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Holding his first born, he couldn't help feeling like she was heavy in his arms. It wasn't that she was a heavy child, it was the feeling that felt so foreign. To hold something so fragile in your arms, hoping it would never leave you or hurt you... it was overwhelming. This one almost broke her mother, her mother almost destroying his hand. She was a strong woman, her mother, and so this little girl was going to be strong. But he didn't feel strong. The questions plagued him, the anxiety, the fear.

What if he failed like his old man? Look where his family ended up, ostracizing, fighting, falling forever. What if he brought this girl into this world and she was on the path to suffer soon enough, reparation for his sins? He messed up so many times in the past, and he was bequeathed with such a blessing. What if she became just like him, and he take the place of his own sister, watching the person you love keep falling? Falling. Has he reached the bottom yet? What if she was just the opposite and finds out about his awful past, and she wouldn't be able to hold her head high and call him "father"? Did he deserve the title? What if she does call him father and feels as if he defiled her saint of a mother? A saint and a sinner, tainting and cleansing.

What if... what if... what if...

She stretched out her small hand and grabbed at his chin, giggling like her mother, smiling like he did. He smiled.

"Why don't we go visit your aunt? She just can't get enough of you..."

He knows he really shouldn't spoil her so much. Lili had chastised him on the subject, but he just couldn't help himself. She just had to be spoiled.

Every Saturday morning, they would walk around Regent's Park and occasionally visit one of the attractions. She enjoyed going to the zoo the most. Whenever they went to the zoo, she would drag him right to the lion exhibit, where they dubbed the lion Banshee. They agreed that the lion resembled Auntie Aoife so much.

After running around a bit, they would go to their favorite ice cream shop at the corner, Fairfax Creamery. She would jump up and down to grab a peek at the glorious vats of ice cream. After humoring her for a bit, he would pick her up to allow her eyes to feast upon the multicolored goodness. Ice cream of all colours, with pink strawberry, yellow banana, minty green, purple yam, various shades of brown chocolate, and most of all... glorious, glorious white vanilla. White and silky like the coat of a sheep. She only had taste buds for silky vanilla ice cream. Of course, she insisted she needed to peruse the menu every time they went. She would always have the vanilla ice cream in a vanilla waffle cone and crowned with whipped cream. Papa would ask why she never tried anything new. She would retort with asking why he didn't have a favorite flavor.

They would eat their waffle cones together as they walked home. Often, she would interrupt the silent walk home with a plead to bring home flowers for mutti, who hadn't been bought ice cream. Donald would explain that the ice cream would have melted anyways. But of course, he could never say no to his little girl. They would (illegally) pick some flowers and tie the haphazard bouquet with the ribbon on her dress. Mutti would eventually scold them for picking the flowers at the park and ruining another dress, but the smile on her face betrayed the joy.

Her favorite flavor was vanilla, and that was the flavor of the cake he was eating right now, far from the peace of Regent's Park.

He felt easily forgotten. He resented it every single day. Why couldn't his parents restrain whatever sexual desires they had that day? Two children is enough. Two is a very fashionable number of children to have these days. Large families are old-fashioned. Didn't the doctors tell his mother that she ran the risk of dying by having another kid after Aislinn? Not that he feels opposed to his own birth, as two is a fashionable number of children to have, but didn't his parents expect a complication by having a third? Things were happier until that toy of theirs, a broken toy, came into this world.

The attention between his sister and himself had been evenly divided. They were equally loved, they went to school together, they shared toys... all that lovely stuff. Of course, he would sometimes poke fun at his sister, but that was all in good will. Then, things started becoming awful once his mother... slowly grew rounder and rounder. In fact, so round that it seemed as if his mother would burst any day soon. So round, it looked like it pained her. Everything changed when Oliver was born. Tyler hated that squirming attention grabber. It had been a particularly difficult pregnancy for his mother, difficult enough that she was bedridden two weeks into her seventh month. It pained the young boy to see his mother pain and in sorrow. She wouldn't smile as vividly as before. Auntie Aoife and Uncle Vash would visit everyday and sometimes stayed overnight to care for her. They would share the guest room and lock it at night, something Tyler preferred not to let his mind dwell upon. It probably wasn't a nice thing either as people would expect. It was always fighting to see who slept on the floor.

The brat decided to come out a month earlier than his due date. He was born unable to use his legs. They say they could get him to start learning how to walk when he reaches a certain age, thanks to the advances of technology and some special connections with the government, but he would be wheelchairridden the moment he could sit up. Tyler did not get the playmate his father had promised him. His father kept telling him that he would have a friend like how his father and his brothers would have done. He wouldn't get to tackle this brat without getting in trouble. He did not get someone to run around Uncle Vash's garden, someone to push down the slide at Paddington Academy, to compare lunches and say if mommy loved you more that day. It was cooler to hang out with a brother, a sister wasn't for hanging out with.

