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Chapter Text

Grayson Hawthorne could still remember the gunshots and shouting from only a few hours before. He had made a promise to himself, even after Avery had inherited all of his grandfather's fortune and the Hawthorne Foundation, that if something happened while he was working at the foundation he would do anything in his power to protect it. Even though it had never been his, he had always felt that in some way it was. When it needed a new paint job his grandfather had allowed him to pick the color of the paint. His pictures hung on the walls. And when six, unknown, masked men with guns broke into the foundation, Grayson wasn't backing down without a fight.

It had ended in a bloody mess. All six men were either dead or wounded and Grayson was laying in his own blood behind the desk he had used for cover. He remembered Oren bending over him, and Alexander sitting beside him in the ambulance begging him to hang in there.

But now everything was black.

Grayson had no idea that he would travel down a road of memories and experiences . A road he had spent years suppressing and forgetting, when it tried to haunt him in the dead of night when he couldn't sleep. There were some good memories, but most weren't.

Would he finally accept that he did not have to hold the world on his shoulder and let loose a little? Would this road that he will travel help him see that, even through all the heartache and anger he has built up inside him, his grandfather had raised him the way he did for a purpose? Even if it wasn't taking over the reigns when his grandfather had died. Or would he become so overwhelmed that he would allow the waves that threatened to take him under finally crash over him drowning him and his sorrows forever.

CHAPTER I 1 IS DONE!!! I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING THIS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT. MY GOAL IS TO WRITE A FAN-FIC THAT SHOWS WHAT GROWING UP HATHORNE FOR GRAYSON WAS LIKE.

Chapter Text

8 hours earlier:

Oren ran down the halls of Hawthorne House, fear gripping on his heart. He had just received the fateful news: The Hawthorne Foundation had been broken into. Worse yet, there was someone from Hawthorne House inside the Foundation as well. Whoever they were dealing with were pros. The cameras and security locks and codes and been skillfully disarmed. The guards, who watched the cameras, were found sprawled unconscious and unresponsive on the ground.

Oren knew that as of a few minutes ago Avery, his assigned person to protect, had been in the house. But Avery had a history of doing things and going places that she wasn't supposed to be. Now, Oren prayed she had obeyed orders to stay at Hawthorne House, mostly because of the Paparazzi following her every move, and was nowhere near The Hawthorne Foundation.

Running down the massive halls, he stopped short when he heard a young woman's laughter echoing from the bowling room.

"I beat you, again." Oren heard Avery say to someone. Skidding to a halt, he looked inside the room to see Avery standing beside Jameson, third youngest of Tobais Hawthorne's four grandsons. Avery turned toward Oren, worry creasing on her brow when she saw the look of relief but also concern on his face.

"Is something wrong Oren?" she asked.

He couldn't lie to her, even though part of him desperately wanted to. "Somebody has broken into The Hawthorne Foundation."

Both Avery and Jameson gasped in horror at the same time.

"Is anyone in there?" she asked, fearful of the answer she would hear.

"As far as we know one person from Hawthorne House is in the building."

Jameson gave a small gargled sound. "Grayson." he whispered hoarsely.

"No." Avery said, not wishing to believe what she was hearing ."He doesn't work on Saturdays."

"He said he was going in today to finish up some work he didn't finish yesterday."

"Oren we need to something!" Avery cried trying not to panic. She watched as Jameson tried calling his brother. He shook his head and then tried again. "It's going straight to voicemail."

"I have my men over there, but they can't get in. The intruders are keeping them back by gunpoint. Even though my men saw six men enter the building, we believe there might be more." Just then Oren heard a voice in the head piece he was wearing. "Sir, there is shooting going inside the building. Should we enter?"

"Yes, but be careful. Grayson Hawthorne is in the building. We need to get him out before you start shooting everywhere. I am on my way."

"Copy that." came the static reply.

"I am coming with you." Jameson said.

"Me too." Avery said coming to stand beside him.

"No, you are not." Oren said.

"Where are they not supposed to go?" a southern voice drawled from behind them. Nash stood there in the doorway, his left leg crossing over his other cowboy boot clad foot, patiently waiting for a reply.

"There are intruders at The Hawthorne Foundation and Grayson is the building." Jameson said, answering his oldest brother's question."

Nash was the easiest going person Jameson ever knew, but even Nash had limits. One of his brothers in potential danger was on of those limits. Something dangerous flashed his eyes. "In that case I am coming with you as well."

