Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners.

Yep, it's happening. One sequel to Out of Your Mind. Which does kind of need to be read first otherwise this isn't going to make a hell of a lot of sense.

A huge thank you once again to Bee for beta-ing for me. Here's hoping the rest works better than this chapter did! Thank you!

Enjoy!

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1...

The steady chant was pounding through Scott's head with the same intensity that his feet were hitting the sand. He was wearing the wrong sort of shoes for this type of running, he shouldn't have been travelling at this speed along the beach. There had been a storm only a few nights ago, the debris hadn't yet been cleared and rocks and other objects scattered the surface. But if he was honest, Scott neither noticed or cared. He had had another nightmare last night, and he knew the only way to make himself even begin to function again was to work up a sweat. He had to make himself gasp for breath in a way that signalled he had pushed himself too far yet again. It was the only thing that began to help.

But even then, Scott knew he was fooling himself. Just as he had been for six months now. Six months of working on auto-pilot, six months of not being able to move on. How could he move on, knowing that he had broken the promise that he had made not only his brothers, but his mother? He had let his brother down in the worst possible way, with the worst possible outcome. He hadn't been strong enough to help Gordon, and in the end, it had been his little brother who had found the hidden strength to defeat the Hood once and for all. Or, at least, to free himself from the clutches of the man and therefore make sure that none of the others were hurt again. It should have been Scott who protected the others, not Gordon. Yet he had known nothing, nothing at all. Not until a shocked-looking Virgil had told him that Gordon had knocked him out and slipped away into the night, that they had found the boat and nothing else. Brains had unhelpfully informed them that the currents in that part of the ocean meant there would be nothing to find.

Yet they all knew what Gordon had done. Thinking about it meant that Scott's concentration on his running was lost and he didn't notice his foot land awkwardly. His ankle gave way and Scott was sent pitching onto the ground with a cry of pain. One hand shot out to try and break his fall, the other wrapped around his midriff. He knew that running like this was dangerous considering it had only been a few months since he had had a knife driven through his stomach, but nothing else gave him the release that he needed.

Sitting on the sand, one arm wrapped around himself and the other clutching at his ankle, Scott yelled aloud in frustration. He was just so angry with everything, but most of all with Gordon. What had made him think that it was up to him to make sure they were safe? He had three big brothers for that. Although he had been unconscious for the last words that Gordon had uttered to him, somehow Scott knew what they were. He could hear them ringing around his head each night as he slept, his brother telling him that he wasn't allowed to blame himself and that he had to look out for the rest of the guys. Scott hadn't the faintest idea how Gordon had been able to ask that of him. Of course he was going to blame himself, if he had moved quicker, the Hood wouldn't have stabbed him and he would have been awake. Awake to stop Gordon from thinking of killing himself. Awake in order to stop him from leaving the infirmary and heading out here into the storm.

"You selfish bastard, Gords," Scott muttered, lying back on the sand now that he was down on the ground and blinking furiously. He kept his hand resting over his throbbing ankle, curling his leg up in order to do so. Virgil wouldn't be happy with him if he knew that he had been out here again. Then again, that actually depended on his brother noticing, something Scott wasn't sure would happen. It was hard to drag Virgil away from his room these days. If Scott thought that he was blaming himself for what had happened, he knew it was nothing compared to what the artist was feeling. Virgil was the only one who had been conscious when the thought had entered Gordon's head, and yet he had been unable to do anything. None of them had been able to do anything other than get hurt and make the situation worse for their brother. If Virgil hadn't been alone, Scott knew they would have been able to stop Gordon. But with him unconscious after being stabbed and John sedated with a shattered arm, there had been no one there to help.

How long Scott stayed lying on the sand, he had no idea. It had barely even been dawn when he had set out, not wanting to even attempt to sleep any more. But now the sun was high in the sky and he could feel the strength of the beams hitting him, warming his body even if his heart stayed frozen. Eventually, though, he knew that he had to move. Not because anyone would come looking for him, but because he needed to find them in order to make sure that they were at least attempting the day. He didn't think Virgil would - the artist was even harder to get out of bed than before - but John would be up, and that would worry his brother. Jeff had already halved the rotation time after John had practically collapsed whilst talking them through a rescue after hiding the fact that he hadn't been sleeping. He hadn't even gone straight back up, his arm had seen to that. But whilst he seemed to crave the isolation that Five offered him, it was clear that John hadn't been ready to cope. Trying to tell him that had led to a somewhat furious argument until a compromise had been made. John could stay up there, but he had to check in at certain times during the day and the rotation was half the length that it had been before.

