Scott lay on his bed, tossing a ball from one hand to the other.

He hadn't been in this position since he was a teenager, but it felt right. He was as fed up with the world - and everything it threw at his family - now as he was all those years ago.

Scott hated waiting. He could be patient: dealing with a crisis or even his brothers' problems often meant letting events unfold. But situations like this? When all he could do was sit, wait, and hope someone else found the answers? It drove him mad.

He couldn't deny he was glad to be home. Both Virgil and Gordon were better here, and there was a spark in Gordon's eye that had been missing since they'd pulled him from the river.

It wasn't only them; he felt better for being back. It was peaceful, and easier to think. But they were still waiting on Penny - there were too many unknown variables to plan properly.

Scott was so caught up in his circling thoughts that he jumped when his watch vibrated, taking his eyes off the ball. He missed the catch, momentarily winded as it hit him straight in the stomach. Grimacing, he sat up, glad he'd been alone. None of his brothers would let him live it down if they'd seen his lapse in concentration. Sometimes, Scott wished they didn't all still seem to believe he could do anything.

Standing up, Scott stretched. He was stiff from so much time sitting around and vowed to go for a run as soon as he got the chance, the first in days. He hadn't felt like it since being home, but was paying the price now.

Heading out of his room, he met John on the stairs. They reached the lounge at the same time as Gordon, and Scott tried to keep his expression neutral. It wasn't a rescue, meaning there was only one thing that would summon them all in such a manner.

All three entered, only to find Virgil was already there. Alan was right behind them, but the older brothers were quick to claim the best seats, leaving him perched on the arm of Gordon's chair. Their father wasn't there, but Scott doubted the man would leave them waiting long.

This time, however, he wasn't the impatient one. Gordon's leg started jiggling. Scott caught John's eye, grinning as his brother looked skyward. John waited a few seconds to see if Gordon would stop, then pressed down on his brother's leg, forcing it to be still. Gordon flushed, and Scott doubted he'd even known that he was doing it.

Their dad appeared before anyone could say anything. He was deep in conversation with Brains, but glanced up on entering, unsurprised to find all five sons waiting for him. When their father called, they all answered.

"What've you heard?" Scott sat bolt upright; hands clenched on his legs. Adrenaline shot through him in a way he normally associated with rescues. If his dad had brought them here about something else, Scott was going to need a long run to calm down again.

The man sank into his seat, looking drawn. Scott glanced at Brains, hoping for a little insight, but his friend flushed when he caught Scott's eye, muttering under his breath and hurrying from the room.

"Wha-?" Gordon watched him go, but Scott shook it off. Brains had never coped well when the entire family was present.

"Penny made contact an hour ago."

Scott's attention snapped back to his father.

"And you're only telling us now?" he was his turn to flush when his father fixed him with a steely gaze.

"We have to wait for Penny to be in position, remember?"

Scott took the rebuke and glanced away. They had spent hours discussing it. They'd have a head-start, but only a small one. Just enough time to get the answers they needed for their own closure before Penny came in with her team. It wasn't like International Rescue was equipped to deal with prisoners. Scott looked at Virgil to judge his reaction, but his brother was staring straight ahead, body rigid.

Gordon nudged him, and Scott took the hint. He relaxed back, but wished the ball was still in his hand to vent his feelings.

"They received information of a flight from Thailand to Washington. Makes the round-trip minimum of once a month, sometimes a couple of times a week."

"Track down the plane, find the owner." Scott glanced at John as he spoke, who was already reaching for his data-pad.

"It's a state-of-the-art model," their father continued, "equipped to transport-," he looked at Virgil, "-well, whatever they want. Of course, the documentation was faked. Penny got her people on it – they've traced it back to a Dr Hamilton."

John started typing. Scott knew that was all the information his father had as he stayed quiet, letting John work. He tried to quell his frustration: John would have made the connection a lot quicker; they'd already be on their way…

He tried to shake it off, looking at Virgil instead. His brother was pale, one hand resting over his side, but he was alert, tense, and Scott knew nothing would persuade him to stay at home, especially not pointing out he was still injured.

"There's at least five Dr Hamiltons in DC, but two of them don't have medical degrees," John reported. "Another works in paediatrics. Out of those with the right qualifications, only one of them has also signed contracts for abandoned buildings on the outskirts of the city. Not even twenty minutes from where the plane lands."

"Get out of MI5's database, John," their dad scolded, but his tone was mild and he looked faintly exasperated rather than angry. Scott sniggered. There was no way John was only going to track down half the information when he could find it all.

