#yolobaby

Scott hadn't been too happy when he learned what Alan had been planning. He gave the youngest a stern no, helped him put the equipment away and directed him toward the kitchen for breakfast.

Alan usually didn't question Scott's commands. He trusted his brother and looked up to him, but something about this bugged him.

He sat up and took a second as the blood rushed from his head and back to the rest of his body before turning to his brother who sat at the desk like always.

"Hey, Scott?"

"Hm?" Scott didn't look up, but scrolled down in the document he was looking through.

"Why didn't you want me to go gliding today? And now that I think about it, you wouldn't let me go snowboarding down that unmarked path that one time, and you wouldn't let me go base jumping either. I'm never going to get as good as you if you don't let me do stuff." Alan's lip stuck out a little, not a full pout but just enough to snag at Scott's heart strings a little.

Scott frowned as Alan spoke and brushed away the document. He stood and made his way down to the couch and sat down next to his brother. "I don't want you doing those things because they can be quite dangerous. I'd rather you wait and do them with someone who's experienced."

"I'd love to do things with you, but you're always busy. I mean, I'm not blaming you or anything, what we do is important, but trying to get you to take a break is like trying to get Gordon to stop swimming, or get John out of five for longer than a week, or stop Virgil from drinking coffee--"

Scott felt a pang in his chest he hadn't felt in a long time. The argument his brother was making was the same he had made to their father when he was young as well. Their father hadn't been there to stop a young Scott from making those bad choices though. He had been off getting this island set up and starting up Tracy Industries.

"I mean Virgil's told me about all kinds of adventures you'd go on when you were younger. Base jumping, hang gliding, parachuting--"

"Oh has he?" Scott chuckled a little but then thought back and started to wonder how his father had survived the calls from the hospital and their grandma when Scott had yet again gotten injured in some crazy trick to get that adrenalin rush.

"I get it. I know." Scott held up his hands before him in mock surrender. "You're like me, you know. You like that rush of excitement. But Dad was busy when I was younger--here, look."

Scott pulled up his shirt and pointed to a fine web of light silvery lines along the side of his torso. "Base jumping did that. Broke two ribs and cracked a third. I didn't realize how specific I needed to map out my trip, thought I could just go and let the wind take me for the most part. Landed hard on some craggy rocks. Luckily I was in a group but they though one of my ribs might had poked through my lung--didn't, but I was still laid up for three months waiting for them to heal."

Scott then pulled up the sleeve of his shirt as high as he could and pointed to a small scare, barely an inch wide. "Broke my arm there. That was when I was really young, thought I could make my own wings. Virgil was there for that one, freaked the little guy out. Still feel bad about it."

Alan sat with his mouth open as Scott continued.

He pulled up a leg of his pants to point what was clearly a surgical scar on the inside of his thigh. "Parachuting. I tried to wait as long as I could before pulling my chute. Everyone was yelling at me to pull it, but I waited. Broke my leg bad, have titanium in there holding it all together." He then pulled back the collar of his shirt. "Broke my collar bone three times I think, once on a mission, but then once skiing and thought I could do a jump and quickly found out it wasn't as easy as it looked. The other time was--was that the time I fell off of a cliff--I hadn't been too high thankfully--or the time I had bungee jumped and had put the harness on the wrong way-- either way, not fun. Then--" He pulled off a shoe and showed a scar that wound it's way around his ankle. "This was a climbing accident. Somehow had gotten the rope around my foot, had fallen and the rope caught me, by the ankle instead of the harness. I had hit my head and ended up hanging up there for a good hour before I was finally able to get upright and get to my phone to call for help. It's a good thing I had used rope--I had been thinking of freestyling it."

Alan's eyes were wide. "How are you not dead?"

"Good doctors, and some wicked luck."

"Was Dad mad?"

Scott smiled a little. "Probably but he never showed it to me. He was more worried than anything. And thinking back now, I'm surprised I never gave him a heart attach with all my dare devil stunts."

"I finally realized that I needed to actually learn how to do these things properly instead of just--well--jumping off a cliff."

"What changed your mind?"

"A little brother of mine decided he liked speed and I decided that I needed to be a better role model for him." Scott's smile softened a little as he watched Alan. "I don't stop you because I don't want you to have fun, I do it cause I don't want you to have to experience the injuries I went through. I want you to do it the right way, you'll have more fun in the long run."

Alan nodded his head and stood up. "Alright, then teach me to hang glide around the island."

Scott stood too and put his hands on Alan's shoulders. "That--I'm afraid--is impossible. The wind currents around the crags are just too unpredictable. However, I do know this great spot in Utah. How about you help me get through this paperwork and we'll see about a little trip out that way."