Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners.

Happy Birthday, Bee! It's that time of year again! And how could I not stick with tradition after another year of dealing with corrections and plots that make no sense! Hope you have a lovely day, and hope you like this!

Big thanks to Angel-Sue for getting me way too excited about this, even when I restarted it three times. This story exploded on me and who was I to deny the boys?

Enjoy!

Pulling his jeans up, Scott froze, then swore when he heard his computer beeping. He tossed the towel on the floor and snatched up his t-shirt. He was still damp though, rushing, and the fabric got caught.

"Hang on!"

The call hadn't connected, but he yelled anyway. He finally yanked the shirt into position, forwent socks and ran into his room. The light on the monitor continued to flash as he threw himself onto his chair, forgot it had wheels and went shooting halfway across the room, grabbing hold of the edge of the desk before pulling himself back and turning the screen on.

Virgil raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Are you late?"

"No," Scott said, glancing at the time. 18:01.

Damn.

"Shut up."

"Being home doesn't suit you, big brother." Virgil looked smug as he folded his arms. Scott rolled his eyes.

"I don't have to clock in and out at home," he said, wondering why he was defending himself. "Or miss my slot if I don't get there on time."

"You were late," Virgil repeated, grinning. Scott flipped him the finger. He had been punctual for far longer than the Air Force.

"I can disconnect..." His hand hovered threateningly and Virgil held up his own in surrender. Scott sat back comfortably, smirking. It didn't feel like a victory – they both knew he wouldn't hang up.

They had their reasons for the time slots though. Scott and Gordon were both in the military. John's career with NASA meant he wasn't on the planet most of the time and Virgil was in a different time-zone at college. Both Virgil and Alan had class schedules. Trying to find a time to talk was hard.

But Scott was owed leave and when his father had dropped a bombshell, he figured now was a good time to come home. Alan was the only one who didn't know what their dad had been working on in secret for the past two years. Getting him to finish his schooling would be impossible if he knew what their future held. Gordon signing straight up rather than going to college had caused arguments – Alan skipping out on everything would be something else entirely.

Scott wanted to talk to his father in person though. Even now, a month after finding out what was going on, sent a thrill through him. An involuntary grin tugged at his lips and he tried to conceal it, concentrating instead on his brother.

"How was your run?" Virgil asked. He was rocking back on his chair and Scott resisted the urge to say anything.

"How'd you know-?"

Virgil picked up his phone, thumbing something in.

"He won't leave me alone! Has he always been such a stalker?"

Scott grimaced. Alan was a little too keen to have Scott home – especially to himself for a few days. He had been annoying earlier that afternoon, but Scott had forgotten he had text Virgil to rant.

"Nothing will drag Al out for a run. I'm guessing you took a longer route to stay out later?"

Scott flushed guilty. "Grandma came over," he said, "she made him back off. But yeah – forgot I had to wait for traffic here. It's weird being home without you."

He had been the first to leave home. Apart from coming home for visits, he hadn't returned. John and/or Virgil had always been here - either on summer breaks or scheduling their own leave. He wasn't used to just having Alan around. Thankfully it wasn't for long though, and Virgil seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"When's Gords arriving?"

"Tonight," Scott said. When Gordon found out Scott was home, he had organised his own leave. Scott knew Gordon's reasons were the same as his own: he wanted to speak to their dad about what the future held.

"That'll get Al off your back."

Scott made a non-committal noise, not wanting to admit he was secretly relieved. Virgil saw through him though – he always did – and laughed.

"How was class?" Scott wanted to get the attention away from him. The more he complained about Alan, the more blackmail material Virgil had over him. He had learnt long ago not to give his younger brothers that sort of power – it tended to backfire dramatically when he least expected it.

Virgil instantly launched into a long, rambling explanation that went over Scott's head. All he recognised was the passion in his brother's voice and he smiled as he tried to keep up with what Virgil was saying. His brother had struggled trying to decide what course to follow: practical or creative, head or heart. He had eventually decided, claiming he didn't want to lose his love of music or art by studying them.

He eventually fell quiet and Scott frowned. Virgil was chewing on his lower lip, not holding Scott's gaze.

"What is it?"

"If I show you something," Virgil said, sounding shy, "promise not to laugh?"

"When have I ever?"

Virgil disappeared and came back with his sketch book in his hands. He kept the cover closed.

