Hi guys!

Yes, only Alan could be bitten by the spider that Fermat just happened to have in his room...I am guilty of extreme predictability. But that's not necessarily a bad thing because, as predicted by you all, the following chapter contains plenty of Doctor Virgil, sick Alan, and overprotective Tracys. See - it's not a bad thing!

In thanks for all of your AMAZING reviews, I have published a 6 page chapter for you!!!!

Hope you enjoy! (And if you were to click on the little blue button afterwards, that would be fantastic!)

Boann

xx

Chapter 4

Virgil frowned as he examined the swollen bite. "Tell me again why you had your hand in the tank."

His patient answered with a harsh sigh. "Well it wouldn't be a normal holiday for either of us if I didn't end up in the infirmary for something," Alan replied.

True, Virgil agreed to himself.

Jeff, who was perched on the bed next to Alan, looked up at the medic. "What do you think, Virgil?"

Virgil released Alan's wrist, shaking his head. "I can't be sure just yet. But going by Fermat's description of the species, and the reaction Alan's having to the bite, I'd say it's very likely we're dealing with some kind of venom."

"But you can fix it, right?" Alan prompted.

Virgil didn't answer his question. "I need to do a blood sample to know for sure what kind of venom has been injected," he said, pulling off his gloves. "Stay put, you," he told Alan. He left towards the storage room.

Alan groaned, resting an elbow on his knee and holding his chin in his good hand.

Jeff chuckled at Alan's miserable expression, rubbing his son's back. "Don't worry, kiddo. We've spent a long time cataloging the animal species found on the island. Odds are we've got something on this spider."

"Fermat couldn't identify it," Alan pointed out gloomily.

"Fermat probably didn't check our catalogue. He said himself he didn't want to rely on anything or anyone to complete this project," Jeff reasoned.

Alan sighed, sitting up again. "Just once I would like to come home and not be attacked by wet floors, heavy objects, spiders, or psychic madmen."

Jeff nodded. Yes, out of all his sons, Alan was definitely the most accident prone. True, Alan was the youngest and so it was natural that he received the most fuss when it came to those kinds of incidents. But trouble had always followed Alan like a lost puppy.

Jeff put an arm around Alan's shoulders. "Don't worry. If it's bad, we'll bring out the bubble-wrap."

That got a smile out of the miserable blonde.

When Alan was four, he'd had a terrible bike accident that had put him in hospital for two weeks. When Alan was back home, Jeff had returned from work one night to discover that Gordon had wrapped his little brother in five yards of bubble-wrap.

"Allie won't hurt his-self now," the freckled redhead had proudly announced.

It had been a family joke every since.

Jeff looked down at Alan when he realised his son was leaning against him. "Alan?" he rubbed the blonde's shoulder.

"Yeah," was Alan's mumbled confirmation that he was still awake.

"You feeling tired, kiddo?" Jeff asked, the space between his eyebrows creasing.

"A little," Alan admitted.

Jeff rubbed his son's shoulder again. "Sit up, son," he instructed.

Alan didn't argue. He sighed wearily.

Jeff was starting to worry about Alan's sudden lethargy. He got up off the bed and stood in front of Alan, examining him concernedly.

Alan looked up at him. "I'm fine, Dad."

"Uh-oh," said Virgil, who reappeared carrying a small dish with large needle in it. "What's wrong?"

Alan didn't follow. "Huh?"

"Whenever you say 'I'm fine', it means that something's wrong," Virgil elaborated, setting the dish down on the bed. Jeff moved over so that Virgil could stand in front of Alan's knees. The medic held two fingers up to Alan's neck, counting his pulse. "Keep talking, kiddo. How do you feel?"

Alan looked up a little blearily. "I'm just tired," he replied quietly.

"Okay," Virgil mused. "Your pulse is bit fast. Do you feel light headed or having trouble breathing?" He grabbed his stethoscope from the table next to the bed.

"Are they symptoms?" Jeff asked.

"Most likely," Virgil replied, slipping the end of the instrument under his brother's shirt. He encouraged Alan with a nod of his head to breathe deeply.

