Hello everybody!

Yes, I am here once again! Even though annoying older brothers do stupid things to antagonise me (love ya really, J!), I've battled through the difficulties just for you guys! Aren't I wonderful? Lol. Yup, I'm modest too! (Joke, people, I'm not that big-headed.)

Oh. My. Gosh. I have never before received so many reviews in less than 24hours. I was so shocked! You guys must have been waiting for me to post or something, coz I received the first one about ten minutes after I updated. Thank you so much, my friends! Your comments have encouraged me to keep writing, and update more frequently. It's just a shame that this story is now coming to an end.

This chapter is just another bit of light relief after all the angst we had at the beginning of this story. There will be a few tears, but nothing a nice cuddle with Daddy-Tracy won't put right.

Alright, enough of the chat. Read on, my dears, and enjoy yourselves!


Scott heaved the last of the fallen palm leaves into his arms and walked over to the recycling unit, dumping the load into the chute. Wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead, he stretched his aching back muscles and sighed, glancing around at the pool area. There was no longer any indication that a tropical storm had hit the island. All the vegetation that had been blown down from the trees had now been cleared away, and everything was starting to look like it should.

They'd arrived back from the hospital just over three hours ago, and Scott and John had immediately volunteered to clean up the pool so that it would be safer for both Alan and Gordon to walk around without tripping over branches and leaves. Alan had fallen asleep during the flight back to the island, so Jeff had given him some Tylenol before putting him to bed for a nap, knowing that he was still sick and needed his rest. That had left Gordon and Jeff free to organise Gordon's room into a safer style, so that the copper-haired boy would be able to walk about without catching his crutch on anything.

Scott sighed and squinted up at the blue sky, the heat of the late afternoon sun glaring down upon him. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he stepped back towards the shade of the trees.

"Hey Scotty, watch out for the toolbox!" John's voice yelled.

Scott barely had time to register the words, before his heels connected with something solid and he lost his balance, falling over backwards and landing on the hard ground. He blinked in surprise at the large red toolbox that had magically appeared out of thin air, and stood to his feet, rubbing at his bruised backside and frowning. This prank had 'John' written all over it.

"Say cheese!"

Scott spun around and glowered at John and Virgil, who were beside themselves with laughter as they sat at the top of the staircase and pointed down at him with glee. John held a camera in his hands, and before Scott realised what was happening, there was a tiny 'beep' as the blond teenager took a photograph. John composed himself long enough to press the 'save' icon, before leaping to his feet and sprinting off into the house, Scott hot on his heels.

"Get back here you little jerk!" Scott shouted, as John's blond hair disappeared around the corner of the corridor and the younger teenager fled up the second staircase towards his room. Scott scrambled up the stairs after him, his cheeks aching from the effort of grinning like an idiot whilst he was running.

When John ran into his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him, Scott came to a halt. Taking a deep breath and mustering up all of his energy, he grabbed the handle and turned it, pushing against the door with all his might. However, the wooden barrier only moved a few centimetres before it slammed shut again. John was obviously sitting in front of the door.

"John Glenn Tracy, open this door right now!" Scott yelled, unable to keep from laughing. He loved it when his younger brother acted like a little kid. He did it so rarely that Scott could never allow an opportunity like this to slip through his fingers.

"In your dreams, clumsy!" came the muffled reply. "I choose life!"

Scott feigned a look of outrage, even though John could not see him. "What are you suggesting, John? I would never hurt you, you know that."

"Oh, no!" John said, sarcastically. "You'll just drag me back outside and throw me into the pool, that's all!"

"Well," Scott began thoughtfully. "It has just been cleaned. At least the water will be fresh, right?"

"What difference does that make?" John demanded incredulously. "I'll still get wet!"

"Aaw." Scott cooed, grunting he pushed against the door again, causing himself go red in the face with the effort. "Does Johnny not want to get his feet wet? Poor ickle Johnny-kins."

"Johnny-kins?!" John repeated angrily. Scott bit back a laugh and stopped pushing against the door, knowing that there was an easier way to make his brother play chase.

"Cheer up, space-face!" he called loudly, using the one nickname that always set John off. "Just let me punish you, and then you can get back to sulking in peace."

There were muffled thumps as John scrambled to his feet, and then, as expected, the door flew open. "Don't call me 'space-face'!" John growled, although his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Sorry, Blondie." Scott said with mock-seriousness. John's eyes flashed, and the older teenager patted his cheek gently. "Gotta go. Bye!"

