Swim practise overan so here's a chapter that's thirty-five minutes late. I'm doing great, guys, definitely!


-ELEVEN-

Scott awoke to heavy panting and a hot tongue swiping across his cheek. There was something soft pressed to his chin and a steady thumping against the mattress. He peeled his eyes open and came face to face with one cheerful looking pug.

"Oh." He swallowed, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Sherbet. What are you…?" He scrambled further up in his bed and raised his voice into a shout. "Alan! There is a dog on my bed!"

Alan came crashing through the door and collapsed in a heap against the chair by the window. He was panting heavily, shirt half undone and his shorts on backwards. One trainer was missing entirely, and his hair was sporting a similar style to that of someone who had sat directly in the path of Two's VTOLs. "What's wrong?" He gasped.

Scott pointed out the blindingly obvious. "There is a dog on my bed."

Alan blinked. "Oh yeah."

"Sherbet is on my bed."

"I know."

Scott gestured wildly at the fluffy animal which was now proceeding to chew on the end of his sock. He was pretty sure this was breaking every health and safety rule in the book, but given this was Penelope's pet, he wasn't questioning how this had happened. What he was questioning was why.

"Dog," he repeated helplessly.

Alan looked altogether too gleeful about this fact. "Do you want me to move him?" He finally asked, practically tripping over himself with bubbling laughter. Sherbet sat back, tail thumping against the bed. His nose quivered as he took in the antibacterial, unnatural smells of the hospital. He took a particular disliking to Scott's IV line (which Scott had attempted to remove twice already and had been suitably chastised about) and when he ducked into a low pounce, Alan finally decided that perhaps it was time to remove him and gathered the dog up into his arms. Sherbet wriggled, paws scrabbling to free himself, but Alan merely tightened his grip.

"Better?"

Scott stared at him. "Why is Sherbet in here?"

"Oh, Penny asked me to look after him for a while." Alan adjusted Sherbet's weight in his arms, cradling the dog carefully against his chest. The pug gave a disgruntled whine as he was jostled, and hooked his claws into the fabric, draping his front legs over Alan's shoulder and nestling a damp nose against the teen's neck. Alan yelped at the sudden cold and ran a hand down Sherbet's spine by way of apology.

Scott watched these goings-on with a soft smile. Before their move to the island, when they had lived in the family home back in the States, they'd had a dog – a large lolloping chocolate Labrador that used to steal from Virgil's plate and had a particular fondness for Gordon and Scott himself. The lab had slept on the end of Scott's bed and would accompany him on runs, whilst Gordon would plunge into local rivers and lakes in the summer, the dog splashing about in his wake. Alan, of course, could not properly remember this beyond a few hazy memories, and if International Rescue hadn't called for such an unpredictable lifestyle, then Scott would adopt another dog for his youngest brother to call his own. Still, for the foreseeable future Alan would have to make do with puppysitting for Penelope whenever possible.

"Penelope's here?" Scott shifted upright, tucked a pillow behind his back and stretched until his arms and legs no longer felt like jello. "What time is it?"

Alan made a crooning noise as Sherbet licked his chin. "Huh?" He tapped at his watch – a simple model which only told the time – not one of the complex, modified IR line – and held it out to show his brother. "Around seven in the morning."

"Have you had breakfast? Also, did you sleep here last night?"

Alan buried his face in Sherbet's fur. His voice came out muffled and sort of tight with emotion. "Maybe. John asked me to come back to the hotel with him, but I didn't want to…"

"I'm on the mend now."

"I know. I just didn't want to leave." Sherbet's tail whacked against Alan's chest. "Do you want me to leave?"

"That's a dumb question."

Alan still had his face pressed to Sherbet's fluffy side. The dog was practically rumbling with happiness, tail whipping from side-to-side. "Okay. So, the others have a plan. They talked to Brains. So did Penelope, 'cos, you know, knowing when people are lying is part of her job."

"And?"

"We were right to trust Brains."

Scott curled his hands into fists beneath the blanket because he for one had not been quite so quick to trust their friend. Part of it was simply due to his nature, and the rest of it was down to a surprisingly dark military past that he was not willing to dredge up and think about before a couple of drinks, which, at this time of the morning, was not going to happen, especially not in front of his kid brother.

