This took sooo long... Not enough hours in the day. But it's done! On to the next one!

Scott's hands were numb, his eyelids heavy. Soaring at seventeen thousands miles per hour, he was definitely unfit to fly by any normal standards. This did not apply when flying your ship came as naturally as breathing.

His fingers moved levers and pressed buttons of their own accord, his mind elsewhere, deep in thoughts about Alan. His pain had brought him back six months, when they had both been somewhat closer to happiness then they had been in years. He had been carrying Alan's daughter down a sunlit pier, only last summer. Scott had nicknamed her 'Brightness' since the minute she could smile. She would have no idea how upside down her little world had just become.

These intrusive memories were interspersed by flashback images of John, still and gray on his death bed. He had not long seen Virgil in a similar state, half his face obscured by the ventilator pumping air into his lungs. Scott couldn't bring himself to go near him. He didn't pat his brother's hand in farewell, like he wanted. The terrifying sense of deju vu made him almost certain that one touch could be the end. It could break the spell that was keeping his brother alive.

Seeing him lying like that, he almost called his father to demand that Gordon return instead. He would even allow him to take Thunderbird One home, as reluctantly as giving up a piece of his soul. He would even forgive a few nicks from Gordon's famous rough landings - anything but leave Virgil's side.

These thoughts occurred strongly but he had no true will to act on them, remembering the warning that had been left for him. He had been seen speaking to a stranger, who then got murdered moments later. Seeing Alan's watch had made the message clear.

That same watch that was now on Scott's right wrist, just below his own. Every time he looked down to adjust a flight lever, there was his visual reminder, it's cracked screen speckled with black blood. He managed to take it from Luke's body before the police could, not really sure if it was the right thing to do. The young man looked to be Alan's age. His skin had still been warm. His eyes were half closed, the pupil's wide and black, staring blindly past him.

We're watching you. We destroyed you. We took one of your own, right under your nose.

Scott had a message of his own. "When I find you, you'll wish you'd killed me instead."

He had no choice but to head home. The guilt over that decision twisted his stomach and made his jaw clench painfully. All this carnage had happened under his command. The worst part was that he knew it was going to happen. His instinct, fine tuned by years of military service and successful rescues, had been urgent like a flashing red siren. The attack on London had been a well orchestrated trap and he had known it the instant Robert made his report hours ago. There was also nothing he could do to prevent them falling into it. How could you turn to face your father and tell him you'd let innocent people die based on a gut feeling?

He didn't speak up. That had nearly got killed Virgil. It may as well have killed Alan. He would never make that mistake again.

It had certainly torn International Rescue apart from the inside out. They couldn't function without Thunderbird Two and her pilot. After John, he thought nothing worse could ever happen to the organisation or his family.

The unbreakable bond he shared with Virgil since childhood was stretching taught with the distance between them. A fraying thread, like he had left a piece of himself behind. His only comfort was that Gordon was there with him. Fearless, tenacious Gordon - the only person he could trust with this job other than himself. If (when, Christ, when!) Virgil woke up, he would be in good hands.

His communicator beeped and he was surprised and relieved to see Brains's bespectacled face appear before him. It wasn't Gordon or Robert, and no news from them was good news.

"Brains?"

"Scott, I-I-I need you to come down to the, uh, lab when you return. There's, uh, something Mr Tracy, ah, ah, needs you to see."

"Brains..." Scott closed his eyes briefly, trying to clear his blurred vision, "I'm so tired I can't even see straight. Anything you can give me, first?"

Brains looked sideways and his voice dropped to a whisper, "I understand the situation, uh, Scott, but your Father wouldn't permit"-

"To hell with that," said Scott, not liking the desperation in his voice, "If I fall asleep now, I won't wake up for a day. We can't allow that."

He watched Brains consider this for a moment, before saying, "I-I'll see you in the lab."

Then for the first time, Brains cut him off without a clear yes or no. Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"He's getting too smart," he sighed.

He landed his beautiful Thunderbird as smoothly as ever. He didn't need to have his eyes open for that. He went through his checks rapidly, determined to grab a shower before answering Brains's summons. He was still in his blues and fleetingly wondered where his cap might have gotten to after the wind blew it off his head. He'd lost count of how many had disappeared in such a manner.

All looked well with Thunderbird One and he tapped his fingers over the keypad by the exit door.

As the door slid open, his Father and Brains stood waiting for him. Scott opened his mouth to greet them, but when they each raised a hand, he stopped.

Both of them held a IR standard issue handgun. Brains's was loaded with a blue stun cartridge. Jeff's was red, which meant it was live. If he fired, he would intend to kill. Both men aimed their guns straight at Scott's chest. He blinked, his hands automatically rising in the air.

"What's going on?" he said, his heart thumping in his ears.

"It's alright, Scott. Relax," said Jeff softly, a haunted look in his eyes, familiar and wrenching to see.

"Relax? Dad, you're pointing live ammo at me."

"It's, uh, standard procedure in, uh, this situation," said Brains nervously.

"What situation?" said Scott, his voice ringing loud with confusion.

Jeff reached around to the back pocket of his pants to retrieve a pair of handcuffs.

"Listen to me, son. I need you to take your gun out of it's holster and place it on the floor in front of you."

Scott didn't need asking twice and kicked it over towards Brains's feet for good measure. He was too stunned to talk.

"Good. Now put these on." said Jeff, placing the cuffs on the floor and stepping back. He never took his eyes off Scott, the gun remaining level with his son's chest the whole time.

Scott picked up the heavy cuffs. They were of Brains's design. Unbreakable. Loaded with electrodes and a paralytic drug. Once they were on, there was no way out. He felt like an idiot as he willingly clamped them over each wrist, the cold metal against his skin making him shudder in revulsion.

Jeff seemed calm as he gently took Scott's upper arm in his hand, leading him forward.

"Come with me. We'll explain everything."