Scott darted off down the corridor, hurtling down the stairs at a rather dangerous speed and sprinting towards the living room. He could he the thunder of John's feet directly behind him, and quickly darted through the doorway, heading for the back staircase that would lead him down to the dining room. However, before he'd even made it halfway, a heavy weight slammed into his back and tackled him onto the couch.

"Take it back!" John cried, pinning his older brother down and messing up his hair. Neither boy noticed the figure standing in the doorway as they struggled against each other, John using his body weight to keep the older Tracy pinned to the couch cushions.

"I said take it back!" John repeated, grinning as Scott tried to fling an arm back to grab him, only to result in him hitting himself in the side.

"Make me, bookworm!" Scott retorted, attempting to throw his brother off his back by bucking.

"Alright, you asked for it!" John stated, detaching one arm from around Scott's shoulders and tickling him in the ribs. Scott squeaked in surprise, shifting so violently, that both teenagers rolled off the couch and onto the floor. John suddenly found himself pinned face-down on the ground, Scott's stronger arms pressed firmly against his back.

"You shouldn't have done that, Johnny-boy." Scott grinned, grabbing the younger Tracy in a headlock and rubbing his knuckles gently into John's scalp, messing up his hair more than anything else. John grunted and tried to dislodge Scott from his back, but the brown-haired teenager had the greater strength and would not be moved.

"Say it, Johnny!" Scott laughed. "Say you're a bookworm!"

"You're a bookworm!" John yelled, grinning triumphantly at his childish comeback. Scott rolled his eyes, smiling, and gave John a harder noogie.

"Okay!" John protested, wincing and trying to pull away from his brother's knuckles. "Okay, okay! Ow, ow, ow - I'm a bookworm! Darn it Scotty, I'm a bookworm! Would - you - get - off - me?!"

"Scott." an amused voice warned from the doorway.

Scott and John both froze, glancing up towards their father. Jeff stood leaning against the door-frame, a video camera held in his hand. He grinned at the two teenagers, then put on a mock-frown.

"Honestly, boys." he sighed. "We've only been home for three hours, and already you're fighting with each other!"

Scott and John grinned sheepishly, and the older boy rolled of the younger, standing to his feet. John grunted and pushed himself onto his knees, smoothing down his hair and glaring up at Scott.

"Bully." he pouted, raking his fingers through the blond locks.

"Wimp." Scott retorted, his lips twitching slightly.

"Clumsy oaf." John muttered, standing to his feet and brushing down his shorts, trying to hide his smile.

"Ugly bookworm." Scott grinned, pulling his brother in for a one-armed hug and chuckling softly.

"Boys," Jeff sighed, although his eyes shone with mirth. "When you're quite done insulting each other, it's dinner time."

"Awesome!" John exclaimed happily, slapping Scott's arm so that the older boy released him from the hug. "Race ya!"

As the blond teenager darted off past his father, Scott smiled contentedly and sighed. Jeff stepped up to him and put an arm about his shoulders.

"What is it?" he asked, glad to see his eldest son so relaxed after the events of the previous few days.

"It's funny," Scott murmured. "A couple of days ago I couldn't have even imagined feeling like this again."

"Feeling like what again?" Jeff inquired. Scott turned to him and smiled, his eyes shining happily.

"Like a real family again." he stated, giving his father a brief hug. "It's good to have you back, Dad."

"Scott?! Are you coming or not?!" John yelled up the stairs.

Jeff smiled and gave Scott a gentle shove towards the door, which was all the invitation the teenager needed before he was running down the stairs after his brother. Chuckling softly, the Tracy patriarch raised a hand to his face and wiped away the tears that had come to his eyes. Seeing his two eldest sons acting in such an easy-going and carefree manner filled his heart with joy. It showed him that the healing process had begun within the two boys. And his two youngest children were also recovering nicely. Yes, there was only one child that still caused Jeff to worry.

Although Virgil seemed as happy and carefree as the rest of his brothers now that they were home, Jeff still felt that there was a distance between them. A distance that he needed to cross before he could truly feel like the boy's father again. It worried Jeff that Virgil had sacrificed so much for him. His music, which had once been one of Virgil's strongest passions, had been forcibly contained and confined by the twelve-year-old so that he did not upset his father. It was time that Jeff allowed his middle-child to release the lock he'd put on his talents. If he couldn't persuade the boy to open up as his brothers had done, Jeff didn't know what he was going to do.