"Is there anything we can do?" Jeff questioned impatiently.

Virgil paused before he answered, listening to Alan's lungs. He removed the stethoscope and hung it around his neck. "At the moment, all we can do is make sure Alan stays calm."

"I'm right here, you know."

"And quiet," Virgil shot his brother a knowing look.

Alan offered him a glare, but it had no real anger behind it.

"The blood sample should tell me more," Virgil concluded.

Jeff nodded.

Virgil produced another pair of disposable gloves. He smiled at the way Alan snuck a glance at the syringe and grimaced. "Dad, why don't you help the search party?" he suggested, jerking his head towards the door. "Another pair of eyes could help us find the spider faster."

Jeff reluctantly nodded, understanding Virgil's request for privacy. "Okay. Let me know if there are any changes. And you," he gently ruffled Alan's hair. "Don't give your brother too much grief."

"Yes sir," Alan replied wearily.

As soon as the doors slid closed behind his father, Virgil looked at Alan. "Come on, kiddo. What say we get things over with?"

Alan didn't reply, but moved obediently so that his back was resting against the raised head of the bed. Virgil pulled on his gloves and proceeded to unwrap the needle from its plastic package. Alan let his arm rest on the side of the bed. His silence unnerved Virgil.

"You okay, sprout?" he asked gently.

"Peachy," was the reply he received. Alan sighed and let his head fall back against the pillow. "Tired," he added. "And kinda strange."

Virgil looked up from what he was doing. "How do you mean strange?" he asked, attaching a tourniquet to Alan's arm.

"Just weird," Alan replied.

Virgil frowned. "Okay, just relax," he encouraged. "Hold still."

He inserted the needle into the crook of Alan's arm. Alan hissed and jolted. Virgil automatically grabbed Alan's upper arm with his free hand to steady him. "You okay?" he looked up at his brother.

"Sorry," Alan mumbled. "My arm's a little sore."

Virgil nodded. The arm he'd chosen to take a blood sample from had been the same one as the hand that had been bitten. "Okay. Just try and stay still until I finish and let me know if it gets worse."

Alan nodded, a little embarrassed. He watched Virgil work with glazed eyes. His stomach churned a little as he watched his own blood fill the syringe. Funny, he thought. I'm usually okay with this sort of stuff. Unless…

His stomach churned again. Oh crap!

He took in deep breaths through his nose, hoping to banish the nausea. Upon hearing this, Virgil looked up from what he was doing. "What's wrong, Alan?" he asked, quickly removing the needle and placing it in the dish.

Alan shook his head wordlessly, trying to calm his stomach. It's bad enough I'm in here again. I'm not going to embarrass myself even more.

His stomach had other ideas. He leaned forward, closing his eyes and clamping his mouth shut.

Virgil identified the problem immediately. He grabbed another bowl and held in front of Alan. "Better out than in, kiddo," he said softly, placing a hand on Alan's back.

As soon as Virgil's hand touched him, Alan retched. He tried to stop it from coming up by closing his mouth, but only succeeded in choking and initiating another spasm. He coughed as he puked miserably. Virgil's hand rubbed his back.

"Easy, sprout. Don't fight it. Just get it out," Virgil soothed.

However much Virgil's words reassured him, they did not help his misery.

This sucks, he thought as he vomited again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"This sucks," Gordon groaned as he checked under the couch in his father's office.

"Tell that to Alan," Scott said from where he was looking behind a cabinet.

Gordon had to agree. Stuck in the infirmary with Virgil and Dad would totally suck.

He pulled himself to his feet in time to see Jeff striding purposefully into the office.

"Any luck?" their father asked.

Gordon shook his head. "This spider doesn't want to be found. John and Fermat are checking the bedrooms. Onaha and Kirano are checking the living areas. We've checked the gym and now here. No sign of it yet."

"How's Alan?" asked Scott.

"Virgil's doing a blood sample, but no serious symptoms have shown up yet," Jeff told them.

Scott's ears pricked up like a dog hearing the word "walk". "No serious symptoms?"

Jeff nodded. "He's showing signs of tiredness and his pulse is up a little," he elaborated.