Limping towards the house, Scott tried not to put any more weight on his ankle than he had to, but at the same time, was trying to hide the fact that he was hurt. He had no desire to draw any more attention to himself than he had to. It was easier to try and sort the others out if they didn't think that he was struggling just as much. But in order to sort them out, he first of all had to get them to talk to him, something that was proving to be a challenge with Alan.

Alan had taken the risk of avoiding the Hood's men in order to get back home to help his brothers fight. While Tin-Tin had immediately disappeared off with Kyrano – it wouldn't have surprised Scott if she knew more about what had been happening than they had thought - Alan had come bursting into the infirmary, only to see Scott still unconscious, John arguing heatedly with Brains about getting out there to help Virgil and Jeff, and the two latter nowhere to be seen. Stuttering more than he had ever done before, Brains had broken the news. It was only John's quick reactions and shout of alarm that meant they were able to support the youngest before he hit the floor. Ever since then, Alan had both blamed himself for not being there, and turned his anger on the rest of the family. When Scott had tried to talk to him after he had regained consciousness, it had just ended with Alan yelling at him to leave him alone and the two had barely spoken since.

Their father was the only one who could get through to Alan, and Scott knew that he did so on a daily basis. Between checking up on each of them in his own way, it meant that Jeff didn't have time to look at the empty pool. It was nothing more than a puddle shielding the entrance to Thunderbird One these days.

Grandma was no better. The old lady never stopped moving these days, and even the once-hungry hoard of Tracys had to admit defeat on the amount she had been baking. Not that any of them had told her to stop though, for the one time Brains had even dared getting close to mentioning it, he had had a bag of flour thrown at him and Grandma had burst into tears. Scott wasn't sure whether the genius had set foot in the kitchen since. The only people who were looking vaguely like they were coping were Tin-Tin and Kyrano, yet Scott knew that was because they had each other and their own way of dealing with what had happened.

Finally, the house came into view and Scott let himself silently into the kitchen. As he turned around, he initially thought that it was empty and found himself blowing out a sigh of relief. He wanted to deal with them, not have them dealing with him. But his relief was short-lived as he caught sight of a haunted figure slumped on one of the stools. His head was resting on the table and there was a mug cradled in his hand even in this unusual position.

"Al?"

A grunt was the only sound that Scott received, but that didn't stop the pilot from crossing over and crouching down next to his brother. Compared to some mornings, any sound at all was a good thing. Alan's face was buried in his arms, and Scott reached out a hand, pushing back his brother's hair in order to make Alan look towards him. When Alan's expression was revealed, Scott sighed.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

Alan mutely shook his head and buried his face in his arms once more. Scott glanced at the mug and saw that it was half full, but one touch revealed it to be stone cold and the field commander eased it out of his brother's hand. Alan let out a muffled protest, lifting his head and glaring at Scott, but his brother just grinned at him. Well, he attempted to look like he was grinning, but it was almost an effort to even pretend and the look on Alan's face showed that he wasn't buying it for a second.

"It's cold." Scott wondered if his voice sounded as flat to Alan as it did to him.

"Maybe that's how I wanted it," Alan muttered, his head resting down once again. Scott felt his hand clench and told himself not to react. He had just had enough of Alan taking it out on him. Couldn't Alan see that Scott was suffering enough as it was without everything becoming his fault as well?

"Sure," he gritted out, using every inch of self control to try and make his voice sound light-hearted. He wouldn't let himself rise to it, not when he knew that was what Alan was after. Once they had begun to get through the shock of what had happened, that was when the fights had started. It didn't take Scott long to realise that Alan was only fighting back because it gave him a way of venting out his frustration over the fact that he hadn't been on the island and yet had still been used as some sort of blackmail material against Gordon. It also didn't help that it had soon been revealed that he was the last person Gordon had spoken to and yet he had been unable to do anything either. Yelling at the others seemed to help him somewhat, even if it was only making everything hurt even more. Placing the mug in the sink, Scott crossed back over the room and hooked his hands under Alan's shoulders, pulling him up.

