Alan and John Walk Into a Bank

by Criminally Charmed

Disclaimer - No.

A/N - Don't worry - I'll still do the conversation at the end of the chapter. It is an even numbered one. But I wanted to explain why the week of silence. And I apologize - I got all your reviews and I am very grateful for them, they brightened my week considerably. In order to post sooner, I may not answer right off, but will if I can later. Now, on for my whining and explaining.

As some of you who have followed me know, two years ago, my father was diagnosed with lymphoma. Now, cancer is not something that my family has had to deal with a lot. Heart conditions six ways to Sunday, sure - but not cancer. Dad had surgery and chemo and seemed to be doing well. Last summer there was a small setback but still - plenty of people beat cancer, right?

My Dad will not be one of them.

Oh, he is still alive. He probably has several years ahead. But the doctors have told him that treatment will keep the cancer in check for now but that it will never be beaten. So I have been trying to deal with that reality. It sucks. I have often said my Dad was one of the last truly good men left on the Earth. He gave us some of the most precious gifts a father can give their children. A name to be proud of. How much he loved our Mom. And the ability to fail, knowing when we did, he would be the first to say I told you so. Then when we were ready, he would help us figure out how to fix things. So I have spent a lot of time reading, spending time with my family and working of course. Anything not to deal with how big a hole will be in my life when I lose him.

I hope to keep the story on track again. Sorry for the delay - but real life does stink sometimes.

Thanks to Sammygirl1963 and Sam1 for keeping me from a complete and utter nervous breakdown. I love you both more than words can ever say.

Chapter Four

A few minutes earlier

John Tracy, as any of his brothers would say, was the one brother you didn't want mad at you. Any of the Tracys had impressive tempers, but John was slow to anger. And like a potion that had been slow brewed, it could be far more dangerous than one that had come to a rapid boil.

Not to mention the brain power that accompanied the inevitable payback.

Jeff had definitely gotten the worst of playing football on muddy grass but John and Alan hadn't come out totally unscathed. A part of John could understand the reactions of the receptionist and the bank manager. He had muddy streaks on his clothes, grass stains on his sneakers and had obviously worked up a sweat. But John had learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving and, in business, jumping to conclusions could be a costly mistake. It was a kindness for him to teach that lesson.

And John was nothing if not kind.

"Mr. Tracy," Donald Mosley practically whimpered, "I can assure you if I had known -"

"Are you usually abusive to customers?" John snapped. "Or only the ones that you don't think add to your bottom line?"

"Mr. Tracy -"

"I'm sure you are about to whimper and complain and assure me that you hold my family and I in the highest esteem," John snapped sarcastically. "My family never uses our name or so-called position to push people around. It's not our style. But so far this week, two people have taken one look at myself or a family member and found us as less than desirable to be in their presence. I'm beginning to see why Dad prefers living on an island."

Mr. Mosley looked on in panic, unsure what he should say or do.

John, his initial burst of anger having faded, looked at the manager in disgust before pulling his wallet out. "Look, I have my ID on me. I know you have thumb-print technology in all branches, so why don't I just get a couple of hundred dollars out? I'll just use a credit card the rest of the weekend and transfer money over later."

"Yes, Mr. Tracy, of course," Mosley babbled. "I have the form right here and here is a print scanner," he continued as he pulled a small device from his desk.

John set his wallet on the desk as he filled out the form and scanned his thumb. He tried not to feel smug as the bank manager scuttled about, reminding the second Tracy son of an insect.

"If you wait right here, Mr. Tracy," Mosley babbled once more, "I'll get your funds and I can assure you the request for a replacement ATM card will be expedited."

Watching the man scurry out of the room, John shook his head. "Alan was right," he joked to the empty room. "Channeling Scott can make things easier. I must use this power for good!" Chuckling, John leaned back in the chair, hoping when he went to grab Alan there was something he could snag as well. He really was getting hungry.

A sudden burst of gunfire made John jump. Alan!

