Greetings fellow humans. We are back in business. My apologies for the super-long, super unannounced hiatus, but here we are again and this time there will be no more delays.
Danke R, for your beta-reading.
-NINE-
Alan knew when his brothers had disappeared out of the door that they were not headed for the café, or even to the nearest vending machine. His request for a hot chocolate had been purely to irritate them, but also, perhaps, to give them an excuse for extra time. The dark seriousness that had plagued Gordon since he'd picked up that tablet, believing that Alan hadn't been paying attention, was mirrored in Virgil's hunched shoulders and heavy steps. Alan watched them leave with a silent hope that whatever it was that was bothering them, they'd talk it out. Not that they were only ones harbouring secrets, he thought to himself with a pang of guilt.
"You feeling any better?" He asked Scott, dragging himself out of his thoughts.
The cocktail of pain meds and antibiotics that Scott was on had apparently loosened his tongue, for he hesitated before answering more truthfully than Alan had expected. "I don't really feel anything right now."
Across the room, John looked up with narrowed eyes, obviously biting back a comment.
"Not like that," Scott continued, as though Alan had any idea what he was referring to. "I mean, these meds are strong. I just feel sort of floaty, you know? But yes, nothing hurts anymore, so I guess I am feeling better."
Alan flopped down onto his front and wriggled his way up the bed, sheets catching about his slippers until he was tangled in a mess of blankets half-sprawled against Scott's side. "That's…good?"
"Yeah." Scott broke into a grin. "Floaty."
"Oh Jesus," John muttered from his position draped against the wall. He'd never seemed at ease on Earth, as though he were constantly battling gravity, all long limbs and too skinny. This hadn't changed in the time Alan had been away it seemed, for he looked as out of place in the hospital room as he had done in the café he'd sat down in with Alan whilst Gordon had still been unconscious. Now he unravelled himself from his perch and came to join them. "Scott?"
"Yeah?"
There was a glimmer of amusement in John's eyes, but it was quickly hidden. "How much have you had?"
Scott frowned. "I don't know." He waved a hand at the collection of equipment next to his bed. "They gave me the button thing and said to press it when stuff hurt."
"What's the betting he pressed it more than once by accident?" Alan asked, trying his best not to laugh. A shadow fell under the door and he paused, listening carefully. Moments later, Gordon and Virgil emerged, notably drink-less. Alan sat up and stared at them. "Where's my hot chocolate?"
"Machine was broken," Gordon told him casually, sinking down into one of the chairs with a leisurely stretch. "Sorry short-stuff."
"Don't call me that."
Gordon tilted his head and blinked at him. Alan shook his head and offered a thumbs up; a silent conversation that no-one else was a part of. You good? Yes. Did you know we weren't going for drinks? Obviously.
"We need to cut down on the meds," John told Virgil, pausing as he glimpsed his brother's expression. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Fine."
John watched him suspiciously, clearly not convinced, but accepted this. "Scott's going a bit loopy on meds."
"Like Gordon loopy or…?"
"Hey!" Gordon protested loudly, "I heard that."
"Yeah," Scott parroted in delight, "he heard that."
Alan, in complete synchronisation with Gordon, broke down in laughter. Scott patted his head clumsily. "Allie, no, stop that."
"What did he take?" Gordon spluttered between laughs.
"Apparently the same stuff you did," John replied in a long-suffering tone of voice that had very little effect given the warm smile he was directing towards his siblings. "Scott," he told him gravely, "you're a bit of an idiot."
"No."
"Yes," John continued, "but we love you anyway, so it's okay. But what I do think would be a good idea would be if you took another nap."
"But he only just woke up," Alan protested, cutting himself off when he glimpsed the yawn that Scott was trying to conceal behind his hands. "Alright." He clambered off the bed heavily with a sigh and trotted over to join John. "Do we have to leave or…?"
"I'll buy you a hot chocolate," John told him, looping an arm around Alan's shoulders. "And I actually will, unlike Virgil." He tossed a grin at his brother to show that he was merely teasing. "Come on."
Gordon hovered uncertainly at the end of the bed as they left the room, Alan's voice still audible until the door had clicked shut. Virgil, heading after them, paused and glanced back at him.
"Are you coming?"
"Yeah." Gordon tapped his fingers along the safety rail and finally lifted his chin to meet his brother's gaze. "Can you give me a minute?"
