Thank you again for those of you who are still with me here. Hope you enjoy the next update.

Sitting still was not a trait Gordon was known for. Never had been; never would be. Even asleep, he still got twisted up in ways he couldn't explain.

Right now, however, he was afraid to so much as blink.

John had finally relented, agreeing that Gordon could see Virgil. Although Gordon wanted to believe his natural charisma and ability to win over his big brother was the reason, he knew his settled temperature and father's agreement was really to thank for his escape from his sickbed.

He felt better, even if he didn't feel well yet. A few days' rest had helped recover his strength. But being in bed didn't settle his emotions, didn't calm his tumultuous thoughts. Every moment he wasn't allowed to see Virgil felt like another moment he was failing his brother. He had a feeling John had realised that, and that his brother was to thank for persuading their dad to give in.

He also knew it was because of John that he was given time alone with Virgil, understanding how much he needed it. Scott had warned them not to over-do it, and if either of them had a relapse, he'd ground them both. But as he'd left and Gordon turned to the bed, he realised the warning had been for him alone: Virgil was fast asleep.

He sat down, gaze fixed on his brother. It only took half an hour before his back protested, but he refused to move. There were times when Gordon listened to his body, and times when he listened to his heart.

"You know watching me sleep is creepy, right?"

Gordon grinned at the soft murmur.

"Nothing better to do," he retorted. The tension left him in a long exhale now Virgil was awake. "How you-,"

"Don't say it," Virgil warned.

Gordon didn't move as Virgil struggled into an upright position. He watched closely, ready intervene if needed, but otherwise remained where he was until Virgil was sitting up, albeit sagged back against the pillows, exhausted, his hand pressed over his side. But he gave Gordon a warm smile.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He meant it. He knew, more than any of them, how frustrating it was to have someone jumping to help every time you tried to move. Everyone meant well, and to this day Scott had never found out how much it had driven Gordon mad after his accident. But being able to do a few things – such as sitting up – by yourself was more of a balm than any meds offered.

It had been several days since Virgil's wound had first been treated. The stitches had held, and the nurses were pleased with the healing progress. Virgil could handle sitting up himself, and if the others hadn't realised that, Gordon intended to make sure they did. Virgil was patient, but he – like the rest of them – had his limits with constant fussing.

Gordon winked at his brother. "Warn me if you have a sudden desire for a shower, though."

Virgil coloured. "Scott told you about that?"

"Yep. You really didn't want to wait, did you?"

"It seemed a good idea at the time," Virgil said, shrugging.

Gordon grinned. He sat back, swinging his legs up and planting his feet on the end of his brother's bed, making himself comfortable. Virgil frowned at him.

"You'll do your back in sitting like that."

"I'm worrying about you for a change," Gordon retorted. "Let me: I don't get to do this very often."

"I'm not making a habit of it!"

"Good!" As much as he appreciated not being the one in bed, Gordon would rather they skipped this whole scene altogether in the future. He watched Virgil for a few moments, reading his expression every time he moved. But then he relaxed.

"You look better," he said.

"So do you," Virgil said. "You've got more colour."

Gordon laughed, realising his brother had been examining him with the same intensity. He ran a hand through his hair, dropping his feet so he could lean forward.

"John said-" He trailed off, took a deep breath and continued. "John said that Scott and Dad… that they went to see him."

Virgil flinched, and Gordon knew he didn't have to elaborate.

"Dad's gonna throw everything at them," Virgil said quietly.

"Not enough for Scott?"

Virgil shook his head. "I tried to talk to him, but I don't think I was very persuasive."

"No one can get through to him when he gets like that."

"It's not that." Virgil glanced down at the blanket, taking a deep breath before glancing up again. "I didn't try all that hard."

"Virg-,"

"I thought he'd killed you." Virgil refused to look at him. "I tried to make him pay, even when I thought I wasn't getting out. To avenge you… and I couldn't."