"Dad sent me some of Brains' initial designs," he admitted. Scott's eyebrows lifted. He was surprised their dad had let anything out of his office. But he understood why: Virgil, more than the rest of them put together, would understand what he was looking at. Scott had been impressed without knowing what the design was telling him. Virgil, on the other hand…

"I'm taking this Design for Engineers class," Virgil said, "and we have to come up with something different. I saw what Brains did and well…"

He trailed off, flipping the cover on the pad. Scott whistled.

"Virg-," he breathed, shifting forward. The design was elegant, gentle curves creating a sleek craft. If Scott was reading the scale right, it was large. The wings didn't look big enough to keep it airborne but he didn't underestimate his brother's talent.

"Will it fly?"

"It should," Virgil muttered. He pointed out some areas where he had drawn a close-up of the schematics, going into detail that left Scott's head reeling.

"I have to prove it will work though, otherwise it's just a drawing. There's bits I can't quite figure out."

"Ask Brains?"

"No!" Virgil flipped the book shut and put it to one side. "I'll do it myself."

Scott smiled. It had been a very long time since his brother had come to him asking for help. Virgil had always liked figuring things out and this was nothing more than another puzzle. Watching him, Scott frowned.

"You look tired," he said, quietly. He knew what college life was like. But Virgil was only halfway through his second year; Scott didn't want him burning himself out.

"I was working on the design half the night," Virgil admitted, running a hand through his hair.

"Don't work too hard, Virg."

"Don't let Grandma here you say that."

"Don't let me hear you say what?"

Scott jumped as the door opened behind him. His grandmother stood there, a fond smile on her face.

"Come and say hi to Virgil, Grandma," Scott said, inviting her in. He heard Virgil swear softly and in the time it took the old lady to cross the room, Virgil had spun on his chair, his outstretched arm sweeping a pile of clothes off the bed behind him and onto the floor, out of view.

"Hello, dear." Grandma rested a hand on the back of Scott's chair just as Virgil turned back, a picture of innocence.

"Hey, Grandma. Scott emptied the pantry yet?"

"He's trying. That's what I've come to tell you, Scott, dear. Dinner is ready. Shall I keep you a plate?"

Scott glanced at Virgil, torn. His brother shook his head.

"Go," he said, "I've got stuff to do anyway."

Scott waited until his grandmother had shuffled from the room again.

"Stuff to do?" he echoed, smirking. Virgil blushed and looked away.

"Shut up."

Scott chuckled. "I miss college," he said. Virgil rolled his eyes.

"I miss Grandma's cooking. Go, eat, before Al forgets it's not all for him."

"I'll catch you later, Virg." Scott didn't need telling twice. Virgil was already turning away.

"Say hi to the kids when Gordon arrives," he said.

They disconnected and Scott switched off the screen before heading downstairs. He agreed with Virgil: he also missed his grandmother's cooking when he wasn't at home. He was going to have to make sure he kept his running up over the next few days so he didn't return to the Base out of shape and behind on training.

Meal-times were the thing Scott missed the most while not at home and he didn't even mind Alan pestering him for every small detail about the base and his life in the Air Force. He knew it all – Scott had lost count how many times he had told him – but he realised his brother hated being the only one at home. Eventually, his father shooed Alan away, telling him if his homework was done, he could play on his console while they waited for Gordon.

Scott grinned when his dad poured two whiskys and invited his son into his office. It always felt like a return to childhood when he came home but it was rewarding to know his father was seeing him as a man rather than a boy. The discussions that kept them occupied for the next few hours were certainly not one for children and once again, Scott marvelled at how long his father had been planning this and not letting anyone know.

It was late by the time Gordon arrived. Alan was half-excited, half-exhausted and it didn't take much effort on their grandmother's behalf to persuade him to go to bed and he would see Gordon after school the next day. None of them were up much longer – Gordon couldn't stop yawning after travelling all day. Scott went to bed, satisfied he didn't have to wait for a designated time slot to catch up with Gordon over the next few days.

He slept well and was up early, pulling on his running gear. But as he let himself out of the house, Gordon slipped out with him. He hadn't heard his brother moving but to his surprise, Gordon was also dressed in training clothes.

"Can I come?" he asked. Scott lifted an eyebrow.

"I'm not waiting for you," he warned. Gordon shrugged, his eyes glinting.

"Try me," he said.