Virgil's confused look cleared with understanding. He gave a short nod and left, pulling the door shut behind him, footsteps dissipating into the distance. Gordon waited a beat longer before turning on his heels and marching over to the side of the bed. Scott squinted up at him.
"Qué?"
Gordon fiddled with his shirt. "Are you…I mean, on a scale of one to ten, how out of it are you?"
Scott's brow creased with concentration. "Like a six?"
"Good enough." Gordon nudged Scott's hand out of the way so he could sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he lifted his leg up to rest it on the spare chair. "Is everything I say going in one ear and out the other?"
"I'll try my best."
Scott certainly seemed earnest enough and, to be perfectly honest, Gordon wouldn't mind if his brother did forget most of the details of their conversation. But the fact remained that everything he had learnt from Virgil was going to replay on repeat in his brain like a broken record – there were things that he needed to say, and then there were the things that he didn't think he'd ever be able to voice aloud, but at least he still had the chance. There was possibly another universe in which he hadn't been quite so lucky, and the ground swam under his feet at just the thought of it.
"Gordon?"
He ran a hand though his hair. "How much do you remember?"
"You and Alan. Feeling really damn ill." Scott knew instinctively what he was referring to. "It all became a blur. I know you were upset at some point. You know when…" he gestured vaguely with his hands, "everything is too much, so you just block it out?"
"Trust me, I know the feeling."
"Think of it like that." Scott sighed, exhaustion pooling in the dark circles beneath his eyes. "I don't know, Gords, maybe I'll remember more when I'm not high on meds. Everything's still blurry. Floaty. Like the sea."
The brief lucidity was fading again, and fast. Gordon lurched forwards and seized Scott's shoulder, freezing on the spot. "Scotty, you were really… it was bad. Okay? So…"
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Gordon, I get it." Scott reached up and Gordon leant down further, pressing his forehead into Scott's outstretched hand. "You don't have to say anything because I know."
"Okay." Gordon tugged Scott's hand back down to the mattress and held it there with his own, hesitating. "Last time I left, you nearly died."
"I won't."
"You said that last time too."
Scott blinked, eyes unnaturally bright with both the glaze of medication and sickness. "Alright, well, I'm sorry about that." He fought back a yawn. "I don't think…crap. There was something I was gonna say. Don't know what it was."
Gordon huffed a laugh. "Meds are a bitch."
"Hmm. I'm not sure about that. They feel pretty good."
"You won't say that when you're back to your senses."
Scott smiled dazedly. "Probably not," he agreed.
Gordon reached across to the touchpad on the wall and spun the dial, dimming the lights down to a much more reasonable blue glow, not unlike One's silo late at night, only minus the silver luminescence and you know, a rocket. There was a heavy weariness that he couldn't shake – an overwhelming, nagging sense of wrong that he was unable to pinpoint – that kept his fingers trembling and tension holding him captive.
"You asleep?" He whispered into the dull light.
Scott made a noise of protest and opened his eyes again. "No."
"Oh. Okay."
There was another yawn. Scott struggled to shift himself upright, gave up, and settled back into the covers. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere."
Gordon eyed the bandages and machines. "That much is obvious."
"No. You know what I mean."
"You were supposed to be safe once we got off that damn island."
"Sorry."
"Don't." Gordon bit his lip. "I should go. You need to sleep."
"Hey, hey, Gordo, Fish, wait." Scott caught his hand and tugged him back to the bed. He was obviously exhausted, but that familiar Tracy stubbornness was there all the same, blazing with the concern and fierce protectiveness that Gordon had found irritating during his early teens, but now welcomed – to a certain extent, anyhow.
"What's wrong?"
"You don't have to leave."
Gordon went to speak, but found his words dying in his throat. "You sure?"
"Mmhmm." Another yawn. Scott gripped his hand tighter, like a lifeline. Gordon found himself thrown back into the memory of that storm all those days ago and squeezed back.
"Alright."
Scott fixed a determined stare of assurance on him. "Stay," he murmured, voice soft with a mixture of medication and usually concealed emotion.
"Okay," Gordon whispered back. "I'll stay."
A lifeline in the storm; apparently it worked both ways.
Voices poked through the hazy mess of dreams that he was currently trapped in; all agitated tones and underlying outrage.