Mommy wasn't the same mommy after this thing came. The family left him in the dust, worrying about his "poor little brother". Aislinn tended to his mother's side, day by day urging the woman to work the flowershop again, cooking her meals. Tyler couldn't exactly do that. As a kid, he would try his hardest to get their attention, but it was always "Oliver this" and "Oliver that". Trying to get attention was hard when you lived with someone disabled. And as a kid, he needed attention. But all he could sense was his parents' impatience, they must be growing tired of him. If things were too stressful, he would get scolded for tugging on the sleeve, saying something, trying to get what he needed. Donald and Lili don't mean offense, of course, but the stress and worry always got to them. They desperately wanted to keep their son in the world, but did it have to cost them the love of their first born son? Tyler couldn't bear to look at his younger brother and cringe.

At school, he would often get asked why his brother was in a wheelchair. Is your brother stupid? Is he so lazy that he didn't learn how to walk? Are you stupid too? Is your sister stupid? You must be lazy! He would take all the attacks for his brother. Even if he didn't want to. He would take the punches and slander.

"Is he a special, Tyler boy? Why are his legs always broken? Maybe he's faking it and is just being lazy! Just like you!"

"Stop it, you prick! I'm bloody tired of this!"

Sometimes it would get bad enough that he would punch his predators, then get called to a parent conference with the principal. It was something that earned him a good yelling.

Dad, didn't you want me to protect Oliver? Is this what I get?

On this particular day, he waited in the waiting room, fidgeting with the Rubik's Cube that Uncle Vash had given him for his birthday. Aislinn decided to spend the day with cousin Mairi. She always seemed to go with one of the family when Oliver had an appointment. Maybe Aislinn was disgusted as well and just didn't show it? When she doted on the boy, was she faking it? The next day, she was planni9ng on helping Arthur at his office and maybe running around the government building.

Tyler wasn't allowed to go around and have adventures because of his "troublesome" nature. He wasn't trusted to keep himself out of trouble. He fiddled with the Rubik's Cube some more.

Why do they love him so much? Can't I be loved?

He knew that every time his mother looked at him, she always had a reason to shake her head, to be disappointed at him. Father doesn't smile as often as he used to. Too many times, Tyler saw him with a disappointed look in his eyes.

I expected better from you.

He was getting dreadfully, dreadfully bored and tired of all this.

"Ty? Mind if I sit down?" a voice asked. He didn't look up from his Rubik's Cube. The voice sat down anyways.

"You alrigh', Ty lad?" his father asked. "Seems your brother is still on the road to be able to undergo therapy in a couple years."

Tyler had no desire to comment on anything about his brother. He remained silent. His father frowned and sighed.

"Ty, how about I tell you a story. You don't need to listen if you don't want to, but you might want to listen to this.

I once knew a girl who stayed inside every time her younger brother was sick. She didn't do it because her father told her to. She did it because no one else would and he would be lonely. Her other siblings-- they didn't pay him much attention or like him very much. Heck, one of them got in trouble all the time. He would regret it later.

But this girl would stay with her sick brother and read him her favorite dragon storybooks, even if she wanted to play outside or shear the sheep with her siblings. But, she loved her siblings with all her heart, even if they would forget that she was inside. She knew the sick one loved her with all his heart. She wanted it so one day, all of them would be able to play outside together. She may have been forgotten, but they never really forgot her."

This was...

"I'm sure Aislinn and Oliver love you. We aren't forgetting you, Ty. Just stay strong because I know you're strong enough. Oliver told me the other day that you are a good brother and have kept the bullies away."

He felt a palm noogie his head, then get up and walk away, probably to go visit Oliver.

All Tyler could do was shed a tear.

First of all, he couldn't help it. He had talent and he was simply a handsome guy. He had those charming eyes, Kirkland green eyes, and a killer smile which he could look as inexperienced as his Uncle Arthur, a sense of youth, but with the determination to be the Sword of Excalibur, or in the case of himself, to be a teenage heart throb.

His road to the stars began over dinner.

"He'll be a star! You wanted a summer job, kiddo?"

It was always weird when Uncle Peter called him kiddo, but whatever. You usually aren't supposed to take Uncle Peter seriously.

"Mmhmm," Tyler replied as he ate the beef roast that his mother always cooked whenever Peter popped in for a visit.

"What about schoolwork? He has an education to think about," his mother said, obviously a bit skeptical of Peter's proposition. A lot of things about Peter made her skeptical, probably because people still saw him as the kid in the family. The UK sees him as suave and the awesome guy dubbed "the blonde Bond" and even "the sex bomb"... Tyler couldn't agree with the second title, but that's what Bonds are for. To leave a trail of destruction and wet panties.