"I've already got one guardian angel looking out for me, Virg. I don't need two. Don't let it get to you: you surviving pissed them off enough."

"You sound like Scott."

"Happens occasionally."

"Gords?"

"Yeah?"

"You know the same is true for you, right? You can't go there."

It was his turn to look away. He was telling Virgil to let it go, while wishing he could have gone with Scott to face Max. It wouldn't have been the elder Tracy they'd have needed to hold back if Gordon had had his way. Being thrown in the river had, ultimately, kept him alive, even if it had come closer than his brothers were happy about. If Max had decided he was worth something, he might not be sitting here at all.

But Max had tortured his brother: the evidence was in the dressing on Virgil's side; the look in his eyes. Gordon had seen the calculation in Max's gaze as he'd examined him, worked out if the scars made Gordon profitable or not. Gordon understood exactly how Scott was feeling.

"We can't," Virgil said. Gordon glanced over to see Virgil's knuckles were white from where his hand fisted the blanket. A muscle jumped in his jaw, revealing how much it was costing him to keep his voice calm. "It's not who we are."

"It's not who the world sees," Gordon argued. "Doesn't mean it's not who we are."

Virgil didn't answer, and Gordon thought he knew what was going through his brother's mind. When it came to protecting each other, there was nothing they wouldn't do. The dangers they faced on a daily basis; the risks they took; the bonds between them, went deeper than just siblings. They were a unit, a team, and if anything happened to one, they all felt it.

He knew why Virgil wouldn't persuade Scott to back down. But he also knew what his brother was trying to say now. The rest of the world saw them as the playboy sons of a billionaire, lazing around and enjoying their father's money. It hurt, but they dealt with it because it suited their purposes. If they blew their cover, it would destroy everything they'd ever worked for. It would let Max win without him having to lift a finger.

"This sucks," Gordon groaned, tipping back in his chair to stare at the ceiling.

It surprised him when Virgil gave a soft laugh and he looked over. Virgil was grinning, and understanding dawned on Gordon.

"You suck," he amended, shaking his head. He didn't need to ask: Virgil had set up the entire conversation to make Gordon admit how he was truly feeling. "What did you think I was going to do? March in there by myself?"

Virgil shrugged. "Like I said, you're more like Scott than you know. Wouldn't have put it past you."

Gordon had no idea if Virgil had given him a heartfelt compliment, or gravely insulted him. He said nothing, but moved the conversation on, knowing going in circles wouldn't get them anywhere.

When Scott arrived an hour later, Gordon stood up. The pair of them needed time together, and he needed to work out the ache in his back.

"Get some rest," Scott said, his hand resting briefly on Gordon's shoulder as he moved to the door.

"I will. Unlike some of us, I know my limits."

"I do," Scott protested, and Gordon shared a knowing look with Virgil.

"Sure," Gordon scoffed. "At least I know my limits are in the human spectrum, rather than superhuman."

"I'm not sure," Scott said, mock thoughtfulness in his voice. "Pretty sure you were convinced you were a superhero and didn't have to go to bed."

Gordon laughed. "When I was, what? Six?"

"Oh, at least thirteen," Virgil said, and Gordon glared.

"You're supposed to be on my side!" He looked back when he got to the door. "Don't have any wild parties without me."

"Get out of here," Scott ordered and Gordon saluted his brother, only to receive the finger in response.

Shaking his head, he left the pair of them to it. Before he made it out the building, Virgil would have told Scott about their entire conversation, and Scott would have looped John in. By the time he got back to the hotel, John would be ready with logic, and reasons, and Gordon wouldn't stand a chance.

Heading outside, Gordon glanced around for a cab, then rolled his eyes when he saw a now-familiar car. He crossed the lot and slipped in.

"I don't need babysitting, Dad."

His father shot him a fond look even as he started the engine. "I was dropping Scott off. Thought I would see if you needed a lift back."

