully, "I'm still jealous, especially now. I'm also grateful that Conrad's has a friend like you."

"His best friend," she smiled impishly.

"We'll see about that," but there was no rancor in Scott's voice, "did you really draw circles in his bathroom?"

"Oui! It was his living space, he should live in it," she withdrew her hand with a laugh.

They both rose from their seats.

"Tell Conrad that when he's ready to give me a call," was all Scott said as he left, all he could say.

"I will," Juliette promised.

A few hours later

The bookshelf swung open, and Conrad cautious looked out. Only Juliette remained, having made herself, as usual, at home on his couch.

"I suppose it wasn't just a nightmare that Scott was here?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, and patted the couch beside her, "but we had a talk, once we were done yelling at each other. I helped him realize that, right now was not a good time."

"Ah," he flopped down next to her, "is he mad at me?"

And this was one of those moments Juliette really wished Conrad would let her go after those miserable excuses for legal guardians he had.

"No, he wanted to try fix everything," Juliette pulled him over so his head rested in her lap, and looked down at him, "he's annoying. I finally see why you like him."

"He does have his good points."

"I suppose he does; when you are ready he would like you to call him."

Conrad winced.

"He does love you," she assured him as she began carding her fingers through his hair, "Do you want to talk now?"

"No."

"Should I call in an order for some food then?"

"Ramen?" he asked hopefully.

Juliette rolled her eyes, but chuckled.

"If that is what you want, my dear."

It didn't quite go so smoothly on Tracy Island.

"Scott?" Jeff raised an eyebrow, he had been vaguely hoping Scott would be bringing Conrad back with him.

Scott shook his head.

"It's complicated, he needs time."

That probably would have been the end of it, except Scott heard Virgil say quietly and scornfully.

"It's not like it's the first time he's flaked out on you."

And for the first time in his life, Scott deliberately hauled back and gave one of his little brothers a black eye.

End Note: Don't worry I love Virgil, but for some reason he seems to dislike Conrad.