Tracy Island was empty for the first time since Jeff's initial disappearance. Max was left to maintain the security measures, patrolling the halls like a lonely sentry. The rest of the family had climbed aboard Tracy 1 once John made it down, Penelope and Parker following close behind in the pink Rolls Royce.

Gordon felt so numb, the intense grief from earlier giving way to an odd sense of detachment. He clung to it like a security blanket, its fuzzy haze keeping the pain at bay for a moment longer. Until they made it to the hospital, of course. He kept trying to push the thought of their destination away. He would deal with that when they arrived.

Gordon turned his focus on his brother, currently piloting the jet towards the hospital. As usual, John had been cool and collected, but the blonde could see the signs; the gentle bounce of his foot on the floor board, the way his thumb would run over the ridges of the controls. This was gravity at its worst.

Grandma sat next to him, determined to ensure they made the trip as fast and efficiently as possible. The readouts were her distraction. She would check each one with fluid efficiency, repeating every few minutes; every time she was able to really think about what had just happened and where they were going. She checked once more even though nothing had changed. To John's credit, he silently let her go through the motions. Gordon himself would have been at his last straw, already turning to look at anything other than his grandmother's emotional habit.

Brains, sitting in the seat next to him with a tablet in hand, had been near impossible to remove from the island. Parker had practically dragged him through the hangar. At first, Gordon hadn't understood the engineer's reluctance to see his father, but then he'd caught a glimpse of what was on the handheld device. The data streaming across it was gibberish to him, but the images of a device were near impossible to mistake. A mask, sleek, crystalline and seemingly harmless unless you'd experienced the pain of being subjected to life-like worlds where you could feel every minute detail.

"What are you doing?" Gordon had asked, the shock of memories keeping his voice at a whisper.

Brains had simply tapped at the screen, sliding to more data the blonde couldn't understand. "I collected some information w-while the drone was s-still in the Hood's facility. I'm trying to f-figure out what he's been doing."

-to Dad… Gordon's mind couldn't help filling in the last bit, the lump rising in his throat again as the thoughts resurfaced; how his father had been forced into that VR nightmare and watched as Gordon plunged a sword into his brain; killed by his son who couldn't see through the illusion.

Gordon had stopped any further line of questions that might have formed, simply for the need to pull himself back together. Now that he'd resumed the stifling numbness, he turned his attention back to the window, catching a hint of pink through the clouds.

"Focus on your brothers, alright?" Her voice floated through his mind as he remembered her words from the living room. "You're going to need each other."

That had been the push he'd needed. Gordon had immediately thought of Alan who was there - had been with him in that game - trying to help take care of the man they had fought. So much of him had hoped his little brother hadn't and wouldn't make the connection.

He'd told Virgil… He'd said it was just a dream, but… if his brother figured it out, would he hate Gordon as much as he hated himself? For not realizing who the Hood had pitted them up against? Could he have saved their father sooner?

And Fuse. Gordon stifled a curse as he thought about the demolitions expert who had triggered this whole event. Had he known? Even back when Gordon was having the nightmares, had Fuse been aware that he had actually killed his father? There would be no answer to those questions, however, his comm safely in Kayo's possession.

The blonde's gut churned, the sudden overwhelming feeling of failure and stupidity weighing heavily on him. Everything was a mess and so much of it seemed like it was his fault. It was his fault for not making the connections, for not telling them about Fuse, for being too weak to help. No, not weak. He was a liability. Scott hadn't used the word, but the implication was there. Even after their talk on the beach, his brother would still have trouble trusting him. They all would.

The lap-belt was off in a flash as Gordon stood from his seat, almost stumbling into the small lavatory. The door had just snapped shut when his knees hit the floor and he wretched into the silver bowl. He gasped past his stomach's rebellion and the fresh tears falling down his face.

A click above him barely registered until gentle hands came to rest on his shoulders. He cringed under the touch, wanting to run far away from the comfort he didn't deserve, but the hands were strong. They pulled him up and into a protective embrace, the side of his head coming to rest on a small shoulder. The grey hair and purple jumpsuit alerted him immediately to who had come to check on him.

Gordon didn't protest as she began to card her fingers through his hair, the soft sobs quieting with her presence.

"Gordon, sweetheart." Her voice, though soft, rumbled with ache. "Talk to me."

He gulped past his shuddering breath and the sour taste, unable to tell his grandmother that he was fine, an obvious falsity. He couldn't stand to have her worrying over him, not right now. This was something no one else could know about.

He hated how long it took him to regain some of the earlier haze, the sobs replaced by the less frequent shiver. It was enough to loosen his grandmother's grip so he could sit up, wiping the stray tears from his face. "Sorry… just lost my focus."

Grandma gave him a sad smile, squeezing his shoulder. "It's alright, Gordon. It's natural to experience this kind of thing when-" She stopped herself and Gordon was acutely aware of how thin her hold was on her own emotions.

"I'll be okay, Grandma." It took a great deal of effort to make it sound convincing, a thin smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Having her question his thoughts would do nothing to help either of them. "Just gonna get… cleaned up. You can go back to John."