Scott sighed, his shoulders tensing with worry. "So he is having a reaction."

"Without blood work we can't be sure. Let's just focus on finding the eight-legged culprit," Jeff calmed his eldest. "Has anyone checked our database for a species similar to what Fermat's described?"

"John did that, but he didn't find anything, even with Fermat's help," Gordon replied. "We need the spider to carry out an accurate examination."

"Well, it's got to be somewhere," Jeff said determinedly. "We can't help Alan by standing around."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Urgh! was all Alan could think as he lay curled up on his side. A fresh bowl lay ready in front of him. The smell of disinfectant did nothing to abate his nausea. Cramps occasionally shot through his emptied stomach. After Alan's vomiting had finally ceased, Virgil had left to analyse the blood sample, leaving Alan alone to feel sorry for himself.

Alan closed his eyes, trying to relax. He could feel his heart pattering away in his chest. He felt both hot and cold at the same time. How is that even possible? he thought miserably.

He opened his eyes when something cold and wet was pressed against his forehead. He looked up to see Virgil holding a cloth to his head, looking at him sympathetically.

Alan shifted, intent on asking Virgil how the analysis was going, but his brother stilled him.

"Shhh, take it easy," Virgil soothed.

"What's happening?" Alan groaned.

"The results are going to be another fifteen minutes or so," Virgil explained.

Alan let out a disappointed grunt.

Virgil smiled. "I'm sorry, kiddo."

Alan didn't have the energy to tell Virgil he didn't blame him. He let his eyelids droop as he stared into nothingness. Occasionally Virgil held the cloth to the side of his neck, but he didn't speak.

"Do you still think about it?"

Virgil looked at him, and Alan realised that he had asked his question out loud.

"Think about what?" asked Virgil.

"Spring break."

Alan lifted his head up a little to see Virgil's eyes downcast.

"Yeah," his older brother admitted.

"Do you dream about it?"

Virgil shifted. He had no doubt that Alan had chosen the subject out of delirium, but it still made him uncomfortable. "Sometimes," he murmured, pressing the wet cloth to his brother's forehead.

Alan blinked lazily. "I do," he revealed.

He was aware of Virgil's eyes on him even as he stared at the floor by the bed. "I see him so clearly. When he speaks it's like he's inside my head. He keeps saying he wants to make me suffer. He's going to…"

Alan swallowed the lump in his throat.

Virgil gently rubbed his arm. "He's not going to do anything," he murmured gently. "We're not going to let him. They're just dreams, Alan. You don't need to worry about him anymore."

For once, Virgil's words gave Alan no reassurance. Alan allowed himself to fall asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Got him!" John cried triumphantly.

He got up off his hand and knees and pointed behind the bookcase in Virgil's room. The spider was clinging to the wall, safely snuggled in the gap created by the skirting board. Fermat was at John's side with the plastic container they'd grabbed from the kitchen.

"I'll g…g…retrieve him," the young genius offered.

"Okay," John replied, grabbing a paintbrush off Virgil's easel and positioning himself on the other side of the book case. "I'll coax him towards you." Carefully he nudged the spider towards Fermat. The spider was obviously a clever species, because it stopped before it reached the container.

"Drat," John cursed, unable to reach the spider anymore.

"It's okay," Fermat assured him. "I can get it with my hand."

John frowned. "Fermat I don't think that's a good idea. It's already bitten somebody. We don't need you with Alan in the infirmary."

"I know how to handle it," Fermat explained. "I've been studying it ever since school f…f…let out."

John was skeptical, but nodded. "Okay, but be careful."

Confidently, but gently, Fermat eased his small hand behind the book case towards the spider. The spider reached out with two forelegs to carefully inspect the object approaching him, before deciding that it was safe enough to climb onto Fermat's hand.

"See?" the boy smiled as he straightened. "No problem – ow!"

John jumped to Fermat's side. "You alright?"

Fermat had managed to get the spider contained, but now bore two red puncture marks on his palm.

"Let's get Virgil to take a look at you," John said, steering the boy towards the door.

They'd gotten halfway when Fermat suddenly collapsed.

