A/N: Chapter Ten! Whooo! Some previously mentioned stuff comes out in this chapter, so have a think back as you read and see if you can discover what I mean before you get to it….

Thanks for all the fabulous reviews. I'm totally feeding off of them, and getting some awesome conversations in the breaks between chapters. Keep 'em coming!

Whee!

Disclaimer: If not for Sylvia and Gerry Anderson, I would not be able to play in this wonderful playground, so no; I do not own the Thunderbirds.

Also, I am a university student of Primary Education, so you must take everything I say on medical topics with a grain of salt, as it is only what I have gathered from online sources!

I was very much pleased with how my day seemed to be going so far. For starters, I was still allowed to make my happy little way back to my bedroom as Virgil had said I could the night before. I did have to get him to detach my lines from the IV bags so that I could shower and dress with minimum hassle, and I ended leaving a wistful and tired-looking Gordon still tied to the nebuliser on his bed, but it was good to be out from beneath the gaze of the overly-bright lights.

I was pretty depressed to discover that I had managed to lose a fair bit more hair during the night, but I was thankful for my brothers and everyone else for being so tactful in not staring at me. I chuckled a little despite myself when I glanced in my mirror on my slow way to the shower, because I seriously looked like a half-sheared wheat field; patches missing everywhere, and the shiny bits of scalp bright and quite fully visible against the pale strands.

I was at the point where I was deliberately ignoring the declining state of my body. Already pretty much rail-thin already, as a combined result of my mother's genes, and the apparent inability to put on weight, no matter how much chocolate or sugar I consumed, I was really in no shape to be losing body mass at the rate I had been for the last half-a-dozen weeks. I knew without looking that almost all of my ribs were showing, as well as my hips and collarbones. There was also the fact that the deep bags beneath my eyes were not helping with the job of filling in the holes that my protruding cheekbones had created. But by far the most irritating thing was the thrombocytopenia. Even with the regulators that we had had stocked in the island's infirmary as a matter of principle flooding my system, —the first dose was supposed to have come into effect sometime the night before— it still didn't stop my blood vessels being temperamental. There were dark splotches of bruising that were cropping up everywhere I managed to bump anything, even lightly. Frankly, it sucked.

Since I was feeling a little less nauseous and headachey than usual —I was thankful for even the shortest of reprieves — I decided that it was well worth the effort to actually put some clothes on, rather than just replacing my sleepwear and dressing-gown and looking like I'd just crawled out of bed. It was difficult to choose clothes that weren't going to interfere with my lines and the whole issue of an immobilised arm, as well as being comfortable; but I finally settled on a thick shirt, a loose jacket, and sweatpants. I also figured that because my day seemed to be so shiny and kind of happy right now, that I'd put a cap on instead of a knitted hat, just to kind of say you can't make me hide; this is me and stuff the fates if they don't think so!

So I found that I was a much happier John Tracy when I ventured out of my bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively at the air. I could hear the quiet voices of Alan and Scott as they came into view; sitting at the counter, discarded breakfast bowls and coffee mugs pushed up against the draining board, ready to be washed.

"Hey John." Alan looked up at me. His face was tired —like the rest of us, but the light was flickering hopefully back within them; he seemed infinitely more content then when he had been watching Gordon and his unfortunate episode earlier. Clearly, a number of things had occurred to help even out my little brother's emotional balance, and assuming from the companionable atmosphere I had walked into, there was no question as to what had at least partially assisted.

Seeing my enquiring look, Scott answered with a quirk of his lip. "We went in to see Gords. He's looking a lot better. Virge said that he'll probably be able to come out of there in an hour or two; he just wants him to take it easy for the next couple of days."

I nodded, taking a seat next to Alan, patting the kid on the shoulder as he smiled at me tentatively. He was on my good side, the one without the sling, so I held my arm out and he tucked himself contentedly into the space it presented. I gave him a comforting squeeze.

"You look happier." He told me. That was always his way and Scott's too. They both had no concept of subtlety, really. It was astounding to the extent that those two spoke without thinking. Scott didn't do it half as much as he used to, his superiors in his squadron in the 'Force wouldn't have stood for it, but Alan was still growing and learning; he'd get the hang of it eventually.

