Author's Note:

Cathrl, thank you for your brilliant suggestions…I have taken them on board and adapted chapter three accordingly...Hopefully you will recognize your excellent contribution to this chapter.

KarenF, thank you for your reviews. This one is for you!

Lilidelafield

Never too old…

Swiftly and gently, their father took command.

"Scott, you and John take Virgil back up to his room for now. He's saved Alan's life, that's certain. Tintin, you go back to bed. Alan looks like he's doing better now, but all the same I'll stay here with grandma until morning. Brains, I need a word. Mother, would you mind fetching some cocoa for us? It might be a long night."

"Of course, dear." She replied, and disappeared. Tintin nodded reluctantly and followed grandma out of the room. Left alone, Jeff turned to Brains, determined to keep his voice down.

"Brains, what went wrong here?"

"I.I.I.I d. 't understand Mr. Tracy."

Brains took an unconscious step backward, alarmed by the restrained anger and grief on his employer's face. He had never seen Jeff Tracy look like that…not at him at any rate.

"Brains, this machine was designed by you to be more than just a life support machine wasn't it? Why was Virgil having to manually operate the defibrillator function? If Alan had been alone in here, he would have died!"

Stunned, Brains stared at Jeff, then at the machine, still beeping and winking merrily to itself, and then to the young man lying still and silent in the bed. His face turned white and his mouth dropped open.

"I.I.I.."

Jeff felt suddenly ashamed of himself. Machines were machines, and were apt to fail from time to time. The nursing computer had been one of the first pieces of equipment to be designed and installed by Brains right at the very beginning of their association together, and as no one had ever been hurt quite this seriously before, the thing had never before been put to quite this test. That being said, Brains tended if anything to over-think. He was so determined to achieve perfection and avoid break-downs and systems failures, and ensure all proper safety precautions were applied, that Jeff could not believe that the fault was any kind of design flaw. He knew his friend well enough to know that Brains would not rest now until he had found the cause of the breakdown and fixed it. Still white faced, Brains headed for the door.

"M. . Tracy, I will fetch my original designs and bring them back up here to study…I…"

Jeff clapped an arm on the younger man's shoulder.

"I know you will, Brains. Now we know there is this problem, we'll make sure Alan is never left alone until you have sorted it. But you don't need to drag those plans all the way up here. Your equipment is down in your lab. Go down there and study your designs in peace and quiet. Let me know when you have something to report."

Jeff dropped into a seat and put his face into his hands.

"We should have sent Alan straight to a major hospital on the mainland. We should have…"

Brains was feeling guilty enough following the failure of the nursing computer. He sighed heavily, and rested his hand lightly on his employer's shoulder for a moment.

" 's always easy to be wise after the fact, Mr. Tracy. I. we were wise enough to avoid making mistakes, International Rescue would be out of business in no time. I'll be in my lab. I'll let you know what I find out."

Within a few minutes, grandma was back with a tray of cocoa and cookies.

"I heard Brains poking about in that laboratory of his, so I took some cocoa in to him." She paused, cocking her head to one side.

"Jeff, is Brains upset about something? You didn't bawl him out over something did you?"

Startled, Jeff stared at her.

"Why do you ask, mother?"

"Just the way he was muttering to himself. I heard a clatter first of all, and when I put my head around the door, he was at his safe…you know, where he keeps all his blueprints and designs…but he was searching through them almost frantically, and when he found what he was looking for he all but threw the rest back into the safe and slammed it shut. I don't know how he avoided taking off the tips off his fingers. Something definitely has him rattled."

Jeff shook his head sadly.

"One mistake always seems to lead on to another and then another."

"...and then another!" his mother continued. "What is wrong, son? Apart from Alan, that is?"

Jeff explained to her about the failure of the nursing computer and the way he had tackled Brains about it. She smiled.

"Welcome to the human race."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're not perfect, and neither is Brains. No one is. And an imperfect human is never going to succeed in building a perfect machine, however clever they are. Something will always go wrong with it, because machines…like us unfortunately, are fallible."

