Okay! What you've all been waiting for! Thanks again for your great reviews, they made me feel happy! As it's the weekend and I had to go to my dance lessen first, so I'm afraid this chapter was a little late today. But I'm sure you'll forgive me, won't you?!

I hope you enjoy reading! x x x x x x x x


I hate conferences.

Jeff shook his head and sighed deeply, fishing the keys out of the pocket of his expensive business suit and unlocking his rental car. It was true, he didn't understand how Brains could even think of liking conferences, scientific or business-related. The private conference he had attended over dinner had lasted nearly four hours, and now all he wanted to was go home and take a shower.

Well, at least the food was good. Probably the only part of the whole darn conference that I actually enjoyed! I don't understand why Dr. Edwards didn't just tell that idiot, Browning, to shut up. Browning was way out of line, and the accusations he was making about the credibility of Dr. Edwards' proposition were totally unprovoked. I mean, had that guy even read the background data?! If he had prepared for the conference, he wouldn't have been forced to question Edwards' every word like it was some sort of Spanish Inquisition or something! Heck, I'm not even tired any more. I'm just so darn frustrated! Four hours! I mean really, it's not humane to confine us in that room for so long, especially with the likes of Browning sitting in the chair across from you!

Naturally, Jeff was not in the best of moods. On the short drive back to the grand hotel where he, Fermat and Brains were staying, all that he could think about was how uneventful the day had been. As he pulled into the private car-park and turned the engine off, he sat back in his seat and sighed. At least his boys were having a better time than he was. He froze suddenly. Oh darn. I completely forgot to switch my phones back on! No wonder I haven't had a call from Scott yet! Man, he's not gonna be happy about that. Not one bit.

Stepping out of the car, he paused long enough to fish his three cell phones out of the pockets in his suit, then headed towards the hotel entrance. He took the lift to his room, switching on his 'general' and 'work' cells as he ascended. He sighed and rolled his eyes at the '15 missed calls' on his 'work' cell, all from Tracy Industries manufacturers. Putting that phone back into his pocket, he inserted his key-card into the panel beside the door to his room.

'Darn fingerprint recognition tests.' he thought to himself, as the computer spent a long moment scanning his thumb in order to ensure that he was definitely Jeff Tracy. A small beep told him that his pass had been accepted, and he stepped into the posh hotel suite.

He glanced down at his 'general cell' surprised when he saw that there was a missing call from Gordon. When there was no message, he became increasingly worried and took out his 'emergency' cell phone. When he saw that both Gordon and Virgil had tried to call him, he felt fear beginning to rise in his chest. As neither son had left a message, he grabbed his 'general' cell once again and speed-dialed Scott's number, putting put the phone to his ear. After a few seconds, there was a soft 'click', and Scott's voice broke through the stillness of the hotel room.

"Hi, dad."

Except it wasn't Scott's voice. It didn't sound like Jeff's confident, cheery, relaxed eldest son at all. Jeff became immediately concerned.

"Scott, is something wrong?" he asked curiously, trying to keep the worry from his voice. "Both Gordon and Vigil rang the emergency number earlier. What happened, is everything alright?"

He heard Scott take a deep breath, and then exhale sharply. "Dad, you need to fly down to Brookfield Hospital. Now."

Jeff was taken aback by the sudden statement, his heart now hammering against his ribcage as images of his injured children began to flash before his eyes. "Scott, what happened? Where are you?" he demanded firmly, clutching the phone tightly in his hand as he spoke.

"We're in Tracy One, on-route to the hospital." Scott replied, his voice flat and without emotion. "Our ETA is about fifty-five minutes, I think."

"Scott, what happened?" Jeff demanded again, a little more firmly. Oh darn, this sounds bad. Scott's removed himself from his feelings like he does when he's trying to keep himself together. Something terrible must have happened.

"Dad, it's - it's Alan." Scott replied, and this time his voice cracked slightly. Jeff sucked in a sharp breath. Oh no. What's happened to him? My Alan. He's just got to be alright!

"Is he hurt?" Jeff asked hurriedly. "Did he fall or something?"