"Yeah." I said, grinning at him softly as I ruffled his hair. He scowled at me and reached up to brush the overlong bangs from where they had flopped down into his eyes. "Pain meds do that to you, Sprout."

He made a face at the nickname, but otherwise made no comment.

Scott gave a bit of a groan as he stood, spine popping as he stretched. "You want some breakfast, Johnny?" he asked, padding barefoot around the island counter to flick the switch on the coffee-maker. I wondered idly what number mug he was up to, as I nodded a little at his query.

"Just a bit of toast, thanks." No sense in antagonising the beast this early if I could help it. "Where's Dad?"

Scott had already pulled the loaf of the fresh-baked thick-crust bread out of the pantry, and was busily stuffing the pre-cut slices into the old toaster that I was sure had lived in Grandma's house before Dad had kidnapped it without any sort of ransom. He hadn't seemed to realise that he couldn't fit two in the one side like we could with the normal stuff. He was trying anyway. "He's gone to get dressed. He said he'd be out soon. Do you think Gordon would want some?"

I shrugged, making Alan wriggle a bit to maintain his position against my chest. I'd have to get him to move soon. Not only was my back beginning to protest, but me and my ungainliness seemed to be giving a warning of impending toppling —not that I really wanted to give up my personal heater though, not with how cold I was this morning. "Maybe. You'll have to ask him. Has Virgil eaten?"

"Yep." Alan grinned. "That was before he went sprinting downstairs though. He'll probably need a refill." He extricated himself from my arm, and then tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "I'm gonna go to my room. Thanks for the talk, Scott." He left, seeming a little less tense than he had lately, but still not entirely at ease. I had felt the tightness across his shoulders, but I was glad that he was opening up a little more. We'd kept him isolated at Wharton's for too long.

He was supposed to have gone back to school over two weeks ago, because his spring break had only been a week long in truth, but the current circumstances had apparently prompted Dad into considering home-schooling him. I didn't think that there was any chance would even suggest that we try and send him back to Massachusetts, not with everything that had happened lately; not only with my health, but also because of The Hood.

There. That jolted something in my memory. What was it? I sat there for a second, fiddling with the cord that ran through the hood of my jacket, but the memory I sought to clarify seemed intensely fuzzy. I could sense that it was coming closer to being in my grasp, however.

I could feel Scott watching me as I thought contemplatively, but I ignored him a little —he wasn't speaking to me right then— and I finally caught it with sticky fingers so that it couldn't run away from me.

"Hey, Scott?" I asked, nodding my thanks as a lightly-buttered slice of toast landed under my nose. "What were you talking about yesterday, with the thing about IR testifying?"

My brother sat down beside me with a piece of his own toast —liberally smeared with peanut butter— and took a bite, almost without thinking about it. He chewed a little but then spoke without swallowing —the gummy crumb-and-glop combination making his words come out as thickly as concrete. "The Brits want us to testify because there's really no case against him aside from the whole breaking and entering thing. They want IR a part of it because not only does it give the news hounds something good to write about, but also gives them a greater chance of nailing the bastard to the wall."

I nodded there, as I could see the validity of their arguments, but I had also spotted a whole host of reasons why we shouldn't have to go up against a mad-man in court, foremost of them being the whole issue of International Rescue being a secret, anonymous operation. The simple fact that the whole thing would be permanently on record, not to mention the fact that we would be under oath to tell the truth on everything we said and did; that would be made remarkably difficult as names and locations, as well as the entire, fully-explained event were required within that particular law.

With the launching of International Rescue eighteen months ago, we had become kind of above the law in the way that I routinely bounced illegal signals off of the satellites surrounding 'Five, and often hacked into global servers to access information that was to help us on rescues. It made for a thorny situation indeed.

Scott had watched me mull that over for a bit, as he munched on his second breakfast and almost drowned himself in coffee. I had to admit I was jealous.

"So…" I said slowly. "What's the plan? I'm assuming that Dad has a plan of action?"

My brother smirked. "Naturally."

I had to admit to myself that that particular remark left a lot of possibilities.

A/N: Well I hope that wasn't too abrupt of an ending. I have to go now, but I'm anticipating the next update to be around Thursday or Friday, as I have coursework that I need to prepare for, unfortunately.

As always, thanks for reading, everyone, and I hope to hear from you all in reviews!

-Pyre Xx