AN: Beta'ed, and much improved, by Allthinky.

Even as he smiles at Sophia, says, "Whatever you say, my love", there's a sick lump of cement in his gut. He can't really see her anymore. For a moment, there's nothing there but this awful, queasy, ill feeling. Like someone scooped out everything from his chest on down and replaced it with acid and sand.

What the heck did he just say to Kelly? How could he? Yes, Kelly was going overboard with the "Dad" thing, but Scotty knows that most of his irritation grew out of his feeling that he's entirely in over his head with this father thing. He was just telling himself that it wouldn't be any different than it was when he used to keep an eye on Jo – but with Jo, Mom was there. Just now he feels like he walked out onto a creaky plank over the ocean. He really isn't going to be able to cope.

Usually when he can't cope, he turns to his partner. He knows Kelly was trying to help, but he's too used to the mental picture of Sophia as a child, all big eyes and knobby knees. Quicksand, that's how it feels. He's not walking a plank over the ocean, it's over quicksand. And in his panic over the child, how does he respond? He throws his partner overboard. And Kel doesn't even – he just says, "Go for yourself" in that horrible tight, choked voice, and just gets up and leaves the room, 'cause there's nothing more to say, is there?

Before Sophia's left the room he's twisting around in his chair. He can't take his eyes off Kelly's back as he walks off, bumping blindly into a table, then disappearing behind a column of the vast old mansion. "This is a family affair," Scotty remembers saying. "You just butt out." The surface of his skin is burning, not even with shame, with something worse, deeper. Oh, and he didn't stop there, oh nosiree Bob. "Who are you to try and stop me?" Oh, nobody – just the guy who's closer to you than your own brother, about the only guy in the whole world who accepts you for you who are, the one who's always, always had your back, never let you down, would cut off his own right arm if it'd help you and you know it…

Scotty blinks. The Contessa is saying something genteel about giving the gentlemen some time to go up to their rooms and change, and Scotty nods gratefully, babbling something in reply. He rises, gentlemanly, as the two women exit the room, Sophia with a radiant smile. Then he casts about urgently, but Kelly's long gone.

It's instinct more than logic - perhaps the virtually undetectable whiff of cigarette smoke – that leads him to the small side door, barely ajar. He places his fingers against it and it swings silently out, opening onto a broad, sundrenched plain of dry scrub. Kelly's sitting on a rock some distance away, as though standing is too much for him. He's still wearing that dumb jacket, though it's so hot Scotty's starting to sweat, and as he watches, his partner raises a hand to his lips, a cloud of smoke swirling around his head a moment later. It's carried off by the wind, up and away, dispersed until there's nothing left.

This is a family affair. You just butt out.

Kelly lets his hand fall to his side, and starts to slump, but he catches himself, pulling his head up and squaring his shoulders resolutely. Scotty winces at the visible effort it costs him. Kel's been known to wallow in his own hurt feelings, but this time he's going to hold himself together, sit up ramrod straight. Scotty recognizes the posture of the older brother, the one who has to hold it all together for the sake of those younger. His partner's never let him down in the big brother department, not once.

"Hey," Scotty calls, because he can't stand it anymore, and he burns inside to see Kelly flinch, as Kelly makes a conscious effort at smoothing his face and relaxing his shoulders. The perfect agent, his partner. Never betray your feelings. Never show vulnerability. He remembers the lecture like it was yesterday, and it's strange how those same rules govern older-brother-hood.

"Hey," Kelly grins, broadly, and if Scotty didn't know Kelly better than he knows himself, he'd sure be fooled; only the bags under his eyes, the creases around his mouth, the careful, stiff way he moves his body, like he does when he's been bruised (and what makes you think he hasn't? By his own partner, yet?) betray him. "Everything straightened out?"

"Yeah," Scotty mutters, his chest and gut still churning, hot, then cold. Who are you to try and stop me?

Kelly stands. "You…" Still with the false smile. He wants to punch Kelly in the mouth, knock that fake smirk right off his lovin' face… "You gonna go meet her fiancé, or what?"

"We," Scotty grits out, ignoring the flare of pain at Kelly's words, "are gonna go meet him."

"Oh, no, no, that's – I don't want to get in the way, man." Kelly waves an airy hand, studies his cigarette. Nobody could detect that thinness in his tone but Scotty – he wonders if the Contessa would forgive him for throwing up in her yard…

But Kelly's still building his defenses. "I thought I'd take it easy, you know, maybe, spend some time riding the range, Duke." The cheery tone never falters, and he grins wider. Scotty's had experience at this, though – he can see where the guy's papered over some cracks in the facade.

"Look, Hoss, I did not mean what I said back there." Scotty says firmly. "Not the way it sounded."

The smile dims just a little before reappearing brighter than before, beneath eyes black with shadows. Kelly's going to bury this one deep, unless Scotty does some quick work. He's reminded of the glimpses he's gotten into what you might laughingly refer to as Kelly's "family" life. He refuses to watch Kelly pack away the hurt of one more abandonment, however minor. Kelly, though, isn't going to make it easy.