"You're going to bring this up now?"
"When would you rather I brought it up – when the GDF are physically pulling him off Thunderbird Two and into an interrogation room?"
"For God's sake John, Gordon hasn't even been cleared to sign out of hospital yet, and Scott's still doped up on more meds than I don't know what. Even Alan's not ready to go back on duty, and you want to do what - hand them over to the GDF?"
There was a weary sigh. The sounds of a chair screeching across the floor as someone sat down heavily into it. A faint buzz of a hologram projector whirring into life. "No. Contrary to your apparent belief, Virgil, I'm not a completely cold-hearted bastard. I don't want to hand our brothers over to the GDF, but we might not have any other choice."
A lengthy pause resounded about the room, creeping into the corners and shadows and gaps under the chairs and bed. Virgil cleared his throat and tried to soften his voice.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like I was accusing you."
The door flung open and was caught just before it smashed into the opposite wall. A small voice echoed "oops" before footsteps pattered across the floor and a light weight settled onto the mattress. Gordon whined in protest, shifting away from the hands that batted at his face, and burrowed further into the mattress.
"That chair can't be comfortable," Alan commented, his voice frustratingly loud and cheerful.
Gordon startled awake fully – he wasn't even sure when he'd fallen asleep – promptly tilted out of the seat and flailed as he slid towards the floor at an alarming rate. Arms caught him before he could collide with the tiles, light laughter undercut by concern.
"Are you alright?" This time it was Virgil who had spoken. John was still stood at the end of the bed, a yawning Alan leant against his side – he'd apparently scrambled off of the mattress to avoid being smacked in the face.
Gordon blinked. "What?" The world tilted alarmingly to the right. "Oh, wow, head rush." There was an exasperated sigh and then Virgil was helping him back to his feet. Gordon stumbled for a moment, caught himself, and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. "Ah, my saviour."
Virgil dropped him onto the bed with a groan. "And he's back."
For a moment, there was silence.
Gordon and Alan looked at each other. John draped the hood of the Harvard top over Alan's head and he yelped, trying to free himself. Virgil stifled a laugh. Alan threw a pillow at him, which he ducked and promptly tossed back with deadly accuracy. The youngest Tracy slid down onto the mattress, arms flailing madly and catching John in the ribs, who gave a choked cry, lost his balance, and tumbled onto the floor. Virgil watched the chaos with the upmost glee and started laughing again.
Amongst the unfolding disaster, Scott appeared to have fumbled his way back to the world of the living, clawing and clinging to consciousness until he was fully awake. The sounds of voices and raised laughter was so comfortingly familiar thst he mustered up the strength to push himself upright. The pain across his chest flamed up, but nowhere near the full-force agony of before; rather more of a dull ache, and he fought through it.
"Wow," he commented, observing the tangled mess of brothers on the floor. "Thousands of miles away from home and nothing's changed."
Alan bolted upright, scrambled free of John's hold, and promptly tripped over his own feet. "Scott!"
"Careful Allie." Scott flung out an arm instinctively.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." Alan picked himself up. "See?"
"Complete disasters, all of you," John muttered, settling on a nearby chair. At Virgil's whispered superiority complex, much? He turned his back on them all in favour of scrolling through the news alerts on his watch. EOS's icon was hovering over his wrist, unspeaking, but present enough to be accepted as part of the company.
Gordon remained curled up on his own seat, leaning against the window. It was late at night, or so he gathered from the sky outside, and the glass was cold against his skin. The background noise of upbeat conversation and teasing jokes sang of home and he closed his eyes for a moment, only returning his attention to the conversation when his name was called. The more time he spent off his meds, the more he felt as though none of this were real – he kept expecting to jolt awake on a beach breaking from a fever.
Virgil was watching him, gentle concern playing across his face. "Gordon? You're being suspiciously quiet."
"Huh?"
Everyone was looking at him. Gordon quickly offered up a grin, trying not to catch Virgil's or John's eye – he couldn't help but think back over the snatches of conversation that he'd caught the end of before Alan had barged into the room. Whatever it was that they'd been discussing, it had involved him, and he hated being out of the loop.
"I overheard you talking," he admitted in a rush. He looped the loose hem of his shirt over his fingers, twisted it, and let go again, tapping his heels against the floor nervously. "Before Alan came in, and Scott woke up."