"Breakfast?"

Alan blinked. "Here?"

"Yep." Scott patted the mattress. "I'll look after Sherbet for a minute, you go and find some food."

"Why?" Alan had a mischievous glow to his face. "Hospital rations not good enough for you?"

"Go."

The sound of laughter followed Alan out of the door. Scott looked to Sherbet, who promptly turned around and flopped down against the rails, tail resting across his face like a fluffy sleeping-mask. Scott ignored him, reaching for the communicator he'd pickpocketed from Alan and swiping down until he reached Virgil's contact.

"Virgil."

Virgil's hologram figure looked horrified. "You're awake?"

This was somewhat ironic given he also looked as though he'd just rolled out of bed. In fact, even the crumpled sheets were visible in the background, and his dark hair was still damp with shower-water. Scott cut to the chase. "And out of the loop apparently. Alan says you have a plan. I want in."

"You're not Field Commander right now."

Scott took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Don't mess me around. I might be stuck in hospital, but I'm still me. Penelope's here, which means she's working with John and I know how their minds work. Gordon's heading to the GDF, isn't he?"

Virgil closed his eyes. "Maybe," he admitted. "Scott, we would have told you, I promise, but we just didn't have the time. You're still in recovery, and we're running on a tight schedule as it is."

"Give me an outline."

"Gordon's buying us time. John is finding a way to prove the information the Hood got from our systems dates back to the Mechanic without revealing that EOS exists, because right now the only way to get that evidence is through EOS. By the time the GDF are finished with Gordon, we should have got Brains off the grid. We'll need to get Alan to go too, even if they do need your approval to ask him questions."

"Okay."

Virgil was taken aback. "Okay?"

"Yes, okay. It's a good plan and we don't have any other options."

"Of course it's a good plan, it's John's."

Scott allowed himself a wry grin. "What do you need me to do?"

"Sit tight. Keep Alan occupied. You know how he is – the second he finds out what's going on he'll want in on the action and he's…"

"Way too much like me for his own good?"

Virgil visibly forced back a laugh. "You said it, not me."

"Alright." Scott hated not being in the thick of things, but he wasn't a complete idiot. Besides, he trusted John's judgement. "Let me know when you need to get Alan out of here."

"Why?"

"Because you'll need a distraction, otherwise the hospital bots will see him leave."

"Do I want to know your definition of distraction?"

Scott gave the projector an amused look. "Gordon's not the original prankster of the family, you should remember that."


Kayo was either a master of the shadows, or the queen of dramatic entrances, and there was no in between. Virgil was making the most of the unlimited breakfast buffet available when he spotted his adopted sister stroll into the table-clustered ballroom, dressed head-to-toe in a biker-suit, leather glinting with the crystals decorating her collarbone and shoulders. Her cat-eyeliner paired with silver-rimmed stilettos drew the entirety of the room's attention to her. Virgil dropped the spoon back into the bowl of natural yoghurt, where it promptly overbalanced and landed in the tub of all-sorts fruit. An elderly woman full-on hissed at him in response and Virgil awkwardly smiled at her before edging away.

"Kayo," he muttered, looping his arm through hers and pulling her over to a nearby table. "What are you doing?"

"Drawing attention to myself so John can fill in Brains on the plan without unwanted flies on the wall." Kayo waved a hand in what looked like an overly dramatic gesture, but Virgil caught where she was indirectly pointing and noted his brother in deep conversation with a certain bespectacled scientist.

"Oh," he hummed. "Fair enough. But did you have to do it looking like a Las Vegas showgirl?"

"Please," Kayo replied, eyes narrowing in both insult and humour. "I'm not in a miniskirt. Besides, I pull this off, don't you think?"

"I think you're overcompensating for something."

She growled. Virgil stared back. "Oh fine, maybe." She tipped a previously unnoticed bag out onto the table and Virgil dragged his bowl out of the firing zone before his yoghurt and cereal could be joined by a modified lipstick. Kayo rifled through the collection of objects, her head tilted slightly to the side in order to listen in to John's and Brains's conversation. A glint of light caught on her earpiece, the only sign that she was using additional tech rather than her own natural skills. Virgil took a bite of his cereal and observed his sister. Kayo was holding herself with the usual tension and cautiousness of a field agent, but there was something else.

