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

Thank you as always to Bee for beta-ing for me. The boys wouldn't give me anything for your birthday, but I know how much you like this one so felt like a good time to start posting...

A door slamming made Jeff jump. He glanced up from the document he had been pouring over, sighed and stood up before opening his office door and looking up the stairs. It came as no surprise that Virgil's door was closed: Jeff had already guessed which son had forgotten his manners.

Deciding he had spent too long sitting anyway, Jeff closed the office behind him and headed upstairs. While he trusted the older two were mature enough to handle what he was working on, he had no intention of his two youngest finding out. They weren't old enough.

But up until now, he had classed Virgil with the older ones, and would have trusted his son. The behaviour over the previous two days, however, had changed his mind. His sixteen-year-old still needed to grow up.

Without knocking, he opened Virgil's door.

"What have I told you about slamming doors?"

His son was sprawled across his bed, earphones in. One hand shot under the pillow the second his father entered and Jeff knew Virgil was hiding his cell – the one he had been forbidden from using until his attitude cleared up. Jeff ignored it though: one drama at a time was enough and he didn't want to know how Virgil had got the phone back.

Virgil looked at him; a withering, scathing look that made Jeff inwardly flinch. He didn't back down though, merely lifted an eyebrow at the boy.

"Virgil."

"Like you care," Virgil said.

"We've spoken about this attitude, son."

"Just… Leave me alone, Dad." Virgil rolled over until he was facing the other way. Jeff would have reprimanded him further, but there was real pain in Virgil's voice.

Deciding to leave it for now – knowing he wouldn't get through to Virgil like this – Jeff left. He knew he had done the right thing, and his son would realise that in time. It didn't make it any easier to be the one that Virgil blamed, though.

He paused outside of his boy's room, two fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. Scott hadn't caused him these sorts of problems. Then again, Scott had been dealing with other issues when he was Virgil's age: losing his mother, for one; an absent father, for another. If John got up to anything, then Jeff had never found out about it and he didn't want to know now, either.

Another door opening made him look up.

"You should be in bed," he told his second-born. John was gripping onto the doorframe, his face pale but his eyes blazing with determination.

"Virgil?"

"He still won't talk to me," Jeff admitted. He crossed the landing and helped John back to bed. A nasty virus had hit his son hard: Jeff didn't think he would ever forget how weak John had been when his father turned up at college and declared he was taking him home to recover. John was healing, helped along by the endless supply of food his grandmother was cooking, but he still wasn't well.

When John finally rested back on the pillows - his scowl indicating how much he hated being sick - he looked his father in the eye.

"He'll talk to Scott."

"I'm not going to call your brother every time I have a problem with Virgil," Jeff said. "I can handle my own son."

John sighed. "He's just upset." He glanced down, then back at his father. "You didn't have to call her a gold-digger."

"It's the truth," Jeff said. He knew all about that girl and her family, knew precisely what she wanted from his son. If only Virgil could see it as well…

"Are you sure it didn't just slip out?"

"Meaning?"

"Dad, I know you caught her in Virg's room. Gordon told me. Are you sure you didn't just say it because you didn't expect to find Virgil in that sort of position?"

John was avoiding his father's eye by the time he finished speaking, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Jeff raised an eyebrow, faintly amused. He had been angry at Virgil, and delivered his son a lecture that his own mother would have been proud of.

He just wasn't sure if Virgil heard any of it; his son was already upset at him by then. But no matter how angry he had been, he wouldn't resort to saying something that wasn't true. He knew full well Carla Mason had been leading Virgil on.

"Believe it or not, I was sixteen once as well. Yes, I was surprised and thought your brother knew better than that. But…" Jeff trailed off, wondering if he should continue. But John was ill and bored and Jeff knew this would at least entertain him. "I can't claim to being a saint when I was his age."

"Dad!"

John looked impressed and Jeff rolled his eyes. "I accused my father of not caring multiple times. That he was ruining my life, scaring off every girl I brought home..."

"Apart from Mom?"

Jeff smiled at the memory. "Oh, he tried. You think I shouldn't have called her a gold-digger, John? If I had been wrong, if she is, as Virgil claims, the one for him, then she wouldn't have left in a huff. If that were true, one angry father wouldn't have made her leave. Believe me."

"How old were you when you met Mom?"

"I had just turned eighteen. It was a hot summer that year…

Jeff Tracy stood rooted to the spot, his face burning in humiliation. Again.

"I'll just…go…" Jane avoided his eyes, fingers scrabbling as she tried to do up her blouse.

"I think that is a good idea, young lady."

The imposing figure of Grant Tracy framed in the open double-doors was made even more intimidating by the sun setting behind him. Jeff physically couldn't look at his father without having to screw up his eyes.