John and Virgil exchanged a long, unidentifiable look. Alan's eyes flickered between the two of them, confusion evident in the slight tilt of his head, the rigidness of his back as he sat up, cross-legged on the edge of the bed. Scott reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, reassuring and grounding.
"What's he talking about?" Alan tensed further, and Scott tightened his grip until the teenager relaxed a little more. "Virgil? John?"
Virgil held up his hands. "Your call."
"Thank you, as ever, for your undying support, Virgil," John drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. He lent forwards on his chair, balancing his elbows on his knees, and fixed them all with a serious look. Scott nudged Alan further towards his side and Alan obligingly lay down on his stomach, legs kicking over the side of the bed to grant his brother a better view.
"We've been in contact with the GDF since the three of you disappeared," John began, voice halting and hesitant as he continued.
"At first we thought they were just being helpful," Virgil added, "I mean, it made sense – Colonel Casey's been our family friend for years, since before Alan was born, and I thought that the directive to help International Rescue was coming straight from her. John had his suspicions from the very beginning, but to be perfectly honest we needed all the support we could get." He sighed. "No one can deny that the GDF have great resources, and…well, we needed a bit of that."
"EOS was helping from the second I lost contact with you," John picked up the tale. "She alerted me to the fact that most communications from the GDF weren't actually direct orders from Casey at all."
"So, who were they coming from?" Gordon asked, twisting in his seat.
John shrugged. "I don't where the first order originated, but I do know that it reached Colonel Casey's level soon enough, because she contacted me by the Monday, at which point I gave in and agreed to work with the GDF. It never made sense to me how they discovered so quickly that we were missing you guys given I hadn't made any calls outside of Tracy Island and Thunderbird Two still. Turns out I was right – the reason they had forces on the scene so soon was because they were already in the area."
"They were following a lead on the Chaos Crew," Alan guessed.
John gave him a nod. "Exactly."
"Wait, I'm confused." Gordon sat up, swung his legs around onto the floor and actually tried to look as serious as he could manage. There was a warning bell blaring in his mind that something didn't quite make sense. "If the GDF helped you, then what were you and Virgil so worried about?"
Scott obviously wanted to speak up, but visibly forced himself to keep quiet. The blankets were seized in a white-knuckle grip, but his other hand relaxed as it lay on Alan's shoulder.
"Because it didn't end there." John spun a hologram into view from his watch, EOS's symbol projected above it in pale blues and whites. "The GDF kept contacting me. Whoever tipped them off about the Chaos Crew in the first place suggested that it was something big and possibly a global security threat. They know that you three were on the same island as Havoc and Fuse, and they want to call you in and speak to you about what you know."
"That doesn't sound so bad," Gordon spoke up gingerly. He noted the way Virgil looked away, staring at his shoes intently. "You're saying they only want to interview us?"
"The GDF are still technically a military organisation," Scott finally announced, the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for the entire conversation coming to light in a rush. "Their intentions are good – providing global security and maintaining peace – but they've been compromised more than once in the past and their methods leave much to be desired."
"To put it simply," John muttered darkly, "I trust them about as far as I can throw them."
Gordon decided not to mention that if that was in space, then it would be infinitely far. He imagined such a comment would not be welcomed.
Alan remained very quiet. He placed his hands in his lap and entwined his fingers, clicking his knuckles and doing everything he possibly could to avoid catching anyone's eye. His jaw was clenched with tension, blue eyes narrowed to a stony glare. Gordon didn't call him out on it.
"Scott's medical records prove to them now that he wouldn't have seen let alone remember anything of use," Virgil continued. "And given Alan's under eighteen, they can't pull him in for an interrogation without his legal guardian present."
"And seeing as his legal guardian is currently laying in a hospital bed," Scott added dryly, "I don't think that's happening any time soon." He tugged Alan closer subconsciously. "Not that I'd give them consent to interview Alan anyway."
"I'm over eighteen." Gordon's voice rang too loud in the room and he shivered. "If they have enough evidence to prove that I might know info regarding something as a high of a threat level as the Chaos Crew then…"
"Then they can technically file for a warrant and bring you in for questioning, yes." John snapped his fingers at EOS's icon. "EOS and I have been holding the GDF off for this long, but there's only so much we can do, especially given the fact that EOS isn't even supposed to exist. Colonel Casey is turning a blind eye to the fact that we're technically breaking about five international laws regarding artificial intelligence, but if we stay rooting around in their systems for much longer, someone's gonna catch on."