There was a pause, and Jeff could hear the loud 'thud' of his heart as it pounded in his chest.

"No, dad, he hasn't injured himself." replied Scott. "Dad, he - he's got appendicitis."

Jeff was glad that he was standing next to the bed. When he heard Scott's statement, his legs suddenly gave way and his head became light. He sat down heavily on the bed, unable to say anything for a moment, a nauseous feeling beginning to churn in his stomach.

"Dad?" Scott asked worriedly. "You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." said Jeff hoarsely. "Are - are you absolutely certain that it's appendicitis?"

"Yes. Virgil's positive." Scott croaked, and Jeff could hear the tension in his voice. Jeff put his head in his hand.

"Damn." he muttered. "Why does it always happen to Alan?" He ran a hand through his hair, blinking back the tears. "How long ago did you find out?"

"Just over fifteen minutes ago." Scott replied. "When Virgil worked out what it was, he said we needed to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. So I bundled the guys into Tracy One and took off. I'm sorry for not calling you earlier, the flight has been kinda hectic. Alan's in a lot of pain."

"Son, don't be sorry." Jeff hushed him gently, standing up with a new determination and grabbing his still-full suitcase from beside his bed. "I was an idiot, anyway, I had my phones switched off. You wouldn't have been able to reach me even if you'd tried. But well done for acting so quickly and getting your brothers into the jet. You've done really well."

"Dad, can you get to the hospital soon?" Scott asked, and Jeff detected the note of desperation behind the request. "Please? I can't handle this on my own."

Jeff wanted to wrap his arms around his eldest and hold him close. Scott hadn't sounded this scared in years, and it hurt Jeff to hear his son so distressed.

"Scotty, I won't reach the hospital for at least three hours, so I need you to keep it together until then, alright? I know you can do this, Scott. Just stay calm, and it'll all be okay." Jeff stated, putting as much encouragement into his words as was possible.

"Alright, dad." his son replied, but his voice was low and it wavered slightly. Jeff paused at the door to his room, frowning slightly.

"Scotty, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly. There's something else bothering him. Something he's not telling me.

"It's Virgil." said Scott. "He isn't taking this so well. I haven't seen him this stressed in - well - ever. I think he's blaming himself for making the wrong diagnosis earlier, but it wasn't his fault. Alan didn't say anything about a stomach ache until we found him sobbing in his bedroom a little while ago. But Virge won't see it that way. If I know him, and I do, he'll be telling himself how dumb he is. He's really stressed, dad."

Jeff sighed and nodded. "I guess he understands what's going on better than the rest of us, that's why. He knows how dangerous appendicitis can become, and he's probably beating himself up over not recognising the symptoms before now. You know what he's like. I'm gonna need you to keep an eye on him for me once you get to the hospital, okay? Don't let him do anything - rash."

"I'll take care of them, dad." Scott assured him, his voice gaining strength. "All of them. I promise."

"That's my boy." Jeff stated lovingly, opening the door into the corridor and taking off at a jog. "Scott, I'm going to drive to the airport and fly Tracy Two down to Brookfield hospital. I'll contact Thomas Palmar the way and tell him of your arrival. What is your ETA now?"

Scott called something to John, and Jeff heard a faint voice yelling the reply. "About forty-five minutes." Scott reported. "Virgil has given Alan a dose of paracodeine, but it's not wor-"

The voice cut off abruptly as a loud cry could be heard in the background. Jeff felt his heart clench, and he froze on the spot. He heard Scott yell something indistinguishable to one of his brothers, and Jeff caught 'light-speed', 'fry' and 'hospital' in the jumble of dampened words. Scott was either covering the phone, or had moved it away slightly so that he could shout to one of his brothers. Then Scott's voice became clear once more, adopting a gentle and calming tone.

"Shhh. It's alright, Allie." he soothed. "Calm down. I'm here, it's gonna be okay. I'm right here. Shhh."

Jeff could hear Alan's pitiful sobbing over the phone, and tears unwillingly sprang into his own eyes. He hated to see any of his sons in pain, but hearing it without being able to comfort them was so much worse.