"Mm hmm," Gordon said, knowing full well the man had waited for him. He settled back, putting his feet on the dashboard until his father coughed. Gordon sighed and dropped his legs again. "Do we have to go back to the hotel?"

"Where d'you want to go?"

"I don't know," Gordon shrugged. "Somewhere where the others won't look at me like I'm about to keel over."

He kept his voice casual but avoided his father's gaze. Out of all of them, he was the best for admitting when something was wrong. He knew the consequences of hiding it, and it never ended well. But Scott and John – even Virgil, although he was bed bound himself – were all watching him, and Gordon was bored with it.

"They can't help it, Gordon. They found you unconscious, freezing cold, in a river. Then when you should have been recovering, you were sneaking out."

Gordon rubbed the back of his neck. "Are you mad at me for that?"

"No." His father sighed. "I'm not. I'd like to know how you got past Brains - and roped Alan in to help - when I hadn't left your side all afternoon though."

"Okay, Dad," Gordon said, deadpan. "You caught us. We're psychic."

His dad snorted and glanced over. Gordon grinned. His attitude would reassure the man more than anything else could.

He stared out of the window, watching the scenery for a few moments.

"Seriously, Dad," he eventually muttered. "I'm okay. So is Virg. It might take him longer than me, but we've both survived this. Stop treating us like we're going to vanish. It's annoying."

"We're not treating you-,"

"No? Why haven't either of us been left on our own, then? You got the guys, didn't you? Shawn has them locked up. We're only going to get over this if you let us."

He knew the man didn't want to hear it, but Gordon had to say it. Better now, before either he or Virgil flipped. His father tensed, before sighing and nodding, his expression reluctant.

"And for the record, I think letting Scott go a couple of rounds with this creep is a brilliant idea."

"You would do," Jeff said with a wry smile. He took a sudden turning, and Gordon sat up.

"This isn't the way to the hotel."

"No. How do you fancy grabbing something to eat, just us?"

Gordon grinned, knowing he had made his point. "Sounds awesome."

Shawn checked - and double-checked - his gun for the fifth time that hour before forcing himself to put it down, and drumming his fingers on the table. Patience had never been his virtue, and he still didn't understand how MI5 had become involved. But his questions were met with silence, and Shawn had been a soldier for long enough to know when to shut up.

So here he was, checking a gun for the umpteenth time, while waiting for an agent to show up, just because he didn't know what else to do.

A knock on the door drew his attention and one of his men looked in.

"She's here."

"She?" He'd been expecting a nondescript man in a boring suit who wouldn't say a word to him. He stood up, holstering the weapon. "What's she like?"

"She's, um…" Shawn had never seen the soldier flustered before. "Very pink."

"Pink?"

"Yes, Sir. Pink."

Intrigued - and a little bewildered - Shawn followed his man out of the office and towards the main entrance.

The first thing he noticed was an older man dressed in grey. His posture was alert, his quick gaze taking in his surroundings, and Shawn knew this was a man who could read a situation.

Then he saw the woman behind him. Shawn couldn't believe how he'd missed her before – he'd never seen an outfit so bright. In a dull, rundown building with everyone in uniform, the colour almost hurt his eyes.

"Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, at your service." She extended a hand and Shawn didn't know if he should shake it, kiss it, or even bow. He gave an odd jerk that was an aborted movement of all three combined.

"And him?" He nodded towards the man in grey. This was his base, he'd be damned if he lost any more control of a situation that had been out of his hands since Scott Tracy arrived at the airstrip. "Your bodyguard?"

"My butler. Parker, come and greet this gentleman."

The man – Parker – nodded at Shawn, who returned it stiffly.

"I don't understand, Ma'am," Shawn said. "Why are you here?"

"To take custody of your prisoners, of course," Lady Penelope said, peeling off gloves as she did so and looking around. "I believe you have the villains in question secured somewhere close by?"

"I do. But I'm going to need to see something official."