Gordon had hoped she would reluctantly nod and just leave, but as the exasperated frown emerged with the pained, blue eyes, he realized she wouldn't be so easily redirected.

Her fingers squeezed his shoulders a bit tighter as she spoke. "You boys… Gordon, all of you have been my life. I've almost lost you more times than I care to remember." Her voice wavered, shaking just the slightest against the hum of the aircraft. "Whatever you're dealing with, know you never have to deal with it alone. Promise you'll speak with one of us."

Gordon couldn't look at her, couldn't make that promise… not right now. His eyes stayed on the carpet lined floor until a hand cupped his chin, pulling his face to meet hers. Everything in him wanted to break at the sadness he hadn't seen in so long. He quickly swallowed the sob that was trying to force its way out. The lie was easier than he expected. "I promise."

Maybe it wasn't a lie, but he couldn't imagine telling anyone what he was actually going through. He just couldn't see his grandmother looking so upset on his behalf. Especially when she had so much else to deal with.

The tension in his shoulders loosened as she nodded, accepting his answer. A new nausea floated through his gut, more manageable than before. The blonde never liked lying to his family. Stretching or omitting the truth, sure, but it always felt wrong when he lied.

He cursed himself for needing assistance to his feet, leaning against the bathroom's frame, Grandma gripping his elbow as he swayed. "I'm okay." He gave her a weak smile.

She let go of his arm, looking a little less concerned, but the worry lines never left. "Take your time getting cleaned up, kiddo. We'll be landing in about thirty minutes."

"Thanks, Grandma." She never stopped watching him until the door closed with him inside. After a few seconds, he heard her soft footfalls in the carpet leading back to the front cabin. Gordon took the moment to let the water run, the sound soothing under the drone of the plane. The water was cool as he splashed it over his face, rinsing away the memories from earlier.

Thirty minutes… Just half an hour to land, then another twenty to the hospital. He hoped he could hold himself together that long. Focus on your brothers… Penelope's words were back and he let them be his anchor. Focus… they need you…

They need you…

OoOoOoO

The doors had swung shut half an hour ago, cutting Scott off from the rest of the emergency department. Alan and Kayo sat in the silent aftermath, the blonde picking absently at the bandage over his throat. The pilot realized he hadn't ask about it, even after the hurried run from Thunderbird 2 to the hospital entrance. His mind had been on the semiconscious man laying on the gurney.

Virgil had gone in with the doctor and nurses, spouting off medical information; signs and symptoms, what medications and IVs had already been administered… the patient's mental state during the transport. His brother was the best choice for those questions, but that did nothing for the ache in his chest to be back with his father.

He'd spent the wait pacing, trying to get a good view into the back every time the door opened. It never helped when he did. It was a clear hall, the patients tucked back into private rooms to be worked on… poked, prodded… How much had his father had to deal with the same treatment under the Hood's "care"? How could he have allowed this to happen? Why hadn't he looked harder?

Scott felt his pulse rocket into his ears, hands clenching and releasing as he walked, his lungs burning with the uneven breathing. Why had he failed?

The door opened, but he knew now that looking would be useless, instead continuing a relentless pace. With each step, his head pulsed, air choking him. He finally gasped out as a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him to a hard stop.

"Scott! Scott, breathe man." Virgil's grip was strong as the elder found himself slipping towards the linoleum. He caught himself on the green belt still firmly in place around the medic. Virgil kept repeating the command, softer each time until the brunette's breathing seemed to sync with the beginning and end of each word. "That's it." The encouragement came with the sudden realization that his brother was no longer by their father's side.

Before Scott let himself succumb to the plethora of nightmarish scenarios that could have befallen their father, he found the only words he could muster. "Where's Dad?"

Virgil gently eased him into one of the waiting chairs, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder. As the younger brother sat back, Scott could see a few of the nurses standing close by, ready to jump in if needed. The embarrassment was fleeting as he turned to find the answer to his question.

"They're moving him to the ICU." The hand on his shoulder grew a bit tighter to prevent the brunette from jumping to his feet, ready to find the fastest route to the unit. "Scott, it's going to be a little while until they're ready for visitors. We'll just be in the way if we go up now."

"Virgil… I can't- I… he's alone." The crushing truth behind those words sent another wave through him, forcing him farther back into the seat. Alone… for five years...

"Stop, just… I know this is difficult. Impossible even.. but we can't rush into this." Rush? Rushing wasn't nearly fast enough for him right now. He needed to be with their father and see for himself that he was okay, but something thick and strained in Virgil's quiet tone kept him glued to the seat. For a moment, he could only stare into his brother's face, noting the sweat trailing over his pale skin. He looked so far beyond okay. He looked ready to lose what little he had in him all over the waiting room floor, but he continued that coolness that instilled trust and cooperation on their missions. It was so solid, just knowing the raven-haired brother was barely holding it together himself.

Scott's mouth opened, to protest, to will the doctors and nurses allow them entry, but as the younger man's distress continued to bleed out over his face, there was only one word that would form. "Okay…"