Scott set the pace, wondering how far through training Gordon was.

Nearly an hour later, they arrived back at the house, breathless and sweaty. Scott was grinning broadly though.

He had honestly expected Gordon to start flagging. He knew his brother's strength was in the water. He forgot WASP would train their men on land as well as sea though and Gordon had kept up, regardless of how much Scott increased the pace. They had been fully sprinting by the time they arrived home, neither of them willing to back down. Gordon was breathing hard but that hadn't been what Scott had expected.

"I'm impressed," he admitted, laughing when Gordon's ears turned red. It didn't matter that his brother was in the military now – praise from big brothers still beat that of any superior. Scott started walking, gesturing for Gordon to join him. Their mad sprint hadn't left any time to cool down.

A companionable silence fell over them as they navigated familiar streets, both lost in nostalgic memories.

"Dad's idea," Gordon suddenly said, his voice low, "do you think we can do it?"

"Yes." Scott didn't hesitate. He had never doubted it since the moment he heard the plan. He knew what he would be giving up – but it was no more or less than any of his brothers. They had all been following their dreams – now they had a new one.

"I don't just mean Brains' designs," Gordon continued. Scott glanced around but they were alone – no one was out walking this early, not unless they had places to be with no time to eavesdrop on two young men strolling along. "I mean…well, us. Can we do it?"

Scott put a hand on Gordon's shoulder. He knew precisely what Gordon was asking. Could he do it? For someone who had spent his teenage years becoming an Olympian, Gordon didn't have much faith in himself when it came to anything outside of a swimming pool.

"Yes." There was utmost sincerity in his voice. Gordon glanced at him quickly, then looked away.

They walked the block, then both stretched before heading in for a shower and breakfast. But as the hot water rushed over him, Scott replayed Gordon's words. Could they do it?

It was asking a lot of his brothers – he would be asking a lot if his conversation with his father the previous evening was anything to go by. His dad wanted him to lead them, to make the tough calls. Scott didn't know if he was proud or terrified by the trust the man was placing in him, but he wouldn't let either emotion show in front of anyone else.

Mentally and emotionally, he was certain they could handle it. They had all been broken once before and as painful as it was, Scott was convinced his brothers had come through it stronger. They had also dealt with pressure – in their careers, in their life-choices and as the sons of a rising billionaire. He believed in them.

But physically? He couldn't lie; he hadn't expected Gordon to be able to keep up with him. He wouldn't stand a chance against Gordon in water, but what his father was proposing would need a different kind of fitness. Gordon had proved him wrong – but he was eight months into a military career and Scott knew first-hand what that involved. Gordon would be able to handle it.

The others though… It didn't matter for Alan right now. He was too young – there was no way Scott was taking him out into a danger zone while he was underage. He would have time to train Alan himself if all went according to plan.

It was the other two that gave him pause. John spent his time analysing data – admittedly while in orbit around another planet half the time. But he was used to zero gravity and while Scott was impressed by how fast John could move while floating, he worried what his brother would be capable of with his feet firmly on the ground.

And Virgil… Scott grinned ruefully even as he shut the water off and grabbed a towel. Virgil was enjoying college life. Scott wouldn't have it any other way, but he couldn't help wondering how much Virgil was letting himself go. He wouldn't have the same training time as Alan, not by the time he finished college. Virgil would be out there by his side, in the midst of the danger and the chaos. The last thing he needed was worrying whether his brother could keep up.

He tried to shake it off. He had always believed in his brothers and they had been active while growing up. But the doubt had wormed its way into his mind and he couldn't let it go. He had been running for a long time: it had been his escape when everything got too much – his chance to get away from the house, his brothers and his responsibilities. Gordon had spent years training as an athlete. Neither John nor Virgil, however, were used to that sort of discipline. If they were to be ready by his father's proposed time-frame, they didn't have time to sit around.

He stayed quiet during breakfast and waited until Alan had gone to school and Gordon to meet some friends. His grandmother waylaid him before he could catch his father though.

It was nearly lunch-time before he got his chance. His father had been in conference calls all morning, but Scott wasn't above pressing his ear to the door and, when all seemed quiet, knocking. His guess was right; his father invited him in and Scott slipped into the seat opposite.

"I've been thinking-," he began, suddenly unsure. He didn't want to sound he was doubting his brothers and certainly didn't want their father to think he didn't believe they were up to it.