"Scotty, I need to go." he said, as he jogged up to his car in the parking lot. "I have to drive the car to the airport. I'll call you back the minute that I'm airborne, alright?"

"Okay, dad." Scott replied. "Oh, and dad?"

"Yes, son?" Jeff asked, sliding behind the wheel and fishing his keys out of his pocket.

"Please hurry." Scott begged. Jeff closed his eyes momentarily and grimaced painfully at the uncharacteristic display of desperation from his eldest son. I should have been there for them. This must be so hard on all of the boys, especially on Scott. I need to get to that hospital, NOW!

"I'll get there as fast as I possibly can, son." Jeff assured him. "Now, try to stay calm, and I'll call back soon. It's gonna be alright, Sparky. I promise you. Everything is gonna be alright."

"Okay, dad." Scott sighed. "I'll be waiting for your call. Speak to you soon."

"Bye, Scott."

Jeff waited until Scott had hung up the phone before putting his own away. He slid the key into the ignition, but paused momentarily. Taking a deep breath, he tried to slow his racing heart down a little, closing his eyes and gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Oh God, please help my family. Please, just give them the strength to make it to the hospital in time. And watch over my baby. He's still so young, and I couldn't cope with losing somebody else who's so dear to me. Our family would suffer so much if Alan didn't make it. Lucy, look after our boys for me until I can reach them. They need your strength and your comfort right now. And so do I. Help us to get through this, please.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Virgil couldn't here Scott's half of the conversation, as his older brother had gone to the back of the jet and was speaking quite softly. However, Virgil could see the tension in Scott's face, and in the way he stood awkwardly against the back wall of the plane. Scott's finding this pretty stressful. Oh for goodness sakes, we all are, dummy! What on earth am I thinking? Of course he's stressed. If I hadn't been so stupid, maybe things wouldn't be quite this serious! I've let everybody down. I'm supposed to be the one with the medical training, they were counting on me to be able to notice things like this!

Alan suddenly shifted in his arms, and let out an ear-splitting cry of pain, arching his back and clutching at his abdomen. Virgil hurried to soothe him, wrapping his arms more firmly around Alan's upper body and rocking him ever so gently.

"Easy, Sprout, easy." he soothed, as Scott jogged up from the back of the plane. "Calm down. I've got you."

Scott paused at the bedside, turning in the direction of the front compartment and covering the phone with his hand.

"John! Time to make the jump to light-speed!" he yelled loudly. "I don't give a damn about the engine capacity! Fry them for all I care! Just get us to that hospital now!"

"Got it, Scooter!" John replied, and Virgil felt the plane lurch a little as John increased the speed. Scott leaned over the bed and cupped Alan's cheek in his hand, still holding the phone to his ear. Virgil grimaced when he realised that their father had probably been able to hear Alan's scream. That's gonna make him panic. Darn it, this shouldn't be happening! Alan should've been in hospital by now!

"Shhh. It's alright, Allie." Scott murmured softly. "Calm down. I'm here, it's gonna be okay. I'm right here. Shhh."

Alan sobbed quietly, and Scott's pain-filled eyes met Virgil's over the top of his blond head. Virgil couldn't stand to see his older brother so distressed, as he knew that he was the reason why the stress had been created in the first place. Scott began speaking to on the phone again, but Virgil was no longer even trying to listen to the conversation. He cuddled Alan's sobbing form in his arms and bit his trembling lip. There was nothing else he could do to take Alan's pain away. Nothing.

And it's all my fault. I should have worked harder at my practical studies over Spring break, then I might have been able to learn how to administer shots to kids Alan's age. I can't stand hearing him cry like this! Especially when the pain medication is in the bag at my feet. But I - I can't bring myself to risk giving him anything. If I give him the worng dose, it could kill him. Or if I don't administer it correctly, he could go into septic shock. I just can't risk losing him like that.

"Virgil."

The distraught doctor-in-training turned to look up at his older brother, who was standing beside the bed. He had apparently finished speaking to their father, as his phone was nowhere is sight.