Glancing down at his watch, Jeff sighed. He'd have the conversation with his son later on, once the two youngest Tracy boys were safe in bed and sound asleep. Right now, Jeff had a dinner date with his children. The first one he'd had in over three weeks. He was going to enjoy himself.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Virgil slowly pulled on his pyjamas, his gaze fixed on the beautiful orange sunset that shone through his window. The beautiful blend of reds and yellows. The rich, heavy colours that looked so solid, Virgil wanted to reach out and touch them. The light, wispy clouds that floated over the horizon, their edges tinted red as they drifted aimlessly in the endless sky. This, to Virgil, was true beauty.

Virgil smiled, glancing down at the peice of paper on the desk in front of him. A blank sheet of paper. He always made sure there was one readily available, just in case he found something he desperately wanted to draw or paint. And this beautiful sunset - yes, he needed to capture the beauty before it was swallowed up by the night.

As Virgil's desk was positioned directly in front of the window (this had been Scott's idea), he did not need to move it in order to begin the picture. Grabbing his polished wooden case of oil pastels, he sat down in his desk-chair and took another look at the beautiful sky. Already, one of the wispy clouds had changed shape and drifted a little further to the left. But this only helped to heighten the beauty - or so Virgil thought. Taking up a light orange pastel, he smiled to himself and turned it on it's side, dragging it smoothly across the blank page. And, with this small movement, he was immediately lost in the colours and textures of the pastels, the lines varying from heavy to light, the colours from rich to faint. Suddenly the beauty was under his control. Humming a soft tune to himself, he focused his full attention on the glorious sunset, his hand flowing effortlessly across the page.

...

In another part of the house, Jeff was sitting beside the baby grand piano - the one that he had bought for his wife as a gift on their first anniversary. Lifting the lid, he ran his fingers over the keys, not actually pressing down enough to make a sound, but needing to feel the hard, smooth rectangles beneath his hands. Memories flashed before his eyes. Images of Lucy, laughing as she sat with four-year-old Virgil on her knee, playing 'Chopsticks' as Jeff filmed them with a video camera and grinned proudly at his young son's obvious excitement.

Rubbing a hand across his face, Jeff took in a shaky breath and stood to his feet. He missed his wife. He missed her so damn much. Lowering the lid back down and covering up the white keys, Jeff sighed and shook his head. Oh Lucy, will this ever get easier to bear? The pain - it still fills my chest whenever I think of you. Is this how it's gonna be for the rest of my life?

As if in answer to his question, Jeff suddenly felt an pressing urge to go and look in on his children. Almost against his will, his feet moved him swiftly off the raised section of the living room and away from the piano, by-passing the couches and armchairs, and taking him out through the doorway. Walking quickly, he made his way down the corridor and along to the first staircase. Ascending the steps, he wondered where this sudden urge had come from. He didn't understand his need to go and see his sons so desperately, but he obeyed the commands in his heart and walked along the hallway until he reached Gordon's bedroom.

Opening the door quietly, he peered into the darkening room. The light creamy-yellow drapes allowed some of the dim light to shine through from outside, illuminating the room enough to allow Jeff to clearly see Gordon as he lay in his bed. Unsurprisingly, the ten-year-old had changed position since Jeff had put him to bed over an hour ago. He had always been the most restless sleeper out of all of the boys. Stepping forward, Jeff bent over the sleeping form and put a hand to the boy's forehead, checking to make sure that the fever had not returned. Gordon stirred beneath the touch and grunted, automatically drawing his arms closer around his chest and hugging 'Flipper' the dolphin tightly.

Glancing towards the end of the bed, Jeff spotted the light blue cast on Gordon's left leg. Reaching over, he drew the duvet over the limb to cover it up, smirking slightly as Gordon immediately kicked it away again. Knowing that it was a pointless battle, Jeff did not bother to cover it back up, instead pausing momentarily to admire the tiny octopus that Virgil had drawn at the top end of the cast, just below Gordon's knee.