Oren knew from experience that telling a Hawthorne what he should or shouldn't do was useless. They were not his responsibility, but Avery was. And she was not going anywhere near danger. "Fine." he huffed, "but you are staying here." pointing to Avery. "Until I know what we are dealing with you are staying here. That is an order."

Avery wanted to argue, but realized the more they talked the more chance of Grayson being in danger, if he wasn't in it already. She sighed and then said reluctantly, "I promise I will stay here."

Oren nodded, relieved. He then walked quickly out of the room, Nash on his heels.

"I promise to keep you informed Heiress." Jameson said softly. Even though Jameson liked to think that emotions didn't bother him Avery could see that he was worked up. He and Grayson maybe weren't always friends, but they were brothers and Avery had never seen any brothers closer then the Hawthorne boys.

"Be careful."

"I will try." He lightly kissed her cheek and then was out of the room in a flash, leaving Avery all alone. For a moment she considered disobeying Oren, but decided that it wouldn't be right. She silently prayed that everyone would be kept safe, especially Grayson and his brothers. But right now all she could do was wait, alone.

Chapter Text

8 hours ago: Grayson 3rdPOV

He hadn't thought he would be at the Foundation on a Saturday, but here he was behind the oak desk in his office. Both he and his aunt Zara had their own studies. They were smaller rooms near the main conference room. Unlike the lobby, which was covered with photos that he had taken over the course of his lifetime, his office was a plain brown with towering bookshelves filled with different documents.

Grayson usually worked on keeping the files organized, helping Zara when she was in, and also balancing the checkbooks. They gave over one-hundred million dollars away every year, and it was his job to make sure things added up. He had always been good in math, surpassing his teacher's expectations again and again.

He rose from the desk to put back the file for a charity on a homeless shelter in Dalas Texas, when he heard sound coming from the back of the building. At first he thought it was Zara. She was the only one he knew that used the backdoor. Then he remembered she was in Costa Rica with her second husband Constantine. His instincts kicked in on full alert when he heard the sound of shattering glass. He quickly walked over to a bookshelf that had a hidden compartment. Behind it was a small black box with a pin lock. Pushing the code in with barely a second thought he opened the door. Laying on its side was a GLOCK 22 with several filled magazines ready for use.

Before the great Tobais Hawthorne passed away, he made sure that anyone who worked at the Foundation had their own gun to use for protection. The Hawthorne Foundation did not sit in the massive Hawthorne estate, but rather outside of it. About a twenty minute drive from the House. Grayson and Zara were the only ones who worked there regularly.

Grabbing the gun and extra magazines, he quietly peeked out the door to see six, tall men in black with guns walking toward the conference room. If that wasn't bad enough, he heard his phone buzzing. Quickly looking down at it, he saw the silent alarm, that had been installed on his phone for if the security got disabled, going off like crazy. Grayson had thought that it had probably happened, but this confirmed his suspicions.

There was a secret passageway to an underground tunnel under the building, but the dilemma in that thought was that the secret passageway was in the conference room. He had hardly had that thought that the intruders were now were making their way toward him. This ending peacefully wasn't going to happen when a bullet whizzed passed his head. He retreated to behind his desk, gun in hand, ready to defend himself and the building which had become a part of him.

Grayson knew how shoot and wasn't afraid to do it. He fired back. If he was a normal person he probably wouldn't stand a chance against six skilled assassins. It was quite clear they were trying to kill him, and that this was premeditative. But Grayson wasn't a normal person. He had never been a normal person all his life.

Shots were fired back and forth for several minutes. He saw at least four men go down. He was lining the fifth man in his sight when a bullet hit him in the shoulder. Pain shoot through his body like lightning. He knew a bullet was painful, but this was different. As hard as it was, he ignored the screeching pain. If he didn't act fast he was dead. He quickly grabbed the fallen gun and shot the fifth man. And then the final intruder was upon him.

He had no time to put a new magazine in the now empty gun. Thinking faster then he has ever thought he did the only other thing that came to mind: he swung his leg up knocking the gun out of the man's hand. Jumping quickly up he kicked again: this time to the abdomen. Even though the man slightly doubled up, he was back up in a heartbeat with a counter punch to Grayson's chest. He tried to duck but it was to late. A crack sounded and Grayson let out a gasp. He was pretty sure several ribs were broken. He should have been down but Grayson never stopped, even when he thought he was going to pass out any second.