"Mmm?" Virgil inquired softly, his hand rubbing Alan's back gently as he planted a tender kiss on the blond hair.

"How is he?" Scott asked, perching at the foot of the bed and rubbing Alan's leg. Virgil clenched his teeth and tried not to show his emotions.

"Getting worse." he replied flatly. "His fever's increasing. I - I don't think his appendix is gonna be able to take much more of this."

"What d'you mean?" Scott looked at him worriedly, a frown washing over his features. "What happens to his appendix when it can't take any more?"

"It might burst." Virgil murmured, avoiding Scott's gaze and looking back down at Alan. Scott cocked his head to the side.

"And what happens then?" he inquired. Virgil closed his eyes and lowered his head, burying it in Alan's soft hair.

"Doesn't matter." he muttered. Please stop asking questions. I don't wanna answer them. What exactly am I supposed to say? I know how much danger Alan is in right now, especially if his appendix ruptures. That could lead to full-blown peritonitis if it isn't treated immediately. And the chances of a ten-year-old surviving severe peritonitis is less than ten percent. Oh God, please don't take him away from us just yet!

Scott's hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it gently, and Virgil opened his eyes and looked up.

"Hey, are you alright?" Scott questioned worriedly. Virgil cursed himself for letting his emotions surface, and quickly forced the look of calm back onto his face.

"I'm fine, Scott." he replied wearily. "I just wish we were already at the hospital."

"Me too, buddy." said Scott, putting an arm around his shoulders. "It's just a pity that we didn't realise what was wrong with him sooner."

Virgil felt a pain rising in his chest, and his throat tightened. He knew that Scott wasn't blaming him for his mistake, but that only made the guilt even worse. Because Scott should be blaming him. That's because he doesn't know how bad it can get. If he knew that my mistake might cost Alan his life, he'd definitely be blaming me. And Gordon and John probably would, too. I've let everybody down.

They sat in silence for several minutes, gently stroking Alan's hair until his sobs had subsided. The younger boy rubbed a hand across his face and sucked in a shaky breath.

"V-Virge?" he asked. Virgil bent his head down so that his cheek rested against Alan's.

"Yeah, Sprout?"

"Why does my side hurt so bad?" he sniffed miserably. Virgil looked up at Scott, his eye begging for help. How do I explain this to a ten-year-old without completely freaking him out?! Scott nodded his head for Virgil to explain, as he clearly did not understand the biology side of the ailment himself.

"Alan, there's this little thing in the lower right-hand side of your abdomen called an appendix" he began gently, his hand smoothing down Alan's ruffled blond hair. "Now, sometimes people can suffer from something called 'appendicitis', which is where the appendix becomes inflamed and the flesh becomes infected. That's why it's so painful."

Virgil bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of how to go on. Well, this isn't exactly the most medically-correct way of explaining appendicitis, but at least he'll understand what's happening.

"So how do you make it stop hurting?" Alan asked, shifting slightly in Virgil's arms. He stiffened, letting out a small whimper, and clutched his brother's arm tightly, a few more tears leaking from his blood-shot eyes.

"Shhh." Virgil soothed. "Just take some deep breaths, kiddo. That's it." When Alan had calmed down a little, he cleared his throat and continued. "We're taking you to the hospital, Al. The surgeons will be able remove the appendix so that it doesn't make you any more sick than you already are."

"You mean have and op-operation?" Alan asked worriedly, his voice hitching a little more in fright. Scott leaned forward and stroked his face tenderly.

"It's alright, Sprout." he said softly. "Don't worry about anything. We're gonna stay with you as much as we can, okay? And Thomas Palmar is gonna meet us on the runway. You wanna see Thomas again, right?"

Alan nodded slightly. "Haven't seen him in ages." he mumbled wearily. "Not - not since he came over to visit. I like Tom. He can think up the best pranks in the world. Even better than - than Gordon."