'That idea of Virgil's was a total stroke of genius.'Jeff thought to himself, returning his gaze to the copper-haired boys peaceful face and sighing. Shortly after dinner, the true implications of having a cast on for six weeks had dawned upon Gordon, and the ten-year-old (who had still been slightly cranky from the belated effects of his pain medication and from simple fatigue) had escaped to a hiding spot inside one of the storage cupboards and sulked. From what Jeff had gathered from the boy later that evening as he was putting Gordon to bed, Virgil had found him there and had made him a deal. Every other day, Virgil would draw a small cartoon of an animal or an object - anything Gordon wanted him to draw. That way, by the end of the six week period, Gordon's cast would no longer be plain blue, but covered in all sorts of interesting pictures. The younger boy had found this a wonderful idea, and had promptly forgotten about his need to sulk. Instead, he and Virgil had spent the best part of an hour discussing which cartoon Gordon wanted his brother to draw first.

Shaking his head at how so simple an offer had managed to put an end to Gordon's mood, Jeff brushed a stray copper lock from the soft forehead. He smiled as Gordon sighed happily, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on his son's brow.

"Sleep tight, my little troublemaker." he whispered fondly, before straightening back up again and quietly exiting the room, shutting the door carefully behind him.

Jeff suddenly realised that the pain in his chest had all but diminished. In it's place sat a warm, comfortable glow of loving tenderness. Smiling to himself, Jeff shook his head. So that's the answer, huh Lucy? I lost you, but I still have our boys. That's what you've been trying to tell me. I'm not supposed to try and get through this on my own. We're supposed to get through this together - as a family.

Walking a little further along the hallway, Jeff stopped outside Alan's bedroom door, which he had left slightly ajar. Pushing it fully open, he stepped into the room, his face immediately breaking into a wider smile as he looked upon his youngest child. Alan lay sleeping on his side under the duvet, his large brown teddy bear all but pillowing his small head. Both arms were wrapped around the stuffed toy lovingly, his little legs curled up to meet his chest. He was the personification of the word 'adorable' - at least in Jeff's eyes.

Kneeling down beside the bed, Jeff gently ran his hand over the soft blond hair, stopping when he reached the forehead. Alan's skin was still a little too warm, but he was getting better. He had taken a dose of Tylenol before bedtime, and Jeff knew that it was only a matter of days until he was back to full health. For several minutes, Jeff was content to just sit and watch the five-year-old as he slept peacefully, his fingers twitching occasionally as he gripped onto the bear. After a long while, Jeff glanced down at his watch, then up at the space-themed clock on the wall, it's large face covered in glow-in-the-dark planets and space ships.

Is it already nine-thirty? Wow, this evening's flow by so quickly. Hmm, Virgil should have been in bed by now. I'd better go tuck him in. Man, will he even let me do that anymore? He's twelve now. Gosh, twelve? What happened to my little four-year-old who used to sit on his Mommy's knee and play chopsticks? Well, I need to have a chat with him anyway. I'm sure he won't mind staying up past his bedtime, kids never do. And I can't really put our discussion off for any longer.

Leaning forward, Jeff kissed Alan's forehead tenderly, before straightening up and exiting the room as he had done Gordon's. Heading back down the stairs, he walked towards the second staircase that would take him to John and Virgil's bedrooms, as well as the three guest bedrooms that he had built since their holiday on the island two years earlier. Striding up to the door, he knocked gently on the wood.

"Come in?" came the muffled call. Jeff turned the handle and pushed open the door, stepping into the room. Virgil sat sideways on his bed, his back propped up against the wall. A large, thick volume lay open on his lap, and the boy had clearly been reading it just before Jeff entered the room.

"Hi, Virge." Jeff smiled, walking up to the bed and pulling the desk-chair to the bedside. Sitting down, he glanced at the book and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It's the 'Home Emergency Guide'." Virgil explained, lifting the book slightly so that Jeff could see its cover. "I figured that, since Alan and Gordon are both kinda clumsy, I'd read up on what to do if something happens to them."

Jeff blinked in surprise. This wasn't the usual book choice for a twelve-year-old boy. But, then again, Virgil had never really slotted into the category of 'usual'. Even as a young boy, he's always had a fascination with things that kinds twice his age were normally interested in. Smiling at the memories that surfaced in his mind, Jeff turned his attention back to Virgil. Noticing a strange orange smear on the boy's cheekbone, Jeff frowned and leaned forward in his chair, reaching out to rub gently at the mark with his thumb.

"What's this?" he asked lightly, looking at the powdery residue it left on his thumb as he withdrew his hand. The smudge on Virgil's cheek had done nothing more than spread a few more centimetres over his skin.