"Where have you been?" Virgil asked her casually.

Kayo's hands froze for a moment. "Working on tracking down anything that can help us with the entire saving Brains from the GDF situation." She stole a strawberry from his bowl and grinned. "You know, the usual, everyday sort of stuff."

"Right." Virgil hesitated, but continued. "And does tracking down help down from afar usually involve you getting hurt?"

Kayo didn't react. She plucked a tiny, inconspicuous looking pen out of the pile and flicked her eyes up to meet his searching stare. "The GDF have corned off the whole zone around the islands. My original plan was to wipe the drives on the Chaos Cruiser free of anything that could link them to IR." She rolled her shoulder and winced. "It didn't go so well."

"What happened?"

"The GDF have pulled in the serious guys to guard it. I'm talking the super ex-military." She flipped the cap off the pen. "And I don't mean Scott military either. These are essentially shadow agents." She sighed. "They almost make me seem like a kitten." She narrowed her eyes and pointed the pen at him. "Almost."

Virgil caught sight of a wild Gordon stumbling through the doors. He was clearly still half asleep, but he was in clean clothes and looked more put together than any of them had the night before.

"If you're overcompensating for an injury then it's working," he murmured to his sister. "No-one would know."

Kayo waved to Gordon and returned her attention to the table. "Quit worrying, I'm fine. It was just a scratch. They've got some pretty cool gear actually."

Virgil refrained from pointing out the silver bands decorating her wrists – the electro-stuns may look like ordinary bracelets, but they were arguably some of the best tech out there – if that wasn't cool gear then he didn't know what was. Frankly, he didn't want to think about it. He nodded to the pen Kayo held tightly. "Is that for getting Brains off the grid?"

"What's getting Brains off the grid?" Gordon asked, flopping down into the chair between them. He tore off the end of his croissant and stuffed it into his mouth, spraying his t-shirt in crumbs as he continued speaking. "Bus tickets?" He cracked a grin.

Kayo looked distinctly unimpressed. "You spoke to John, didn't you?"

"Maybe." Gordon gestured towards Virgil's half-empty bowl. "You gonna finish that?" Virgil slid the bowl across the table to him. "Thanks."

Brains appeared to have vanished in the short time Virgil had taken his eye off him, but John meandered across the floor, engrossed in the holograms bathing his wrists. His eyes were a bright, unnatural green, proof that he was wearing his contacts. Virgil kicked out a chair for him before he could collide with the table.

"Good morning to you too," Gordon muttered as his brother remained mute.

John gestured towards the buffet table. "There's waffles." It was the perfect distraction.

"What?" Gordon leapt to his feet. "Where? When? Why didn't I know about this?" He seized Kayo's arm. "Come with me. Chocolate is needed. Also, Virg, I'm blaming you for not telling me."

"Great plan," Kayo agreed with him as she was dragged towards the top table. "Blame everything on Virgil."

Virgil watched them go with a heavy sense of weariness. He slumped against the table, observing the reflections of other guests in the breakfast hall in the metal surface of his abandoned spoon. There were various families, couples and obvious business executives all bundled into the same peach-painted room, and on any other day he imagined he'd find this one place drawing such a different crowd together fascinating. But this was not just any other day, and it seemed obvious right down to every last detail.

John's hand drifted into his vision. A finger prodded his forehead. Virgil glanced up at him and raised a querying brow.

"You're worrying," John commented without looking away from his holograms. "Your face is doing that thing again."

"My face does not do a thing."

John gave a little nod as if to agree with him. The smug expression he was sporting was proof otherwise. Virgil glared at him, but it was too much effort. Besides, Gordon's laugh was audible over the hum of conversation as Kayo attempted to smack him with a waffle, and it was all too much of a reminder that he was about to head straight into the heart of the GDF.

"He'll be fine."

"I know."

"You haven't eaten much. You never do when you're stressing."