"But I don't know anything." Gordon's voice had risen without him realising and he took a moment to catch a breath. The light tremors skittering through his hands were back, and he tucked them under his thighs to hide it from view. "I'm serious, all I saw was the Chaos Cruiser, and that was only from the outside." He stared down at his leg brace and added, in a shaky whisper, "I can't remember the fight. I didn't even know Alan had been hurt until yesterday."
"The GDF have reason to believe you do have information, and they're not about to give up anytime soon," EOS announced. "Good evening Scott," she added brightly. "It's good to see you're feeling better."
John didn't even try to hide the proud smile on his face as he overheard his AI. Scott, for all his distrust of EOS, grudgingly nodded.
"Thanks."
"We could file a second report?" Virgil considered aloud. "Put in a record stating that Gordon's not fit to answer questions on medical grounds."
"The hospital would never sign off on it," Scott pointed out. "Although…" A smirk crossed his face – Gordon and Alan weren't the only devious ones in the family. "Brains might do."
"And how long would that last?" John, ever the logical one, brought up the obvious. "Those run out of date after a year, or even six months depending on which one you file for. As soon as it did the GDF would be on him like a ton of bricks."
"Plus, the second they spot me out in Four they'll realise I'm a lot healthier than we claimed." Gordon ran a finger along the glass, collecting condensation in a small pool in the corner. "I don't know how the GDF treat people at the moment, but I'm willing to bet that it's a lot worse when they think you've been lying to them."
Silence settled over the room in a heavy shroud. Gordon wanted nothing more than to spring to his feet and start pacing, but his leg was painful given the minimal meds he was on, and he didn't want to cause more damage. Damn, he could really do with a swim. "Scott," he whispered, a sudden thought dawning on him in a rush, "scale me. One to ten – how bad is it?"
"It depends. They're still bound by the human rights laws, it's just…not an environment I feel comfortable leaving you in. They want to get information and if that means breaking you to get it then…well, it's their job. Not everyone is bound by their morals."
Gordon flinched. "Breaking?"
Scott rarely talked about his time in the Air Force. To this day, Gordon believed that the only people who knew the true details were their father and John. Even Virgil was in the dark. But there was the steely darkness of someone who knew all too well what it meant to be on the wrong side of a military presence, and Scott held it close to his chest like playing cards. "Torture is illegal." A hush fell across them. "But…other psychological methods aren't. The GDF know lots of things about everyone. Most of that is to keep the world safe, but it also means that they know exactly how to play you – which fears to exploit until you just want to get the hell out of there, so you tell them what it is that they want to know."
"I don't exactly have a dark past, what is there that they can focus on?"
"Mom, Dad, us. Hydrofoil incident. Any rescues that ever went wrong with IR… they'll find something, and they'll keep at it as long as they believe you know something."
Gordon bit down on his lip hard enough to taste copper. When he looked up, he caught Virgil's eye and knew they were thinking the same thing, why does it sound like he's speaking from experience?
"They won't go after Scott, so that leaves me and Alan, but they can't go after Alan unless Scott gives permission, or they go through the entire damn legal system."
"They won't," EOS promised, genuine protectiveness alight in her voice and surprising even John. "I'd block them. They'd never get it through the first stages."
"Well that's…reassuring? My point is that I'm the only one left. How likely are they to give up?"
John slumped further into his chair. "Not very. Whatever it is that they think the Chaos Crew are building, it's…something."
"Okay."
Virgil looked up. "And what exactly does that mean?" He strode across the room and for the first time Gordon understood why some people found his brother intimidating. "Gordon?"
"It means okay. As in okay, I'll do it."
"Are you out of your fucking mind? No way." Virgil was practically bristling with anger. "Someone back me up here. Scott?"
"Virgil's right. We'll figure out another way. You don't know anything, so there's no reason for you to go through all that."
"We don't even know that they will put me through anything," Gordon protested. "And if we fight them on this then we're risking too much." He heaved himself to his feet and stood up to his full height. Virgil may be the taller of them, but Gordon knew how to hold the attention of a room, and he was good at it. "Tell me how many extra countries we're now allowed to fly across and help in because of the GDF's input?" Silence. "No, actually tell me."