"Oh, sorry." Virgil mumbled, scrubbing at his cheek with a free hand. "I was just doing a few pictures before I went to bed."

Virgil's eyes flickered over to the desk, and Jeff turned to follow his gaze. He was forced to do a double-take, before allowing his mouth to fall open in surprise. Reaching over, he carefully picked up the first sheet of paper by it's edges, staring in shock at the breathtaking oil-pastel sunset.

"You - you did this?" Jeff asked softly. Virgil nodded, blushing slightly and looking down.

"It's not as good as a painting, I know, but it's easier to blend in the colours if I use pastels." he explained, in a matter-of-fact way. "That was only a rough drawing, anyway. I just had to get it down on paper, it looked so beautiful out the window."

Jeff swallowed, setting the picture back down again and taking up another. "Virgil, these - these are incredible!" he stated. "I had no idea..."

Jeff put the drawing down and turned back towards Virgil, leaning forward in his seat and resting his forearms on his knees. "Virge, we need to have a little talk, you and I."

Virgil closed the book carefully, setting it aside on his pillow. "A talk about what?" he inquired softly.

Jeff inhaled deeply, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to figure out a way to start the conversation. Why was talking to his children about things like this always so darn difficult? Glancing over to his right, he spotted the large keyboard where it sat on it's stand in the corner of the room. Noticing the sheet music that lay on top of the instrument, Jeff stood to his feet and walked slowly across the room.

"D'you still play, son?" he asked conversationally, taking up the sheets of paper in his hand.

"Um - yeah - sometimes." Virgil stammered, his face paling slightly.

Jeff frowned as he noticed something odd about the sheet music. It appeared to be written in pencil, almost as if...

"Virge," Jeff gasped. "Did you - did you write this?"

Virgil looked down at his hands, which were twitching nervously in his lap. "Yeah, I - um - I'm sorry, it's just something I do in my free time."

Jeff glanced up from the music, and suddenly noticed how nervous and pale his middle-child appeared to be. Realising what his son's line of thought must be, Jeff quickly hurried back over to the bed, dropping down onto the mattress beside his son and setting the music down on the desk-chair.

"Oh Virgil," Jeff murmured. "There's no reason to be sorry at all. Don't apologise, son."

Virgil glanced up from his lap to look at his father. "But - but I thought-" he stammered. "I thought that you'd be mad or upset or something."

Jeff shook his head, putting an arm around Virgil's shoulders and tilting the boy's chin up with his other hand. "Virgil, I'm not mad. And I'm not upset. I'm just sorry that you've been thinking that for so long. Virge - Virge, tell me, why did you restrict your music to just the keyboard? Why didn't you play the piano like you always used to?"

Virgil shifted uncomfortably, his gaze returning to his lap. "Well, it's - it's just that Mom always used to play when she was alive." he said softly. "And I thought - I thought that maybe my music would make you remember her all the time, and I knew how much it hurt you to think about her. I just didn't want to upset you. You were already so busy with work, and I thought that my music might make you want to leave or something. So I just played on my own."

Jeff sighed and cupped Virgil's cheek. "Virgil, I'm sorry for making you think that, son. I'm sorry for being so selfish and ignoring you. I want you to know that you are free to play the piano and paint as much as you like. In fact..."

Standing up, Jeff extended his arm towards the twelve-year-old. "C'mon." he smiled.

"Where are we going?" Virgil asked, stepping into his father's side and gazing up at him.

"You'll see." Jeff stated, grabbing the music sheets and leading Virgil towards the door.

"But - but it's past my bedtime." Virgil whispered. "If Scott finds out I'm up this late, he'll kill me!"

Jeff laughed softly. "Kiddo, you're with me. I'd like to see him try."

Virgil grinned, satisfied, and willingly allowed himself to be taken downstairs and through the corridor, into the living room and up to the raised platform in the corner of the huge room. Jeff steered him around the piano and onto the piano stool, sitting down beside him and raising the lid to reveal the black and white keys beneath. Setting the sheet music on the tiny ledge on the underside of the raised lid, Jeff turned to smile at his stunned-looking child.

"Virge," he murmured, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Will you play for me?"

Virgil swallowed, glancing at the sheet music apprehensively. "Are you sure?" he asked timidly. "I mean - I don't want you to get upset or anything."

Jeff smiled at him encouragingly. "It's alright, buddy." he assured him. "I think we both need this. Do you want to play? You don't have to if you don't want to. It's alright either way."