Right. John and his creepy observational skills. Virgil flicked a torn piece of napkin at his brother. John merely tossed it back; there was no fun when he didn't rise to a challenge. Anyway, John couldn't talk – the dark circles beneath his eyes were about to issue a competition to a panda in some conservation-park in Asia and yes, John had always been pale – Space especially would do that to a guy – but c'mon, this was getting ridiculous. Virgil knew well enough not to mention it. If John was ever going to talk about something, then he had to be the one that raised it, not his confidant. And so, it was time for another approach:

"What's the likelihood of this working?" he muttered.

John's stare was slightly glazed; he was very obviously looking at the interface his contacts were providing him with rather than the real world. "Ninety-six percent," he replied in a distracted voice.

Virgil blinked in surprise. "That was precise." EOS's avatar winked a light at him. "Ah. Makes sense." There was a little pause in which he considered going to grab a second coffee, and John proceeded to curse whilst switching to his watch instead of his contacts. "Scott wants in."

"Of course he does." John finally gave Virgil his full attention. "He needs to focus on getting better. Brains's tech has got him out of the worst of it, but now he's got to go through the physical therapy like any other person."

"He doesn't like it."

John rolled his eyes. It was funny how they all behaved so much like Alan at times. "He's an idiot."

"I know. I told him about Alan and Brains going off grid."

"How'd he take it?"

"Surprisingly well. He wants to help however he can."

John hmmed. EOS span her avatar lazily. "He can help by letting me handle this." He shifted his chair back and stretched, clearly fighting back a yawn at the same time. Virgil had no problem imagining that his brother had been up working for hours after the rest of them had fallen asleep. He looped his arm around the back of his chair to twist and catch sight of Gordon fleeing from the hot breakfast bar with Kayo at his heels. It was sobering to think this was probably the last fun either of them was going to have for a while – even John had no idea how long it would take to find evidence for Brains without EOS's input.

Still. "Ready to go?"

John had a glint in his eye that reminded Virgil of Kayo when she was close to catching a bad guy she'd been trailing for months. "Absolutely."


The sun hadn't yet risen over the mountains, but the air was already warm, the usual brisk chill that Gordon associated with mornings still absent. Through the tinted glass of the GDF car, the world seemed tinted with a golden haze as though everything had been dipped into a vintage filter. Kayo was sat on the far side, unspeaking, her hands poised above her knees – she was always on edge where unknown forces were concerned and given their driver's identity was a complete secret, her current tension was not unexpected. Gordon had claimed the other window with a pitiful whinge of 'it's like a final drive to the gallows, c'mon Johnny, give a guy a break here,' and, miraculously, John had given in. There was a vague sense of guilt about him whenever he was reminded that it was his plan that involved his younger brother being thrown into the midst of a GDF interrogation.

"If I ask how much further, will you hit me?" Gordon asked cautiously.

John, squashed in the tiny space between his siblings – these cars were built for security, not comfort – made a low growl deep in his throat. His eyes – still that bright, unnatural green – narrowed with warning.

Gordon nodded. "Got it." He jammed his elbow back into the gap between the window and his headrest and leaned against the glass with a sigh. "Goodbye cruel world. I'll remember you in jail. Maybe."

"Oh, quit it," Kayo muttered from her side of the vehicle. The joking sister Gordon had stolen waffles from at breakfast had disappeared, buried deep beneath the necessity of her unofficial secret agent persona. He imagined she'd make a great female James Bond. Penelope would probably find the idea funny – he made a mental note to mention it to her.

"I'm just saying," he continued, if only to break the silence because goddamn he hated long, awkward pauses where no-one knew what to say. "Scott was all don't go to the GDF Gordon, and now John's like go to the GDF Gordon, and now what am I doing? Gordon is going to the GDF; that's what he's doing."

"John says stop talking about yourself in the third person, Gordon," John snapped back, not looking up from the phone he had produced from seemingly nowhere.

Gordon pressed a hand to the glass. "Touché," he said, and tried to smile. He could joke around all he liked, but it didn't hide the fact that he wasn't looking forward to this. Which, in reality, was the understatement of the century. Not looking forward to it? He genuinely would rather perform an underwater rescue in civilian clothes and with no Thunderbird.