"Fermat!" John cried, catching his friend before he could hit the floor. He raised his wrist, activating his watch. "Virgil! Get to your room, quickly! Fermat's been bitten and he's just collapsed."

"I'm on my way," was Virgil's reply.

"Fermat?" John called. The boy was white as a sheet and shivering.

"J…J…" he stuttered.

John hushed him. "You'll be okay."

Virgil rushed in at that moment, his dark eyebrows knitting into a deep frown when he saw Fermat's condition. He promptly took the boy's pulse. "Tell me how you feel, Fermat," he encouraged sternly.

"C…c…freezing," Fermat replied.

"His pulse is racing," Virgil reported. "It appears he's reacting to the venom more strongly than Alan. Let's get him to the infirmary."

Just as they moved to shift Fermat, the boy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started convulsing. Virgil quickly steadied him.

"What do we do?" asked John.

"Until I know how the venom's working or what species I'm dealing with, I can't treat him," Virgil said.

John looked at him disbelievingly. "There's got to be something we can do!"

They both looked down when Fermat suddenly stilled.

Virgil quickly took his pulse.

John shook Fermat's shoulder. "Come on, Fermat. Wake up."

Virgil looked up at him, swallowing. "John, he's not waking up," he said mournfully.

"What do you mean?"

"I've lost his pulse," Virgil slowly replied.

"What? No! He can't of just…" John couldn't say it. He could feel his eyes watering.

"John, there's nothing I can do," Virgil said, as if at the same time he was walking barefoot on broken glass. "He's gone."

There was silence.

John stroked Fermat's cold cheek. The boy looked so small. "What are we going to tell Brains?"

Alan lurched awake, gasping for air. He felt like he was drowning. His insides were imploding. His whole body shook ferociously and everything was so hot.

Somewhere to his right, he heard a familiar voice. But it was too dark for him to see the person it belonged to. "Alan? Hey! Calm down. It's okay!"

"Wha…" Alan could barely manage. He'd seen it. He'd seen it all. He didn't care how he'd seen it or what it meant, but he'd seen it nonetheless. Fermat! Oh my God! I have to help him!

He went to move off his bed. Bed? Why am I in a bed? This isn't my bed! This is all wrong! I have to get to Fermat!

"Alan! Stop struggling. It's okay," said the familiar voice. It was accompanied by pair of hands, which fastened themselves around his shoulders.

"No!" Alan tried to wriggle away. "You don't understand!" His voice was so hoarse, as if he'd been screaming for hours. He couldn't even finish the end of his sentence without his voice giving out.

He looked up to ascertain who exactly was preventing him from going to save his best friend. Virgil's scowling face hovered above him, as if it was suspended in the air without a body. Alan looked away to better focus, throwing up his arms to dislodge the firm hands restraining him.

"Fermat!" he yelled, hoping that somehow his friend would hear him and…do something….

Alan was too confused to make sense of anything, and he didn't really care. Only one thing mattered. He continued to fight, but the person holding him was too strong. Something was pressing against his chest now too, forcing him against the mattress. "No!" Alan cried, as another pair of hands grabbed his left leg and held it down.

"Alan!" Wake up!" a new voice sternly ordered.

I am awake! Alan wanted to protest. I saw…He stopped. I'm awake now. But I'm in a bed and…was I awake before?

"It's okay, Alan. It all vanishes…like a dream."

Alan grunted as the Hood's voice sent what felt like a hot iron through his temples. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, both the voice and the pain were gone. He was left in a bed in the infirmary panting and trembling. He looked up, seeing things clearly for the first time. Virgil stood at his right, holding his shoulders and using his forearms to hold down his chest. To his left stood his father.

Jeff stroked his hair back from his sweaty forehead. "You with us, kiddo?" he asked sternly, his brow furrowed with worry.

Alan couldn't speak. His eyes darted around the infirmary. The darkness indicated that it was nighttime. His bed was illuminated by a single light on the ceiling above it. Alan squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly against the bile that threatened to rise. His stomach churned. Realising how tired he was, he relaxed in his brother's grip.