Casey Patrick smiled as she placed a diet coke and pointed to the snacks on the table, nodding in approval when Alan bypassed the donuts and other sweets for a granola bar and an apple.

Alan bit into the apple and took a swig of the soda even as he pulled out his ear buds, scrolling through the menu on his custom made phone and began to listen to music. Behind him, Casey poured out the old coffee and began to make a new pot. It really wasn't in her job description but her father had always told her that a team player was someone who took on all tasks.

A sudden burst of gunfire startled Casey. Grabbing Alan by the arm, she yanked the teenager from his seat. Ignoring the spilled soda and the apple, missing one bite, rolling across the floor, Casey pulled Alan into a nearby storage closet. Shutting the door behind them, she waited with a hand over Alan's mouth, praying that they wouldn't be discovered.

Donald Mosley had just re-entered the lobby of the bank, silently cussing to himself. Although he referred to himself as bank manager, branch manager was a more appropriate title. But Donald Mosley was a man of no small ambition and he did not plan on being an insignificant cog in the big wheel for long.

This particular branch of Metro-United Bank was small by most standards, with one loan officer and five full time tellers. But it was significant for two reasons. One, it was the closest bank to Tracy Towers, so not only did the company do business with the bank as a whole, many of its employees banked with MUB due to ease of access. The other important reason was that all the old or damaged bills from all fifty eight branches of Metro-United Banks were delivered here once a month to be picked up by the U.S. Mint.

Lost in thoughts of how he had angered a member of the Tracy family – and hoping that it wouldn't have repercussions on his career - Mosley never took in the sight of three figures quickly moving into the bank.

The sound of gunfire caused Mosley to freeze in his tracks. Following the sound, he saw the three masked men and followed instructions when one screamed, "Drop to the ground!"

He so did not want to file this report with the Board of Directors.

Emily Haas set down the latest charts from the Emergency Room, wondering once more if she should take Mr. Tracy up on his offer.

Laughing at something Alan had said, Emily had missed part of the conversation John was having with her father until her boyfriend said, "What do you think, Emmy?"

Turning from the other Tracys, Emily smiled and took John's hand. "Sorry, John – what were you saying?"

Jeff laughed as John seemed more interested in tracing his thumb over the back of Emily's hand. "Emily, I was talking about the work Tracy Charities has been doing on the coastal communities that were devastated by the tsunami."

Emily instantly sobered. As an emergency medical specialist, she had been among the first responders to the region. While a good portion of the population had been evacuated thanks to the Pacific Early Warning System, put into place after the Indonesian Tsunami of Christmas 2004, some were killed.

There had been a small portion of the region that hadn't been notified of the potential tsunami due to the earthquake that had triggered it in the first place. Communications were down in the village of Akora, New Zealand. Emily had once mentioned it had been a shame that International Rescue had been off-line at the time but seeing how the thought had bothered the Tracys she had never said anything further about it. The young doctor assumed the family did not want to be reminded how Alan had been in the hospital during that time period. It was possible the seventeen people who had died and the almost hundred injured may not have been able to be saved and the property damage was definitely something that the Thunderbirds couldn't have helped.

"Emily," John started, "Dad has been tossing the idea around of establishing a medical clinic as part of the rebuilding of Akora. We thought you might like to take charge."

"Mr. Tracy," Emily said, "with all due respect, I am an Emergency Medicine Specialist. I'd be a bit of overkill."

"According to John, you would like to someday be the kind of doctor your grandfather was, an old-fashioned GP. But at the same time, your work at Mercy General and Cedar Sinai in Los Angeles has put you in contact with some of the finest specialists in the world. What if you could pull them in, a kind of Doctors without Borders project, getting the care for the more remote areas of New Zealand?"

Emily nodded, letting the Tracys know that she wanted to consider the idea.

Pulling herself from her musings, Emily peeked once more at her i-phone, wondering why John hadn't called her back yet. John had asked her to accompany him to New York but considering it was where her family lived, Emily avoided the Big Apple like the plague. Part of the young doctor was relieved after John decided to bring his brother with him. Emily adored Alan but there was no way she would sleep separately from John. And Jeff Tracy would have a fit if she had shared quarters with his son before marriage.