"Brains will now obsess until he has it worked out and mended."

"That is because he is like you, my son. He thinks he is perfect. Or to be more precise, he knows he is fallible, but he refuses to accept it. Now forget that for the time being. Virgil was here, and Alan is still hanging in there, so sit yourself down and try to relax a bit. Drink your cocoa."

Jeff sat beside Alan, sipping his cocoa and watching the boy's slow, slightly steadier breathing, and wished he could see those bright blue eyes again. Please wake up Alan. Wake up, boy. He thought to himself. We lost your mother. You were her last gift to us. We can't lose you as well. He put down his mug and got up, frustration at his helplessness telling on his face.

Grandma took a soft chair and sat down, staring at her grandson, sipping her hot cocoa. Jeff Tracy stood staring down at the young man, shaking his head slowly. He turned and unconsciously echoing the actions of Virgil earlier, went to the window to look out at the starry night. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Come here Sweetie."

"You haven't called me that in a long time mother."

"You haven't needed me in a long time."

"I'm okay."

"I know you are coping okay considering all that has happened, but you are only just holding it together for the sake of the boys."

"I need to stay strong and optimistic for their sake, or they'd never be able to focus clearly on their jobs. It could cost lives."

Grandma smiled at her only son.

"I know Sweetie, and you're doing a great job. You're much like your father was. You're a really good father to those boys, but you don't need to cope all on your own you know."

He turned, about to remind her of one or two things, and found that she had got to her feet and was standing behind him with her arms outstretched towards him, almost as if he were eleven years old again. He opened his mouth to speak, and glanced at the sickbed behind her, with his youngest son lying still, so close to death it was scary...his mouth dried up, a lump formed in his throat so huge he found it impossible to swallow. He had a sudden vision of Alan dying, of having to tell the world the news, of deciding how best to operate without him. He saw himself standing beside the grave of his beloved Carolyn, with a new grave freshly dug beside it. He pictured himself throwing a handful of dirt onto the coffin, with the name Alan Tracy emblazoned in brass on the lid, with a picture of his son's smiling face wearing his International Rescue uniform.

He took a step forward almost blinded by his tears, and sank to his knees as his mother wrapped her arms around him and held him to her as he trembled.

Jeff was profoundly grateful that Brains waited until he had composed himself before returning to the sickroom laden down with tools and equipment.

"Brains! You found the flaw?"

Brains shook his head.

"There is no flaw in the designs, so I will have to take it apart, piece by piece until I find what is wrong."

Jeff frowned.

"If you do that, won't you have to turn it off?"

"Yes."

"Whilst Alan is still relying on it?"

"I designed the different functions so that they can work together or be isolated in case of just such a scenario a. this Mr. T. ."

"I see."

"I can turn off the parts of the machine I need to work on whilst isolating the life support function so that it can continue to help ."

"I see."

"You see, all I need to do is…yes Mrs. Tracy?"

Grandma shook her head softly.

"Don't worry about explaining anything Brains. Just do your best to mend it if you can."

"Yes, Mrs. Tracy."

The following three days followed almost like a nightmare. Virgil was showing definite signs of a mild concussion, headaches and nausea and on two or three occasions, vomiting, and had been told that his recovery might take even longer than originally expected. The family doctor insisted that Virgil be kept in bed for the next few days at least so that he could be kept a very strict eye on. When he examined Alan, he was both impressed and dismayed. Impressed at the quality of the surgery performed on the young man in removing the bullets but dismayed that he was here at home and not in a major hospital.

"Should we have him transferred?" Scott had asked, worriedly. The doctor shook his head.

"Can't move him now. Far too risky. I daresay surgery would improve his chances of survival, but he is far too weak to undergo surgery right now anyway. He'd die before they had the chance to finish. Do you have x-rays of his original injuries?"

When they were brought to him, he frowned over them for some time and nodded.

"Not as much damage as I had feared. One bullet very close to the heart, but not actually the heart itself, the stomach wound deep but again not as bad as it could have been. Who performed the surgery?"

