Alan's right. Everyone does have a different version of Tuesday's events. Allie's had a chance to tell you his. Despite what he says, he does not have the definitive version of events, no matter that he was the victim.

Now it's my turn.

I'd just checked in with John for an update on where everyone was. Alan had just arrived home from a gruelling 19-hour space rescue. I didn't envy him the report that would go with that. Virgil was out with Grandma, Gordon was home firmly entrenched in the latest series of Buddy and Ellie in his room, a can of squirty cheese ready to go.

I carried on with my rescue, which was only 15 minutes from home. Thankfully no one was injured, just trapped. And I had almost finished extracting the man when John's voice yelled in my ear. Loudly and very un-John-like.

'Scott!'

'John! What the…'

'It's Alan.'

He didn't need to say anymore, the panic in his voice was enough. I automatically sped the extraction up – and thank goodness that I was nearly done – before rushing the rescuee over to local services and rushing off.

I was 15 minutes from home.

I made it in 10.

John met me in the hangar. His usual return-to-earth issues was exacerbated by the stress clear in his face, and as we hurried to the infirmary he filled me in, not complaining that I had a hand on his elbow to help steady him. the whole time.

'He – he called me. It was the weakest call, and I barely caught it. And all he could say was "help". I called Gordon immediately and then you, EOS called Virgil and Grandma. I just got here.'

I clasped his shoulder briefly as we practically ran.

The first thing I saw was the bed where Alan was. I could see he was trembling. The second thing I noticed was the beginnings of a black eye on Gordon's face. I left Gordon to John as I took over getting the various machines and instruments ready that we would need.

I ran the Medscanner over and sucked in a breath. Arrhythmia, shaking, confusion, trouble breathing, sweating…there were alerts everywhere.

It looked like my eighteen-year-old brother was having a heart attack.

John and I strapped Alan down so that Gordon could get a cannula in, he being the one most used to the procedure after Virgil. Despite having obvious difficulty breathing he was trying desperately to get off the bed. I hated every second as I waited, mentally counting how many vials for the blood tests we would need.

Grandma was on the comms, instructions ringing out.

Canula in the back of his left hand. IV into his right arm. Six different vials of blood. And all the time Alan was pleading to be let go, seeming to be under the impression that we had kidnapped him.

But when he asked us to make sure we didn't tell Scott that he was dying of a heart attack because I would be pissed, I – I'm not sure if that didn't just break my heart completely.

I ended up holding his hand and carding my fingers through his hair as Gordon rushed the blood down to Brains for testing. My hands were shaking slightly. Thankfully we have such fantastic equipment, instead of waiting several hours for results Brains could have them ready in around 30 minutes.

It may be fast, but when it's your brother laying there, confused and goodness know what wrong with him, 30 minutes is still a lifetime. Thankfully Two would bring our two medics home before then.

Alan settled down to my ministrations quite quickly, drifting off into true unconsciousness within a few minutes.

John sat beside me, eyes watching the monitors he'd finished setting up, while Gordon took the seat on the other side of Alan, quietly humming one of his sea shanties. The bruise was getting more pronounced, and when asked he said something about Alan and mermen…I shook my head. I could extrapolate what had happened and there was going to be a long conversation about that between my youngest brothers once this was all over.

The problem with waiting is that it allowed my mind to think about what had happened and I felt the familiar panic rising when one of my brothers is injured or ill and I can't do anything about it. I didn't realise I was almost hyperventilating until John's hand squeezed my shoulder, startling the panic right out of me. We exchanged small smiles while Gordon pretended he hadn't seen anything.

Fifteen minutes later in came Grandma and Virgil. Both bustled about with medicalese and shoulder-squeezing before disappearing again to Brains' lab to hurry the results along. Virgil lingered at the door, casting a worried glance at me. I smiled and nodded and he gave a small smile back and followed Grandma out.

Now it was just a waiting game.

Waiting games suck so, so much.

Virgil and Grandma were in and out, tests, tests and more tests to find out what the hell was going on with Al's heart, but as the hours passed and there was no news I began to fret even more. The frowns on Grandma, Brains' and Virgil's faces were not helping. They'd put him on something to regulate his blood pressure and hopefully his heartrate, but no vasodilators, not until they had found the cause.

Almost thirteen hours of sitting, waiting. Trying not to pull my hair out, trying not to bite through my lip, trying not to punch the wall. John's hand on my arm helped me to keep a lid on the worst emotions.

It was Gordon who found the solution. Grandma had asked him to get drinks for everyone, and he came back with coffees and a frown.