"Wha' you doin'?" Alan slurred, his body hanging heavy and uncooperative as he tried to get out of his brother's hold.

"You need sleep," Scott said firmly, nudging him towards the door and refusing to let go. When it was clear that Alan wasn't going to go of his own accord, the pilot began dragging him. Alan needed rest, and Scott was determined that he was going to get it, even if his brother was being far from co-operative. Alan seemed to realise what he was doing – a clear sign that this was not the first time this had happened - and dug his heels in. Normally, Scott would have still been able to take him, but his ankle was hurting and he was exhausted himself. For the first time in Alan's life, Scott couldn't physically get the upper hand.

"Damnit, Alan, just move."

"No."

"You selfish..."

"Boys." Kyrano's voice was as cool and calm as ever, but it cut through to the hot-headed Tracys as if he had yelled it. Both men fell still, Alan looking at the floor but Scott gazing calmly at Kyrano as the man appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking disapproving. Scott wasn't going to just let the man put him in his place as if he was a child, or even Alan's age. His father hadn't been able to do that for years, why should Kyrano do it? Instead, the field commander just raised an eyebrow smoothly.

"Tell him he needs sleep," he announced, causing Alan to scowl angrily at him as Kyrano let his gaze flicker over the youngest.

"You both need sleep. Alan, go to bed, I know you were pacing all night, I heard you. Scott, sit back down, I need to see that foot."

"What?" both Tracys exclaimed, glancing at Kyrano. Alan then let his gaze flicker down to Scott's ankle whilst the older brother frowned at the younger. Both were trying to examine the other without letting on what they were doing. It had become something of a competition of late. Whoever looked the worse ended up with Grandma and their father on their case, meaning that were both were trying to find ways of dumping the other in it first. It might have been funny if it wasn't for the situation.

"Why weren't you in bed?"

"Why have you hurt yourself again?"

Yet again, they both spoke at the same time, causing Kyrano to roll his eyes as their gazes became heated with annoyance. He never would have thought that something could rip their normally close bonds so successfully, but without Gordon, the whole family was a mess.

"You wish your father to be involved?"

Alan scowled, shrugging off Scott's grip. He took one step towards the door before turning. Using the palm of his hand, he shoved Scott in the chest and forced him to sit down before his brother could regain his balance. Kyrano stepped in between them as Scott looked like he was about to rise again, but Alan disappeared upstairs before anything could be said.

"He won't sleep," Scott muttered as his friend came and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him, easing Scott's shoe off and causing him to wince.

"Assume nothing," Kyrano said offhandedly, causing Scott to frown at him. It was almost as if Kyrano was up to something, but Scott's attention was distracted when the Malaysian began to rotate his ankle. As Scott gasped slightly in pain before he was able to keep it in, the man shook his head.

"Do not run tomorrow and it will be well again."

"I have to run."

"No, you do not."

Scott opened his mouth to protest. Kyrano meant well, he knew that. But Scott simply had to run, there was no choice in the matter. If he didn't run, he was restless and irritable all day, especially if he hadn't slept well. They had been lucky in the sense that the last few months had been unusually quiet on the rescue front, but Scott knew that if he didn't get his release in the morning, then if something was called in, he would be no good to anyone. Yet before he could say anything, another voice cut in.

"Listen to him, Scott. I'm not having another son hurt." The exhausted tone could only belong to one person and Kyrano got up off the floor and headed towards the coffee machine as Jeff appeared. If Scott thought that he and Alan looked bad, it was nothing compared to their father, and the son stayed quiet as Jeff sat down.

"John?" Scott eventually muttered, knowing that his father would have been speaking to his immediate younger brother whilst he and Alan had been arguing.

"His arm has stiffened up again, I need to bring him home. Brains can go back up but John..."

"... won't have any of it?"

Scott finished, sighing heavily but grinning as Kyrano slid two mugs of coffee onto the table. Picking up one, he gave it a blow before cradling the cup, watching as his father did the same thing. "Dad, he needs to be up there. You know John, he'll just hide away if he is down here. At least with being on Five, he can't not answer the communications. I've never been able to find all of John's hiding places. We're more likely to lose him down here than we are up there."