Condensation was forming around his fingers. He watched the water droplets trickle down, racing each other across the glass. The outside world had faded to a background blur. There was a little ball of nerves in his chest, like butterflies, but choking. It was a different sort of fear to that he'd felt constantly on the island – more of a nervous apprehension. Something was bound to go wrong – it always did. Gordon had simply reached the point where he wasn't sure if he cared if it did anymore – he just wanted to go home and sleep for a century or so.

"Two minutes," Kayo reported. "You good to go?"

"I don't know," Gordon responded, trying to force humour into his voice. "Am I?" He rapped his knuckles against John's head. "Hello? All knowing being? Am I ready to go?"

John gripped Gordon's wrist and lowered it to the seat between them. "Are you?" He repeated softly, with more honesty in his gaze than Gordon knew how to handle. This was weird. John didn't give them the chance to back out – he made the plans and told them where to go because he knew their limits and they just did it.

"I'm…" He snatched his hand back. "Yep. Cool. All FAB. Let's get this done."

If John wanted to say anything more, he didn't get the chance because the engine cut out and the darkness of the tinted windows was replaced by a shroud of bright light. The GDF facility rose above them akin to an avenging angel – all pure white and blue, like the very epicentre of new technology.

"Not very subtle, are they?" Gordon whispered to John. His brother, International Rescue technology dotted about his person like a strange mix of astronaut and general tourist, gave a little shrug.

"Just tell the truth and don't piss them off." John's shoulders were hunched, his face shadowed with apprehension. "Kayo's got your back, remember."

"Yeah." Gordon shoved his hands into his pockets and climbed the steps to the first set of security clearance. "What could possibly go wrong?"


"This is ridiculous."

Virgil stared up at the ceiling. Every inch of his being was itching to be doing something productive, but until Penelope and Parker sent him an alert, he was stuck here. Still, he wasn't the only one on edge - Brains was sat next to him, tapping. Every now and then the light would catch his glasses and throw patterns across the tiles.

"Seriously."

"Hmm," Brains spoke up, and dug his elbow into Virgil's ribs. Virgil jolted upright, his shoes slamming into the floor with an obnoxious thud. Alan, sprawled over the end of Scott's bed, let out a loud laugh. He was upside down and Virgil, as ever, questioned his brother's life choices.

Scott whirled around. "Virgil."

Virgil lifted a hand and waved it at him. "Present sir."

Alan gave another hyena laugh. "Ooh, damn. You're in for it now."

Scott's voice rose in volume. Virgil winced. The hospital staff were going to be filing noise complaints at this rate. "You're telling me that I just have to sit here, while Gordon is off in the GDF's clutches and Alan and Brains are on some random bus in the middle of nowhere?"

"It's not the middle of nowhere actually," Alan pointed out, "it's England and then Scotland."

Scott flung out his hands in frustration. "That's the same thing."

"Huh." Alan snapped off the end of his granola bar and tossed it into his mouth. "I reckon Lady P and Parker would disagree with you there." He offered the second half of the bar to Brains. "Want some?"

Brains shook his head. "N-no." He stole another glance at Scott who had his arms on his hips and looked about two seconds away from murdering someone – this would have been a lot more effective had he not been leaning heavily on crutches and was stuck in hospital scrubs. "I'm good." He swallowed nervously. "Thanks."

Alan shrugged. "Your loss." He reached behind him and manoeuvred Sherbet from where the dog had been attempting to wrangle the socks off his feet up to the cushion settled under his chin. "Stay."

"Scott," Virgil finally spoke up. "You said you were fine with taking a backseat on this one."

"No, I said I was fine with not being in the heart of the action. I said I wanted to help. I said I was going to sort the distraction. Now you're saying I can't even do that?"

"No, because you're on crutches and your vitals are still nowhere near a healthy level."

"That's not…"

"No. You refuse to accept when you've reached your limit and it's always been a problem with you. Not this time. Every single part of this has to go perfectly, you know that."

