Chapter Twelve

Johnny and Ophelia cuddled together on the sofa without a care in the world, both enjoying each other's company and the warmth of their bodies, with not a single outside thought invading their minds. A couple blissfully happy and very much in love... or so it seemed.

Their eyes closed as their lips softly brushed against each other, Johnny clinging tightly to her as he tried to draw from the heat of her fire. Not for the first time however, her blaze lit a mere candle in his heart. Something was wrong, something he couldn't put his finger on. Even after several months of dating, her touch felt no less strange than it did then, yet as he had done before, he could only put it down to "one of those things". He knew no different.

As their kisses grew stronger, finally something happened. His heart now engulfed in a fire of his own, he responded avidly to her embrace, yet in his mind it wasn't her he was expressing such affection for.

It wasn't until her scent drifted through the air, parting the haze in his mind and pulling him back to reality, that he remembered who he was really with. Mixed feelings of guilt and sadness plagued his heart, and as hard as he tried to hide them, his eyes deceived him.

"You okay?" she checked.

"Sure," he smiled, hoping to convince himself as well as her, "I'm fine."

"Dad, please, stop it!"

"I'm just concerned for you, that's all," Peter soothed, "It's been five months and you still admit her kisses feel odd?"

"I'm startin' to wish I didn't," Johnny grumbled.

"Come on, don't be like that," Peter persuaded, "All we're asking is that you think long and hard about this..."

Johnny looked up at his father in exasperation. The conversation was a follow-on from their talk at dinner after he had surfaced from his school work, and Johnny was now at the end of his rope.

"Why don'tcha jus' come out with it?!" he bit, "You think I'm gay, don'tcha?"

Peter sighed as he watched him, once more faced with a seemingly impregnable barrier. It was always down to the outsiders to see the truth, but try to convince those in the thick of such confusion...

He hadn't known it of course, but as his son flew up the stairs and into his room, the brick wall erected in Johnny's mind came crashing down as he slumped onto his bed.

"This is crazy," he muttered to himself, "How can I be? Surely I'd know about somethin' like that...?"

Wake up and smell the grass, 'gay boy'.

Yeah, cute. Just... gimme a break, huh? Just for a change?

How about you sit up and listen just for a change?! What're you so afraid of, anyways?

Johnny sighed to himself as his eyes closed, the back of his head thumping against the headboard as he tried to make sense of the conflict deep within.

"It's okay sweetie..."

The gentle voice reverberated softly inside his mind, and he grew aware of an arm draping lovingly across his shoulders. He opened his mind's eye and gazed longingly across at the owner.

"Say it Johnny," he encouraged him, "Say how you really feel about me, it's okay..."

Tears of confusion pricked at Johnny's eyes as his heart raced. He wanted to so much, but the words wouldn't come.

"I don't know how I feel," he uttered weakly.

"Oh, I think you do," Ripp purred in reply, a hand reaching towards his face as he spoke, "How long have you been feeling this way, hmm? How long have you been hiding from the truth about yourself?"

Even now it was a question Johnny struggled to answer, and he found himself searching deep inside his memories in a bid to finally solve this puzzle. His silence hadn't gone unnoticed either.

"You okay?"

He reacted slowly to the call back to earth, turning in his seat but remaining distant as he began to voice his thoughts.

"How long have I loved him?" he asked no one in particular, yet his instinct told him it would be his father who'd know the answer.

Sure enough, Peter smiled sadly as he gave an understanding nod.

"Ah," he began, before cocking his head. "It's been a long time. Longer than you'd let yourself think for some strange reason."

Johnny's head turned sharply towards him at the response he gave.

"Since we met?" he challenged, beginning once more to drift off as he considered the possibility. "How much of jus' thinkin' he was nice...?"

"Hell of a way to meet though, huh?"

"Yeah," Johnny scoffed, a smile playing upon his lips, "'Sorry about my jerk of a brother beatin' the shit outta ya... I'm Ripp by the way.'"

