J.D. leapt from the car, his school bag bouncing behind him. His socks hung around his ankles, paint covered what had been a neatly ironed shirt when he’d left that morning and mud clung to the tops of his shoes from a hard day’s play at preschool.

“Come on, Pa. I got homework.”

Buck closed the door. “They gave him homework on the first day?”

Vin nodded. “He’s real excited. I have sums. I can do sums.”

Buck patted his shoulder. “Your reading is improving, son. Give it time.”

The pair entered the house, greeted by the aftermath of cyclone J.D. The little boy had already prepared himself a snack... the items used cluttering the bench, table, chair... floor.

“Pa!” J.D. raced back into the kitchen, milk spilling from the glass he clutched.

“Whoa, short stuff. Remember what Miss Nettie taught you?”

“I don’t have time to walk, Pa. I’ve got homework.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. He grabbed his father’s hand and began dragging him toward the family room.

“Hang on. Pa’s got to clean up this...”

“I’ll do it, Uncle Buck,” Vin offered, already with sponge in hand.

Buck winked and followed J.D. into the family room where Chris and the rest of the boys were finishing a debriefing session. They’d concluded a case a few hours earlier and ended up here to ride out the adrenaline rush.

“Vin’s cleaning up,” Buck stated as he allowed himself to be dragged passed his colleagues and the discarded schoolbag to the beanbag where J.D. had placed his brand new pencil case and his homework sheet.

********

Chris entered the kitchen. He watched quietly as Vin mopped up. Not for the first time, Chris marvelled at how capable the seven-year old was. Then again, all evidence pointed to the fact Vin and J.D. had lived on their own for five months and clearly the role of parent had fallen to Vin.

Vin returned the carton of milk to the fridge. As he turned back toward the kitchen he spotted his father. His young eyes glowed with genuine happiness and Chris’ heart filled with joy.

“Pa.” He ran to his father.

Chris hugged him firmly. “Looks like you need a hand.”

Vin nodded. “J.D. forgets to clean up.”

Chris replaced two cookies that had fallen from the packet and sealed them in a container. “How was your day?”

“Fine.”

“What’s your teacher like?”

“Fine.”

“Homework?”

“Sums. I can do them by myself.”

Chris smiled.

“J.D. has to draw a picture of what he wants to be when he grows up,” Vin explained, wiping the bench. “He has about 100 things he wants to be.”

“What about you? What do you want to be when you grow up?” Chris asked curiously, scanning the now clean kitchen.

“A doctor.” Vin lifted his blue eyes to rest on his father. “So other kid’s Ma’s don’t die from Cancer.”

Chris nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

“I might be able to stop people who get burned bad from dying too.”

The eyes staring so intently at Chris looked directly into his soul where the scars of a fire resided. Chris patted the little boy’s head. “That would be great.”

Vin titled his head to the side thoughtfully. “Pa, what did you want to be when you was little?”

Chris moved to the table and sat down. Vin collected his glass of milk joined and joined his father. “When I was really little like J.D. I wanted to be Mr. T from the A-Team.”

Vin smirked. “Really?”

“Yep. When I was bigger, like you, I wanted to be a jet pilot but I sat inside one and it was really small. I don’t like small spaces.”

Vin listened with genuine interest. “Then you wanted to become an ATF agent?”

“That’s what I ended up, I guess.”

“Do you think I could be an ATF agent?”

Chris smiled. “You can be anything you want, Vin. Anything at all.”

Vin grinned. “Not a ballerina.”

“Well, maybe not that,” Chris chuckled.

********

When the pair entered the family room a few minutes later, J.D. was standing in the middle of the room holding court. The adults in the room listened carefully as every millisecond of his day was recounted and acted out.

“Tonight I got homework ‘acause I’m a big kid now. I have to draw what I want to be when I grow up.”

“Ahhh, the future,” Josiah murmured. “A complex entity we can never catch up to.”

Chris’ chest tightened. The future. Three years ago, his future had promised more children and growing old with his wife, but the fire that had scarred his soul, had stolen that from him and so Chris had stopped thinking about the future. Life was an empty, bleak experience and he cared little for what the future held. However, nine months ago, his life had taken an unexpected turn. Chris looked at Vin who was seated beside him -- a very welcome unexpected turn.

