Hello again everyone,

I'm very grateful to you all for your patience, and I apologise for not updating sooner.

The truth is, the worst thing that could happen to any author happened to me...My computer was corrupted and the last six chapters of my story - over 10,000 words worth - were completely lost. I've spent the last few months trying to recapture my story, but I've met with several challenges along the way. Nevertheless, I intend to finish it as planned. I hope you enjoy the next chapter, and look forward to hearing your thoughts as always!

Boann

Chapter 14

Stirring coffee had never been more difficult. Gordon's fingers clutched the spoon clumsily as he noisily clanged it across the side of the mug. After John had managed to calm Alan enough to put him to sleep, Jeff had come in and ordered everyone else to bed. Despite how reluctant he'd been to leave his younger sibling, Gordon had been relieved to collapse in a heap on his bed. He'd been ready to sleep away the next sixteen hours but his mind would not stop racing. Every event of the past few days and every possible 'what if' scenario kept running though his head like clockwork. After an hour, he'd given up and trudged into the kitchen.

Man, I'm so tired, he kept thinking, scrubbing his face with one hand and stirring the mug with the other. How did everything get so screwed up…again?

Things had just started to go back to normal. The Hood had been locked away, repairs on Thunderbird 5 had been going well, and everyone seemed to be smiling again.

Dropping the spoon with a harsh 'clink', Gordon abandoned the coffee to rest his elbows on the kitchen counter and hold his head in his hands.

Why did this have to happen? The question burned a hole through his stomach. Why did this have to happen to Alan? Why didn't he tell us what was wrong?

He was too tired to turn and see whose hand now rested on his back. Another hand nudged his elbow gently, encouraging him to move. Gordon stubbornly remained as he was until he heard his father murmur, "Come on, sport."

Jeff steered Gordon by the shoulders away from the counter, up the ramp, and back into his bedroom.

"I've already tried," Gordon mumbled glumly when Jeff sat him down on the bed. The copper haired aquanaut squinted suspiciously at his father when the older man sat next to him. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"I've already caught Scott and Virgil pacing in their rooms," Jeff explained. "I want to make sure you boys are all right before I turn in."

"I'm fine." The words had slipped from Gordon's mouth automatically before he realised why. Stubborn Tracys, a voice reprimanded him. Your denials make you no different to Alan. Trying to keep up the pretence that everything is okay, and for what? Your pride?

"Oh, I know you are," Jeff murmured, knowingly raising an eyebrow. "Which is exactly why you're beating yourself up over not being able to help Alan and wondering around the house like an insomniac."

Gordon bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his face in his hands. He couldn't find the strength or will to argue. And it's not because he's right, he told himself bitterly.

"You boys have always tried to fight your fights alone," Jeff sighed as he watched yet another inner battle being waged with his son. "And, in several situations, that attitude has brought you close to losing against the thing you are fighting."

"This is different from everything else, Dad," Gordon argued. "Alan was being attacked by The Hood! He should have said something!"

"And I am sure that there were times he wanted to," Jeff nodded, keeping his voice calm. "But I don't think that he meant to lie to us because he didn't trust us."

"Then why did he?" Gordon asked, looking up and shaking his head as he searched for the answer. "Why didn't he talk to us, let us help him? Together we could have beat that madman before…"

The prickling in the corners of his eyes signaled the arrival of an emotional response he constantly fought. Tracy men didn't cry. But the thought of Alan; his only little brother, his partner in crime, the loyal, boisterous boy who laughed at his lame jokes and matched him in every challenge coming so close to disappearing forever...For once, Gordon could not contain his emotions. At that moment, he questioned himself. Why did Alan not tell Gordon; the one who knew him best of all? Why didn't Gordon, who knew Alan best of all, notice the symptoms of The Hood's influence? Why did he let Alan push him away? Why had he not tried harder to help Alan? Why had he laughed and shrugged the obvious away?

Gordon gasped thickly when his father's arms wrapped around him, pulling him up into Jeff's chest. "I'm sorry, Dad," Gordon weakly murmured as his tears fell freely. "I'm so sorry. I should have…I should have…"

"Stop it," his father replied in a warning tone he rarely used. "Stop it. This is not your fault. It's not Alan's fault."