"Yes," Peter mused, before smiling himself, "It was such a nice surprise to see you bringing someone home."

"Yeah," Johnny grumbled, his heart sinking as resentment crept into his voice, "Only took, what..." He trailed off as he counted on his fingers, consulting his memories where need be. "Eight, nine years?!"

Peter remained quiet as his son floated into a bitter reverie, sensing he had much to expel from his system.

"Even then it was after someone else had a pop at me," Johnny growled, "What is it with these guys?! I'm the same as everyone else; I got feelin's, dreams... I jus' wanna be accepted for a f... damn change!" He calmed a little as a fond smile played upon his lips. "Still, it was a hell of an entrance. Just plough into your iron-pumpin' big brother an' tell him to piss off. I were half expectin' him to start on him too."

Peter chuckled at the irony, breaking his silence with a remark of his own.

"How things can change, huh?" he pondered.

"Yeah," Johnny agreed, "Big bad Tank standin' up for his gay brother" His mind wandered again, this time not too far as he turned to his father. They had pulled up into the hospital car park now, sitting in the stationary vehicle as they continued to talk.

"I love him, Dad," he told him, a wave of relief washing over him as he managed to answer his own question. "I always have..."

"I could tell," Peter smiled as he returned his gaze, "Why do you think I kept asking you to think about your relationship with Ophelia?"

Johnny frowned a little as he pondered the query.

"At the time I didn't know," he recalled, "Couldn't understand where it was all comin' from..."

"Now you do," Peter told him as he ruffled his hair.

"She saw it ages ago too," Johnny confessed, guilt once more gnawing at his heart.

"Hey, come on," Peter reassured him, "You were in no position to question at the time. The most important thing is - well, two things - now you not only know which you prefer, you've also found something rare in this world; true love."

Johnny smiled happily at the statement. You know it's real when others can see it, he mused.

"Hey babes," he answered, "How's it goin'?"

"I'm cool thanks, how are you?"

"Tired," he admitted, emphasising his response with a large yawn, "Was about to catch forty winks..."

"Didn't you sleep too good last night?"

"Uh-uh," he groaned, "Barely slept at all, things got crazy after you left last night."

"How come?"

"Long story," he replied, "I ain't gonna explain over the phone... I need to get to bed before I pass out."

"Oh dear," she remarked sullenly, "Look, was gonna ask about goin' out somewhere later... maybe I can call round in a few hours, let you get some rest?"

"Sounds good," he replied sleepily, before the full weight of her words sank through the fog of fatigue shrouding his thoughts. "Sounds great, I'd love to see you."

"Cool, see you about... one?"

"Yeah, one's great," he agreed, fighting off the arms of slumber just long enough to deliver an important message. "Oh, nearly forgot, I'm at Johnny's..."

"You stopped at Johnny's?"

"Um, yeah," Tank agreed, not wishing to delve any deeper until he was fully conscious.

"Okay, see ya then."

"Yeah, see ya," he signed off, before tossing his phone gently to the desk and crashing into the mattress.

Once he had to fight to feel any spark in his heart when with his partner, now it only took a glimpse of Ripp on his bed as the aliens approached, and instantly Johnny's being was consumed with a deep longing, but also overwhelming sadness. Ripp looked so vulnerable, like a battered child whose only wish was to cower in the furthest corner, away from the cruelty of the very ones he should have been able to trust.

"Hey sweetie," Johnny greeted gently, managing a smile.

Ripp had to force the corners of his lips upwards as his head turned in their direction. Ripp's battle was harder to face than Johnny's however, his blue eyes misted over with the condensation of despair.

"Hey," he uttered as he rose.

Johnny took him into his arms, but was almost afraid to hold him too tightly, lest he found any more bruises upon his love's broken body.

Ripp, in contrast, clung to Johnny as though about to fall from his grip forever, ignoring the dull ache in his blackened flesh in favour of the closeness he so dearly needed, with perhaps the one person left in the world who could show him any form of love.