"I'll call you," Jeff said, his voice pathetically weak even to his own ears. Jane glanced at his father, then back at him.

"Maybe it's better if you don't," she said. She brushed past his father and disappeared around the side of the barn. Jeff took a step, intending to pick up his discarded shirt. The sound of a throat being cleared stopped him.

"Are you going to explain yourself?"

"I-," Jeff had no idea what to say. He thought it was pretty self-explanatory and had no inclination to tell his father precisely what he was hoping for when he had brought Jane here. They had been going out for a few weeks and she had hinted more than once that she wanted to take things further.

"When I said not under my roof, Jefferson, that includes the barn, all of the out-buildings and every other structure that I own. Even a tent. Is that clear?"

"I'm eighteen," Jeff protested. "I'm not a child anymore-,"

"Exactly!" His father's thundering voice made Jeff flinch. When the man next spoke, his tone was softer. "You're an adult, Jeff. It's time you start acting like one and taking responsibility for your actions."

"Nothing happened, Dad."

"Nor should it."

His father moved further into the barn, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. Jeff shrugged it off. It wasn't that he planned to spend the rest of his life with Jane, but she was beautiful and the summer had been a long one stuck working on the farm for most of it.

Stepping away from his father, Jeff snatched up his shirt and pulled it on.

"Thanks, Dad," he said drily. "That's my summer ruined."

"I thought you were helping me to save up for college?" his father asked, one eyebrow arched in disapproval. Jeff shifted. He had promised to help on the farm for low wages this summer as a way of putting money aside for school. He had even managed to save some.

But that didn't mean he didn't want to have some fun as well.

"Whatever," Jeff muttered. "Looks like that's what I'm stuck doing."

He walked out, although he knew his father would have something to say about his rudeness later. He knew he was acting like a surly teenager, something he thought he had grown out of. His father had looked so proud when Jeff announced he didn't want to road-trip with his friends this summer but help out on the farm so he could save up. The look his father had given him had made Jeff feel like it was the best decision he could have made.

The look he had just been on the receiving end of, however, made him wonder if it was the worst. He didn't even have anyone to rant to – Jane wouldn't talk to him now, Jeff knew that much, and all his friends were away. They would have no sympathy for the one who had opted to remain behind.

Stalking to the house, Jeff instantly calmed down as the aroma of fresh cookies reached him. He let himself in through the side door, but his mother turned at the sound of his arrival. She took one look at the expression on his face and sighed.

"What happened this time?" she asked, knowing he had argued with his father again.

"Nothing," Jeff muttered. "That's the problem."

The last part was said under his breath, but his mother looked at him steadily and Jeff knew she had heard.

"He just wants what is best for you," she said softly, handing him a plate. "Don't fight him out of principle."

"He just doesn't get me," Jeff complained, hitching himself onto the counter and taking a bite.

"I think maybe you don't understand him," his mother said softly. He went to say something and she held up a hand, stopping him from talking with his mouth full. "Go to the market with him this weekend. See his world, the world you always claimed you want to help with."

Jeff swallowed, the crumbs sticking in his throat. He used to love going to the market with his father as a child. But he knew a lot of the people in his year used it as a place to hang out and he had never wanted to be seen shifting corn while they wasted their allowance on trivial things. He had never seen the appeal: even when he was young he had been careful about saving his money.

"But I had…" His voice trailed off, his protests that he had plans dying in his throat. His mother was looking at him expectantly and Jeff knew that she would never forgive him if he didn't at least try and get on with his dad. He gave in and she smiled, caressing his cheek.

"You're a good boy, Jeff," she said before slapping him lightly. "Now get off my worktop and go and do your chores."

Jeff's hope that something would come up before Saturday was short-lived. His father found plenty of chores for him to spend the week doing and every time he tried to call Jane, it went straight to voicemail. He knew it had only ever been a bit of fun, but he thought she might at least pick up.

Despite wishing otherwise, Saturday was upon him and his mother was shaking him awake at dawn, a plate of toast and a coffee in her hand and a smile on her face. Jeff swallowed his complaints and hurried to dress before helping his father load the truck. They hadn't spoken much over recent days and Jeff slumped despondently in the cab as his father loaded the last crate and said goodbye to his mother.

They didn't talk on the way to the market and Jeff intended to keep things that way. But as he helped unload the truck again, he saw his father suddenly wince, one hand resting on his back as he straightened up.

"Dad?"

"It's nothing," his father said, dismissively. Jeff took a step closer.