Jeff sighed, looking as if he was going to argue with his son, but instead opted for taking another sip of his drink.

"You're right, he can stay. I don't think he is sleeping properly though."

"Are any of us?" Scott muttered, rocking back on the chair slightly and giving a tiny wince as his ankle protested the movement. "Is Virgil up?"

"I don't think he ever went to bed. I was just about to..."

"I've got him." Scott said firmly, taking another large gulp of his drink before putting it down on the table and crossing the room. He hadn't handled Alan well, so maybe he could deal with Virgil with more success. Besides, his father looked exhausted and Scott had a feeling that his grandmother was about to arrive in the kitchen. He had no desire for her to know that he was hurt, for he knew that she would fuss far more than was needed for a twisted ankle. And right now, he didn't have the patience to deal with it. It was far better to make his escape and keep the peace for a few hours longer than hang about and open his mouth without thinking. Before he left, however, he pulled out a thermos and tipped a fresh batch of coffee in. If Virgil had been up all night, Scott knew that he would need something in order to bribe his brother to even talk to him.

Without another word, Scott began to head towards the silos. As he moved into the lounge, he couldn't help but glance up the stairs as he did so. The door to Alan's bedroom was still open, and his brother could make out the movement of not only one person, but two. Smiling slightly, he thanked Kyrano under his breath. Their relationship might be rocky at the best of times, but Tin-Tin was the only person Alan wouldn't throw out. Hoping that his brother would at least be able to get some rest even if he didn't sleep, Scott continued on his journey. There was only one place Virgil would go if he wasn't in his room, and it took Scott barely any time at all before he found himself staring up at the great hulk of Thunderbird Two.

To his surprise, there was no sign of Virgil there. Enough of the cleaning equipment was out to indicate that Scott had been right in thinking that he was down there, but that didn't make Virgil miraculously reveal himself to his searching brother. Cursing Virgil for picking today of all days for making him walk further, the pilot limped around the bulk of the 'bird, another destination firmly in mind. It was second time lucky for Scott, and he hadn't even opened the service door to the area where the pods were kept when he could hear the blast of music coming through. It was something heavy and metal that Scott couldn't even recognise, meaning Virgil was not in a good mood. Pushing open the door, Scott let his eyes slide straight to pod four. Sure enough, the ramp was open.

"Virgil? VIRGIL!" Even Scott's yells didn't do anything to attract the artist's attention. Tired and sore, Scott was in no mood to have to fight to make himself heard. Instead, his eyes fell on the small, portable sound system he could see sitting on the floor and he stomped over to it – even if the effect was lost somewhat by the way that he couldn't put his weight on one foot properly. Bending over, he jabbed his finger on the button with far more force than was strictly necessary and the music instantly stopped. In a way, the silence was more deafening than the noise. Not that it lasted for any length of time, however, for Virgil immediately appeared, his face like thunder.

Not saying a word, Scott just thrust the thermos at him, watching Virgil sniff it and seem to almost relax before he had even taken a sip. The artist turned and walked away again, yet Scott knew his brother. If Virgil was going to throw him out, he would have made that obvious the second the music turned off. Yet he hadn't, so Scott dutifully followed and found himself in pod four. His breath caught slightly as he looked at the empty runners, thinking of the Thunderbird that would occasionally occupy this space if she was needed. Thunderbird Four had had barely any attention since her owner had abandoned them all.

Virgil was sitting over to one side, his legs stretched out in front of him and the coffee cradled in his hands. Scott walked over and joined him.

"You're limping." Virgil spoke even as Scott was lowering himself to the floor, yet he hadn't looked directly at his brother.

"Am not," Scott immediately protested, not wanting Virgil to notice.

"Liar."

"I'm..."

"Fine, you're not limping, I don't care."

"Why didn't you go to bed, Virg?" Scott asked softly, ignoring the attempted insult. He knew it was just Virgil's half-hearted attempts to make him go away. Once the artist realised that his brother wasn't going anywhere, he would give up.

"Grandma told me I had to get out of my room. I thought you would be glad, you spend all your time trying to drag me out of it."

"She told you to leave mid-afternoon yesterday. She didn't mean not to go back. Have you been down here all night?"