Scott had been about to argue back, but the distant sound of an explosion cut him off. Vibrations rattled through the room, hospital equipment clinking together. Sherbet let out a low whine. Brains' glass of water fell off the table and shattered.

"Uh," Alan piped up in a very small voice. "Did anyone else feel that?"

Scott whirled around to face Virgil with a surprising degree of sprightliness for a guy clinging to a pair of crutches and sporting in hospital clothes. "This is what happens when you agree to let Parker sort the distraction," he exclaimed, jabbing a finger towards the door. "He blows things up! He's our friend, sure, but he's an ex-criminal, Virgil!"

"Penelope's with him."

"Penelope blew up the front door of her own apartment she was sharing with John back in college because she forgot her key."

That was a fair point. Virgil snuck a glance at his watch and found it still depressingly void of any alerts that his part of the plan was go. "To be fair, she's had a few years to grow up since then."

Scott let out an interesting mix of a growl and a hiss. Wavering on his feet, he dropped back onto the bed with an exaggerated groan. Alan cautiously tapped at his shoulder until his brother twisted to look at him. "What?"

"Jeez, nothing." Alan peered closer at him. "Are you okay?"

"Someone is leaving me in a hospital."

Virgil stared at him. "Scott, quit whining."

"I'm not whining."

"You are definitely whining," Alan chimed in cheerfully. He tilted his head to the side and frowned. "Hey, should we be leaving?"

"Probably," Virgil muttered darkly, and flicked his watch screen. It remained insolently dark, as though taunting him. Then, just as he was about to give it all up and start sneaking Brains and Alan to the airport himself, hospital cameras and street surveillance be damned, it finally lit up with a message. "Penelope, you genius." He beckoned Alan over. "Time to go."

Scott, buried under a heap of pillows, mumbled something uncomplimentary, but the idea of letting his youngest brother disappear from society for the next few days without a goodbye apparently drew him out. Virgil let them have their hushed conversation whilst he checked in with Brains – for someone who had never liked travelling far from home, the entire idea of hiding from government agents was not on his bucket list, and he'd been jumpy all morning.

"You gonna be okay?" Virgil queried, passing him one of the duffle-bags.

Brains shifted his glasses higher and tried to look as confident as possible. It wasn't working. "Was the explosion necessary?"

"Definitely." Virgil hid his watch-face, but not before Alan had caught a glimpse of it.

"Wow, it totally wasn't an accident at all." There was a snort of laughter. "Parker, you never fail to amaze me."

There was a quiet whimper from Brains's side of the room. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Don't be such a downer." Alan bounced across to join him, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and everything he really shouldn't be – who the hell got excited about bus rides in the middle of nowhere with no internet allowed? Alan, that's who – while Brains continued to look as miserable as he was humanly capable. "It'll be fun."

"I'm g-going to die."

"Fun," Alan repeated vehemently.

"Death," Brains pointed out again.

Alan sighed dramatically and rose onto his toes to loop an arm around the scientist's shoulders. "See, that's the attitude Brains. What a mood. Truly relatable."


When John had limped into his hotel room the previous night, his body had been physically exhausted, but his mind would not shut up. After laying flat on his bed for a solid half-an-hour – or at least he thought it was around that long; enough time for Virgil and Gordon's voices to fall silent through the paired doors anyhow – and then flipping onto his front and finding he had equally as pitiful luck in the sleep department, he gave up, and headed over to the window. The city had stretched out in front of him and he'd let EOS name as many facts as she could recall without having to check the database until the blinking lights of buildings had scorched themselves into his retinas.

"EOS, how d'you feel about getting a head-start on some work?" His words were slightly slurred – he'd been awake for well over twenty-four hours now; no-one tell Virgil about that little nugget of information – but he was sure she understood the general gist of it.

EOS gave a tinny sigh – proof that she understood every word - but the soft blue of her lights suggested that she was in favour of the idea. It was rare for John to work off a laptop these days, especially given the more high-tech equipment IR had treated him to, but there was something strangely comforting about the familiarity of the metal screen and clicking of the keypad beneath his fingers. It reminded him of his college days – in both the US and the UK.

