A/N: Hey! Thanks for clicking on the link to my first 39 Clues multi-chap. Oh, and I feel I must stress, I know it's not the most ground-breaking plot. I just hope the quality of the writing fairs well enough that my inbox isn't loaded with flames. Anyway, thanks again, and I hope you enjoy, or at least think semi-pleasant thoughts about this fic. If you want to record said semi-pleasant thoughts - or your very own personal diary of hate-words used to describe awful things such as this fic - there's always that link at the bottom for reviews!

DISCLAIMER: In no way, shape, or form do I, SMKears, claim ownership to any single character, (excluding Duke Cartwright, Sydney Wolff, Silas Cartwright, and Jon Timmins) or the concept of the 39 Clues or Cahills vs Vespers. The rights of said series' and characters belong to those who created them.


The sounds of a pharmacy rang through Ian's ears. The boop of the scan, the clink of pounds being exchanged, and the rustle and crinkle of medicine bottles being dropped into little plastic bags. Not to mention the dreadful, distorted song being blasted over the intercom. It reeked of medicine and sick people. Ian shuddered. The whole store was absolutely atrocious.

Ian almost wished he had just sent the help to fetch the medicine, just avoid this whole escapade altogether. Though, he knew none of them could be trusted with something like this. Not necessarily the task, but the information of what it was for. He didn't want anyone to know how ... complicated things had gotten in his private life.

Heaving a ragged sigh, he paid for the medicine and for the man behind the counter to keep quiet. When the man asked why, Ian gave him a glare and pointed to the money on the counter, meaning, Just keep quiet.

Ian turned on his heels and exited the pharmacy with that confident stride of his.

No one could've possibly guessed what he was thinking. From his stature and powerful presence, you would have guessed he was thinking about how many secretaries he would have to fire that day, or maybe how well the quarterly returns had been for his art dealership. That wasn't even close.

What he was really thinking could've sent him into hysterics if he allowed it to. He had feelings. He didn't like sharing them, but they were there. Haunting him. Of course, he couldn't show weakness, let alone break down, but ... he was closer than he had ever been.

If he had condoned such nonsense, he would have been on the verge of tears when his phone belted out a ring. Entering one of his many limos, Ian fished it out of his pocket. After ordering his driver to take him back home, he pressed the talk button, and in that charming voice of his, said, "Hello?"

The other line sounded like the caller was somewhere public; there was a murmur of distant conversation in the background as a voice Ian recognized to be Hamilton Holt's thundering jock-voice blared through the speaker Ian had held right next to his ear, "Hey! Hamilton Holt, here. This is Ian, right?"

Ian yanked the phone from his ear as Hamilton talked, "Yes, yes, just stop yelling."

"Uh, sorry," Hamilton added hastily. "But, dude, I got major news, and our flight's leaving soon, and the stewardess is looking at me funny for having a phone during take-off, and-"

"Shut up!" Ian barked. Hamilton stopped long enough for Ian to stress, "Now. Before you blather on, I have two questions. First of all, why are you calling me? Secondly, how on earth did you get my cell number?"

Hamilton ignored the second question, "Look, dude, this is serious. Dan and Amy are ... I mean, Jonah thinks the Vespers got 'em."

Vespers? Who were the Vespers? Ian couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. He tried to think back, scan his memories for what his parents had said about these Vesper-people, but there was nothing. They had mentioned the name, Ian was quite sure of that, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what they were talking about at the time.

His parents had told him that there was always some one trying to sabotage the hunt and steal clues, but he had always just assumed it was the Madrigals. Everyone did. And wasn't it? They had been trying to level out the playing field, that's what Amy said. It had to be the Madrigals. Then again, Amy and Dan revealed that they were in fact Madrigals, and that they were the 'good guys'. Ian hadn't really believed it , but ... it was true that Amy and Dan were so naive, always trying to help or forgive, or do something else insufferably saintly. Ian wasn't sure what to believe - or even why he believed it.

Could these Vespers really be the ones who were plotting against them, and the Madrigals had just taken the fall, because Amy (and Dan) couldn't possibly execute such atrocities? Or were the Madrigals really the ones who had done everything, because he was scared to think otherwise?

Ian didn't know. He just knew that he was outraged. "... What? Hamilton, you're not making any sense! Why would Amy and Dan be in Switzerland? And what do you mean Jonah thinks they've got 'em? That's impossible! Who are these people? Where exactly did they take them? What -"

"Whoa, slow down, dude! First, they went to Switzerland because they were going to Grace's bank or something. That's what they said, don't ask me why. Second, I meant they've been kidnapped. The rest, I dunno; who the Vespers are, where they took Amy and my little buddy, but we're gonna find out."

"Hold on, who exactly is 'we'?" Ian questioned, still ripe with anger.

"Uh, well, there's Jonah and his dad, us Holts are flying out soon, Alistair's on his way, we're going to call the Starlings, and you and Natalie, if you wanna help kick some Vesper butt."