Johnny pecked his head softly, before Peter hinted that they had better leave. There was only one thing preventing them from doing so, of course, and both aliens became grateful very quickly for being related to someone in the medical field.

"How much??"

Ripp's jaw fell open in astonishment at the figure quoted, but the other two merely arched a disapproving eyebrow. They had anticipated a sum of that quantity, but there was one thing neither were prepared to accept.

"Hold on buddy," Johnny challenged, "You can't expect him to pay for this!?"

"That X Ray machine don't come cheap you know," the admin staff stated bluntly, "I don't care where it comes from, so long as someone settles the tab."

"No no, it's cool," Ripp muttered, but he was clearly far from happy. Peter on the other hand had other plans.

"Don't be silly Ripp," he told him, "You don't have that kind of money." He then turned to the member of staff with a hard face. "Only one guy's paying, and that's the man who put him here in the first place."

"You're sending Dad the bill?!" Ripp exclaimed in disbelief, but Johnny led him away to let his father give details in peace.

"He made the mess," Johnny reminded him, "Let him clean it up."

"I started it!" Ripp persuaded, "If anyone should be paying..."

"Whoa, whoa," Johnny halted, his hands in the air in such a gesture, "You ain't earned any o' this shit, okay? Besides, he's the one in full-time work, and he's probably covered too. You ain't got either, you'd be payin' for the rest of your life!"

Ripp's head sank into his chest as the salt in his tears assaulted his already sore eyes, all that had happened before now beginning to take its toll on his self-esteem.

"I have," he half-whispered, "I deserve everything I got."

Johnny was robbed of his speech for a while, the only thing he felt able to do being to stare helplessly while his heart was sliced open.

"Ripp..." he uttered finally, feeling enough strength return to his soul to work his vocal chords. It was a chore to control the trembling of his jaw, however.

"I do!" Ripp protested, "All I've ever done is piss people off...!"

"That's not true," Johnny stated firmly, now standing tall in the knowledge that he was being truthful. He laid his hands gently upon Ripp's shoulders as he continued to speak.

"You're an amazin' guy Ripp; you helped your brother, not to mention stood up to him when he was givin' me a poundin' that day, despite probably knowin' he could've flattened you there an' then...!"

The clouds about Ripp's mind stubbornly refused to disperse. Tears trickled down his cheeks as years of abuse were unearthed by the events of the previous night.

"Come 'ere," Johnny offered, pulling him into a hug. Only then did he allow his own tears to surface as, somehow, he felt Ripp's pain as though it was his own.

Ophelia paced the porch in anticipation, although the growing length of time spanning her knocks was planting a seed of doubt in her mind. Surely he wasn't still asleep? What about the others - where were they all?

She knocked again, and moved to a window, peering inside to catch a glimpse of movement. Anything to reassure her she wasn't on a wasted trip - they had arranged to meet, after all.

"'Old on, 'old on!" Tank complained on his way to the door, pausing to surrender to a drowsy yawn as his mind struggled to blow away the cobwebs of sleep. He let a smile tug at his mouth as he opened the door, but braced himself for her reaction when he did so - she was bound to notice his black eye. Not to mention the fact that he still hadn't been able to shave, having been woken by her knocks.

"Hey," she grinned as she saw him, moving to place a soft kiss upon his tired lips.

"Hey," he smiled as they broke away, ushering her inside before she could remark on his dishevelled appearance. "Want a drink?"

"Please," she accepted, placing her order as she took a seat. She frowned in bewilderment as Buck followed Jill down the stairs, at first putting it down to a visiting friend, since the two children were quite close. There was the matter of Tank's eye though... what did he mean 'things got crazy after she left?' She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she pondered the question, not liking the direction her guesses were taking.

No, surely not...

Tank allowed a wry, sad smile to flicker upon his lips as he returned with the drinks. She was too quiet, he noticed. He'd been rehearsing in his mind how to answer the inevitable question when it came, but life seldom goes to plan.
"Thanks," Ophelia accepted, the weak smile as she did so not enough to hide her growing concern as he sat by her.