"About John and Virgil?"

Scott started. "I-,"

"And whether they are going to be fit for duty?"

"How did you know?"

His father sat back with a chuckle, crossing his legs. "Gordon told me about your run this morning," he said, "and how you didn't expect him to keep up."

Scott flushed but didn't look away. "I've never seen him run," he protested, "not properly. What's that got to do-,"

"He also told me what he asked you." This time, his father's grin was obvious. "I know how your mind works, Scott. I know what you've been brooding about all morning."

"I haven't-," he let his argument die, knowing he would only make matters worse for himself. He folded his arms. "I'm right though, aren't I? There's a physical side to this job that they haven't considered."

"You realise John has already volunteered to man the space-station?"

"He won't be up there indefinitely."

"True. Virgil will be operating machinery, not scaling a mountain."

"It's not going to be that simple, Dad, and you know it."

Scott didn't notice his arms unfold, or the fact he was sitting up straighter - almost to attention - until his father raised an eyebrow.

"Stand down, soldier," he teased. Scott flushed, making a show of slumping back in his seat. He almost slipped off it and sat back up. His dad rolled his eyes.

"They'll only be annoyed at themselves," Scott said quietly, "then they'll try and push it too far too fast."

"I think you might be underestimating them," his dad said. Scott shook his head.

"John's used to zero gravity," he said, "not prolonged exercise."

"Actually-,"

"Besides, this is John. The kid who forged your signature at least once a month to get out of sports."

"He can - what?"

Scott winced. "Which apparently you didn't know about." He combed his fingers through his hair. "Dad, John doesn't run. He doesn't work-out – unless its his fingers or his mind. God knows how he has stayed in shape, but fitness wise-,"

"Scott, stop. NASA have a very strict exercise programme, especially when in orbit."

"- he hates it. Always had an excuse not to come out with me-,"

"They have gyms on the space station. They have artificial gravity and everyone has to follow a rigid routine to ensure they don't weaken their bone and muscle mass."

"-last time we went hiking, he was out of breath before-,"

"And you aren't listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"

"What?" Scott realised with a start that his father had been trying to speak. The man looked at him in exasperation.

"You didn't come here for my opinion."

Scott shook his head. "Honestly? No. I want to test them. Now. While there is still time to implement a training program without it taking up too much of their time."

He didn't think his father was going to respond. The man just sat there, watching him for a long time with an inscrutable expression. Scott resisted the urge to squirm – it had been a while since a mere look had made him feel Alan's age.

"Fine."

"Seriously?"

"I can't talk you out of this. You've got the idea in your head and heaven knows you're too stubborn to let it go."

Scott would have denied it if he hadn't been getting his own way. He grinned, already planning how to address the topic with his brothers without them taking it the wrong way.

His dad opened a drawer and pulled out a file.

"One condition?"

"What?"

"Don't you dare tell your brother I've got this."

Scott agreed – not entirely sure what he was agreeing to – and his father handed the file over. Flipping it open, Scott realised it was John's. It was his data log from the station and judging by the dates, it was recent.

"How did you get this?"

"One of the guys on that station is an old friend. John doesn't know – I don't want him to know. He got there himself; it had nothing to do with me."

Scott nodded. He had had the same thing with the Air Force – the determination to prove himself without being compared to his father. He, out of all of them, knew precisely how John felt about following in their dad's footsteps.

"When Gordon told me what happened, I knew how you would react. I asked Mike to pull this up."

Scott flipped through. He reached a page that appeared to be John's physical results.

He read them.

Blinked.

Read them again.

"This is John's?"

The results were far from what he was expecting. His brother was running five miles a day on a treadmill in artificial gravity, not to mention the other exercises he was doing. Scott vaguely remembered John telling him about the daily training, but he hadn't elaborated and Scott realised he'd forgotten about it.

He resisted the urge to slide under the table.

"I don't know this kid," he muttered, aware his voice was a little faint. His father chuckled, taking the file back.

"Even you couldn't give him a routine that will outdo what he's already doing."

"But-," Scott didn't know why he was arguing. The results had spoken for themselves. He folded his arms, realising what didn't feel right.

"I wanted to train him." There was nothing but petulance in his voice.

"You wanted to help him with his homework as well," his dad said, fondly. "Soon realised he was showing you up."

"Thanks, Dad." Scott laughed. He should have learnt by ten years old not to underestimate his brother.