Scott and Virgil smiled slightly. Dr. Thomas Palmar was an old friend of their father's, as he had been a junior doctor on the space station where Jeff had worked for several months at a time up until Gordon's birth. They had been the same age, and the youngest members of the team on the station. Consequently, they had become firm friends within the first few days and, even after Jeff's rotation had ended, they had continued to send daily messages to each other. Dr. Palmar had resigned from the NASA programme just over four years ago, and pursued his medical profession as the lead consultant at Brookfield hospital. He had moved to that hospital for several reasons. One; it used advanced technology, the sort that he had become accustomed to using on the space station. Two; the hospital had required an experienced consultant who was fully familiar with each piece of equipment, as Dr. Palmar was. And three; their father had told Thomas all about his dreams for International Rescue, and the doctor had wanted to be as close to the island as possible so that he could be on-hand to perform serious operations at the hospital with no questions asked, should an accident occur during a rescue mission. It was safe to say that Jeff had been very pleased with this arrangement.

Alan suddenly cried out again, gripping Virgil's hand tightly and letting out a loud sob. "Virge, it hurts!" he cried.

"I know, buddy. I know it hurts, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Virgil murmured trying to calm the boy down as he writhed around on the bed. He didn't miss the incredulous stare that his older brother shot in his direction. Scott wanted to know what he was apologising for. But Virgil couldn't tell him. He couldn't tell anybody.

"Scott, can you hand me the aural thermometer?" he asked. "It's in the bag."

Scott hopped off the bed and picked up the med-kit, sifting around momentarily until he found the desired object. Handing it to Virgil, he sat back down on the end of the bed and resumed his gentle stroking of Alan's leg. Virgil bent down and kissed his baby brother's cheek gently.

"Sprout, I'm just gonna check your temperature, okay?" he said softly. "Hold still, and I'll be done in a few seconds."

He slipped the tip into Alan's ear, holding the boy's head with his free hand. After the 'beep', he removed it and smiled gently. "That's my boy." he congratulated. Peering at the reading, he frowned slightly. It was now 103.6, no doubt because of the emotional distress his brother was suffering from.

Virgil felt his pocket vibrating, and a familiar tune rang out. "That's my cell phone." he said, unnecessarily. Scott stood up and held Alan's shoulders whilst Virgil slid from behind his baby brother's back. Alan let out another cry of pain, and Scott quickly slipped into Virgil's vacated space, holding Alan up gently and whispering soothing words of comfort to the distraught boy. Virgil opened his cell and saw that the call was from Dr. Palmar himself. Pressing a key, he raised it to his ear and tried to make his voice sound convincingly calm.

"Hello, Dr. Palmar." he greeted softly, sitting down in one of the seats at the back of the plane.

"Hi, Virge." came the reply. "And stop calling me 'Dr. Palmar'!"

Virgil managed to smile at their usual joke, but it was a weak and minuscule smile, that was quickly washed away in the frown that took its place.

"I just got off the phone with your dad." the doctor continued. "He told me that you boys are on your way to the hospital because Alan has appendicitis. Now, are you absolutely certain? What are his symptoms?"

Virgil took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself. "Severe lower-abdominal pain, located primarily in the right quadrant." he said, slipping easily into the realms of 'medical jargon', or so Gordon had named it. "He has a temperature of 103.6 degrees, and suffered from sever nausea and vomiting earlier this evening."

"Okay." the voice said. "Well, I agree with your diagnosis, it definitely sounds like appendicitis. Do you know how inflamed the appendix has become? Is the abdomen rigid?"

"Just a little, doc, but it's still reactive." replied Virgil.

"My name's Tom, Virgil." he sighed dramatically, and Virgil couldn't help but smile a little. Tom always made him smile. "Well, that's good news, anyway. The appendix hasn't burst yet. But the slight distension may be an indication that there is already a small rupture in the organ. You'll have to keep a close eye on that until you erach the hospital. Well, it certainly sounds like you know what you're talking about when it comes to appendicitis, hey kiddo?"

Virgil shook his head. No I don't. If I did, I would have identified it sooner, and Alan would have been in a hospital by now.

"How're you holding up, Virge?" Thomas asked. Virgil cleared his throat.