Just as another punch was coming his way, he ducked in time and then threw a strong punch to the man's throat. He doubled over and Grayson hit again: this time to the legs. the man fell down without even saying a sound. Victory was short lived when one of the other men slowly rose to his feet, rifle in hand. Grayson heard the calvary coming in through the front doors, but they weren't quick enough. Two shots went off. One bullet logged itself into his leg and another in the chest. Grayson fell with a thud behind the desk. His world was quickly turning black. He vaguely remembered somebody standing over him, a voice calling his name. It sounded familiar, but he had no idea who it was.

And then everything was black. His pain suddenly gone.

Chapter Text

By the time Oren made it to the Foundation, with Nash and Jameson, there was already much going on. Ambulances and dark SUVs surrounded the front of the building. His men and paramedics were already inside assessing the situation.

Oren went in first to make sure it was clear. Inside was a disaster. Pictures that had hung on the wall were now on the floor, glass everywhere. Blood, bullets, and bullet holes scattered on the floor and walls. And multiple bodies in the lobby and in an office. Oren could take dead bodies, but this even made his stomach turn in discomfort. Especially when he saw one of the EMTs kneeling beside a bloody, gray pants clad legs. (The rest of the body behind an oak desk)

He knew, even before he saw the face, that it was Grayson Hawthorne. He walked over, preparing himself for the worst. He was covered in blood. There was a gunshot wound in his left knee and right chest area. There was also a patch of blood near his left temple. Must have hit the desk when he fell, Oren surmised.

"How is he?" he asked, wondering if they could hear the crack in his voice.

"Not good. We need to get him to a hospital as fast as we can." Oren watched as they strapped an oxygen mask over his face. A stretcher was being brought in. Behind the stretcher Oren saw the other two Hawthorne brothers walking hesitantly in. Nash walked toward the still form, his face hard and full of hurt at the same time. Jameson stayed back.

"Is he?" Nash couldn't ask the question.

"No. But it very bad." Oren replied. At this point Grayson was being gently and carefully laid on the stretcher.

Jameson couldn't look at his brother as the stretcher was being wheeled out to the waiting ambulance. Grayson had always been the picture of grace and perfection. Now, he was anything but perfect.

The ambulance's doors were getting ready to close when Alexander Hawthorne ran toward the vehicle. "I just heard." He gasped. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"We didn't want to alarm you until we knew." Nash tried to soothe his youngest brother. Alexander would hear none of it. "I am coming with you." He said addressing the paramedics. Before they could object, he jumped in.

Nash and Jameson stayed back. They would come later. Jameson mentioned getting Avery. Nash knew that Avery was the best person he could have at this time. Calling Libby was weighing heavy on his mind as well. But right now, he wanted to find out who did this. And make them pay.

In the back of the ambulance Alexander sat on one side, while watching as a nurse tried to stabilize his brother. "Is there anything I can do?" He asked. He felt idle, and Xander couldn't stand being idle. Technically he wasn't supposed to help, but seeing the pain on his face, she handed him a gauze. "Here," she said gently, "press this on his shoulder."

He gave her a grateful look and then did as she said. After a few minutes of silence, he asked the question that was burning in him. "Do you think he will make it?"

She shook her head. "Honey, I really don't know. But I will do everything in my power to help him."

Alexander stayed still the rest of the drive. He held the limp hand beside him. "Please," he begged, "please Gray, don't die. You can't die." Loosing his grandfather a year ago, who had raised him and his brothers like they were his sons, had nearly undone him. He couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye to one of his brothers. Especially the one who had stayed steady and strong through some of their toughest moments.

Alexander watched as Grayson was wheeled into the emergency operation room. He felt very lonely right now. Avery had been the one to tell him the awful news. He had been hurt that his brothers hadn't told him. But he would deal with that later. Sitting down in a nearby chair he sighed and waited. He had a feeling it was going to be a long wait.

Chapter Text

Grayson POV

He was drowning. Sinking farther and farther down as each minute passed. He could only remember bits and pieces of what had happened. He heard Alexander beside him (though he had sounded far away) begging him not to die. He wanted to tell him that he would be fine, but couldn't.

For a while his world had been black, but now it was an assortment of colors and images. People he loved and knew, places he had been, and moments that had happened from his past, swirled before his eyes. He couldn't understand what or why this was happening, but it was. And then there was the voices. Calling his name over and over again. Some of the voices were stern and commanding, while others were pleading with him.