Tough. Emily Haas was in love and could only hope that John felt it as deeply as she did. She couldn't picture a life without him.

John had sent a text earlier and said he would call after he played a game of touch football in the park with his father and brother. Slipping the phone back into the pocket of her smock, Emily tried to push down the cold feeling. Something, she was sure, something was wrong.

Alan had tried to fight Casey when she pulled him back until he realized who had grabbed him. Curiosity kept him silent until they were secure in the storage closet.

"Casey," he hissed. "What is your major malfunction?"

"Didn't you hear the gunfire?" Casey whispered back sharply.

"Gunfire?" Alan said, his voice rising slightly before Casey returned her hand to cover the teen's mouth.

"Yes, gunfire," Casey responded. "Now, keep quiet." She pulled out her cell phone before cursing softly.

"What?" Alan asked.

"No signal," Casey said. "They are probably using a cell phone jammer." Looking at an electrical panel behind her, she shook her head. "They also cut the communication lines. No computer or land line phones. They couldn't do it physically. But one of the things that are supposed to be being upgraded in the computer system was better firewalls to block people from accessing the programs. That's the only thing that makes sense."

Alan pulled up his phone, quickly switching it from music mode to phone mode.

"What are you doing?" Casey hissed. "I just told you, we can't call out."

"Satellite phone," Alan said calmly. "Doesn't rely on cell towers but accesses a satellite so it should – yes!" he hissed in triumph. Handing Casey the phone, she smiled in appreciation.

When the 911 operator came on line, Casey began to give the information before hanging up against the woman's instructions. Hiding the phone in her pocket, the young woman didn't want it to be found on the teenager in case the invaders found them.

Lisa Bloom had been cowering on the floor, when a hand grabbed her by the collar, pulling her up. Her bad day had officially gotten worse as a semi-automatic weapon was shoved in her face.

"Where's the manager?" the gunman snarled.

Holding out a trembling hand out, Lisa started to point towards Mr. Mosley's office only to shift and point at the manager himself.

At a gesture from the robber who was holding Lisa, a second gunman approached Mosley. Grabbing him by the arm, he smacked the manager across the face with the butt of his gun, with the criminal growling, "Where is the mint delivery?"

"It-it's not here," Mosley stammered out.

"Liar!"

The third criminal, who had remained silent up until now, snarled as he – she? The voice had been rather higher in pitch. – stalked forward.

"I had all the info. The money from all the Metro Union Banks should have been delivered here over the last week. It's due to be picked up at noon."

The branch manager gasped in pain when his arm was twisted behind his back.

"They picked it up this morning. A tech working on the computer system discovered what she believed to be a virus in the system and they changed the time of pick-up. The money was gone before we opened the bank. Marie," Mr. Mosley gestured towards the teller, "was the witness. She can tell you."

The middle aged woman looked up from where she had been crouched on the floor. "It's true," the teller said calmly. "The money is gone. We only have what is on site."

"The paperwork is -" Mosley paused, remembering that Jeff Tracy's son was in his office. Not willing to endanger the offspring of their largest depositor, the manager tried to direct the robbers' attention elsewhere.

"I have the e-mail on my smart phone," Mosley offered, pulling the phone out of his jacket pocket. He paled as he tried to bring up the message.

"I – I can't seem to get a signal -"

"Jammers working," one of the gunman shrugged.

The one who sounded as if it might be a woman growled, "Well, at least one thing is going right. Go into the office," she gestured with her weapon. "Find out if this jackass is telling the truth."

"He is," John said calmly as he exited the office.

Having cracked open the door in an attempt to try and hear what was going on, Casey had to once more throw a hand over Alan's mouth to stop the teenager from calling out when he heard his brother's voice. Pulling Alan further into the storage room, she hissed in his ear.

"Alan, they were going to go into the office," Casey explained in low tones. "If John hadn't come out, they would have probably hurt him. It was the smartest thing he could do. Have a little faith in your brother. More importantly – Don't do anything that could distract him."

Nodding tightly, Alan began to chew at his inner cheek, a nervous tick he had never out grown. He knew that if he were to be discovered, John would head into big-brother mode and possibly endanger himself in an effort to protect Alan. The teenager could still recall when he had been injured – such a nice way of recalling being run down and left to die – and later, by a series of convoluted events, he had been threatened by a deranged gang-leader, John had actually fought with the armed man, resulting in John receiving four stitches from a switchblade.

Glancing at his watch, wishing desperately that Brains had finished with those communication watches already, Alan suddenly had a random thought run through his head.

"I wonder when Dad will notice we aren't back yet?"

Jeff Tracy stepped out of the bedroom, rubbing a towel over his head. A private bathroom had been essential when he had designed the penthouse apartment for Tracy Towers. But he had been wondering if he had missed his sons return while showering.

Looking around the apartment, Jeff frowned when he realized he was still the sole occupant. Heading into the bedroom, the worried father quickly changed into a pair of khakis and a polo shirt. He called down to Ann Marie, having her check to see if his sons had come through security.

"Nothing, Ann Marie?" Jeff asked again as he pulled on some sneakers.

"I'm sorry, Jeff," the long-time employee looked as worried as her boss. "I can contact the police -"

"No, Ann Marie," Jeff sighed. "John is an adult. Alan is a teenager. I could report them as missing and no one would take me seriously. Or worse, if they did and the boys did just lose track of time, it will probably get leaked to the media and I will either be a control freak of a parent or some rich guy treating the cops as my personal security."

"It may be something simple, like they needed cash or something," Ann Marie mused before brightening. "Do you want me to run their credit or debit cards?"

"Do my sons know I can track them that easily?" Jeff asked.

"I'll never tell," the PA said cheerfully.

John moved closer into the lobby, holding his arms slightly away from his body, showing that he was no threat. One of the gunmen grabbed him by the arm and threw him roughly to the ground. Managing to get up as far as his knees, John kept his arms out to maintain his unarmed state.

A second robber had made his way through the doorway John had exited, returning a moment later with a piece of paper in his hand.

"He's telling the truth, Sher," the man grumbled, handing the print-out to the leader. The gunman who was keeping a gun pointed at John and Mosley, smacking the first man.

"Idiot," the man snarled.

The leader moved towards John and Mosley, saying quietly, "I planned this for months. Months of work gone to waste. I'm not happy. People don't like when I'm not happy."

She raised her gun towards the kneeling pair and fired –

A/N - OK, now wasn't that worth the wait? And to think - you only have to wait a week to find out what happens next.

Alan - A WEEK? Lady, if you just shot John -

CC - Well, if I did - he'll live. No deathfics, remember?

John - And that is the good news, right? And why didn't I do anything else?

CC - I'll explain all that later.

Alan - CC, I am worried you may be developing a few mental issues.

CC - Been there, done that, bought the T-Shirt.

John - Definately scary, definately.

CC - Dude, I just implied you are getting some action - Do you really wanna do anything to make that stop?

Alan - Of course he is getting some action. (CC and John look at him, jaws dropped.) He's in the middle of a bank robbery, and someone just fired a gun!

CC (Whispers to John) - Is he for real?

John - Either Scott has succeeded in keeping him naive or I am never playing poker with him.

CC - Well, I'll - wait, you play poker? (The brothers nod.) Sweet! (Grabs some cards and heads to a table that has chips, salsa and sweet tea.) OK, I win - I'll do what I want. You win, I'll let you whine about it.

Alan (sighs) - That's the best answer we'll get, isn't it? (CC nods and Alan sighs once more. CC slaps John's hand.)

CC - John, those m&m's are the pot. Don't eat them. (At John's stare, CC smiles.) Hey, I will not corrupt Alan. Injury, sicken or otherwise traumatize but never corrupt.

John (shrugging) - Sounds about right. OK, Aces high and Jacks are wild...