"Of ... of course." Ian was taken back by how quick he answered, stopping himself mid-sentence. Then again, hadn't Amy saved his life on Mount. Everest? Hadn't Dan saved Natalie's in the Gauntlet? And even after all the harm his parents - after all the harm he had caused them as well - they had still forgiven him and Natalie, as if all the lying and betrayal was all good fun. Not to mention that odd yet pleasant indigestion-like feeling he had had flirting with Amy for a clue ... the one he had been trying to just dismiss ever since. They were family. They made that clear in the Gauntlet, and it was the least he could do to help, wasn't it?

Ian was about to tell Hamilton that he would be there as soon as possible, when something stopped him. He didn't know what until it occurred to him; he was only confused because he didn't have his parents whispering all the answers in his ears. That just made things worse. It brought up questions about questions. Did he think what he did because his parents would? No, of course not. Then something somehow even more horrifying dawned upon him. Was he basing his opinions on the opposite of what his parents would think, despite what he actually would think? Was any of this what he thought?

Shaking his head clear, Ian realized Hamilton had just kept on talking, " ... so we'll meet'cha there. Hammer, out!"

"Erm- wait, Hamilton, I-" too late. The big clod hung up.

Resolutely, Ian decided he better call ahead. He knew Natalie would want to pack extensively if they were going to Swizterland.


Normally, Sinead liked Flamsteed, Ted's seeing-eye dog. He had always been good, and she had even taught him to predict - quite accurately - the dinner menu for their college. Plus, he wasn't bad company.

The only problem was, well, he wasn't quite house-broken yet. When she found her Calculus homework drenched with Flamsteed's leavings ... "Oh my God! MY HOMEWORK! Mr. Sutherland is going to KILL me! Ted! Ted Starling, get out here RIGHT NOW!"

Ted's head poked out of the bathroom door, "Yes?"

"Flamsteed peed all over my homework!"

Ted blinked," So?"

"Do something!"

"Like what? Make up a better excuse than my dog peed on my homework? Hm. I guess that doesn't have the same ring as 'ate', does it?" he said thoughtfully, with a smirk.

A low growl came from the back of Sinead's throat, and even though he couldn't see her, Ted knew she was scowling. He chuckled, "Okay, okay, I got it."

Sinead crossed her arms and waited for him to do something, but all he said was, "Bad dog, Flamsteed, bad dog." then zipped back into the bathroom.

Her mouth dropped slightly and before she could open the door, Ted had managed to feel around and lock it. She began pounding rapidly on the door with both fists, screaming, "You are so dead! Get out here before I break down the door!"

Ted turned on the tap, "What? Sinead, you'll have to speak up, I-I can't hear you."

"You're visually impaired, not deaf!" Sinead shouted, rolling her eyes.

She heard the water stop briefly, and Ted poked his head out again and said in mock hurt, "Ooo, you just had to go there. Now my feelings are hurt."

Sinead's eyes narrowed, "I'll show you hurt, you little-"

Ted slammed the door again and locked it in record time.

Before Sinead could even jiggle the handle in frustration, her phone sang out a melodic jingle. She glanced at it, then back at the door shut in her face, deciding which was more important. Hesitantly, she thought she'd check the caller ID, just to be sure it was just Ned trying to bail out Ted, not something important.

When she saw Alistair Oh's number flash on the phone's display screen, she stopped short. She hadn't talked to Alistair since ... Sinead shuddered at the thought of the Gauntlet. More specifically, at the thought of Isabel Kabra in the Gauntlet. What could Alistair be calling about?

Cautiously, Sinead answered the phone, "Hello?"

"Oh, marvelous," Alistair sighed in relief. "I was afraid you wouldn't pick up."

"Yeah, well, I had a little business to take care of, but I guess it can wait." It's not like Ted's coming out anytime soon, she added to herself. "So, any reason you're calling?"

"I'm afraid so. Sinead, we have reason to believe Amy and Dan Cahill have been kidnapped. By a group called the Vespers."

Kidnapped? Sinead wasn't sure how she felt about that. Hadn't the Cahills only gotten in the way on the clue hunt? No, she fought. Amy destroyed the vial to save everyone. Dan offered to remake it for Ned and Ted. They even tried to warn us before ... she couldn't even bring herself to think about the explosion in the Franklin Institute, but it was true. The Cahills had warned the Starlings, though they were too vain and untrusting to believe them. All they had done was help, and now, they needed help.

"Wait ... what's a Vesper?"

"I haven't the slightest. All we know is that the Cahill children have gone missing after making several distress calls. They kept repeating that the Vespers found them, that the Vespers were coming," Alistair swallowed thickly, as if digesting this. "We must make haste for Switzerland."

Sinead raised an eyebrow, "What? Why Switzerland?"

"It's where they were kidnapped. If we have any chance of finding them, we should start there. That is, if you and your brothers wish to aid us in our search."

Sinead had to think. Of course she wanted to, she absolutely adored travel and the thrill of a good adventure. Ned and Ted wouldn't bat an eye at the offer, either. It was just ... after the explosion in the Franklin Institute ... things seemed more complicated. The threat of something catastrophic going wrong seemed more evident, more real. It had always been there, of course, but now, it seemed to hang above their heads like a cheap picture frame; hanging so delicately on a wire-thin string that could just give any moment.