"What do you want?" he asked, not sure he would get an answer.

There came no reply to his question only his name being repeated over and over again. Just as he thought he was going to go mad, it all stopped.

Grayson never really dreamed, but what happened next sure felt like one. The scene had changed. Now he was standing near an ocean looking over the stormy blue water.

"Grayson." a voice behind him whispered. He whirled around to see Avery standing there, the wind blowing her brown hair around.

"Avery." he breathed. "What are you doing?"

"Saving you."

"From what?"

"Yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"You would have jumped if I had not intervened. And don't ask how I know I just knew."

Grayson hadn't thought of jumping off the cliff, but somehow Avery knew he would in the end.

"I know it hurts, but there are people who need you."

"They won't care if I am gone."

She shook her head. "You are wrong. For once in your life Grayson Davenport Hawthorne you are wrong." She extended her hand. "Come. I want to show you something."

At first he was hesitant, but she then smiled, a warm, assuring smile. He reached for her hand. She lead him to a door carved to the inside of the cave on top of the cliff. They both walked inside together, the scene changing again.

Chapter Text

Grayson

Grayson found himself, with Avery still beside him, in the Hawthorne Foundation. The first thing he noticed were the pictures on the walls. Gone were the black and white photographs. They had been almost all been of people he had seen and met over the course of his lifetime. He had made a game with himself (Not to long after learning to use a camera) to see if he could take pictures of people without them realizing it. Most of the time he won the little game, but sometimes people caught him taking pictures of them. There were times some people got angry, yet once they knew who had taken the picture, they were all too happy to have that picture taken. Grayson used to wonder what they would say to their family when they got home. That they had their picture taken by no other than Grayson Hawthorne! By the time he was ten he was famously known for being one of the best and youngest photographer in the world! He got random requests all the time to be the photographer for weddings, birthday parties, graduations, anniversaries, funerals, and even baby showers! There were very few that he actually accepted. Most he gracefully declined.

But now, all those photos were gone. They were replaced with colored ones. Familiar ones. Taking a closer look he realized they were all pictures recapping his life. He turned toward Avery.

"Why am I here?" he asked. "Why are these photos up and not the other ones?"

"There're up for a reason."

"And the reason is?" Grayson was getting impatient.

"The reason is to make you remember the good thing that have happened in your life. Look at the pictures, they are all of good times, not bad. You're like me, we tend to forget the good times because the things we remember are the bad."

Grayson did look. He saw his mother holding him, not long after being born. She was beaming with joy. There was another of his grandfather holding him when he was three. He vividly recalled that day: they were at the annual football game, and it was his first. The old man had held him in his arms, showing him off to anyone and everyone. Grayson remembered being so exhausted after. Pictures of his him and his brothers playing games: Hawthorne chess, chutes and ladders- Hawthorne style, bowling, and the old favorite: hide and seek.

There were other memories that had happened as if it had been captured on camera. Swimming in the pool, Skiing, taking photographs, riding horses with Nash, blowing up things with Xander just for the fun of it, running through the tunnels with Jameson, laughing, and much more. The memories became almost overwhelming.

"Why are you showing me this? Why not one of my brothers?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." He gave her a look. "You had better tell me Miss Grambs." using his Heir Apparent voice.

Now it was her turn to give him a look. "You know you can be quite the brat when you want to."

He didn't even flinch. "I have been called worse."

That got her to laugh, which made him uncharacteristically smile as well. "Fine." she huffed, "If one of your brothers had showed you this would you have listened?" she plowed on before he could answer. "You have trouble listening or trusting anyone. And I get it. I am the same way. We are really good at protecting ourselves, and not wanting anything. But Grayson, I am learning that it is okay to want thing and let others in. I think now it is your turn to go down the road, and see what is important to you, even if others don't like it. Look back at the times that made you anger, sad, scared, and frustrated. Then look at the times that made you laugh, smile, feel happy, and cheerful. And then decide which you would rather in your life and make your chose. But just keep in mind that there are people who love you dearly, myself included, who want only the best for you."

Grayson drew a ragged breath. "What if I don't want to go down that road."

"You will be fine." she reassuringly smiled.

"You are not coming with me then."

She shook her head. "This is your journey, not mine."

Before she disappeared to the back of his mind, he took her hand and held it for a moment. Looking into her brown eyes, he whispered thank you. Then she faded away.

He sighed. Glancing at nearby picture, he transported back through time.