"Oh, that's – are you still thinking about that? Don't worry about it." Kelly tosses his cigarette down and scrubs at it with his shiny shoe, his words half blown away on the wind. When he looks back up, his mask's back in place. "Man's within his rights, new daughter and everything. It is a family affair. You're right, I was outta line, and I…"

"Will you SHUT UP!"

Kelly doesn't flinch, exactly, but he stills unnaturally, folding his arms and sticking his chin out. Waiting for the coup de grace. Turn the other cheek, right, pally? Scotty has some idea of how many trusted friends and loved ones have gone bad on Kelly. Take it on the chin, dust yourself off, and move on?

He takes a step forward. Kelly watches, seeming to recognize the defensive position he's in, and stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets. He blinks a couple of times, quickly, like he does when he's about to get bad news, and knows it. Scotty's seen quite enough of that, thank you. Bad enough when it comes from the bad guys; the heck's the matter with you, Alexander?

Scotty's closed the distance between them. He's close enough to touch, but clasps his hands carefully behind his back. "Sophia should have her uncle along, too."

He feels, can almost see the flutter of almost-hope, and its death, its bleak rejection. Kel thinks Scotty's throwing him a sop.

"Thanks, man, but no th—"

"Do not thank me," Scotty hisses, grabbing Kelly by the elbows. "Do not for a single instant thank me, after what I said to you—"

Again that light laugh. "It's not—"

"Shut—up. I—I don't want—" He shakes his head, nearly growling in frustration. "Not you—you ain't—I never…" He can't find words, and tries not to look desperate, urgently running his hands up Kelly's arms to clasp his shoulders tight, like Kelly will walk away and leave him alone in this mess if he lets go. Scotty's surprised to find he's nearly shaking with rage, but he doesn't think it's Kelly he's mad at.

Kelly doesn't either, it seems, because he slowly relaxes under Scotty's hands, instead of pulling away. "Now listen, Fred C., don't make a – a thing out of it."

For a second, Scotty doesn't know what to do. Didn't I already make a thing out of it? But he catches a glimpse of something gentle in Kelly's eyes, and his rage collapses in on itself.

Scotty opens his mouth, because he can't leave it like this, can't let Kelly believe—suspect—that he meant it. Can't let the reel of abandonment play again, this is where I came in. Doesn't know how to unsay it in any way that will cut through all that armor.

Unsay it. The thought sparks in his mind. "I want a do-over."

Kelly's still standing there, looking at him, shoulders pliant under Scotty's hands. At the words, he raises his eyebrows slightly and the lines of strain on his face smooth out a little. "A do-over?"

"Yeah. Not since I was born or nothin'. Just, y'know, the last half-hour."

"Ah." Kelly's tone is questioning, but easier now. "And what would you do over, sir?"

"I would most verily," Scotty says sincerely, "replay the scene in such a way as to edit out, to remove, to unsay, indeed to eliminate, any words I may have said that do wrong to – that disown any siblings of mine."

The shoulders under his hands rise and fall silently, and the lines ease from Kelly's face a little more. Speech is still beyond Kelly, though.

"Because," he forges on, "that would just be self-destructive, sir. It would," he tries to keep his tone light, "leave me elder-sibling-less, and that is not a situation that I wish to be in." There – the flicker in Kelly's eyes, the slight opening of the battened-down hatches. He's in. "Therefore, I would unsay them," he repeats more firmly, "and eliminate them."

It's sweet to see the spark of mischief back in Kelly's eyes. "Eliminate them?"

"Eliminate them."

Kelly narrows his eyes challengingly. "Expunge them."

Scotty takes up the gauntlet. "Abolish them."

"Annihilate them."

"Obliterate them."

"Eradicate them."

"Exterminate them."

Both he and Kelly are grinning now. Scotty claps Kelly on the shoulders and takes a step backward, and then reaches out to straighten Kelly's tie.

"So, you gonna come meet your niece's fiance or are you planning to weasel out of it, shirk your familial duties?"

Kel surprises him by leaning in to straighten Scotty's own tie, clapping him on the arms, then stepping in closer to dust off his shoulders and remove invisible lint from his jacket as he speaks. "I have been called many things, sir, but a shirker is not one of them. 'Sides, I know how nervous you new fathers can get. You might say somethin' you don't mean."

"It has been known to happen, indeed."

Kelly does mock surprise like no one Scotty knows. "No! Well I don't believe it. Such a cool, calm customer as you are, sir. I would think you'd take this fatherhood thing completely in stride."

As he speaks, Kelly throws an arm around Scotty's shoulders and guides him back toward the house. Scotty leans in, glad of the anchor; he's waxing all modest about his indubitable coolness as a father, but all the while he's thinking about how this family thing is a lot more complicated than it seemed like it would be, ten years ago, when he clipped a coupon.