John touched a few more buttons and sat back. "For abandoned buildings, they're kicking out a lot of power."

He didn't say anything else, just glanced at Virgil before catching Scott's eye. He didn't need to ask; it was the power output that meant John had found the buildings in the forest as well. But Scott wasn't sure how much Virgil – or Gordon – could stand hearing about, and he was glad his brother didn't say more.

"Penny is on her final approach to the States now," his father said, fingers steepled as he stared at his sons. "She was going to start asking questions, but send her this information, John. We'll leave in an hour."

"Why can't we go now?"

"She needs time to put a strike team together, Scott. This escalates things."

"If you'd just let me -,"

"Meet back here in an hour. Understood?"

"F.A.B," Gordon responded. He took Alan's arm, leading him from the room. Virgil trailed behind them. Scott stepped closer to the desk, but his father spoke first.

"You know why I didn't let you be part of the questioning, and I stand by that. Instead, you've had time to come home, rest and plan properly. We had time to be sure."

Scott swallowed his argument. As long as they got the guys responsible, he guessed it didn't matter. But he hated that they had been sitting around when John would have found the answers twice as fast. As John moved towards the desk, intending to speak to their dad, Scott left.

Alan had disappeared, but movement made him glance outside. Gordon had already retreated to the pool and although he wouldn't have long, the work-out would do him good.

That wasn't the brother he was concerned about, though. Scott went to find Virgil.

He didn't have to search far: he'd known exactly where his brother would go. Virgil was sitting on the platform overlooking Two, legs dangling through the railings. Scott was impressed by how fast he'd got here given his injury, but no one could deny he was far stronger than even a few days ago.

"You okay?" Scott asked. He sat next to his brother, angled so he could see Virgil's face. They didn't have time for Virgil to lie to him.

His brother nodded, and Scott nudged him. "Not very reassuring."

"I'm fine," Virgil said.

Scott sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair. "If you're not okay with this, Virg, tell me now. You don't have to -,"

"Come?" Virgil interrupted, glaring at him. "After what you pulled in the hospital about having the right to be involved, you're telling me I don't have to come?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Scott began.

"I'm not a liability, Scott." Virgil spoke over him, staring at his 'bird rather than look at him. "I've already discussed it with Dad. I'm staying in Two until the area's secured."

"Are you?" Scott said, amused. He'd lost count of the number of times they told their father they would do one thing, waited until he turned his back, and done the opposite. It was a trait none of them had grown out of.

Virgil gave him an offended look, but his lack of comment made Scott smirk. His brother had no intention of staying put.

"I have to do this." Virgil rocked forward, pressing his forehead against the barrier. "I have to know it's over. I have to know why."

Scott cupped his brother's neck, not knowing what to say to that. If he could, he'd do this on his own, making sure none of his brothers were in harm's way. But he understood – more than anyone – and knew it would do more harm than good if they left Virgil behind.

His brother relaxed under his touch. Scott gave him a moment before standing up.

"We should check your side before we go," he said. He offered his hand and Virgil let himself be pulled up with a slight wince. Regardless of his protests and his returning strength, he wasn't fully healed yet. Scott would have to keep a closer eye on him out there than normal.

Virgil didn't protest as Scott led him to the infirmary. The stitches were holding, and the wound healing well.

Scott wrapped a new bandage around his brother's torso, but as he tried to tie it off, found his fingers were shaking. He'd patched up his siblings more times than he could recall over the years.

This was different. Someone had looked at his brother and only seen how much money he could make. Scott felt sick, anger coursing through him.

Virgil covered his hand with his own, stilling the tremor. "Now who's being the liability?"

Scott swallowed, forcing himself to complete the job. He tied off the bandage and sat on the edge of a bed. Virgil joined him.

"We'll get through this," he said, "we always do."

Scott wondered if Virgil was right. They were used to dealing with the unpredictability of mother nature, not a cold and calculating human who could do this to another. He shuddered at the thought, and Virgil nudged him.

"I'll tell Dad you're having a mental breakdown if you like?" His tone was light, conversational and only half-teasing. Virgil had seen him in command on some of the toughest rescues, and Scott knew his brother would report him if he believed Scott couldn't handle it. Their insistence of looking out for one another meant not always seeing eye to eye on the methods they chose.

Scott arched an eyebrow. "I'll tell him you're planning a Houdini act."

"So," Virgil grinned, "guess we both stay quiet, and pull ourselves together?"