Virgil slowly released him, looking at him worriedly. "Just breathe, Alan," he gently instructed.

Alan was only too happy to oblige. Breathing was all that he could manage at the moment.

Jeff continued to stroke his hair. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Alan couldn't remember when he'd ever seen his father so worried. The astronaut looked like he had seen the Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Dad?" Alan whimpered.

Jeff held his cheek. "It's okay, son. I'm here. Just relax."

Relax? Alan heart was still launching itself against his ribs like an enraged animal trying to get out of its cage. For the first time, Alan heard a beeping that matched the rhythm of his heart. He looked upwards to see that the vitals monitor on the wall behind him had been activated.

Why did I need that? He wondered, exhaustedly.

He gave his brother a questioning look. Virgil nodded his understanding. "You've been unconscious for a few hours now. Shortly after you passed out, John and Fermat found the spider. We were able to identify it and give you the anti-venom."

"Fermat!" Alan couldn't help but exclaim.

He struggled to push himself up on his elbows.

"Whoa, Alan! Slow down, son. Just relax." Jeff sternly told him.

"Where's Fermat?" Alan asked, again ignoring the instruction.

"It's pretty late, Alan, He's probably in bed asleep," Virgil replied, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder to still him.

"What's wrong, Alan?" Jeff asked, noticing the way Alan's eyes were darting around fearfully.

Alan looked up at his father imploringly. "But he's okay, right? Is he okay?"

New lines appeared on Jeff's brow. "He's fine, Alan. Why wouldn't he be?"

"You're sure?" Alan pressed. "You're sure he's fine?"

Jeff nodded. "Lie down," he hushed.

Alan obeyed, somewhat comforted and disturbed by his father's assurance. It was so real. I saw it. How could it have been a dream?

"Why would you think something's wrong with Fermat?" Virgil gently asked him.

I can't tell them, Alan realised. They can't know. Even if, by some remarkable chance, they don't think I'm a nut job, they couldn't help.

"It's nothing," he quietly replied, avoiding Virgil's chestnut eyes.

"Well whatever it was, you certainly weren't enjoying it," Virgil told him, one eyebrow raised. "You were thrashing for at least fifteen minutes and when I finally managed to wake you, you went berserk."

Alan stayed silent. It was the best way to avoid telling the truth.

Jeff put a hand on Alan's arm. "Is it possible the effects of the venom could lead to hallucinations?" he asked Virgil.

"If that were the case, the hallucinations should have appeared before I administered the anti-venom, not after," Virgil replied.

Alan felt dread mix with the bile creeping up his throat. Please, just think it was a result of the spider bite, he silently begged them.

His prayers were answered. "But I guess anything's possible," Virgil added. "Everyone reacts differently to these things."

Alan felt a familiar prickling sensation up his nose that often signaled oncoming tears. I have to get out of here. I can't risk them asking more questions. "Can I go now?" he asked quietly.

Both his father and brother looked at him with a mixture of worry and fondness.

"Sorry, sprout," Virgil shook his head. "Let's wait until tomorrow, huh?"

With no hope of escaping to his room, Alan could only turn his head away and hide his building tears in his pillow. "I'm tired," he offered as an excuse.

His father rubbed his arm comfortingly. "Okay," he murmured. "Do want me to stay?"

Alan shook his head, knowing his voice would tremble if he answered and would give him away. Jeff kissed him on the side of the head, which only encouraged the feelings of despair and fear that were threatening to rip him open. The teenager remained unresponsive as his father left. He could sense Virgil still hovering, but kept his eyes closed.

Virgil was not dissuaded. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" his brother murmured gently.

Alan shook his head, squeezing his eyes tightly to stop the tears from escaping. He couldn't, however, stop his breath from hitching.

Virgil must have caught him. "Hey," he murmured sympathetically, rubbing Alan's arm. "What is it? You can tell me."

Not this time, Alan wanted to say. "I'm just tired," he replied.

Despite the silence that followed, Alan could hear Virgil debating with himself whether or not to push the matter. Mercifully, after a while, Virgil pulled a blanket over him and turned out the light over his bed. For once, Alan was thankful for the darkness.