Just give. What a horrifying thought. Just like the Franklin Institute, everything could just give. Her whole world could just collapse around her, suddenly and all at once come crashing down in a cavalcade of catastrophe, taking everything. No need be for reason, it could JUST GIVE.

Sinead had to hold the phone away from her mouth so Alistair wouldn't hear her petrified gasps as she relived the explosion. Waves of dizziness washed over her and she gripped her other hand on the her bedside table to keep herself balanced. She had to keep telling herself, They're okay. Ned and Ted are OKAY.

Sinead wouldn't be able to bare it if something more happened to her brothers. She would just ... just give.

Her parents, that was a whole other complication. Their parents had become radically more protective, and wouldn't let them cross the street without three tons of safety gear. After their parents came out of shock, and stopped fusing over their injuries, they had given the triplets what they now privately referred to as the never-ending rant. It was about how stupid the clue hunt was, how stupid they were for going on it ... it just went on and on. There was no way their parents would let them go.

Was it really worth risking her and her brother's lives for?

Alistair cleared his throat, taking her silence as an answer, "Alright, then. If you change your mind-"

"No, wait! We ... ," Sinead bit her lip, thinking. "... We're ... I-I'm coming."

"Not Ted and Ned?" Alistair asked, an almost insulting amount of disbelief in his voice.

"No, they're - um ... busy. I'll come as soon as I can." ending the call, and flipping her phone shut, Sinead let out strangled gasp. It consisted of a odd mix of fear, regret, and a strange yet unashamed excitement. She rubbed her forehead and temple with one hand, massaging the faint headache that was pulsating and at the same time growing more distinct with each troubling thought.

What had she done?


"Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Kabra?" a trembling stewardess asked. She had heard the rumours of Ian's temper and his tendency to fire his employees just for the sake of it.

Ian winched ever so slightly as she talked - so slightly you would have wondered if it had ever happened at all - then glowered at the young woman. Her voice was just a tad too squeaky.

Piercing the young stewardess in place, and glaring at her for one seemingly eternal second, Ian then snapped tightly, "No. I would very much appreciate it if you left me alone, though. Quite so." the girl was still heavily rooted to her spot by Ian's incising peer. After one silent moment, Ian grunted, "Go, you twit! I don't care where, but if not in the next few seconds, TO THE UNEMPLOYMENT LINE!"

Natalie watched impassively as the blithering girl scrambled away, tearing away from her brother's ice-cold gaze. She knew the one. Ian himself hardly ever used it, but their parents had. She deducted that it must have been the one that made you wonder if you could get frostbite from a look. The one the two of them used to call the scalpel.

Natalie found it odd, and strangely uncomfortable. She couldn't fathom why, but she thought she didn't like Ian using that look. No, she was certain. She didn't like it at all, not in the slightest. Yet, the reasoning behind these feelings had completely alluded her.

She had been finding it to be like that a lot, lately. Feeling without having words to describe it and having words that didn't quite match. She didn't like that, she knew she didn't like that. That was another thing. Feeling confusing feelings that simply left her, well, confused.

She also knew she didn't like the way Ian was acting. There was something definitely off about him lately, something he wasn't too keen on sharing. He hid whatever it was.

Now, it wasn't out of the ordinary for Ian to hide things, that at least, was normal. Natalie did it, too. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.

It was just how poorly he hid it. Ian was a master in the art of hiding things, secrets and emotions alike. Natalie imagined it was an innate Kabra ability, among countless others. It had to be something big if Ian couldn't simply cover it up, and from the evidence Natalie had been gathering, it most certainly was.

Of course, she never allowed herself to be caught - Natalie's abilities in stealth were quite exceptional, and had been since she could walk - but she had been tailing Ian, and taking notes of things she thought were off, even in the slightest (The first of which was how he didn't notice she was tailing him, something he normally could've easily picked up on).

Again, reasoning alluded her, when she thought of why she found this interesting, why she was - could it be? - concerned. She just knew she was, and that the information she had written so neatly in a small not-pad was beyond troubling.

She watched - looking away every time Ian snapped his gaze back at her to see if she was - and studied his behaviours with a keen eye for slips.

Irritable & moody, she wrote after seeing the girl, then thought for a moment and added, - more than usual, beside it.

Yes, Ian had a temper - a short one at that - but he at least had fair reasons (Most of the time). Natalie did acknowledge that this one was a stretch, but it went well with the other so-called symptoms she had written.

Exhausted ALL the time. She recalled how he dragged his feet when he thought no one could see and how she'd even found him asleep in his office once. She had written next to that, Trouble sleeping?

That seemed to be the prime suspect. Something about his sleep.

She glanced over to see Ian's back turned to her. He was fiddling with something he obviously didn't want her to see. His head swung back slightly, like he was swallowing something, then he laid himself down, trying to get to sleep.

Seeing this, Natalie erased the question mark next to 'Trouble sleeping'.