"Guess so." Scott hopped off the bed, grinning at his brother. As always, Virgil had said what he needed to hear.

The hour passed quickly. They stayed in the infirmary, knowing it granted them some peace. Scott hadn't realised he'd needed this time to talk with Virgil, but felt both lighter and more determined than ever when the alarm he'd set on his watch chimed.

"We need to go," he said.

Virgil nodded, the set to his jaw both familiar and reassuring. It was the same when a rescue seemed impossible, and Virgil refused to quit.

Scott touched his brother's shoulder fleetingly. "We'll be okay."

Virgil just nodded again. Scott wasn't sure if it was because he didn't trust his voice, or because he didn't believe him. They'd all mastered the art of lying to each other to make a situation less dangerous while refusing to listen to their own words.

They went back to the lounge. Alan was already there, but Gordon entered right behind them, subdued in a way Scott hadn't seen for years. He felt a flash of guilt: he should have checked on them all, not just Virgil. The selfish part of him knew he'd gone to Virgil because it would help him as much as his brother.

Scott couldn't sit down. He leant against the wall as the others took their seats, arms folded. His dad looked around the room, holding each of their gazes for a moment. He sighed, knowing none of them would back down. Scott knew it wasn't because he didn't want to do this – he wanted to hunt down the men who had taken his sons as much as Scott did – but because he didn't want to risk putting them all in danger. It was a feeling Scott was more than familiar with.

"You're all aware of your positions," he finally said, voice quiet. "John's pulled up schematics of the building, so at least we have a rough idea of the layout. Scott's on point. John and Alan, cover the sides and only advance when Scott gives the signal. Gordon and I will watch the back and join you inside. Virgil-,"

"I'll be in Two, waiting for the all-clear." Virgil's tone was bitter. He sounded genuine, and Scott was certain he was the only one who'd realised what Virgil was planning.

"I'm sorry, son. You know you're not up for a fight."

"There might not be a fight," John said. "We have no idea if Hamilton will be there, or if anyone guards the place."

Virgil still looked glum. Scott didn't know which he'd prefer: one mission to round everything up, or securing the building and having to hunt down Hamilton and his team.

Silence fell. All that needed to be said had, and no one wanted to be the first to move. But that was the role Scott had always taken, and he pushed away from the wall.

"Keep to your positions," he instructed, "and wait for my orders. Gordon, find a high spot if you can. You're the best shot, get a good view of the place. Remember, though – all weapons to stun. We're not stooping to their level, no matter what."

It was a fierce debate he'd had with his father over the last few evenings before his anger had cooled enough to realise what that would do to his family. He also knew their stunners could leave victims with a hell of a headache and comforted himself with that thought.

He stepped towards his lamps. "No one takes any unnecessary risks. Let's go."

He stepped into the concealed entrance while the rest of them stood, then they disappeared from his sight as he whisked out of view.

Scott took a levelled breath, controlling his heart-rate. Virgil wasn't the only one with a plan, but no one had figured him out. While the rest of the family were travelling in Two, Scott was taking Thunderbird One. It gave them more space, but also lent credibility to their story.

But it meant he'd arrive long before they would. He could secure the building himself, risking no one else.

He set the pre-flight checks running while pulling on his uniform. By the time he'd dressed, he could hear Thunderbird Two warming up. For a second, he imagined the argument currently taking place: Virgil would insist he was well enough to fly, refusing to let anyone else handle his 'bird. Gordon would want the co-pilot seat, but Scott wasn't sure his father would surrender to being out of reach of the controls.

He was grateful for his own peace and quiet!

A shrill beep made him jump, and he looked at the console in horror. A red light flashed in warning and when Scott touched a button, a message came up that he'd never seen before.

System Error.

Scott stared. Part of him refused to admit it was happening, but blinking and shaking his head didn't make the message vanish.

The comms came to life.

"Everything okay?" Virgil asked. He knew their timings better than anyone – he'd know something was wrong when Scott hadn't taken off.

"No." Scott couldn't believe his luck. "I've got a system error."

"Call Brains." Their father's voice was smooth as he interrupted the conversation. "We'll take off and meet you there."

"Dad-," Scott protested.

"It's a twenty-minute flight in Two, Scott. You'll do it in five. I'm sure it's an easy fix for Brains and you'll catch us up before we get there. Virgil, get going."

Two didn't move. Scott sighed, knowing Virgil was waiting for his go-ahead, despite their dad standing over him.

"It's alright, Virg. I'll catch you up."