Chapter Text

Jameson sat in the back of a SUV heading back to Hawthorne House to get Avery. He didn't realize how much he needed her. She kept him focused, made him smile, and stopped him from making stupid decisions. Making stupid decisions was something Jameson had trouble not doing, especially when he felt scared. He hated admitting that he was frightened that Grayson might not survive. They used to be so close. Jameson wondered what broke them apart, and it wasn't just Emily: the girl that tore a family apart.

Maybe it was because they were so opposite in nature. Jameson was reckless, looked at things as a game, carefree, and risk-taker. Whereas Grayson was responsible, uptight, dutiful, and serious. And to Jameson, sometimes boring. Or maybe it was because both tried so hard to get their grandfather approval on anything, but always seemed out of reach. Out of all the brothers they were pushed the hardest. Nash didn't care and Xander was the youngest. Grayson was pushed to be the most perfect person in the world, or that's what it felt like to Jameson. He knew that Grayson tried to hide the old man was pushing him more, even to the point of exhaustion.

Jameson, on the other hand, tried to beat his older brother at anything. And that meant being bad. Grayson was so good, which meant Jameson had to be the total opposite, the one thing Gray wouldn't be: being bad and reckless. And it worked. He crossed lines and tested fate so many times. He sometimes wondered why he wasn't already dead. Maybe it was a saying that his grandfather used to say that "Hawthorne men have nine lives." It was that saying he kept repeating to himself as he made it up the long driveway. He may have used up most, if not all of his lives, but Grayson had maybe used up three in his whole life. So that meant he had six more to live out, and he couldn't die.

He had hardly made it across threshold of the foyer when Avery ran toward. Her beautiful face filled with worry.

"Well," she breathed, "Is he alright?" Jameson didn't ask about the "he" she was referring to.

"He was shot several times. Alexander went to the hospital with him." Jameson tried to keep his voice steady.

Jameson, just like Avery, wasn't much of a hugger; yet when she latched herself around his neck he hugged her back: hard.

"I told Xander I was coming to get you, and then go to the hospital" he said after they pulled apart.

She nodded, and then asked. "Where is Nash?"

"Still at the Foundation. He will come later. Oren also wanted me to tell you that he has assigned extra protection for you until we figure out why this happened."

Avery didn't argue. She would probably have extra protection for months after this is behind them. Grabbing a coat, she linked her arm with Jameson. Going out the front door they both prepared themselves for whatever lay ahead.

Chapter Text

Jameson and Avery arrived at the hospital to find a very agitated Alexander pacing back and forth. As soon as Xander saw them, he bounded toward them. "Where have you been?" he shot at them, anger in his voice.

Both were slightly taken aback at the anger they heard. Alexander hardly ever got really mad, especially in a public setting. People began to stare, but Xander didn't seem to notice or care. He plowed on. "It's been two hours! I have been waiting for two hours, alone."

Jameson felt a sense of guilt as he watched Avery envelop his younger brother in a hug. Xander was more upset that nobody had been there with him, then the fact that he and Avery were just now getting there.

As Avery pulled away, Jameson noticed something dark on Xander's jeans. He felt slightly sick when he realized it was blood. Grayson's blood. Jameson couldn't even look at Grayson's bloody body, as it had been wheeled out of the Foundation, but Xander had sat beside him in the ambulance. He had his brother's blood all over him. Jameson was sure that probably shook him up as well.

"Well, we are here now." Avery was saying, pulling Jameson out of his thoughts. He looked at Alexander and reassuringly nodded.

It was another hour before Nash joined them, Libby beside him. They sat down in nearby chairs.

"Does Oren know who did this?" Avery asked, looking at Nash hoping to hear some good news. He shook his head of unruly honey brown hair. "He said he is going to finger print the men, and then we will know who they are."

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence. After another two hours, Jameson couldn't take the suspense anymore. He abruptly stood.

"Where are you going?" Avery asked, catching hold of his arm, as he attempted to walk past her.

"Out. I need to take a walk."

"Want some company?"

"Not really. But you are going to come with me anyway." he said, knowing she would follow regardless of what he said.

They had hardly started to walk toward the doors leading outside, when Xander called them back. They turned around to see a middle-aged man, in a white coat walking slowly toward them. A solemn expression on his face. Avery squeezed Jameson's hand, as she felt him stiffen beside her.

"Mr. Hawthorne." he said.

"Yes." the three Hawthornes answered at once.