He knew this was Jeff Tracy's doing, although how the man had connections with MI5, he had no idea. But his brief conversation with his commanding officer meant this was now above his paygrade. Strings had been pulled, favours called in, and Shawn had been ordered to give full access to the agent who came for the prisoners.

What he couldn't shake, however, was the look in Scott's eyes when Shawn had pulled him off Max. This was personal – there was no way Scott was going to let it go, and Shawn felt he was letting his friend down by handing over their captives.

"Of course. Parker?" She looked at her butler, who produced official looking documents and handed them to Shawn. It revealed no answers, but everything seemed in order. He sighed, handing the paperwork to one of his soldiers, and gestured for his guests to follow him.

"I hope you have secure transport," he said, hand on his gun as he walked the familiar corridors. He could hear her heels tapping on the tiled floor. "These men are dangerous."

"We've made arrangements," Lady Penelope said. Shawn decided not to ask.

He took them to the holding cells, but paused before he opened the door. A few cells had been installed when the base had been built, but they'd had to lock them up in two's and three's to be able to hold all of Max's men. Max was the only one by himself.

"These guys are brutal, Ma'am," he said. "Are you sure you wish to enter? I can get my boys to bring them out."

"Do you know how hard it is to find a true gentleman these days?" She smiled, gesturing for him to continue. "Thank you for your warning, but rest assured, Parker knows what he is doing."

Shawn opened the door. It was that, or admit he doubted the old man could protect himself, let alone a Lady. But he was a soldier: he followed orders; he didn't question them. They entered, and it took only seconds for the prisoners to realise there was a well-dressed woman in their midst. Doors rattled as they called jeering comments, and one even pushed his hand through the bars, reaching for Penelope.

Shawn moved forward, but she was faster. He didn't see what she did, but the next thing he knew, the prisoner's arm was bent awkwardly, his face with pale, contorted with pain from where she gripped his little finger.

"Manners cost nothing," she scolded, releasing him and stepping back. The cell block went quiet.

Only one door didn't have a man leering through it. Shawn double-checked Max was secure, but he was still there, sitting on his bunk, unconcerned, even as his men shouted and hollered around them. Shawn turned away.

"Let's get them moving," he yelled, and suddenly, the room was full of soldiers. Lady Penelope and Parker stepped out of the way, letting Shawn do his job as he gave his orders. He was grateful they didn't try to interfere or undermine him in front of the prisoners.

Two guards brought Max out, gripping his arms tightly, but they paused in front of Shawn. Max sneered, his gaze taking the officer in.

"I wonder what I'd get for you."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. Max was desperate, hoping for an extreme reaction that gave him a chance at escape. Shawn wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But he'd seen what those words had done to Scott, and part of him felt guilty that he'd been forced to restrain his friend. He glanced around - checking there was no one superior nearby - before sinking his fist into Max's stomach, hard enough to double him over, wheezing. His men looked the other way.

"Maybe you should wonder more about how much I got for you," Shawn hissed, before signalling for the guards to take the man away. If he never saw Max and his friends again, it would be too soon.

"Well," Lady Penelope said, once the room was clear and the sounds of struggling men had faded away. "I can see why Scott approves of you."

"You know Scott?"

Shawn knew she was here because of MI5's connection to Jeff Tracy, whatever it was. He hadn't realised she'd know the entire family, though. She smiled warmly. She was very beautiful, and Shawn couldn't hold her gaze.

"Of course. He's told me all about you. Come, Parker, we must leave this man to do his work."

She held out her hand expectantly, and Parker offered his arm. Shawn watched in utter bemusement as they left the cells. It didn't occur to him to check whether they knew their way out.

He followed, mind racing. Scott had told her about him? He didn't believe that for an instant. They had been friends in the Air Force – and he owed Scott for saving his life. But they'd lost contact when Scott had left and Shawn transferred, and old military friends weren't a normal topic of conversation with aristocracy.

Tracy had connections – orders from up high confirmed that. From what Shawn knew of the man, it might be just former comrades from his own days in the service. Maybe he did have contact with MI5? He was a highly influential businessman if the tabloids were to believed, after all.