We all have our own mugs just like we all have our own coffee. I like mine black and strong, John prefers tea, Gordon doesn't need caffeine and he's trying to get used to drinking tea. Alan is a coffee novice, preferring his cold. Grandma likes the odd coffee, especially when she's working. But Virgil and Brains…

Virgil and Brains have been known to experiment with coffee, and not in a good way. Not to my way of thinking. And Virgil's mug wasn't on the tray.

'Hey, Virg, I thought you said that there was coffee in the fridge for you and Brains?' Both engineers looked up with equal frowns. I glanced at Grandma as the beginnings of a suspicion began to rise its very ugly head.

'There is, a whole jug.'

'There isn't.

'There is! I even labelled it "Virgil's Coffee. Do NOT Drink" Gords.'

'Well, it's not there now.'

There was a very pregnant pause.

'YOU IDIOT!'

I couldn't help myself. As the enormity of what had possibly happened hit me, it was all I could do to only roar the words when what I really wanted to do was to rush over there and grab Virgil by his shirt and shake him.

It surprised even me. I love all my brothers, but Virgil and I have always had a special relationship, my best friend. I can't even remember the last time I was even mad at him, let alone shouted at him.

Both John and Virgil jumped. Rabbit eyes came to mind. But I just couldn't think further than what an idiot he was.

'How much caffeine was there?'

'Um…approximately a gram and a half.'

'A GRAM AND A HALF! FOR FUCK'S SAKE! You two could kill yourselves with that much, let alone Alan!'

'I – we – '

I did the math in my head and was not impressed at all. I didn't feel John's hand tightening.

'That means YOU drink TRIPLE the recommended daily amount. For Alan that was…150% more than the recommended for a teen! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! OF ALL THE IDIOTIC…'

'Scott.' It was the only warning Grandma gave me, and it would usually be enough. It did stop me saying anything more, but inside I was seething. I watched as Grandma patted his arm before coming across to me and patting my cheek and leaving. There was a spring in her step – she knew what Alan needed.

I kept eyes on Alan. Virgil sat on the other side of Alan, looking miserable. John was still beside me with his hand on my arm and Gordon stood at the foot of the bed, watching us like a tennis match. But I kept my peace - barely. I think that Virgil possibly thought that was worse from the glances he was giving me that I was studiously avoiding.

'Okay then. I'm gonna go take a dip in the pool. It's getting a little hot in here.' Yeah, Gordon has some tact when he needs it, sometimes. I glanced at John and he got the message, following Gordon out to make sure our fishie brother was alright.

We managed to keep silent for almost half an hour. Looking back, I can't believe I lasted that long. I can't believe Virgil did, either.

'I'm sorry, Scott. I clearly labelled it, I thought…'

'You DIDN'T THINK, Virgil! None of us pay any attention to the labels in the fridge. Otherwise, my apple pie would still be there, alongside John's chocolate cake. Why on earth would you think it was safe?

'I – I…'

I ground my teeth. I was trying so hard not to shout, I really was. And Virgil was curling into himself. As much as I hated myself for hurting him I still found myself whisper-shouting at him.

'I mean, what the absolute, ever-loving, fuck? God damn it, he could have died!'

Breathe, Scott. Breathe. I pinched my nose and screwed up my eyes.

'How could you be that stupid?'

Brown eyes, brown haunted eyes stared at me, yet I still couldn't get my temper under control. I glanced down at Alan. This was my baby brother; I had helped raise him and he had almost died due to something stupid from my most sensible brother.

'Damnit, Virgil, how could you be this irresponsible?' I was glaring. I couldn't help it. Glaring at my best friend. Glaring daggers.

The hand in mine suddenly moved, and I looked down to see Alan slowly open his eyes.

'Alan?'

'Uhh.'

The sheer relief that overwhelmed me caused me to sag slightly.

We went through the usual questions, what did Alan remember, that kind of thing. Virgil helped Alan to drink and Al spoke and I was just so, so relieved. After some accurate, even if not really appropriate, remarks on his rescue, Alan asked what had happened.

While Alan's eyes were on me I couldn't help but glare at Virgil. Again. He shrank from my gaze and stared at the floor.

'Scott?' Alan's voice broke in the middle while he tugged my hand. That change in his register was the last straw for Virgil and he shot from the room. I sighed. I had a lot of apologising to do.

'You drank some of the coffee Virgil had in the fridge.'

'Yes?'

'It was something he and Brains made. You ingested nearly a gram and a half of caffeine.' I ran a hand through his hair. 'You've been unconscious for nearly fifteen hours.'

'Oh.'

I sat there as the news filtered through, and I kept carding my hand through his hair as he dropped off again.

I glanced over to John, who had taken Virgil's place, and he nodded, settling in and pulling his pad out.

Time to find Virgil.