"I have come to inform you that your brother Grayson Hawthorne did make it. Barely, but he did make it."

Sighs of relief and gratitude filled the room.

"But there is something more." Nash said, observing the doctor's still solemn face.

"You are right. Even though he made it through the surgery, he still in critical condition. He lost a lot of blood and has fallen into a coma."

"But he is going to make it, right?" Xander asked, fear in his voice.

"Right now it is hard to say. We pulled out three bullets, all in different areas of the body, and he has two broken ribs. He will be closely monitored for the next forty-eight hours. If he makes through that, there is a good chance he will pull through."

"Can we see him?" Nash asked.

"The nurses are still getting him situated, but once they are finished you may. Only two people at a time though."

"Thank you." Nash said softly. The others nodded their thanks.

It was another forty-five minutes before they could go in. Nash and Alexander went first. Neither said anything when they came back. Nash gently took Libby's hand and lead her out toward the car, Xander following them.

Avery led Jameson quietly to the room. Jameson stood stock still when he entered. Grayson was lying flat on his back. His chest area was covered with multiple bandages and splints. His knee had been put in a black cast and was raised slightly above the bed. Tubes and wires ran in and out of his body everywhere. Jameson could barely see his brother's face due to a bandage around his forehead and an intubation tube coming out of his mouth. He had never seen Grayson like this in his whole entire life.

Avery was also very still beside him. She didn't say anything, but that was alright because Jameson didn't want to hear anything from anyone. After a minute of staring at the still form, he began to leave. "Are you coming?" He asked.

"No. I would like to stay here for a few more minutes, but you can go. I won't be long."

He decided to leave her alone. She had been so quiet this whole time. 'What was she thinking?' he wondered, but decided it was not the right time to ask.

Walking down the lengthy hallway he prayed Oren had the names of the men who had done this .A sick part of him hoped that someone had hired them. Because that meant the person was still out there. And God had better have mercy on their soul, because if this was a hired assassination, Jameson's revenge would have no end. Nobody tries to kill any of his brothers and gets away with it. Nobody.

Chapter Text

Grayson Twelve years ago

It was a rainy afternoon after school, and Grayson and his brothers were playing hide-and-seek. This game was one of their favorites, as it could last for days. Nash had been appointed, or more forced, to be the finder.

They had gathered in the circular library. As soon as Nash started to count to one-hundred Grayson, Alexander, and Jameson scattered to all four corners of the house. There were a few rules to the game. One: you cannot hide together (Hawthornes do not do well together hiding.) Two: you may not tell the finder where the others are hiding. (There would be serious consequences if you did.) Three: you may not hide in the same place twice ( It was more challenging, and a Hawthorne loved a good challenge.)

With these rules floating around in his head, Grayson ran down the hall trying to figure out where he was going hide. He had already hidden in the maze library, behind on of the towering bookshelves, secret passageway to the kitchen was a nope, and quilt room had been used, twice! (His brothers couldn't find him, and he never told!) His bedroom was too original, Nash always checked the playroom first, and the room near the pool was too obvious. He needed to keep Nash guessing.

Then, he knew where to hide. The attic. Running up several staircases, through long hallways, twisting and turning until he came upon the unused door. Opening it up, he quickly shut the door. Settling down behind one of the numerous boxes, he was quite certain he would not be found for some time.

After an hour and a half, Grayson was getting slightly bored. Looking around something caught his sharp icy blue eyes. A brown box with a label 'baby pictures'. He undid the flap to see marked white envelopes filled with pictures. The first one of Nash. Skye, his mother, were in most of them. At only seventeen, Skye looked very young. Grayson thought she was one of the prettiest women he ever saw. Her brown shoulder length hair fell in gentle waves, as she proudly held baby Nash toward the camera. Some of the pictures were just of Nash. Grayson gave a slight smile when he saw Nash with a little cowboy hat on. Now, he wore a cowboy everywhere.

Two others were of Xander and Jameson. And in all of them Skye was beaming. Xander was a chunky, and all Jameson seemed to do was cry. Grayson rolled his eyes, always the drama king, he thought. There were some good pictures as well. Xander smiling and giggling at the camera. Jameson giving his signature smirk.

And then there was his. In all the ones with Skye, she was sitting in a rocking chair (that now graced her bedroom in her wing.) He was not surprised to see that in most he had a serious expression on his face. He had always been the most serious one of his brothers. But there was a few that did catch him smiling. Nash was in all of them. He was the only person who could get Grayson to truly smile. Xander might be second.