Tank silently sipped at his drink, dread and sadness building inside as he awaited that fateful grilling. Ophelia didn't lift the mug to her lips, instead quietly running the tip of her index finger along the rim as she chewed over words exchanged on the phone earlier, the blissful parting as she left Peter's car, even the warm feeling she'd experienced at finally seeing Johnny with the person he truly loved. No warmth could be felt now, however - she even gave an involuntary shudder at the chill pervading the atmosphere. Something bad had happened, so bad it had forbidden her new boyfriend the necessity of sleep - he didn't even have time for a shave before answering the door.

"Did I wake you?" she asked carefully. It was obvious she had, but by now she just needed to break the icy silence.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Tank mumbled in reply.

"Hey, it's cool," she smiled, freeing a hand from her cup to lay upon his bare knee.

Tank smiled still only a little in reply, detaching a hand from his own mug to lay upon hers. The emotion he still attempted to suppress began to bubble to the surface as he clutched her hand tightly - how he needed her touch right now.

Alarm was growing inside her as she returned his grip, before setting her mug down. Passing his hand to her other, she glided an arm round his shoulders as she slid closer to him.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

Tank slowly shook his head, a stray tear trickling down his cheek as he struggled to find a way to explain. It was one thing acting the sensible one and calmly explaining to buy a ticket to safety, but the immediate danger was now over. All that remained were the painful memories of watching his younger brother battered by the feet of his own father; he'd been his mentor, his protector, his shelter. The fact that he'd also been his prisoner had been sealed away in his mental filing cabinet.

Save that one for later, Tank - he's still your father.


Now's not the time to remind me!

Ophelia whisked his mug from his fingers as she noticed him start to sob.

"Hey," she soothed, taking him into her arms, expecting him to bury his head into his hands as he wept with not a word. He only did so for a little while though, before clutching at her arm as his words were propelled forth in between his sobs.

"It was Dad," he whimpered, "He caught Ripp with Johnny... there was this big fight... an' he just belted him... coulda left 'im there, but no... he tried to finish the job..."

"What do you mean?" she asked, already feeling her fears becoming confirmed, one at a time.

Tank swallowed the fierce sobs now crawling up his throat as he looked back at her, after glancing about him to make sure the pair were alone. Thankfully for him the children had gone back upstairs, no doubt sensing the atmosphere was less tense elsewhere.

"He kicked the shit outta him," Tank explained, his tone strangely cold. "I was that shocked at first I couldn't move, but what might've happened if I didn't I don't even wanna think about..."

Ophelia swallowed hard as the picture was painted before her eyes. Tank wasn't finished either, she knew that, but did she want him to continue? It was enough that Ripp had suffered so badly...

"How's he doin'?" she asked.

"Johnny and Pete are pickin' him up from minor injuries," he explained, "He broke his wrist when he fell."

"What about your eye?" she pressed, against her better judgement, she was beginning to feel. "Was that him too?"

Tank nodded in reply, a dry smile flickering across his mouth.

"That was an accident," he replied, hastily continuing as he noticed her begin to protest. "No, it was - I dunno what happened exactly, but..." He trailed off in thought for a moment as he pondered his father's words, his actions and body language afterwards. "'Get off me,' he shouted, but he didn't sound angry..." He leaned forward thoughtfully, his fingers pressed against his lips. "In fact he sounded afraid..."

"Afraid!?" she echoed, "He put Ripp in hospital...!"

"I know," Tank agreed, "but someone gave him a scar some time ago. He don't even remember gettin' it, must've got a flashback or somethin'..." He shrugged as he leaned back into the cushions. "That's all I can think of, anyways."

"Wow," was the best she could respond with.

"Yeah," he concurred, before looking back at her. "For some reason, I thought it time we got outta there."

"Good for you!" she congratulated, "So you're all stayin' here?"

Again, Tank nodded before replying.

"Yeah," he added, "An' all those wannabe army clothes of mine are still at Dad's. They can damn well stay there too," he added with a scowl.