"I just don't understand," Gordon mumbled. "Why didn't he tell us?"

"The same reason you didn't tell us all those years ago," was Jeff's reply.

Gordon sat up, looking at the astronaut in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Jeff offered him a sad smile. "When you had your accident, at first you were always willing to tell us when you were in pain, or when something was troubling you."

Gordon nodded. "I knew you would always try to help."

"That's right, you did," Jeff murmured. "But as the weeks passed and the road became harder to travel, do you remember what happened?"

And then it was clear. The switch flipped and Gordon understood. The revelation, however, only increased the ache in his chest and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I shut you out," he quietly replied. "I didn't want to drag you along with my suffering. I didn't want you to see me as I was. I didn't want to disappoint you. I thought that by hiding my pain I was protecting you from having to go through my ordeal with me. I felt like a burden to, and I managed to convince myself that hiding the truth would spare you."

Jeff nodded, happy that he hadn't had to be the one to remind Gordon of his painful past. "Now do you see why Alan didn't tell us? He thought that he was protecting you. He came very close to losing all of us the last time The Hood was here, and he wanted to make sure he wouldn't have to face that again, no matter what happened to him."

"How do you know that?" Gordon asked. "What proof do you have that that's what he was thinking?"

Jeff nodded and cocked an eyebrow. "The proof is sitting right in front of me. You boys share the same stubbornness and desire to protect your own. You would each give yourselves to protect each other. Alan shares those traits. He's a Tracy." With the last sentence, a fond, sad smile crossed his face.

"In this circumstance I don't think that's such a good thing," Gordon sighed, wearily wiping away his tears. He gripped the edge of the bed, leaning forward and taking a deep breath.

"Here we go again," Jeff murmured, causing Gordon to throw him a questioning look.

"How long has your back been hurting?" Jeff asked.

Gordon almost laughed at how easily he had proved his father right. "A little while," he replied. "It's fine,"

Jeff got up and went into the bathroom, reemerging with a cup of water and the meds that Gordon kept in the cupboard. Gordon's injury had healed beyond the expectations of everyone, but often the pain returned as a result of tension caused by stress. And Jeff could always read the small signals.

Silently, Gordon accepted the cup and tablets, downing them in one swallow. His father sat back down beside him, rubbing his lower back.

"Now I want you to get a good night's sleep," he instructed firmly, but gently. "Alan is safe and he'll be fine."

Gordon softly snorted. He had seen the terror in Alan's eyes today. It would be a long time before his little brother was "fine".

Jeff seemed to read his skeptic thoughts. "If you want to help Alan, you need to rest. Then we'll take it one step at a time together. I promise."

Gordon nodded glumly. Jeff took the empty cup from him and helped ease him back onto the bed, covering him with a blanket. Gordon eyed his father as Jeff headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Jeff turned, looking mildly surprised. "I'm um, well I guess I'll just…"

"Go back to Alan and stay at his bedside until you collapse?" Gordon asked knowingly. "Don't think I don't know where we all get our traits from, Dad. Get some rest."

Caught. Jeff smiled, nodding. "I will, son. Sleep tight."

Gordon was asleep before Jeff closed the door.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Alan jerked awake for the nineteenth time. Yes, he'd counted. And for the nineteenth time he felt a gentle hand give his a gentle squeeze and saw John smiling tiredly at him from where he sat at Alan's bedside.

"It's ok," the older blonde murmured. "I'm here."

It must have been late morning. A strong yellow light was filtering in through the gaps in the closed blinds, signaling the presence of the mid-morning sun. But rather than appreciate the warm glow, Alan sank further into his pillows. He closed his eyes, hoping for the nineteenth time to fall into a sleep that wouldn't be disturbed by recurring images of the events that had past. He knew in his mind that it was over. The third time he'd woken, he'd been lucid enough to listen to John telling him of Brains' plan to permanently subdue The Hood. The appropriate authorities had been notified of the situation and were cooperating in the preparations. But something, it seemed, was intent on reminding him of what could have happened, and the pain he'd gone through trying to prevent it.

John watched as Alan struggled to sleep. The frown that constantly scarred the teenager's features in both waking and sleep, was becoming tighter and tighter. Finally, after nineteen times of trying to summon the courage, John rubbed Alan's arm to bring his brother to open his eyes.