As he looked through these memories, he wondered 'why weren't these displayed?' Who ever had taken the photos had done an amazing job. There was beauty and style with each picture. And it was, in this annual game of hide-and-seek, that Grayson decided he wanted to learn and master the camera. He would be the one of the best there ever was. He wouldn't hide them. No. He would display and show them for all the world to see.

Sensing it would be awhile before he was found, he began going through the many boxes that stored forgotten or purposely ignored memories and moments in time. It was the best hide-and-seek game ever. (He won the game after six hours of Nash searching.)

Chapter Text

Grayson

Another memory he looked fondly back on was the hours he would spend outside. The grounds were just as large and sprawling as inside. You could get lost just exploring the Black Woods, and that was only one-fourth of the property. After school, Grayson would stay outside as long as he could. Sometimes it wasn't until eight or nine o'clock at night before he came in. And then, his mind took him to another moment that he had suppressed for too long.

Ten years ago:

Grayson and Jameson were playing near the Black Woods. Races across the grassy fields, throwing rocks in a nearby pond, and Jameson's favorite: tree climbing. After four dares, four trees and cuts and bruises later, Grayson was getting worn out. He was deciding to head in, when Jameson stopped him.

"I dare you to climb that tree." he said his green eyes twinkling mischievously. He was pointing to a large oak tree, with wide, thick branches.

It was tempting, but Grayson decided four dares-all from Jameson- was enough today. "No, I am too tired. But you can." he paused, and then added with a sly smirk "Actually, I dare you to."

"To climb that tree?"

Grayson shrugged. "You dared me. I don't see why I can't dare you to something."

"Planning on heading in while I am up in the tree."

Grayson hadn't thought that. He was tired of Jameson daring him, that he decided to give him one. Besides, this tree was the biggest and one of the hardest to climb. Just perfect for Jameson.

"Well?" he said.

"Fine. I will do it." Grayson watched as Jameson began the tricky climb. He had only gone a few yards up when his foot, that had been on a branch, started to move downward. Grayson heard a crack. At first he thought Jameson broke his leg, but then he realized it was the branch. Then the ground began to move. Near the trunk of the tree, part of the ground disappeared: revealing a secret tunnel.

Grayson looked down the dark hole. "What do you think is down there?" he said to his younger brother, who had stopped the dare he had been doing.

"I don't know, but I am going to find out!" Jameson jumped down, the dare now forgotten.

"Well, I am coming with you." Grayson said, using his don't-you-dare-argue-with-me voice. With his brothers it didn't usually work. Thankfully, Jameson didn't argue and they both got ready to explore the new discovery.

Using the flashlights from their phones, they carefully made it down the crumbling staircase. The tunnel wasn't very large, about six feet high, and only big enough for two people. It went on for many minutes before they came to another set of stairs leading to a trap door. Going first, Grayson lifted up the door. Expecting it to be stuck, he was surprised that it opened with ease.

The hidden tunnel led to one of the empty stalls in the massive Hawthorne stables. A horse whinnied as Grayson and Jameson realized where they were. This discovery would be many that they would find around the property. This discovery was one Grayson's favorites. It was probably because it was the first of the many tunnels they would find. After that, he tried to find as many secret tunnels and passageways as possible.

He and his brothers would find six in just one year.

Chapter Text

Avery watched as Jameson paced back and forth in her bedroom. It was now twenty-four hours since they had been at the hospital. Nash had recused himself to his bedroom, Libby staying by his side. Alexander, once he got home, retreated to his secret laboratory. Avery was quite sure that no one had slept in awhile. She hadn't, and neither had Jameson.

Oren had gotten the fingerprint results back. It been a bust. Except for names, they had no idea who these men had been. All traces of their life, and who they worked for had been totally erased. They were back to square one.

After ten minutes of watching Jameson pacing, Avery had enough. She knew he was hurting, they all were. But she knew that he was more angry at this moment, then scared. If someone tried to kill Libby, Avery knew she would be livid too.

Jameson, sensing Avery's impatience, stopped pacing and turned toward her. "Why do you think they targeted Grayson? There must have been a reason." Avery thought he was going to stop, but he kept rambling on. "I know that being Hawthorne, we always have enemies. And Grayson was the Heir Apparent for the longest time, which made him an obvious target. But he didn't inherit like we thought, so he is no longer the Heir Apparent."