"So you've got no clothes?" she checked.

"Nope," he grinned sardonically, "Jus' the clothes I went to the show with..."

She smiled as she came to a decision, tugging at his arm.

"Come on you," she beckoned, "We're goin' shoppin'."

"What with?" he quizzed, watching her rise, "No way would Olive pay for this!?"
"Oh, won't she?" she grinned, reaching into her wallet and producing a credit card.

"That's for you!" he protested as he left his seat.

"It is indeed," she agreed with a wink, "You want a new image, you'll damn well get one!"

"An' you wanna be the one to do it, right?" he tested with a smile.

"You betcha," she grinned, playfully running her fingers along the sandpapery texture of his jaw, "An' that starts with a shave, Mister. Get to it!"

"Yes Ma'am!" he teased in reply, scurrying off to an upstairs bathroom. He paused at the basin, gazing down at the razors lying about the surface, and pulled an apologetic face as he remembered what else he'd left at home.

"Sorry buddy," he said to whoever owned the razor he picked up at random, "All for a good cause, I promise."

Chapter Eleven

"Dad! Stop!!"

Tank's cries echoed in the darkness, yet when Buzz's mind's eye opened, it viewed an entirely different scene. A woman was on the floor, and waves from a crimson ocean lapped gently against the grain of the wood, forming little streams along the slits in the floorboards. The light from the sun outside caught the reflective surface of a small metal object nearby, and there was a man by her side, his hands clutching his face.

His eyes blinked just once, yet the woman was now a young man - his battered son - while the man's hands lowered to reveal his own face.

The man's face turned sharply towards him, his eyes narrowing as deadly intent sparkled in his eyes.

"No!!"

The sound of his own voice was enough to pull him from the nightmare, frantically looking about himself as he sat up in his bed. He stayed there for a moment as he mopped beads of sweat from his upper lip and rubbed at his eyes. He rose from his bed, turning on the light bulb, and allowing a moment to grow used to the fierce glow now illuminating the room, before making for the bathroom to splash some water onto his face. After dabbing a towel across his features, he straightened up as he gazed curiously into the mirror.

His eyes wandered down his body to study the old scar upon his left breastbone. Fingers ran along its length as he pondered, like he had done so many times before, how it had gotten there. A voice in the back of his head suggested a connection between the scar and the dream he had just suffered, and it also reminded him of the confrontation with Tank a good few hours before. He hadn't meant to lash out at the boy, only doing so when he noticed the glint of a blade. An illusionary knife, no doubt… perhaps that was the object by the fallen body in his dream… was it the same blade that cut into the thin flesh at his chest? Who wielded the weapon? That was the biggest question of all, one he wished so badly that he could answer.

Jenny groaned as the alarm clock signalled the start of another working day. An arm swooped upon the device, swatting the button on its head to shut off the grating noise, as she pulled herself wearily from the cocoon warmth of the bedclothes, reluctantly allowing the aged green arm draped across her side to slither off her as she rose. Giving a sleepy yawn, she changed into her casual attire in the semi-darkness before leaving the bedroom, her eyes blinking as they met with the light beyond.

She frowned as she realised the light was already illuminating the lounge, and decided to follow the scuffling sounds emanating from the kitchen. She traced them to a familiar youthful, bulky form by the coffee machine, and watched with intrigue as he operated it - what reason did he have for waking so early?

"Morning!"

Tank jumped at the greeting, nearly spilling his steaming drink as her voice reached with an icy hand to touch his shoulder.

"Hi," he uttered upon turning round.

"Wasn't expecting you up so early," she remarked.

Tank smiled awkwardly as he blew upon the surface of the liquid, before taking a sip from his mug.

"Bad night," he mumbled.

"I can imagine," she replied, "Wanna talk about it?"

Tank was taken aback by the offer, unsure now of what to say.