"Brains…he has qualifications in a lot of fields, and Tintin in advanced first aid. We also have the equipment Brains designed…"

"Very creditable, but you really should have had him taken to a major hospital. I don't understand why you would even consider bringing him here instead."

Scott's face fell.

"My fault…I wasn't thinking straight…"

The doctor shook his head.

"Too late for the guilt trip now, Scott. Just be grateful things were not worse."

"You mean they could have been?"

"Oh yes, he could have died…then you would have to explain to the authorities why you brought him here."

"You know why doctor."

"Yes, I remember Jeff swearing me to secrecy on that as well. I can understand your need for secrecy, but at the risk of your brother's life? Try not to worry about it too much, just have solid plans in place should something like this ever happen again. Don't hesitate to call me if you need to."

Scott had flown the doctor home again, his feelings of worry and guilt over his little brother if anything intensified after his visit.

Brains too had had a very trying few days, going over the machine one circuit at a time and finding nothing wrong with any of the programming or the wiring. Finally, he subjected every inch of the mechanism to micro-analysis. Jeff came in the sickroom to take over the watch from Tintin and found Brains sitting in the midst of an array of parts, his head in his hands.

"Brains?"

"I found it, Mr. Tracy."

"You did? I knew you would in the end. What was it?"

"One of our suppliers…you remember how they make a component without knowing what it is or what it's for, and we put them together when they arrive here. This particular element was made of a material that cracks when it overheats, or comes under constant pressure. When the computer recognized the need for the defibrillator, it started charging, and the component cracked and caused the circuit to break. The alarm that should have sounded failed because it was wired up to the defibrillator circuit rather than the computer systems. I need to reconfigure the machine so that the computer sets off the alarm regardless of whether the defib activates or not, and in the meantime I need to replace the faulty component. Now Tintin and I are going to have our work cut out identifying every component in all our equipment that was supplied by the same company and replacing them."

"Let Tintin make a start on that Brains. You deal with the alarm system here first. That is the first priority. By the way, have you eaten today?"

"Er…"

"Did you have supper last night? Or even sleep?"

"Er…"

Jeff nodded.

"Right then. You deal with the alarm, and then give me the details of the component we need to fix this machine. I'll get Penny to see to that for us. Tintin can start the analysis of our equipment, and you will have a meal and go to bed. Do you understand me? I really can't afford to have you fall apart on me. You are far too valuable around here."

Meekly, Brains nodded, and set to work.

Scott awakened with a cry of alarm once again, his mind reliving that terrible moment when the pistol had rung out and Alan had fallen, blood staining his uniform and forming an ever-growing puddle on the ground. He had not slept a night through since it had happened. Somehow he did not think he would ever sleep a night through until Alan did recover. It had been eight days now since the shooting, three days since the night they had almost lost Alan.

To everyone's enormous relief, ever since that night three days ago, Alan seemed to be responding better to treatment. He seemed to be slowly making progress, Scott was relieved to note. Time was starting to heal his wounds and for the first time in several days, Alan had started to breathe on his own and the nursing computer had finally turned off the life support, and had returned to basic monitoring duties. But the kid was still so weak. Scott hoped that time would heal the problem.

Scott wrapped his robe around himself and wandered through into the lounge. His feet took him out onto the verandah, where he found his father leaning on the rail staring out at the darkened ocean.

"Father. You couldn't sleep either?"

Jeff shook his head.

"I thought everyone was asleep but me."

Scott leaned on the rail beside his father.

"I doubt anyone is doing much sleeping dad. I know Virgil has hardly slept since he came round, I keep having nightmares about what happened. I think Gordon is having the same trouble up in Thunderbird Five."

"I know son. This waiting, not knowing what will happen is hard on all of us. I didn't know you were having nightmares about it though, Scott. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I just...I didn't..."

Jeff glanced sideways and saw that his son was having trouble. Scott Tracy, the eldest, the one who must always be the strongest, cool and calm under pressure, never over-react, always do the right thing whatever the circumstances...He clasped an arm about Scott's shoulder.