"We're okay. Alan's in a heck of a lot of pain, so I've given him twenty-five of paracodeine." he reported, purposefully avoiding the real question. "But it isn't having any effect on the pain. I've brought the bupremorphine with me, but I haven't taken the training to administer it yet. I don't know what to do. He's in agony and I can't do anything to stop it! What am I supposed to do? Maybe I should just try and give him a dose of bupremorohine. If you could direct me, I'm sure I could-"

"Virgil, listen to me." Thomas said calmly. "I want you to take a deep breath and concentrate on my voice for a minute, can you do that?"

Virgil swallowed and took a deep breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he was going to end up hyperventilating if he carried on like this. He needed to focus. "Okay, I'm alright." he said.

"Well done." Thomas replied gently. "Now, listen to me carefully, Virge. You are, under no circumstances, to try and administer the pain killer, d'you understand? I know that you're worried about Alan, so am I. But he's going to be alright. Appendicitis is treatable, overdosing on bupremorphine is not. I'm not questioning your capability as a doctor, Virgil, but you just haven't had the training yet. It's a very advanced procedure for somebody your age to attempt, and one slip would kill your brother. D'you understand, Virge?"

"Yes, sir." Virgil replied quietly. There was a short silence, then Tom cleared his throat and repeated his question.

"How're you holding up, Virgil?" he asked. Virgil bit his lip and hurriedly thought of a way to avoid the question.

"The rest of us are doing okay." he said, hoping that a generalisation would suffice. "John and Gordon are piloting, so at least they've got a distraction. Scott's being Scott, so he's coping. Yeah, we're okay, all things considered."

"Virgil, you still haven't answered my question." said Tom, with a trace of amusement in his voice. "Now, I've known you long enough to see that you're definitely not okay. So, what's the matter?"

Virgil thought that this was a rather stupid question. "Well, Alan happens to have appendicitis, haven't you noticed that?" he shot back, rather rudely. In the silence that followed, Virgil immediately felt sorry for snapping.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I'm really sorry." he apologised, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I just don't know what to do right now. I hate not being able to do anything to help him, you know?"

"Yeah, buddy, I know." Thomas replied softly. "But it'll be alright, you'll see. You've done really well so far, and you've remembered your training like a pro. I'm proud of you, kid. Keep it together for me, 'kay?"

"Okay, Tom." Virgil agreed, although his heart was wrung with guilt and shame. Like a pro? Yeah right. I was too blind to recognise appendicitis when it was staring me right in the face. I'm such an idiot. When Tom hears how long it took me to diagnose Alan's illness correctly, I'll be surprised if he still wants to tutor me.

"Virgil? I have to go. We just got an influx of trauma patients." said Thomas hurriedly. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I want you to call my cell phone when you're five minutes away from the landing strip, 'kay? That way, I can have a gurney and a medical team waiting with me when you touch down."

"Alright, Tom. Will do." Virgil stated. "See you later."

Once Thomas had hung up, Virgil put his head in his hands and tried to hold back the tears.

Please, don't let Alan die from this. I'll never forgive myself if we lose him. We all love him so much, and it'll break dad's heart to lose somebody else after losing mom. Please, help me to stay strong for my brothers until dad gets to the hospital. I can't do this on my own, I just can't.

Virgil looked up and out of the window beside him. For the first time in many years, he wished that they didn't live on a tropical island in the middle of the ocean. In his opinion, a nice house next-door to the hospital would suit the Tracy family quite nicely.


What happens to our boys when they arrive at the hospital? Will they be able to keep it together, or will the stress finally make Virgil crack? Will Alan's operation go smoothly, or will complications arise? And news will Thomas give to Jeff and the boys one the procedure has finished? Find out in the next chapter!

Okay, who's feeling sorry for poor old Virgil (puts hand up) - yeah, me too. But of course he's being hard on himself. He's a sixteen-and-a-half year old doctor-in-training who thinks he's responsible for Alan's present state of health. And he's a Tracy. Never a good combination.

PLEASE REVIEW! You guys are all giving me terrific feedback and asking fantastic questions, so please keep it up!

Well, that's all for today, folks! I'll see you tomorrow with the next exciting chapter!

Laters!