He slumped in his seat as Thunderbird Two rolled towards her launch pad. As the cliff-face dropped, Scott touched his watch.

"Brains? I need you in One's hangar now."

Once he knew Brains was on his way, Scott let the rest of the checks run. He wanted to give his friend as much information as possible. Brains didn't leave him waiting long, and Scott jumped down to meet him.

"I've got a system error," he explained. "Never seen it before - no idea what's wrong."

"D-did any of the d-diagnostics s-show anything?"

"No." Scott ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I really don't have time for this, Brains."

To Scott's surprise, Brains didn't enter the cockpit to check for himself. He moved to the back of Thunderbird One and crouched down. Removing a panel, he poked around for a moment.

"It s-seems the w-wiring is loose."

"Can you fix it?"

Brains nodded. "T-ten minutes."

Scott exhaled, pacing in front of his 'bird. Ten minutes to fix, five to get the engines heated and to launch…

He would only just catch up as they prepared to land at this rate.

He resisted the urge to lash out. John would kill him if Scott split his healing knuckles again.

But it ruined his plan. He, too, had calculated the speeds and knew how much time he'd have to secure the area before the others arrived.

He froze.

Brains hadn't been able to meet his eye in the lounge. He also hadn't needed to see the reports before identifying a problem they'd never seen before.

Scott wasn't the only one who would have worked out the timings.

His heart thundered and he felt momentarily breathless as the pieces slotted together. He'd never considered how deep his father's concern ran, but did it stretch to putting One out of action? Scott would never normally consider it, but this was too much of a coincidence. An easily fixed problem that didn't sabotage their mission, just stopped Scott from arriving on his own…

Scrambling into the cockpit, Scott connected to Thunderbird Two.

"What's Brains said?" Virgil asked, anxious. "Need me to come back?"

"It's fine," Scott's voice was terse. "I need to talk to Dad."

"We bailed him out," Gordon said. Scott ignored him.

"Put him on."

His fists clenched, but he couldn't bring himself to relax. If anyone was hurt because he hadn't had the chance to scope out the area, he'd never forgive his father. It didn't matter they'd already made a plan that involved all of them.

"Scott?"

"What the hell did you do?" Scott didn't care everyone could hear him.

"I don't-,

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You put Brains up to this, didn't you?"

"Yes."

Scott blinked, stunned. He stared at the blank screens in front of him, glad he hadn't connected through visual. He'd expected his father to deny it, pretend he didn't know what Scott meant. His honesty threw Scott off, and his anger faded despite himself.

"Why?"

"Keep at full speed, Virgil," his dad said before Scott's communicator lit up as he transferred the conversation to a private line. Scott didn't speak, giving the man the chance to get somewhere other than the flight deck with four sons listening in.

"I know you, Scott," he finally said.

Scott ran a hand through his hair. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You mean that you weren't planning to push the engines, get there with a good fifteen minutes to spare, and clear the way for us?"

Scott cursed whichever brother had betrayed him. Then remembered he had told no one, not even Virgil. He stared at his watch, leaning back in his seat.

"How did you know?"

His father gave a soft chuckle. "I know you better than you know yourself," he said, "and I saw through that mask of calmness you've been hiding behind since we arrived home. You don't like the idea of the others facing whatever we'll find there, and One's speed is all you had helping you."

"So you took that away from me?"

"You think I was going to let you arrive first, alone, without back up, when you haven't been thinking straight for days?"

Scott wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. He would reach them in time – Brains wouldn't have broken anything he couldn't fix. They would go in together, just as they'd planned. Scott dragged his hand down his face, his anger fading. He wasn't above such tactics himself if it kept the others safe. None of them were - John's actions in Two when they'd first found Gordon were testimony to that.

"Dad, I…" he trailed off, not knowing what he was trying to say. His dad, however, understood.

"I know. Don't worry, Scott. We'll put a stop to this, as a family, the way we've always done. Are we good here?"

Scott sighed. "Yeah, Dad," he murmured, "we're good."

The line went dead and Scott's hands ghosted over the controls for a second before he leant out of the open door.

"How're we looking, Brains?"

There wasn't an answer for a few seconds, but Scott heard a soft crack, like two wires sparking together.

"Good to g-go," Brains said, appearing back in view as he stepped away from One.

Running pre-flight checks again, Scott wasn't surprised he got green lights all the way. Checking Brains had made it to a safe distance, he pulled on the throttle, the engine roaring in response. There wasn't time for caution: he had a family to catch up.

With that in mind, Scott Tracy shot for the skies.