Disclaimer: see chapter one

AN: thanks for leaving the reviews. They are greatly appreciated and encouraging. Another thanks to two friends, my equivalent to Rachel and Phoebe, who were there through the good times, the tough times, joined me in drooling over Freddy from Scooby-Doo and working through this chapter, turning it from a mess of jumbled sentences into a semi-coherent chapter.

Chapter Eleven – Don't

Days slowly bled into weeks. Weeks transgressed into months. Scott was slowly assimilating into life as a captive. His resilience was waning, his ability to take the physical torture his captors inflicted on him was bending, but they had not broken him mentally or emotionally yet. Scott was perversely proud of that.

It was that time of day again. With all the strength left in his body, which wasn't much, Scott pushed himself off the floor of the cell and joined the lines that had assembled outside. It was the weekly execution session. He swallowed hard and glanced down at the floor, praying they would just skim over him. He wasn't ready to go. Especially not like this.

Just because I was thinking of orchestrating an escape, he reasoned, doesn't mean I was going to follow through with it. They can't kill me for thinking. It's not Orwell's 1984; there's no such thing as thought crime. I should be safe. For now.

But could Scott really afford to sail so close to the wind?

Common sense told him no. Self preservation was the only way to maximise his chances of survival. To hell with the others, it was every man for themselves.

On the other hand, an intense, burning desire to get out of this hell-hole and back to his family told him it was fine. Duty driven, he knew he had to take chances to try and allow others to escape with him. As a man of action; he yearned, no, he needed to do something constructive.

Even if it got him killed in the process.

Scott visibly sagged. The people he had dubbed as The Enemy, scanned the bottomless pits they called eyes over him and moved on.

It wasn't going to be his head on the gallows. For that, Scott was grateful. But he knew he had to be careful. Each time he was standing in line, their eyes lingered over him for longer periods of time. Scott was sure he would be selected soon.

The sound of a body being forcibly removed from the line-up made Scott look up. His stomach knotted and his eyes dilated when he saw who it was. He couldn't believe it.

It was Rex.

After they had worked through their initial dislike and distrust of each other, Scott and Rex became fast allies. They both realised they wanted the same thing. They both realised that they had a better chance of achieving their aim if they worked together. They got on like a house on fire. No-one knew whether this was a good or bad thing. Combined, the two seemed unstoppable in attaining their goal. Separated… well, after seeing how well Rex and Scott built and fed off each others' ideas, no captive wanted to even consider that scenario.

But, against all hope, their worst nightmare was coming to fruition. Their dynamic duo, their beacon of hope, was being split up.

Permanently.

Scott could only stare in horror. Rex looked evenly back at him. Neutral expression, but Rex was clearly conveying a message to Scott. That much was evident.

You lead them now.

Don't cry for me. Emotion is a sign of weakness. We cannot be perceived as weak.

Get all of us out of here or die trying.

Don't lose hope.

Most importantly…

Don't give up.


Days slowly bled into weeks. Weeks transgressed into months. Life was slowly returning back to normal in the Tracy household, or as normal as they could be, considering the circumstances.

It was late in the afternoon and Virgil was sitting at the dining room table, swirling a video disc in his hands. It had arrived in the post two months before, and he still hadn't watched it. Today, he had decided, was the day he would unearth its contents.

"Whatcha doin'?" Gordon had snuck up behind Virgil and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Virgil jumped, startled out of his quiet musings.

"Whatcha got there?" Gordon snatched the disc out of Virgil's lax grip and his eyes seemed to lose their shine. "Oh. Is this what I think it is?"

Virgil nodded.

"Have you seen it?"

Virgil shook his head.

"Do you want to?"

Virgil shrugged.

"Are you going to grace me with a verbal answer?"

"I guess."

"Thank you." Gordon beamed, satisfied he got his way. "Soooo, hows about we take a stroll into the rumpus room, snuggle on the sofa and watch the little thing?"

Assertively, Virgil pushed the chair back away from the table and marched into the rumpus room, plonking his behind on the sofa.

Great, we're back to non – verbal responses, Gordon thought. I wish he'd give me some sort of clue on how to handle his reaction to this. I wish he'd show some sort of reaction to this.

With a plan forming in his mind, Gordon slid the disc into the multimedia player and turned to face Virgil. "Awesome. While you're getting all cosy there, I'll head to the kitchen to get some popcorn."