When silence met his question, Scott knew his answer. Yet he still wanted to hear it from Virgil, so pushed the matter.

"Okay, okay, I've been down here all night, happy?" Virgil snapped, still refusing to look at Scott. Scott couldn't help but notice that Virgil's body language was softening though, and he was subconsciously beginning to lean against his big brother as he let the tension drain from his body and took another sip of coffee.

"Why, Virg?

"I started cleaning. This is the one part of Two he never kicked up a fuss about having to clean, even though as co-pilot he should have done parts of it anyway. Apparently it would contaminate his girl if the pod was dirty. I don't know, I just started tidying a few things in here. And before you know it, I was declaring war on every speck of dirt. I lost track of time and didn't..." Virgil's mouth snapped shut and he stared pointedly ahead, a flush beginning to work its way up his neck. Watching him closely, Scott had a feeling that he knew what Virgil was about to say. After all, it was the same reason why John hadn't been sleeping, why Alan had been pacing all night and why he had hit the beach before the sun had risen.

"Nightmares?"

"No."

"Now who is the liar?"

"Fine." The slumping of Virgil's shoulders told Scott that he had won that round. He gave his brother's shoulder a gentle nudge.

"What was it?" he asked softly, wondering if Virgil saw the same thing that he did night after night. Virgil sighed heavily, running a hand over his eyes and draining the rest of the coffee in one gulp.

"The night you were stabbed."

Scott knew what Virgil really meant. The night Gordon died. None of them could quite bring themselves to utter those words, it made everything sound so final. Somehow, not having the body meant that none of them had to acknowledge what had happened, even if it was tearing their family slowly apart.

"Each time I see it, I fight back, I do something in order to stop him from taking me down like that. Isn't it weird, my nightmares have happy endings? Gordon lives. Sometimes that is when I wake up and have to remind myself that it didn't happen that way, that he's... Other nights, I see it how it actually happened. Last night, I saved him, and then watched as the bastard came forward and killed us all one by one."

Scott didn't even realise he had moved his hand until he rested it lightly on Virgil's shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. The artist cleared his throat self-consciously, handing the thermos back to Scott just as something to do.

"So what about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look shattered, how much sleep did you get last night?"

Scott had to smile slightly, even if he shook his head at the same time. Virgil still hadn't appeared to have looked directly at him, yet was able to pick up all the signs.

"And if you are limping, then you've been out on the beach, even though we knew the storm had wrecked it. And you would only do that if you weren't sleeping."

"You're freaky, you know?" Scott muttered drily, but leant back on the pod wall. "Right, though. I was talking to John until midnight, if not later. I'm really worried about him. I don't think he is..."

"Scott, stop deflecting. We're not talking about John, we're talking about you. Don't try and change the subject."

"Fine. So I was talking to Johnny until late, managed a few hours, but that was it," Scott snapped. It was his turn to stare stonily ahead this time until Virgil squeezed his arm.

"You still just seeing his eyes?"

Scott mutely nodded. After he had practically woke up screaming one night, Virgil had discovered what it was that Scott dreamt about. It wasn't an event in the same way as Virgil, it was just the Hood's eyes haunting him. Those same eyes had stared at them from their own brother, and Scott had been on the receiving end more than the rest of them. No wonder it was what plagued him now, even six months later.

"You look like crap, you know that?" Virgil eventually muttered, turning to face Scott properly for a long moment, his eyes searching his big brother's face for some sort of sign that Scott was hanging on in there. He got a shadow of a smile back as a response.

"You don't exactly look much better."

"I'm peachy, as Gordon would say," Virgil mumbled, sitting back again and ignoring the stinging in his eyes. Neither said anything for a long moment, both lost in their thoughts.

"I want him back, Scott," Virgil eventually whispered, his hands balled into tight fists by his side and his jaw clenching as he tried to control his emotions. He didn't even know why he was trying; Scott had always managed to see straight through him anyway. But this time, his big brother offered no words of comfort, for they both knew that there was nothing he could say to make this better.

"Me too," Scott whispered back. There was nothing else he could do. If there was, Scott would have done it months ago. Instead, the whole family was falling apart, all wishing for the same thing that Virgil had just whispered out loud. But this time, even the biggest brother didn't have the power to fix it.