"I'm just about to speak to him," his father said. "Want to stay?"

Scott was never one to turn down the chance to talk to his brothers. He slipped around the table even as his father turned on his screen.

"One sec!"

Scott couldn't see his brother, only hear him. Then John appeared and Scott mock-glared at his dad. John was still in his training clothes – no doubt the man was trying to drive home the point that John was taking this seriously.

"Scott!" John sounded genuinely delighted and Scott felt guilty he had doubted him.

"Hey, John." He slid forward on his seat, vaguely aware of his father sitting back, letting him lead the conversation. "How was training?"

John shrugged. "Malc's trying to outdo me," he said, grinning. "Not trying hard enough though."

"Tell me more." It didn't take much prompting until he was getting a full description of the types of training that John had to do to ensure prolonged time in space didn't cause irreversible damage. Scott was aware of his father watching him with an amused look, knowing precisely why he was directing the conversation the way he was.

They hadn't been speaking for long when Gordon slipped in. Scott smiled: it had been a while since he had spoken to two brothers at the same time.

"What's up, Johnny?"

Scott kicked around a chair and Gordon straddled it, both of them ignoring their father's tut behind them. John grinned and, to Scott's amazement, looked smug.

"You owe me ten bucks."

"No way." Gordon sat up straighter, gaping at him. Scott looked between them, clueless.

"Yep," John said, "under by three seconds."

"Prove it!"

John turned away and, by the time he turned back, Gordon's cell beeped. Scott leant over as his brother pulled it out. John had sent a series of numbers and Scott realised they were timings. If he understood correctly (reading upside down wasn't his strong point), John had just run five miles in under forty minutes.

He was now convinced he didn't know his brother at all!

"Oh, you bas-,"

Scott cleared his throat and, when Gordon looked at him, not-too-subtly jerked his head towards their dad.

"What was the bet?" Scott asked, intrigued.

"Who could get their time under forty minutes first," John said when Gordon refused to answer. "Gords wouldn't stop complaining about the runs and it's the only thing our training has in common."

Scott chuckled. He should have known. If there was one way to make a Tracy push themselves, it was a brother challenging them. He realised that their training strategy was far more effective than anything he would have come up with and he stored the idea away for later use – he still had to persuade Virgil, after all.

"Hey, Scott?" Gordon turned a winning smile his way that instantly put him on his guard. "We're both home for the next few days, right?"

He knew what Gordon wanted. He glanced at John, who shook his head with an expression close to pleading on his face. If Gordon trained with Scott, John wouldn't stay in the lead for long.

"I'll give twenty bucks to whoever gets under 35 first," he said, smirking.

"What can you do it in?"

Scott shook his head, not answering John. He didn't need to – someone else got there first.

"31," his dad said from behind him. Scott spun the chair, narrowing his eyes. John wasn't the only one who had followed in their dad's footsteps. If the man still had contacts out near Mars, Scott wondered just who on the base his father was speaking to. His dad didn't give anything away though, just returned his stare calmly.

"That's impossible," Gordon groaned. Scott stood, ruffling his brother's hair.

"Nah. You've just got different strengths to me."

He didn't take back the challenge though. He glanced at his father as he moved towards the door, who shook his head in bemusement. He knew precisely what Scott was doing. Just because he didn't need to train John the way he initially believed didn't mean he wasn't going to use the situation to his advantage. His brothers would be more than ready to handle the physical side of things when they launched their father's idea. The best bit was that they'd have no idea Scott had played them.

"Who wants coffee?"

"Me," John said wistfully.

"Out of my delivery area. Don't hang up until I'm back."

He left the room, with both his father and Gordon putting their orders in. He regretted asking! But as he waited for the water to boil, Scott mulled over everything that had been revealed since he had first entered his father's office.

He should have realised John was more prepared than Scott gave him credit for. His brother had spoken about training during the last few months, after all.

Virgil, however, was going to be a different story entirely. Scott remembered his college days all too well and one talent he had never developed was cooking. Too many pizzas – hot and cold – had been his staple diet and Virgil appeared to be following suit.

He had no idea how he was going to persuade his brother to even listen to what he had to say.

But there was a reason why challenging John and Gordon was a guaranteed way to get them to do what he wanted. They had learnt it from him. And Virgil was no different when it came to backing down.

All he had to do was find the right challenge. It should be easy.

Right?