"Um," he began, "Well… I never been asked that before… Well I have, back when I were tryin' to punch it outta me instead o' talkin'…"

Jenny smiled a sad, knowing smile as she studied him, briefly eyeing her watch. She always allowed herself plenty of time to get ready, so she could afford to give some where it was needed.

"Tell you what," she proposed, "You go take a seat while I get a coffee, then we'll have a chat, huh?"

Tank smiled as he made for the sofa, tears beginning to prick at his eyes. It was so long since there had been a remotely motherly figure in his life. The yearning for his mother panged at his heart without warning, as he realised that now he had no parents to speak of, at least not until his father got over himself and began to act like one.

"Only other time I had a talk like this was with Ripp, and that was only when I started to listen," Tank explained as she sat by him.

"What about your Mom?" she asked, "I gather from Ripp she left while you were still little?"

"Yeah," he agreed, not fighting the sadness as it crept over him, "I was nine an' he was eight. Was too young to understand all that was goin' on at the time, but I remember there bein' this big fight…"

"What's happened to you, Buzz?" she demanded, "You've changed since we met, and what's worse is, you're changing Tank too! He was such a good boy before, him and Ripp used to get on so well…"
"Tank shows promise," Buzz grinned, "He'll make one hell of a soldier…"
"If that's what he wants!" she reminded sharply, "You're letting this new power get to your head - you're turning this place into a boot-camp, and you're taking him with you!"
"Is that all this is?" Buzz countered, "You're scared of losing him?"
"I am losing him!!" she yelled, her patience now exhausted, "And I'm losing you too!"
"Oh yeah, and what of Ripp?!" he challenged, "What did you do to him?! There's no strength in the boy, all he does lately is cry…"
"I didn't do anything to him," she snorted in reply, "Except maybe remind him someone still loves him… and how many times do I have to say this? Crying is not a sign of weakness! It's a sign he's unhappy; he's lost a good brother! All Tank does these days is pick on him!"
"If he weren't so damn lazy…"
"We all have our quirks," she retaliated, "You've got one hell of a temper on you… what did that alien man ever do to you? Apart from put you in your place, that is…"
"What was that...?!" he challenged, his fists clenching.

Recognising the signs by now, Lyla didn't push the issue. She had only narrowly escaped taking the place of his punch-bag before, and didn't fancy that changing any time soon.
"Bag," she commanded.
Buzz straightened up, indignantly folding his arms.
"Who are you to…?"
"Now!" she yelled, "Punch out whatever shit's eatin' at you this time if you won't cry it out, and then maybe we can talk…"
"I give the orders around here!"
"At work, Buzz, at work! This is home! We're your family, not soldiers! Ripp needs love, not 'whipping into shape'…!"
"He's not the only one, it would seem," Buzz observed, his eyes narrowing.
Lyla's face dropped as she backed away.
"Don't even think about it," she told him, trying to still her quavering voice.
"What's happened around here?!" he asked no one in particular as he advanced, his tone cold, "Everyone's dropping like flies!"
"Get to your fuckin' bag!!" she screamed.

Dazed and hurt, Lyla was left nursing her throbbing eye as she gazed back at the man who resembled her husband. She slowly picked herself up from the floor, staring defiantly at him as she felt her blood simmering in her veins.

"Do that again," she dared him quietly.
Buzz's fist loosened as he realised what had happened. He swallowed hard as for a moment he saw a different face before him.

"Mom…" he whimpered, a hand clutching at his quivering jaw.

Lyla's expression softened as it dawned on her there was more to their problems than she had first thought… but then, that's what happens when the man doesn't confide in his wife.
"Cry, Buzz," she urged, "I can see you need to, please…"
"Don't be so soft, Buzz!"
Buzz briskly shook his head as he found himself caught in the middle of his own war, between his emotions and his teachings.
"Get out of here," he uttered.
Lyla straightened up in surprise at his remark.
"Buzz…"
"Go!!" he yelled, "Before it happens again!"
She watched in despair as he ran off to his punch-bag, not stopping to take note of anyone else who may have witnessed the scene. Lyla's already crumbling heart lost another part as she was only too aware of their audience.