"Alan, can you talk to me?" he asked gently.

Alan avoided his gaze, his blue eyes glazing over.

John sighed softly so as not to broadcast his frustration. "It's only going to get harder," he murmured. "The longer you ignore it, the stronger it grows."

Alan knew his brother was right. But it didn't make it any easier. "I don't want to talk about it," he murmured thickly.

"I know," John replied, rubbing his arm again. "I know that none of us can possibly understand what you went through. But sometimes talking can help by itself."

Alan could feel the oncoming tears making an early arrival. "It's hard," he replied, his voice wobbling dangerously.

John nodded sympathetically. "I know it is, sprout. But I know you can do this."

It wasn't fair. His brother believed in him, so why did that make him feel worse? Why did he still feel so helpless despite how firmly John held his hand?

He looked up at John with watery eyes, trying to express his sincerity. "I'm sorry," he said, hating the way his voice trembled. He began shivering, suddenly very cold. "I'm sorry."

John leaned in closer, stroking his cheek. "Don't be sorry," he told Alan.

"I just feel so alone," Alan said. "I know you're…all there for me, but I can't…I can't…"

"Shhh," John soothed him. "Take a few deep breaths."

Alan managed only one."He kept telling me," he said. "He kept telling me he'd…I couldn't tell you. I wanted to keep you safe. You have to believe me."

John looked at Alan sternly, unwilling to let Alan's state develop into another panic attack. "Listen to me, Alan," he said, trying to keep his voice soft so as not to make Alan mistake his firmness for anger. "We understand why you didn't tell us, and none of us blame you for that. But you can't block us out anymore. I know you're scared, kiddo. But you need to let us in. He's not going to hurt anyone anymore."

Alan nodded, his breath shuddering. "It's hard," he tried again to explain as another tear rolled down his cheek.

"I know it is," John murmured. "You're not sure that anyone will understand what it feels like to be alone and scared. And so you worry that they'll think you're weak because you feel that way."

Alan nodded again, giving John's hand a squeeze. He was pleased when John squeezed his in response. It gave him the courage to ask the question he'd been burning to ask.

"What was it like?" he asked. "Can you tell me? On Thunderbird 5, when The Hood attacked you and…and you were alone. Did you…were you scared too?"

"Of course I was," John replied softly. "I was hurt. I was alone. I didn't know if my call had been heard. I thought I was going die."

"What did you do?" Alan asked, desperate to learn how John had fought the nightmares and the fear. Alan watched his brother's eyes as John thought. Finally, John sighed deeply.

"I don't know," he admitted. Alan's heart sunk. "But one thing I do remember, something I used to focus on whenever it got bad, was Dad calling my name. In that one moment, I felt such hope. After hours of wondering if I was going to make it and worrying that something had happened to the rest of you on the island, suddenly everything was ok again. I knew Dad was there, and I knew that I wasn't alone. Whenever things got tough, I focused on that memory. It reminded me that I wasn't alone."

Alan wracked his own memory, trying to find something similar that he could rely on to pull him through. But he couldn't. It was all a blurred mess. Panic began to bubble up inside him again.

John squeezed his arm. "It may take you a while to find something that helps you. But until then, don't feel that you're alone. I understand what you're going through in some aspects, so use that."

It all wanted to come out so badly. Alan wanted to tell John everything. He felt that keeping more secrets would be a further betrayal, but finding the strength to talk when he was so physically and mentally exhausted was so hard.

"I promise I'll talk to you guys," he murmured in the end. "But...not all at once. Can we just take it slow?"

John nodded, suspecting he was making some progress. "We can go at any pace you like. It doesn't matter when you feel you need to talk. It doesn't matter if you feel that you don't want to talk at all, we can offer you some company when you need it."

Alan nodded, swallowing the lump lodged in his throat. "I'm just glad you're all okay," he whispered.

John smiled at him lovingly. "So are we, sprout."

The two boys had been so distracted in their talk they hadn't even heard the door hiss open, nor see Jeff step through it. The Tracy patriarch did not interrupt them. Instead, he held his promise to Gordon, turned around and went to bed, a proud smile on his face.