"I'll take that one," he said, realising it was one of the heavier crates. His offer helped break the tension between them and Jeff followed his father's instructions as they set up their usual stand. He saw men he hadn't seen since he was a child and was secretly pleased at their praise that he was helping out his father. It felt good to be seen in a positive light again.

Jeff didn't want to admit it, but the morning was fun. It was only as mid-day came around and his father said that they were almost done that things changed. Jeff looked up to see a group of his classmates not that far away. Jane was amongst them and, as Jeff watched, the group looked over, sniggered and looked away.

Jeff flushed. He could guess the sort of things that were being spoken about: his interrupted time with Jane most likely had a twist on it and it was now his fault that they hadn't gone through with things rather than being stopped by an irate father. Jeff scowled, turning his attention back to the box he was packing up.

"Ignore them," said a voice. "Jerks, the entire lot."

Jeff looked up. It was another girl from his year, one with a pretty smile and long, blonde hair.

"Jane just likes the attention," she continued, "and won't want to admit she was scared off."

"It's Hayley, right?" Jeff said, shifting the crate to one side. He hoped Hayley would notice it was heavy, and that he was only holding it with one arm. She grinned at him.

"Do you want to get a coffee?" she asked. "When you're done here?"

"Sure." If Jane was ignoring him, then Jeff figured that meant he was free to have a coffee with someone else.

"I need you to load these up."

Jeff hadn't noticed his father come up behind him until a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Mr Tracy," Hayley said, flashing him a smile.

"You're Ewan's kid, aren't you?"

Hayley nodded. "My dad speaks highly of you."

"Shame he doesn't about you," his dad said. "Any idea how much work it takes to harvest squash before it ruins?"

"I-um…"

"You've helped on your dad's farm, right? He said you're always in the barn."

"I have to go," Hayley said desperately. "I'll see you around, Jeff."

Jeff waited until she was out of earshot. "Dad! What the hell? I was just talking to her."

"Son, you do not want to get involved with Hayley Simons. She uses her father's barn the way you tried to use mine. And Ewan says she spends a lot of time out there. Never sees the same boy twice."

His face burning, Jeff hastily started stacking the crates. He wasn't angry at his father this time: he was angry at himself. If he was getting the reputation that he could be one of Hayley Simons' conquests (he, too, had heard the stories about her), then he needed to change something, and fast.

"That was quick," his father said and Jeff realised that, in his frustration, he had loaded the crates far quicker than he normally worked. He shrugged, not prepared to let go of his bad mood.

"We should – oh. Jeff, wait in the truck if you want. This won't take a moment."

Jeff watched as his father moved to greet an old friend. Slumping against the truck, he folded his arms and scowled. The sooner he saved enough to go to college, the better. It didn't feel like there was anything for him in Kansas anymore. If he fell in with Jane and that crowd, it would mean facing his father's constant disapproval. If he helped on the farm, it would mean isolating himself from everyone else his age.

Jeff didn't realise he was looking at anything in particular until a flash of chestnut caught his eye. He looked up and instantly smiled.

It was a girl. Not one he had seen before; she wasn't local. But she was beautiful…and not in the same way as Jane. Her brown hair was pulled into a loose ponytail but Jeff could tell she was used to the city, not Kansas. She held herself with confidence and her face lit up when she laughed at something one of the farmers said. She was stroking his horse, her movements sure and gentle.

Jeff's group of friends had also seen her. She was a newcomer, an outsider, and therefore an easy target. They moved closer and Jeff straightened up, preparing to move. He couldn't hear what they said or the girl's answer. But he could see the sarcasm on her face and the group slunk away, looking embarrassed. Jeff grinned as the girl turned her attention back to the horse. She could more than handle herself.

He took a step forward, intending to introduce himself. But his father chose that moment to come back and motioned for Jeff to climb in. Not daring risk his father's wrath over a girl again, Jeff did so. But he watched her even as his dad started the truck and started to move. He watched her until he couldn't see her.

Then he thought about the casual way she had tossed her hair over her shoulder. He thought about the laughter obvious in the quirk of her lips. And he wondered, more than anything, what her name was…

John coughing brought Jeff out of the past and back into the present, where he was supposed to be helping his sick son. He quickly fetched a drink of water and waited until John had stopped coughing before taking a step towards the door.

"C'mon, Dad, don't go," John protested. Jeff smiled fondly at his now-adult son.

"You need to get some rest."

"No," John argued. "I need to know how you found out Mom's name."

Jeff knew he should argue. Tell John that he needed to sleep if he wanted to feel better. But this was the first time he had told this story to any of his children. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. It made him feel alive, thinking back to those days when he first fell in love.

Without another word, he pulled around a chair and sat down. John grinned, sitting up straighter as he waited to hear more.