Virgil took a deep breath. "No, you're right." he agreed. "I need to learn to play in front of people again, or else I'll never be able to perform at school concerts or anything like that. I need to do this."

"Okay." Jeff whispered. "You go ahead when you're ready."

Hesitantly, Virgil put his hands on the white keys of the piano, running his fingers over them almost lovingly. "It's not a very long piece." he stated. "It's just something that I wrote when I was watching the sun setting one night a few weeks ago."

Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes momentarily, before opening them again as he began to play. Soft music filled the stillness of the room, gentle waves of emotion rolling around and filling Jeff's heart with warmth. Closing his eyes, the Tracy patriarch smiled as images once again flashed before his eyes;...

The sun setting over his old home in Kansas, as he waved goodbye to his parents, off to join the junior NASA training course. The breathtaking red and orange sky stretching off into the distance as he stood upon the balcony of his mansion back on the mainland, Scott balanced on his left hip as he laughed and rubbed his wife's bulging stomach lovingly, talking casually with the unborn child. Sitting on the roof of the garage with John, tracing the star constellations with their fingers as father and son shared a moment in their passion for space. Gordon laughing as Jeff lifted him up out of the pool and held him high above his head, twirling him around before allowing him to drop back down into the water. Alan's first unsteady steps along the short grassy distance between Lucy and Jeff as they sat picnicking in the garden one evening, Jeff cheering as the tiny tot all but fell into his arms, his goal accomplished.

Jeff opened his eyes just as Virgil's skilled and gentle fingers skimmed slowly up the piano, the notes ending as softly as the day ends. Smiling, Jeff wrapped his arms around Virgil's smaller frame and hugged him close.

"That was beautiful, son." he said softly, his fingers lacing through the light brown hair. "Thank you."

Virgil hugged Jeff back, sniffing slightly. Jeff pushed his son away enough to look into his face, frowning in concern as he saw that the boy's honey-burnt eyes were full of tears.

"Hey. What's the matter, kiddo?" he asked softly, cupping Virgil's face in both hands. "Are you alright?"

Virgil nodded and smiled, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes hastily. "Yeah." he sighed, leaning his head on Jeff's shoulder. "Yeah, I'm fine. Everything's fine now."

Jeff looked into his son's eyes and knew that this was the truth. Yes, everything was indeed 'fine'. Seeing Virgil yawn tiredly, he put an arm underneath the boy's knees and picked him up effortlessly.

"Dad, I'm too big. Put me down." Virgil grumbled, although there was no real fight in his words. Jeff readjusted his grip and smiled down at the boy.

"You'll never be too big, my little Mozart." he stated softly. "Not even when you have kids of your own."

Virgil surrendered, leaning his head against Jeff's chest and allowing his father to carry him down the corridor and up the stairs to his bedroom. Laying the boy down on his bed, the Tracy patriarch pulled the drapes over the window, darkening the room considerably. Making his way back towards the bed, he leaned down and tucked the duvet around his middle-child, pausing long enough to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Goodnight, son." he murmured. "Sweet dreams."

As he straightened up to leave, Virgil reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. "Dad?"

"Yes son?" Jeff asked, squeezing the hand gently.

"I love you, Dad." Virgil said softly. Jeff smiled and bent down again, hugging his son tenderly and brushing his fingers over the boy's cheek.

"I love you too, Virgil." he stated. Then, standing up again, he made his way over to the door, stopping momentarily to glance back at his son, who was already drifting off to sleep. Smiling to himself, Jeff closed the door, certain in the knowledge that his family was finally at peace with him once again. The sun had set upon his old self, and it was time to begin a new life with his boys. And above all else, he was determined to be the father that they truly deserved.


In the next (and last) chapter, we see how our family are getting on several weeks following the incident. Is Jeff keeping to his promise about no work? Is Gordon surviving without his precious pool? Are the family still sticking together? Find out tomorrow!

Yup, another update tomorrow! Aren't you a bunch of lucky ducks? (I like that phrase) But tomorrow is the very last chapter of 'The Price of Paradise.' I'm gonna miss writing this story. However, where one door closes another one opens. And I have many doors available at the moment. Lol.

PLEASE REVIEW and tell me what you thought of the chapter. I decided that Virgil needed a little but of time to himself, seeing as this fic centred mainly around Jeff and the youngest two Tracy boys. Did you like it?

Thanks for reading!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox