I have no excuse for the late update - I'm sorry!! By way of apology I have posted 2 chapters today. Thanks to you all for your reviews, in particular Little Miss Bump for the corrections.

Hope you enjoy! A Merry Christmas to you all!

Boann

Chapter 7

The next three days passed as a blur. And in Alan's case, the blur was getting bigger. Making it through the first night without collapsing onto his bed had truly tested him. He'd told himself to manage the days and nights methodically. He never spent more than two hours on one activity. His brain wouldn't let him concentrate on anything for much longer than that anyway. He was also going through a lot of coffee. Alan was convinced that he was drinking even his caffeine-dependent father under the table. It was on the third afternoon that Alan experienced his first hyperactive episode. He'd channeled it into playing a game of water volleyball with Gordon, Scott, and John.

"Gordon, just serve already!" Scott groaned.

"I would if I could concentrate," Gordon defended. "Alan, stop laughing!"

The young blonde clamped his lips shut, but was unable to keep his shoulders from shaking. Everything was just so funny. In an attempt to control himself, he tried to focus on something utterly boring. Unlucky for him, he chose to focus on Scott, whose hair was still a pale shade of green.

The sight sent him into another fit of giggles.

Gordon could only shake his head. He dropped the ball and swam to Alan, grabbing his little brother around the middle and dunking him. That sobered Alan. He stopped guffawing just in time to stop himself from sucking in a lungful of water.

Gordon pulled him up.

Scott swam over. "Gordon, what the hell are you doing? He could have drowned!" he yelled over the splashing of the water.

"At least he would have died quietly!" Gordon argued.

Alan pushed his fringe from his face, coughing. "Chill," he spluttered. "I'm okay."

John joined them. "Come on, you two. Let's take five, huh? Alan's fine."

"You're such an idiot!" Scott hissed.

"At least my hair looks better than yours," Gordon grumbled.

"You see!" Scott waved his hand. "That's what I'm talking about! You're always so immature!"

"You love me," Gordon provoked.

Alan was completely sobered by the memory of his last dream. "Stop it, guys," he said.

He was ignored.

"Just because you have a reputation of being juvenile, doesn't mean that you have to live it up all the time!"

"Maybe you should follow my example and have some fun once in a while!"

In his mind, Alan was back there; amidst the black swirling depths. The waves roared in his ears, battling over his brothers' raised voices. He pulled himself out of the memory, yelling. "STOP IT!"

Scott and Gordon both looked at him in shock.

Alan panted, trying to control his shaking. He couldn't offer an explanation. "Just stop it," he whimpered, pulling himself out of the water and retreating into the house.

Scott, Gordon, and John watched him in amazement, sharing the same thoughts. Alan had never yelled at them like that before. One minute he'd been laughing, the next he'd been so angry. He'd sounded so desperate.

John looked at the others. "Let's call it a day," he told them somberly, getting out of the pool.

Scott and Gordon exchanged a guilty look before doing the same.

When he reached his room, Alan slammed the door shut. He went into his bathroom, and turned on the shower, letting the room fill with steam.

I'm losing it, he thought, resting his head against the shower door. I should never have yelled like that. Now they're going to think something's wrong. What if they find out? Two days of research have given me barely anything. They can't find out until I know what The Hood is doing! What if he hurts them?

He took a deep breath. Pull yourself together. You're just tired.

He pulled off his swimming shorts and stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away his stress. His hands shook as thoughts of despair continued to bombard him.

You can't do this. What were you thinking? Even if you do find out what The Hood is doing, you couldn't stop him. He's too strong. You know he's too strong! Remember what happened at the bank? He picked you up and dangled you like you were a leaf!

Alan swallowed a lump in his throat. He leant against the tiled wall, his eyes prickling. You're helpless. Not even your family can save you this time.

He sagged against the wall as tears fell down his cheeks. I'm' not going to make ten days! Three days in and I'm so tired.

He sniffed, gazing upwards. The steam from the hot water danced above him, playfully hitting the ceiling and then fading into nothingness. He allowed himself to be mesmerised by them. His eyelids felt so heavy. He leaned back against the wall, letting it take his weight.

His foot suddenly slipping on the shower floor jolted him back to consciousness. Oh God. He panted. I almost fell asleep! Quickly he turned the hot water off and turned the cold up. The chilled water sobered him. He turned off the water and got out, rushing to dry and change for dinner. He'd just pulled on his shirt when suddenly the klaxon went off.

Why is it always before dinner? Alan moaned to himself as he ran to the office.

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

"Watch your left wing, Thunderbird 2! You're close to the tower!"

At Scott's warning, Virgil veered the enormous vessel right. Alan and Gordon, who were standing over a console, were nearly thrown off their feet.

"Virgil!" Gordon cried as he righted himself, gripping on to the edge of the console and encouraging Alan to do the same.

"Sorry," was Virgil's tight reply.

John, who was sitting in his seat and monitoring some readings, couldn't help but smile cheekily. "You guys volunteered to navigate," he pointed out.

"We had no choice," Gordon argued. "That fog is so thick, Virgil's flying blind."

The communications tower was completely lost in the thick fog. Structurally unstable after a storm, the tower was swaying dangerously. It was coming down, there was no question. The Thunderbirds just had to evacuate the three technicians inside before it did.

"Something tells me they won't be so eager to work late at the office again," Gordon murmured as he concentrated on the readings. Brains had created a navigator based on underwater sonar systems. It utilised magnetic waves to create an image of the surrounding area. The only problem was that Brains hadn't yet managed to increase the range beyond a few yards, so Virgil had to maintain a precariously close distance.

Scott was staying clear, trying to shift some of the fog with his thrusters.

Gordon wore a permanent frown as he closely watched the readings. "Okay, hold it there," he instructed. "I'm going to prep the rescue platform. Can you hold her steady?"

"Sure," Virgil tersely replied. "When you're ready, I'll lower the platform first and then approach the tower. I don't want her thrusters to be pressuring it whilst we wait for you to get ready."

"FAB," Gordon nodded. "Alan, think you can handle being away from me for a while?"

"I think I'll survive," Alan replied without heat. He leaned over the console.

It only took Gordon a few minutes to get ready. When he radioed his confirmation, Virgil lowered the rescue platform with the aquanaut in it. John managed to open a communication line through the fog and tell the technicians what they had to do.

Alan sighed, tiredly. Rescue platform or not, climbing out of a window that high off the ground is no easy thing. Luckily, the technicians appeared to understand and responded lucidly.

"Gordon, hang on," Virgil instructed. "Preparing to approach the tower. Alan, keep a close eye on those magnetic readings."

"Sure," Alan replied, blinking as the pictures started to swirl. Pay attention!

From the look of things on the monitor, Virgil was well clear of the tower.

Slowly, Virgil raised Thunderbird 2 until the rescue platform was level with the tower windows. At Gordon's command, Virgil stopped.

"The pressure from your thrusters is pretty intense, Virg," Gordon reported. "The first technician is climbing out to me. We can't stay here too long. The tower won't take it."

"FAB, Gordon," Virgil replied. "Keep me posted on the tower's condition."

"Virgil, we've got a swell approaching fast," John reported.

"Crap," Virgil cursed. "Hopefully Gordon gets everyone out of there soon. I can't let Thunderbird 2 wobble in the wind and bump the tower."

"Alan, keep your eyes locked on that monitor," John said sternly. He looked over his shoulder when he didn't receive a confirmation. Alan was staring into space, blue eyes unfocused.

"Alan!" John called.

Alan jumped and looked at him. "Sorry."

John frowned at how fragile his little brother looked. "Stay focused, Alan. There's a strong wind approaching and we can't let it blow us towards the tower."

"Got it," Alan replied. Come on, he pleaded. Something odd was happening. It was so hard to focus. He wanted so desperately to close his eyes. He felt hot and his legs were shaking as he stood over the monitor, trying to make sense of the blurred shapes on the screen. Not now! Lives are at stake! I can't just ignore what's going on. Just a little longer, then you'll be home. You can get some coffee and have a cold shower. That will wake you up. Then you just…

"ALAN!"

A shudder thundered through the entire ship. Already unsteady on his feet, Alan was spun around and thrown to the ground. He threw out his hands to save himself from falling face-first on the floor, but it didn't help him. A sharp pain shot through his right wrist as he landed.

Garbled words penetrated his stupor.

"Gordon…got…all…?"

"Can't…have…pull back!"

"Negative…not…still…"

"Another…swell…Alan…"

"All…board…back!"

"Tower's…she's…Gordon!"

Alan shook his head, panting. Wobbling where he sat, he tried to make sense of what was happening.

He came back to reality in time to hear Virgil sigh loudly. "Thank God!"

John was calm. "Gordon, are any of the technicians injured?"

"Negative," replied Gordon, sounding breathless. "We're fine. That was close."

"Understatement," Virgil agreed, turning his head to exchange a look with John. But the blonde astronaut was no longer in his seat. He was with Alan, who was on the floor looking stunned. Virgil flipped a switch. "Raising the rescue platform. We'll get the technicians to the nearest hospital."

"What happened?" Gordon asked. "I thought Alan was monitoring the distance between the ship and the tower. He should have told you that you were too close!"

Virgil sighed again, resting his elbows on the control panel and holding his head in his hands.

Alan was fully awake now. The adrenaline rush had kept him sober enough to hear Gordon over the radio. John crouched beside him, holding the top of his right arm to keep him steady.

"What happened?" Alan whispered, partly to himself.

John gently murmured. "The swell came in faster than we thought. I called to warn you so that you could guide Virgil, but you wouldn't respond and we were hit. Gordon was helping the last man out and we nearly lost both of them."

Oh my God, Alan swallowed. It's my fault. I nearly got people killed.

John frowned as he watched his little brother. Alan was shaking under his hand. His breathing was shallow and ragged. His eyes, underlined with black circles, filled with tears.

"Alan, what happened?" he asked softly. "You didn't even look at us when we called you. It was like you were on another planet."

His brother had been careless, stupid even. But John was now convinced something was going on. The Alan he knew would never knowingly put lives at risk. The tears that leaked from his baby brother's eyes confirmed his suspicions. Wordlessly, he pulled Alan to his chest, wrapping his arms around the shivering boy.

Alan pulled away quickly, the warmth and safety his brother's arms promised tempting sleep. He used his good hand to scrub away his tears.

John rubbed his arm. "Can you stand?"

Alan nodded, unsteadily rising. He wobbled, and John grabbed his bad wrist to stop him from falling. Alan gasped as the pain reignited.

John held him by the shoulders. "Virgil," he called.

Virgil had just finished reporting to Scott when John called. Hearing Alan's cry, Virgil had already put the ship on autopilot and gotten out of his chair. "What hurts, Alan?"

The last thing Alan wanted was pity. He didn't deserve it and he felt stupid enough as it was. Silently, he shook his head.

"Alan, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," Virgil said.

Alan picked up on the impatience in his brother's voice. "S'my fault. I'll fix it," he croaked, walking swiftly out of the cockpit.

John looked at Virgil. "Do you want me to go?"

Virgil sighed, shaking his head. "No, I'd better look at him. He wasn't wearing a safety restraint and we took a hard knock. Can you pilot us to the hospital? I shouldn't be long."

John looked reluctant. "Sure. If it helps, I think it's his right wrist."

"Thanks," Virgil nodded. He started to follow Alan when John's voice stopped him.

"Virg," John called. "Go easy on him."

Virgil offered no smile or nod as he left.


Alan huddled on the floor, his back against the cold wall. It probably wasn't smart for him to be hiding in the med bay of all places, but he didn't have the energy to think of another plan. He held his throbbing wrist protectively to his chest, trying not to cry.

I can't do this, he thought despairingly. I can't pretend. Not after what I did.

A wretched sob escaped him. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Dad will never let me on another mission once he hears what happened. You can't make mistakes in this business. God! Gordon almost died! When Scott finds out what I did, he'll yell at me. Fermat will be so disappointed in me.

He jumped out of his skin when two hands grasped his shoulders. He looked up to see Virgil kneeling in front of him. "Easy!" Virgil hushed. "Calm down. It's me. I've been talking to you for near a minute, sprout."

Looking at his little brother, Virgil was very concerned. He'd expected Alan to experience some symptoms of shock after what had happened, but something else was amiss. Alan looked like the living dead. He was pale and his eyes were bloodshot and teary.

Virgil rubbed Alan's shaking arm, hoping some comfort would encourage him to talk. "What's going on?"

Alan shook his head, his breath hitching.

Something inside told Virgil that now was no time to be impatient. Instead of pressing the matter, he held out his hand. "Can I see?" he asked gently.

Alan hesitated, then held out his right arm.

Pulling back the sleeve of Alan's flight uniform, Virgil expertly felt his wrist. When he put pressure on one point, Alan hissed and tried to pull away.

Virgil used his other hand to hold Alan's arm, preventing him from withdrawing. "Sorry, kiddo," he apologised. "Looks like it's sprained. Why don't you hop up and I'll wrap it up for you?"

Alan only looked away.

It's definitely shock, Virgil mused. But there's something else not right.

He held a hand to Alan's cheek, steering his face forward. "Look at me," Virgil gently instructed. Alan's blue eyes quivered, but focused on him. The medic used his gloved thumb to stroke Alan's jaw. "Hey, it's okay. Everyone's fine."

Alan shook his head. "No," he mumbled. "I almost…Gord'n…"

"Shhh," Virgil hushed his incoherent brother, squeezing his shoulder. "We all make mistakes. It's okay."

Alan breath hitched again. He leaned his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. Boy, it would be so easy to sleep right now, he thought miserably. Maybe The Hood was right. I can never escape him. I'm trapped.

A sharp shake made him gasp, jolting him back to reality. "Alan," Virgil spoke to him sternly, holding his face in his gloved hands. Virgil's dark eyebrows were knitted tightly together and his brandy eyes burned with worry. "Alan, look at me. That's the second time you've spaced out on me in less than ten minutes, sprout. Are you okay?"

Alan had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop his bottom lip trembling at the serious tone of his brother's voice. He nodded.

Virgil looked anything but convinced as he pulled Alan to his feet. The movement was a bit too fast for the exhausted teenager. The world spun and he wobbled.

Virgil caught him, being careful of his wrist. "Whoa, easy! Stay with me."

Alan held out his good hand to grip the examination bed, steadying himself.

"Sit down," Virgil encouraged, propping him up on the bed.

Alan sat, but kept his good hand firmly clamped around the edge of the bed to stop himself from tipping over. There had been a reason why he'd chosen to sit on the floor against the wall.

Virgil watched Alan intently as he removed the kid's glove. Not only did Alan seem extremely disorientated, he was also unusually quiet. The youngest Tracy always made it clear to Virgil that he disliked being mothered, especially in an infirmary. But this time, he did not protest. Mulling over these thoughts, Virgil proceeded to grab a bandage and wrap his brother's wrist.

"Having you been finding it hard to concentrate lately, sprout?" he asked.

Alan shook his head.

"What about now?"

Another shake.

He's scared, Virgil realised. But of what?

Virgil recognised he wasn't going to get any answers. He secured the bandage and patted Alan's knee. "Why don't you get some sleep? We'll be home soon."

Alan jerked. "No!"

Virgil blinked.

Upon seeing his brother's shocked expression, Alan controlled himself. "No, I'm fine."

Virgil's hand rubbed his knee again. "Listen, sprout. You're in shock. The best thing you can do is rest."

Alan shook his head again, his gaze lowered.

Unfortunately for Alan, Virgil chose this moment to be stern. He pressed on Alan's shoulder to encourage him to lie down. Unable to put weight on his wrist, Alan could not push against him.

"No, I don't want to," he moaned, trying to wriggle his shoulder away.

Virgil mistook his anxiety for confusion brought on by shock. "Easy," he soothed. "Just lay down."

Alan panicked. He knew that the moment he hit the bed, he would be out for the count.

He yelled. "Stop it!"

Virgil released him, looking shocked.

"Stop smothering me!" Alan pleaded.

Virgil eyed him worriedly. "Alan…"

"Just go!" Alan told him.

Virgil nodded. His face wore a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and hurt. "Call if you need anything," he offered softly before leaving.

Alan immediately hopped off the bed and started walking around the small infirmary. He tried to concentrate on something to distract him from his body's nagging to sleep. He jumped when he saw John in the doorway.

His brother raised his eyebrows innocently. "Mind if I join you?"

Alan sighed, leaning against one of the worktops that lined the room. "I don't need a babysitter," he mumbled.

"I'm not here to baby-sit you." John walked inside and leaned on the bed. "I'm here to talk to you."

It's a distraction at least, Alan thought. "About what?"

"About what you said to Virgil," John replied. His face wore an uncharacteristically stern expression.

Alan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I understand that you don't like being fussed over, Alan," John said. "But Virgil was only doing his job."

"No, he was being Virgil," Alan argued defensively. He was getting angry and could feel a headache coming on. "I said I didn't want to rest but he kept pushing."

"And as he is the medic, you should have taken his advice," John said.

Alan sulked. John was one of those people who didn't have to raise his voice to let you know he was angry or disappointed in you. It made his lectures, however rare, all the more annoying.

"I don't need to rest," he argued, avoiding John's eyes.

"From where I'm standing, it doesn't look that way," John said softly. He approached Alan, studying his little brother's face. "Alan, when was the last time you had a decent night's sleep?"

Alan concluded that the safest answer was no answer at all.

John rubbed his brother's arm. "Are you having nightmares again?"

Alan shook him off. "No." You have to sleep to have nightmares.

John nodded, his brow creasing slightly in a worried expression. He sighed. "When we get home, I want you to rest." He held up a hand to interrupt Alan's protests. "Or I'll talk to Dad."

"You're blackmailing me?" Alan realised.

John raised an eyebrow. "If it will make you see sense."

Alan glared as John left. I'll just have to fake it, he thought.