The child peered up at him curiously. “Pa?”

Chris smiled. Vin curled his fingers into his father’s large callused hand and returned the smile.

“No, not the future. “ J.D. put his hands on his hips in apparent exasperation. “I havta draw what I wanna be when I grow up.

“They’re the same thing, J.D.,” Vin explained.

J.D. frowned.

Josiah pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Not exactly. Tell me what you think the future is, Vin.”

Vin melted closer to his father as all eyes turned on him. Chris threaded his arm over the child’s shoulders and encouraged, “Go on. What do you think the future is?

“A long, long time away.”

J.D. walked across to Josiah, placed his hands on the man’s knees and titled his head back to look innocently into his face. “You mean, it’s when we get really, really, really old like you, Uncle Josiah?”

Ezra winked at his friend. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

Josiah laughed. “That’s pretty old, isn’t it, Son?”

J.D. nodded. “Your hair goes white and then falls out so your head looks like a baby’s tushy.”

“Who told you that?” Nathan asked, unable to conceal his amusement.

“Pa.”

Buck grimaced. “He remembers everything I don’t want him to repeat.”

“I was wrong?” Vin asked softly. “About the future?”

“Not wrong, exactly, Vin,” Josiah explained. “The end of this sentence is in the future, but the moment I finish it, it is in the past.”

Vin blinked, processing the information carefully. “The future can be very close... just a minute away?”

Josiah nodded. “That’s right.”

“He’s a bright young man, Chris,” Ezra commented sincerely.

Chris smiled down at his son and squeezed his hand. “That he is.”

J.D. sighed loudly.

“J.D.?” Buck asked from where he was lounging on a beanbag, crunching on J.D.’s half-eaten cookie.

“It’s my homework,” the child huffed.

“You haven’t told us what you want to be when you grow up,” Nathan prompted.

J.D.’s face split with a wide smile. “I’m going to be a mushy tear.”

The men exchanged puzzled glances.

“Mushy tear?” Buck repeated. “What do you... oh, a musketeer?” His face brimmed with pride. “That’s my boy. Other kids his age want to be firemen or train drivers, but my son wants to be a dashing hero just like his old man.”

Ezra rolled his eyes.

Buck smiled at J.D. “A musketeer,” he repeated proudly.

J.D. nodded vigorously. He began marching on the spot, swinging his arms and then spun around. “A mushy tear.”

Buck stared perplexed. “A musketeer fights with a sword, like this.” He leapt to his feet, took up a duelling stance and began to fight with an invisible opponent.

J.D. watched his father, his young eyes shadowing with confusion. “No. A mushy tear.” Again his knees began to pump, his arms swinging.

Vin giggled.

“Vin, can you enlighten us?” Ezra asked.

The child picked up the remote control from the side table next to him and switched on J.D.’s favourite DVD. Instantly the screen sprang to life with Mickey Mouse’s Mouseketeers.

J.D. squealed with glee and began copying the Mouseketeers, marching in time with the music, arms pumping and singing at the top of his lungs, “Come along and sing a song and join our famileeeeeeeeeee.”

Buck stared at the screen opened mouthed. “A Mouseketeer?” he squeaked.

“Yep. A mushytear.”

Laughter echoed around the room. Chris glanced at Vin and winked.

When the music ended J.D. beamed at Buck. “You think I could, Pa? You think I could grow up to be a Musytear?”

Ezra smirked. “You never know what the future holds, Son. Maybe, when Buck grows up he can be a Mouseketeer too.”

“We can be mushytears together, Pa. Like this!” J.D. cried, breaking into his marching routine again.

Buck grinned at his little boy, shrugged at his friends and then began swinging arms and pumping his knees. “If you can’t beat them, join them.”

Once again, laughter filled Chris Larabee’s world. He looked at Vin who was giggling happily and then at the members of his surrogate family who gave his life meaning. The future may well be a complex entity Chris would never catch, but one thing was certain --it looked very bright indeed.