But for Lady Penelope to be a family friend? He didn't believe Scott was sitting on an island doing nothing, and he didn't believe MI5 would have an invested interest in an operation like Max's when it hadn't directly affected them.

He had his own mission here, though. Handing over the prisoners made his life easier, and he wasn't one to turn down a gift like that.

Stepping outside, his attention was first drawn by the promised van as soldiers secured the men inside. But he blinked, bewildered, when he saw the bright pink Rolls Royce parked in front of it. Parker already had the door open, but Lady Penelope approached Shawn instead.

"Thank you for your help in this matter," she said. "I can assure you these men will not trouble you again. Good luck with the mission that brought you here."

Shawn shook her hand, troubled by the knowing tone in her voice. It wouldn't surprise him if she knew about the entire operation that was operating out of this base – a secret operation.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and watched as Parker helped her into the car. The van moved off first, and with a roar of powerful engines, the Rolls followed.

He stared until they were out of sight. Then he ran his hand through his hair, confused, and headed back inside.

Penny waited until Shawn disappeared before putting a call through to Jeff.

"I have them," she reported. "I'm sure it won't take Parker long to find out who their buyer is - with a little persuasion. We rendezvous with MI5 in three days – they're finalising a disclosed location now and it will take us time to reach it by road."

"Will that be enough time?"

"Do not doubt Parker's methods, Jeff." Penny glanced over her shoulder. "That boy is sharp."

"Shawn? I thought so. Do you think he bought it?" Penny couldn't fault the apprehension in her old friend's voice. Shawn was friends with Scott; he wouldn't be dull-witted. They were risking a lot getting MI5 involved – their story wouldn't hold up to scrutiny if any of the organisations concerned started asking too many questions.

"I went with the friendship angle, but I'm not certain it worked. Perhaps I should have denied I knew you personally at all. You should ask Brains to secure your systems against military equipment. I think he knows Scott too well to accept what the world thinks your family is doing."

There was a reason, after all, the brothers had cut most of their ties when they retreated to the island. She understood, but as a lady at the height of society, she felt desperately sorry for them at times.

"F.A.B. Thanks, Penny."

"Anytime. Oh, and Jeff, darling? When are you going to tell Scott?

"Once you're several miles away," Jeff said, bitter humour in his voice. "The less he's involved, the better."

They hung up, and Penny sat back. Scott knew the plan: he'd been there when his father came up with it. But Penny knew full well the eldest brother intended to be involved, especially when it came to getting answers from the men who had hurt his brothers. He'd already spoken to Parker. He was going to be furious when he discovered his father given the plan the go-ahead and kept it from him.

It hadn't taken much effort to persuade MI5 to get involved. They'd only just finished an operation back in England that had shut down another operation just like the one Max was running. They didn't usually get involved in foreign affairs, but Penny had dropped a hint that they might be linked. They'd lost an agent during that raid – one hint that it might not be over and they given her full authority and any resources she needed.

They left the van behind on the winding roads, but Penny trusted the driver and knew there would be no problems reaching the rendezvous. There would be no escape for the prisoners. She, too, cared about Gordon and Virgil, and had no intention of handing the men over until she had the answers she needed.

"Home, m'Lady?" Parker asked, referring to the luxurious hotel they'd booked into.

"Home, Parker."

A few miles down the road, however, she changed her mind.

"Take me to the hospital, Parker. It's about time I paid Virgil a visit."

"Yes, m'Lady."

She prayed Jeff had spoken to Scott before they got there, having no intention of sparking off problems between father and son.

Jeff had used International Rescue's authority to get MI5 involved, but that wasn't the reason she was here. Any agent could have handled it. The Tracys were her friends, her family, and she was just as protective over those she cared about as they were.

It went deeper than that, though. They protected and saved the world on a regular basis. It was time they realised there were those who would do the same for them.