"No!" Virgil growled, boring holes into Gordon with his eyes. Pain and anguish were evident in Virgil; even a blind man could see that. "Why can't you take this seriously, Gordon?"

Winging a silent prayer of thanks, Gordon felt a wave of relief wash over him as he listened to Virgil's onslaught. His plan had worked; he had achieved a reaction out of Virgil.

"Gordon," Virgil sighed wearily, "Just get your swimmer's butt over here."

Gordon happily complied. Folding his legs underneath him like butterfly wings, he reached for the remote and almost pressed play. "John! Alan! Get down here now! There's something you need to see!"

The duo waited patiently until the other brothers had settled in the room and Gordon finally pressed play.

The screen filled up with the image of their fallen hero, and instantaneously the atmosphere in the room darkened and tensed up.

"Hey guys," Scott's image spoke. "I guess if you're watching this, something's gone completely and utterly wrong, but then again, you already knew that. I hate it when things don't go to plan.

"You know, when the Air Force told me to make this, I had no idea what to say. I still don't. I mean, how do you tell your family everything you've ever wanted to say in under ten minutes? It's impossible.

"So I decided to do something different. Instead of sharing my, and I quote, inner-most emotions, and mushy shi - stuff, I figured I'd share four memories and a few life lessons with you guys. Just so you don't have to learn it the hard way, like I did.

"Youngest first this time, so here goes. Man, I really hope Alan's watching this. You probably don't remember this, but when you were six you wanted to drive my car. You said something about being just like Scott. I remember you throwing an Alan Tracy sized tantrum when you didn't get your way. I remember relenting after hours of having you wail in my ear. By the way, I'm kinda surprised I can still hear after that. Anyway, once we had finished dinner, I told Grams you and I were going out for a spin. She asked me if I had finished all my homework. I, um… I fibbed, and told her I had. In reality, I hadn't even started. I took you to a deserted field, pushed the driver's seat as far back as it would go, placed you in front of the wheel and let you steer. It wasn't much, and it wasn't for long, but the massive, jack-o-lantern grin stretched across your face made it worth it.

"You probably want to know the life lesson. It's a simple one, and one that must be obeyed at all times. Alan, whatever you do in life, never lie to Grams. She's a smart lady, she'll figure it out. Trust me when I tell you the punishment is often worse than the crime of lying.

"Gords, I know for a fact you won't remember this because you were only two or three days old when it happened. John had just turned four and Virgil was two, so they may or may not remember it. Anyway, Dad had brought us to the hospital for a visit and Mom was letting us hold you. She helped Virgil and then passed you onto John, who held you without incident. John passed you onto me, and the first thing you did was chuck up on me with such vigour I didn't know a two day old kid had. Then you had the nerve of staring up at me with those wide eyes, as though it were my entire fault. I quickly gave you to Dad and you never did it again. Except when you were drunk, but that's a different matter. And, no, Dad still doesn't know about that.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that it doesn't matter where you go in life, you shouldn't forget where you came from. You may go on to win the Olympics, I dunno, but never lose sight of who you are and never lose sight of your family. 'Cause at the end of the day, we're the ones that are there for you, no matter what.

"Virgil, you remember those invisible ink notes we used to write? The one where we'd dip paint brushes into lemon juice and then burn the paper in the oven to see what each other had written? I only ever kept one piece of paper. It's in the third drawer under my jeans. Just take a look at it from time to time. Enough said.

"John. Where to start? You know, I can't remember a life without you as my brother. Not surprising, since there's only one and a half years between us. You've always been there for me and you've always supported me. It's meant the world. If there's one memory I'd share with you, it's this one. It only needs four words, and the others won't understand at all, but you'll get it instantly. Dancing in the moonlight. Good times, Johnny, good times.

"Guys, I want you to do me two favours. Don't cry for me. Don't dwell in the past and forget to live in the moment. Don't worry about what could have been, worry about the here and now. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I was shipped out, and I knew exactly what could happen. To me, there are two things worse than just dying – living without honour and dying without reason. This is neither.

"Favour number two - don't show this to Dad. Considering the circumstances… well, he has a disc of his own to watch. It's better that way, I think. Water under the bridge and all that.

"For something that was supposed to be short, I really have waffled on a lot. I guess I should stop.

"Lieutenant Scott Tracy, signing off."

Huddled together on the sofa, the Tracy brothers replayed the disc, over and over again, gaining what little comfort they could get from the sound of Scott's voice.