The next few hours flew by – he organised GDF transfers and meetings for Gordon, booked coach tickets across country in the UK under different identities for Brains and Alan – and then proceeded to set up those false identities complete with histories as far back as place of birth and parental records – wiped all traces of Alan's passport from the databanks in case anyone checked in and played a little bit of switcheroo with the accounts just to double-check that they won't be tracked. It should be enough to keep them out of the GDF's sight for the next few days, at least. He made a start on the International Rescue side of things and EOS made a little sound of protest which transformed into full-on nagging for him to eat something.

John paused after her fifth complaint in under two minutes. His back clicked as he stretched and he hooked one foot around the edge of his bed to keep himself from tipping off the mattress as he searched the drawer of the bed-side table; there was a room-service menu around here somewhere, he's sure of it. He finally uncovered it under a pile of tourism leaflets and a misplaced hand-towel and read his order aloud whilst EOS sent a request downstairs – he'd never been more grateful for Penelope's insistence that they always stayed in twenty-four-hour hotels.

With a basket of French fries dusted in paprika and salt and a side salad to try and make himself feel a little better about his life choices, John took a long gulp of the coffee he'd ordered alongside it and blinked the blurriness away from the corners of his vision. The screen was slightly hazy in front of him and he combatted another yawn with a fistful of fries – there were no brothers or aristocratic friends with their safe-cracking sidekicks around to judge him.

"Where were we?" He wondered aloud and tapped EOS's spare drive, settled on the edge of the bed. "EOS?"

"We weren't," EOS announced pointedly, "sleeping. Like you should be."

Honestly, John should have expected this. He'd programmed her, and he may not be the best at socialising with other people, but he'd always been more open with his family and that slightly overprotective streak that he forced himself to bury most of the time had been inherited in all its blazing glory by the AI in front of him. He lifted a forkful of salad. "I'm being good, see? I'm eating something."

EOS said nothing, but John could just feel her judging him. He shook the fork and a piece of lettuce landed on her camera with a sad flop. "Thank you, John," she said with as much exasperation as she could muster.

John tried not to laugh. "That wasn't intentional, I swear."

"Oh, I believe you."

"No, you don't."

EOS giggled. "No, I don't."

He worked through the backlog of base codes for IR so he had less to search through for the next few days, and flicked tabs back to the planning for Alan and Brains' grand escape. Penelope and Parker were set to be in charge of getting the two out of the city undetected, with Virgil taking control of the flight down to the UK – from then on, it was all on John from afar and any trace of common sense that Brains and Alan could gather between them – one of them could classify as a mad scientist and the other was a stressed-out teenager repressing his emotions from the past week, so John didn't hold out much hope. Still, he'd figured everything out right down to the tiny detail – all the two had to do was avoid talking to any officials and they'd be all set to come home in three days' time.

With the first glimmers of dawn, he finished up with the final correspondence with his team at Tracy Industries – given Scott as the official head was still in hospital and there'd been little to no reports on the rest of them, the investors were getting nervous. John had the patience for business that his older brother had never had – the only reason Scott had taken up the role was due to his location of actually being on the planet – fuel costs and hotel fees were all such a big palaver when your usual residence was a satellite.

Breakfast was a blur. He'd heard a thud and then a muffled curse that alerted him to the fact that Virgil was up and around – and falling out of bed from the sounds of things – so a shower later he headed down to the breakfast hall. It was strange wearing his IR contacts after a couple of days without them, and he kept trying to blink away the interface, much to EOS's amusement. The car-ride to the GDF facility come around far too quickly, and despite all the preparation he'd done for this, he couldn't shake the dark thoughts that he'd made the wrong choice and screwed everything up spectacularly. The fact that Gordon was so obviously apprehensive was not helping.

"Meet you inside," Kayo said quietly, her usual IR jumpsuit back in place after her morning's mission and following distraction – which John appreciated, even if she was still grumbling about it an hour later. Her GDF clearance meant the scanners merely flashed a simple green as she strolled through, throwing a quick salute to the nearest guard along with a smirk.

Gordon watched her go with a mournful look. "Just you and me." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Great."