What Jameson said was true. Before Avery came along and inherited all of Tobais Hawthorne's riches and wealth, everybody thought Grayson was going to inherit. He had been raised, since he was very young, with the thought that he would be the next billionaire. Avery often wondered why Tobais Hawthorne never told his grandson that he was never going to inherit. He was known for being ruthless, and to Avery this was just as mean. He falsely led Grayson along, making him believe something that wasn't true.

"I don't know." she said.

They were silent for a moment. Then, Jameson had a thought. "Do you know what he was working on at the Foundation? He has been over there more often than usual."

"Not sure. We were trying to figure out the right places to give five billion of my inheritance away. We were looking at South America. There is a lot of good we can do for those people down there. Improving housing conditions, making more ways to get clean water to people, and bringing jobs to the people that need it the most." The more Avery thought about it the more overwhelmed she became. She wasn't just helping people, she was changing the world.

"Well Heiress," Jameson said using her nickname. "If we want to get answers, you know where we have to go."

She did know, and it was a bad idea. "Jameson this is not a good idea. Twenty-four hours ago the Foundation gets broken, into and now you want me and you to go there. Oren would never allow it."

"What Oren doesn't know won't kill him."

"Yea, but it might kill me or you. Whoever targeted Grayson might be after us as well. I want to catch this person just as much as you do, but we need to be smart."

Jameson sighed. Avery was right, they needed to be smart. Thank God she was here to keep him in line.

"So, if we can't go to the Foundation, how are we going to get what we need?"

Avery smiled. "I have an idea."

Chapter Text

Grayson

If he wasn't outside or playing with his brothers, there was a big chance he was sitting in a chair doing one of his favorite ways to pass the time: reading. And Grayson loved to read. He was reading by the time he was two. At twenty, he still hadn't read all of the books his grandfather owned in the multiple libraries scattered across the house. If he wasn't in his bedroom reading, he was usually in the circular library. (He preferred that one over the other ones.) This thought then turned into a memory.

Thirteen years ago:
Thirteen years ago:

Grayson sat comfortably on the plush couch, that stood on the right side of the circular library. It had been raining all day, and after five different board games, pillow fights, and karaoke in the theatre room, Grayson decided he would try to hide in the library before one of his brothers came up with another thing to do.

With a cup of hot coco and Sherlock Holmes in his hands, this plan seemed like it was going to work. The adventure of the illustrious client, the adventure of the blanched soldier, the adventure of the Mazarin stone, and he was just starting the adventure of the three Gables when he heard a commotion outside the door.

"I think he is reading" he heard Xander say.

"I don't care. We need him to play." Jameson retorted.

Grayson inwardly groaned. He loved playing games, but right now all he wanted to do was enjoy his book. The conversation continued.

"You know we can bowl by ourselves." Xander said.

"I know we can, but it is more interesting with more people."

"We can ask Nash."

"He'll just say no."

"And Grayson won't?" Xander replied.

"There is a greater chance that Grayson will say yes."

"No, there is not. If there was a chance of either Nash or Grayson saying yes, it would be Nash." Grayson heard Xander point out.

Jameson sighed. "Does it really matter?'

"If you asked, then yes, it does matter."

"Forget I asked, then."

"I can't forget."

Grayson tried to hide a smile. That sounded just like a conversation those two knuckle heads would have. He had hardly had that thought when the doors opened and said knuckle heads walked in.

"Gray," Jameson said leveling up his sweetness, "would you like to play bowling?"

He thought for a moment. "No, not really."

Xander elbowed Jameson. "See? We should have asked Nash."

Jameson rolled his eyes.

Grayson stopped them. "I'll tell you what, If you can get Nash to play, since according to Jameson 'he has a greater chance of saying no.' I will play with you. If you can't get him to play, then you have to leave me alone for the rest of the day. Got it?" He raised his light blond eyebrows at his younger brothers.

"Got it!" Alexander replied joyfully. Jameson didn't say anything.

"Jamie?" Grayson said.

"Fine." he sourly.

Grayson gave a little laugh. "Don't feel so bad when you lose."

"I am not going to lose." he said stoutly.

Grayson didn't say anything. He and Jameson competed a lot. It would only be a matter of time before they found out who won.

He watched as they ran out the door in search of their older brother. Depending on where Nash was it could be awhile before they come back. He leaned back on the couch, picked up his book, and began reading again. Might as well enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.