"It'll be a summer job. He can decide whether he wants to keep working during the school term. I started my career when I was 13 or 14, I think he has what it takes, Lil!" he said, swinging an arm around Tyler and waving his hand in the air as if the stars were on the ceiling and he was supposed to envision his future.

"I really don't know, Pete--"

"Kid, you're going to be a star."

And that's how it began. he spent the summer recording boring PSAs for Arthur ("That's how I started!"), getting discovered by an agent (or rather, getting recommended Peter's agent), and working on a romantic comedy as the lead's witty best friend who was a whole bunch of comic relief, trying to hook up that best friend with a chick named Delilah. The movie kinda sucked, but he ended up garnering more rewards than the lead. And only better movies followed.

It feels good to be a heart throb.

He was nervous at the very prospect of walking. He had been waiting for this day he was born, and now he felt it so close. He would have to make the choice. Get out of the wheelchair and start living, he kept telling himself, put a smile on dad and mom's face. Give them what they wanted, the son they always wanted...

But he was nervous. He had never been up on his feet. He had never felt how it felt to fall. What if he fell? Leaving the wheelchair was a scary thought. The wheelchair was an extension of him, even if it was hindering.

But he couldn't keep doing this. Ty took the bullying hits for him and Ty didn't need a brother in a wheelchair to help when had films to be shot in and a PR to keep. He wanted to be able to go to the award shows without having to make an unintentional grand entrance on the wheelchair. His sister had dates to go on and couldn't push him forever. His mother and father were getting old too... He wanted to become that son they wanted, to be able to run after his brother and sister into adulthood.

What was he going to do?

"Kiddo! What're you worrying about?"

That voice projection. That sunny enthusiastic optimism. That "kiddo". Uncle Peter. Not that Oliver disliked him or anything, Uncle Peter was just so draining to be around.

"Nothing..."

"Don't lie, kiddo. You're worried."

"Well..."

"If it's about the wheelchair, trust me, you can decide if it's part of you. You know why they call me The Iron Lad?"

"They do?"

"They used to. I did PSAs before for a bit, but then I got ran over by a car and couldn't walk for five months, but you know what? It made me feel as tough as iron. I almost could have stopped walking forever, but I wouldn't let that keep me down. I wouldn't have minded being stuck, of course, but I just kept trying to find a way off the wheelchair, even if I kept falling off and needing Life Alert to get back on. You'll make it, don't worry kiddo," Uncle Peter said.

He went through with it. It wasn't perfect and it wasn't painless. The therapy involved shocks to the legs and splints and disorientation and pictures he was supposed to make his brain connect to his legs to walk towards the stupid pictures. But the first step felt great. The second may have been a stumble, but he didn't stay down. He got up.

He was known as the sort of Professor X at the MI6. Or, rather, he took on the identity Professor Q. He achieved the position through iron will and perhaps the former Q, who was currently enjoying his grandchildren.

Professor Q wasn't a grump like the former Q. Professor Q was the kind of guy who had a cat named Elias, who happened to have a happy little corner of the lab, complete with all the intellectual pleasures a cat could ever ask for. The lab was made wheelchair accessible. Even if a cure had been made and even some awesome walking technology started, and even if he could walk, Professor Q stuck with his wheelchair. It felt part of him. removing the wheelchair felt like being without himself. Plus, he wouldn't have a place to put cool stickers on or a storage container to put whatever junk he needed to. He simply resolved to go walk a mile without the wheelchair when he wasn't busy. But today, he wasn't going to go by wheelchair.

Professor Q stepped out of the changing room, looking just a bit awkward standing up and in a suit. He rarely wore suits, his brother more of the looker. His older brother, the handsome one that had hit it big in the pictures. His brother had come up with the idea.

"It'll make her very happy, you know," the former teenage heart throb said.

Professor Q sighed. This most certainly didn't suit him. couldn't he just go in a lab coat?

"Meow?" Elias asked.

"I know, Eli, but... hey, this is what I need to do, right? I just can't believe she really is going off this way," the Professor said, shaking his head. Even if he was the youngest, he couldn't help feeling a sense of protectiveness. "But hey, I have a present."

"Meow?"

"I'd think he'd enjoy it. Even if he would have to hear how much his wife talks," he chuckled, pulling out a wrapped red present. "The technology is sketchy, but it's like a cochlear without the surgery and you could turn it off. Won't be too loud, either."

"Meow."

"I'm talking to a cat. I am aware of that, Elias."

He made an entrance that day with the lack of his wheelchair. But it was worth it. Aislinn's smile lit up the room, even if Tyler had decided to cake right after they took a picture. At least it was vanilla, light and delicious.

And at least old Donald felt light at last.