"Tell me, boy."

"In my nightmare Alan is begging for help and I just stand there, doing nothing. I should have seen it coming, I..." Scott's voice cracked and he pounded his fist against the rail. Jeff planted himself in front of his son, with his hands on Scott's shoulders. He looked him in the eye.

"Scott, now stop it! None of this is your fault! You're feeling responsible because you were there, but if you had tried to stop it happening we'd probably have had you in that room with Alan, and then International Rescue really would be out of action. I know you feel responsible but you're not. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

The word came out as a sob. Jeff stepped back and released his hold on his son.

"You know Scott, you've been the strongest of all of us through this. You and grandma have been keeping us all in focus. But you are allowed to have feelings."

Scott shook his head.

"No, I'm okay."

"You're not okay Scott, and you know it. It is okay to be sad. We all have to cry sometimes you know."

"Not on duty."

"That depends. Let it go son. You'll find it easier to cope if you let it go. There's no one here but me."

"It's okay for you to stay strong and silent and not me huh?" Scott replied, stiffly. His father smiled gently.

"Son, why do you think I am strong and silent? Because I've not showed my feelings in front of my sons? I have an advantage. My mother is here. However old I get Scott, she is still and always will be my mother, as she reminded me very succinctly the other night. I may not be as soft and comforting as your mother, but however old you get Scott, I will always be your father. I love you as much as the day you were born."

Scott looked up into his father's face, then without a sound, he fell forwards into his arms. As Jeff stood, holding Scott tightly in his arms, he could feel the young man shaking slightly, although he still made no sound.

Once Scott had returned to his room, somehow calmer than before, Jeff reflected on how different each of his sons were.

John was scientifically minded. He cared about Alan, but his logical mind told him that Alan was young and strong, he was a Tracy, and he was already improving. The odds seemed to him to be stacked in Alan's favour. He had been seriously shocked and worried, but as soon as it became evident that Alan was making a fight of it, his confidence in his brother seemed set in concrete. Jeff knew nothing was quite as clear-cut as that, but he had no desire to pour ice water on John's optimism.

Gordon, the supposedly quiet and reserved of the brothers was in reality the prankster. A tendency to run before he could walk had always been Gordon's habit, one which had been dealt a severe blow in the hydrofoil accident that had almost cost him very dearly. It was hard to say how Gordon was dealing with this crisis. A cool head certainly, perhaps the feeling of uselessness was assuaged somewhat by taking duty in the satellite instead of John. Looking back, Jeff was no longer as certain that Gordon was best in the satellite. Perhaps they should have set the automatic relays to send down to Tracy Island after all? Control the functions of the station from the island? The reason they never did that was of course, the increased possibility of their signals being tapped and traced back to Tracy Island. Why could things never run smoothly? In the meantime, whatever Gordon was going through, he was going through it all alone, standing his lonely vigil high above the clouds.

Virgil was perhaps having the hardest time coping with what had happened and the realities of what had almost happened and about what could follow. He was about the most sensitive of all the boys, but he found no real difficulty in making his feelings known. He sat beside the still form of his brother day after day, occasionally weeping without embarrassment when his feelings became too much to handle. Scott and John went out on rescues most days, and often came back with reports of having to fend off questions about their "injured comrade". They ached to be able to release information to the press about "their colleague's complete recovery", and the longer they were kept waiting, the more the curious began imagining answers for themselves.

Brains and Tintin visited Alan when they could, but now they had so much work to do, the time they had available to mope about the sickroom was greatly reduced.

The twelfth day after the incident came and was rapidly coming to its close when Virgil awakened with a jump. He had fallen asleep across the sickbed. He stood up and checked on the monitors. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The heart-rate monitor was showing a strong, steady heart-rate, the breathing was easy and regular. He turned and looked down at Alan. The blue eyes were open and smiling at him.

"H. Virgil…"

To be Continued. . .

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Please do let me know how it is going so far…..?