Her head lowered, all she could do was admit defeat. She peered helplessly down at the two pairs of immature blue eyes that stared back at her, the expressions upon their faces so different from one another. Tears trickled from her eyes as they played upon the seemingly emotionless features of her oldest son.
"Don't be afraid to cry, Tank," she pleaded, "Don't let yourself change into the beast your father has become."

The memories of that last conversation filtered through his mind, mixing with the vivid images of what had happened at their house earlier on, and the resulting concoction was the most agonising rush of emotion Tank had ever experienced. One thing he could never remember, was the last time he'd cried beyond the mere trickling of waters from his eyes, and now as the floodgates opened, it quickly became apparent why it was so necessary to one's sanity. With every sob released from his body, more pain was flushed from his system, and with so much to purge from his heart he lost any control he may have once had.

Jenny's heart broke as she watched him, moving closer so she could take him into her arms.

"Let it go," she coaxed gently, mostly to reassure him it was safe for him to do so, "It's okay."

Her gaze wavered only a little as she noticed movement, realising that the light was changing outside. On recognising the approaching figure, her expression became one of significance.

"Oh, Tank," Peter acknowledged in despair as he too went to his side.

Tank's tears finally began to subside as Jenny caught sight of her watch.

"It's okay, I got him," Peter told her, "You get to work." So saying, he took hold of his shoulder as she stroked his hair in a parting gesture.

"Better out than in, as they say," Peter remarked as he took Jenny's seat, "Feeling any better?"

Tank's head slowly dipped as he started to nod.

"I know this much," he replied, the mixture of past and present still jumbled in his tormented mind, "No way am I joinin' the army."

"Oh, I don't know," Peter remarked, "You'd make a better General than your father."

"I don't want anythin' more to do with 'im!" he snapped, "All 'e ever wanted from me was to be just like 'im… well I've had enough! I only asked what the damn bag was for, I didn't ask 'im to strip my personality from me!"

"Look," Peter advised, "You're finding your own way in life, that's great. You need to follow your heart, don't think that a certain path will make you like him, or anyone else."

Tank scoffed silently at his remark and the muses that joined it.

"Follow my heart," he echoed softly, "I used to think it led to the army."

"It may still do," Peter said, "Don't think it's just down to your father."

Tank shook his head, however.

"I found a better outlet than the punch-bag," he explained, "It's not fightin' I wanna do for a living… it's writin'."

"Really?" Peter grinned in admiration.

Tank nodded, beginning to smile. "Couldn't sleep, so I turned on that computer upstairs and just started writing," he explained, "The words just flowed, like a waterfall…"

"Wow, you're even talking like one now," Peter chuckled.

Tank's smile broadened as he slipped into a different style of talking, his mind wandering as he spoke.

"The first victory has been won," he reflected, "Picking myself up from the dusty ground, I nurse my wounds for a while as I gaze across at the paradise that beckons beyond this barren wilderness. A stream nearby glistens with the light of the morning sun, inviting me to take a sip of its cleansing waters and taste the new life that I have begun."

His eyes then widened as he bolted from his seat, Peter watching in wonder as Tank made for the stairs with his parting cry hanging in the air.

"Where's a notepad when you need one?!"

"Mornin'," Johnny greeted dryly as he watched him tear into the spare room, slowly shaking his head with a smile as he continued to descend.

"Hey Dad," he greeted, before glancing back at the stairs, "That guy got a rocket up his ass or what?"

Peter chuckled a little at his remark, before clearing away the cups and opening the fridge door.

"Don't disturb the budding author," he mused with a smile.

"Oooh, right!" Johnny acknowledged, "Fancies 'imself as a writer now?"

"He certainly has it there," Peter told him, "If what he's working on is anything like this random statement he just came out with, I think he'll do very well."

Johnny arched an eyebrow as he poured himself a coffee.

"Wow," he remarked simply, "That guy's full o' surprises."