"Twenty," John said quietly.
"Exactly! Twenty!" Gordon spun on the spot to face Scott. "That's millions of people. We can't risk losing the GDF's support over this." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll do it. They can throw whatever they want at me, I can take it."
"This is bullshit…"
"Virgil, I was in a coma for almost three months, don't you dare tell me that I'm not mentally strong enough to deal with something that may not even happen."
Virgil finally shut up. He took a step back, shaking his head. "Gordon…"
"Hey. I'll be fine. I'll just tell them about the explosion me and Alan heard and about the tire-tracks we saw the Chaos Cruiser travelling through, and that's it. It's the truth – they can't argue with the truth." Gordon reached out and hesitantly placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Please Virg. You've gotta trust me with this. It makes sense."
Virgil met his gaze and his expression crumbled. "Actually," he said softly, "it's Alan and I. C'mon Gordy, we've been over this."
Gordon's shoulder slumped. It wasn't an exact confirmation that Virgil was backing down, but they'd never needed words to communicate everything. Sometimes the truth could only be translated through things beyond the human comprehension of languages. Either way, it was a silent promise that Virgil had his back.
The only voice that hadn't been heard throughout the encounter finally spoke up.
"Fuck this." Alan was trembling from head to toe with barely restrained rage and fear. There was something else – closely concealed – and his voice was tight with emotion. "They can't go after you for information you don't have."
Gordon took a step towards him. "Alan…"
"No, you know what? Screw you Gordon. You don't get to throw yourself from one bad situation head-first into another. What the hell are you trying to prove?"
"I'm not trying to prove anything!"
"You can't do this."
"Feel free to name an alternative."
"Just don't go. Don't fucking go. Let EOS do her thing."
Gordon stared at him incredulously. "I'm not risking EOS for no reason. I've got nothing to hide, I'm just going to tell them the truth."
"And if they don't like your answers?"
"I'll deal with it."
"That's total crap and you know it." Alan jumped down from the bed and stalked up to him. "They won't believe you because they know there was something else out there."
Not for the first time, something akin to a dark realisation followed by understanding settled on Scott's face and he muttered a curse into his fists. Alan, standing in front of him as stubborn and as determined as every other Tracy before him, held his head high and continued.
"Why wouldn't they…" Gordon trailed off. "What do you mean, there was something else out there?"
Alan took a shaky breath but held his ground. "You can't go because the GDF will figure out within minutes that they've got the wrong guy." He tugged on the drawstrings of his hoodie and looked up, making sure he had the attention of all his brothers. "Gordon doesn't know anything about the Chaos Crew, but I do. I was on their ship and after I made the call to John…I was trying to wreck the entire thing as much as possible and I hit one of the hologram projectors. It opened on one of their last opened files. I know what they're trying to build."
It seemed strange that a room once filled with so many voices could fall so achingly silent in such a short space of time, but Gordon could have sworn he could have heard a pin drop. He was aware that he was distantly shaking, as though he'd been plunged in an icy ocean of realisation and knowledge that Alan was really damn good at keeping secrets, and if he could keep this one so close to his chest then what else could he be hiding?
"Why didn't you say anything?" Surprisingly, it was John who spoke up. Virgil was frozen to the spot, and Scott merely looked resigned.
Alan's voice was trembling, but he stared straight ahead. "Because I already knew those designs. I've seen those schematics a dozen times, Johnny, maybe even more."
"How?" Virgil's voice was scarcely a whisper. "How the hell could you have seen those, Alan? Whatever the Chaos Crew is building is designed by the Hood."
"No." Alan shook his head, eyes filling with tears. "No, it's not. What they're building is designed by Brains. That's why I didn't say anything, because I didn't think…I mean, it's got to be a coincidence, right? Brains wouldn't…he's family. I didn't think the GD-bloody-F were gonna get involved. I just…we can't tell them."
"You're right." Scott agreed darkly. "We can't. Not without answers."
"Brains isn't working for the Hood," Alan repeated vehemently. "No way."
John looked devastated, but his voice was clear. "Isn't he?"
Tune in next Friday for a new chapter. Oh, and I had to come back with a bang, hence the cliff-hanger.
Reviews?
Kat x