John didn't call him out on the sarcasm. Gordon had always been the shortest of his brothers – minus Alan, but the kid was still growing like a beanstalk, so he let it slide – but he seemed strangely vulnerable in a way he hadn't before what John was mentally referring to as the accident. The irony of this didn't escape him – Gordon had a track record of accidents and if they were to actually write them down then the list would be about as long as his arm.

Security didn't frisk them too much. John's practically glowing contacts spooked one of the workers, but news of their arrival had clearly been a top priority for they were quickly met by a sickly-sweet woman in heels so high that Gordon kept asking in whispers how John thought she could walk in them – he had no idea.

They paused outside a steel door with no window where the woman left them with instructions for Gordon only to enter.

"Well shit." Gordon kicked at the base of the door lightly. "Does this look like some haunted asylum thing to you or is that just me?" He laughed nervously. "I mean, really. It's like the opening of a Supernatural episode. If I go in there, I'm gonna get murdered by some possessed GDF agent and a haunted clown or…"

And that was how John knew Gordon was freaking the hell out – the rambling. "What have you been watching on TV?" he replied, mildly horrified.

"Shut up, Sherlock nerd."

"Sherlock is a masterpiece."

Gordon shrugged. "Maybe. Possibly." He sighed and relented. "Alright, fine."

They turned to stare at the door. Gordon's shoulders slumped. "I really have to go in there, don't I?" He asked, all traces of humour gone from his voice. It was more of a statement than a question, but there was an unspoken plea in there too and damn, John felt like the bad guy right around now. He swallowed past the rising nausea in his throat and awkwardly patted his brother's shoulder.

"Kayo's on the other side of the door," he promised.

Gordon treated him to a dubious look. "Promise?" John fumbled for words and Gordon batted his shoulder with the string of his hoodie, grinning – even if it was a little forced. "Relax, I'm only kidding. It'll be fine. I'm great at charming people."

"That's not…"

"Hey, if the agent's cute then I might even score a date out of this…"

"Gordon…"

"I mean, who wouldn't want a piece of this?"

"Anyone with sanity," John instinctively shot back.

Gordon snapped his mouth shut on his next comeback and hesitated, a surprisingly soft look in his eyes. "There you go," he said lightly. "That's better. Stop beating yourself up, Johnny, I agreed to this. You and I both know that if I didn't want to be here, then I wouldn't be. Although," he reflected, "want might be a strong word." He shook himself and straightened up. "Right. See you on the other side, Spock."

John hovered outside the door for a few minutes after it had swung shut behind his brother. Maybe he was trying to listen in despite already knowing the entire place was soundproofed, or perhaps there was that small, instinctive part of him that didn't want to leave his brother alone for a second time – he'd couldn't escape the memories of searching radar and scans again and again non-stop and coming up empty-handed – nightmares of drowned siblings and lost Thunderbirds because something's gone wrong, John, I can't find them…they're not…the storm's worse and I can't find them…

"John." EOS was taking a risk, speaking aloud in a facility that claimed she shouldn't exist. He tapped his watch where she was currently residing.

"I know." He sucked in a deep breath. "We have work to do."

It was a well-known fact that the majority of government-funded facilities' coffees were terrible, but this one wasn't too bad. John – who was admittedly running primarily off caffeine and sugar at this point – sat down at a corner table where his laptop screen was shielded by a large potted fern and concealed from any security cameras. His internet connection was looped into Thunderbird 5 and a few strings of code he'd set up earlier bounced the data back and forth until it was unidentifiable by any of their servers. In fact, he was making some pretty good progress combing through the IR files for any possible leads back to the Mechanic without EOS's help when a chair screeched out across from him and a slip of grey suit flashed across his line of sight.

"Can I help you?" John asked without looking up. If it had been Kayo, she'd have announced her presence, and Gordon would have flung himself down as close as possible like the human octopus he was.

"That depends," Colonel Casey drawled, and laid her hands down on the table, closing John's laptop so he was forced to meet her eye. "I think it's high time we had a conversation, John – about the illegal AI currently stowed away upon your satellite, hmm?"

John stared at her. "What?" He flailed for words. "I….err…what?"

"You call her EOS." Casey stated matter-of-factly.

Well, John thought to himself, shit.


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Kat x.