A/N: Sorry if this chapter just seems like filler. I'd had original edits that I had liked initially and then realized that there were absolutely no mentions of any other characters apart from brief mentions intermittently scattered throughout the chapters. I wanted to provide a little more in-depth description of certain characters and how they'd handled events. So, I expanded a little more, even bring in supporting characters from previous chapters.

All errors are mine and I do not own the Thunderbirds.

Reviews are greatly appreciated and make my days a little bit brighter in spite of all that I've got going on, including depression and burnout sapping whatever energy I have left at the end of the day.

Thank you and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Sad-Blue-Eyed-Angel 2010

Early the next morning Darla Winn entered the morgue, dressed out in her smock. She looked over the documents on her desk and she donned her gloves, face shield and goggles. Walking over, the mortician walked into a walk-in cooler and selected the bag tagged as John 'The Hunter' Doe. She shook her head, surprised at her apprentice's humor being so blatantly on display. She's warned him not to joke about the dead people. Regardless of being dead, they still commanded respect because someone somewhere loved them.

"So, you are my latest addition down here, huh?" Darla questioned. She had a habit of talking to the dead. As she unzipped the bag, she paused. He wasn't much older than herself at thirty-eight and she wondered briefly at what killed him. "Well, better see if I can find any kin of his."

Grabbing a swab, Darla opened her John Doe's mouth and swabbed inside his cheek before she sealed the sample in a specimen bag. Darla gradually whittled her way through her work, quickly assessing that the man that lay in front of her had died not only by having his jugular pierced, but his trachea was punctured as well. Unfortunately, this man had died by essentially choking to death.

"Such a shame that you had to perish in such a way. You deserved a hell of a lot worse." Darla muttered while she wrote down her belief of this man's cause of death. She glared down at the man, no longer feeling any hint of remorse for him. She'd read the report on her desk as she'd taken a brief break and came to realize that this man, this monster had killed her older brother's only child. At the time he'd been the youngest victim to date at eighteen, but now having read the report told her he'd gone even younger still and tried to kill a fourteen-year-old child. Darla may lose her license for doing this, but she picked up the sample she'd taken to track down next of kin and put it with other items she was going to have destroyed. This man hadn't treated any of the victims with any sense of humanity, so as far as she was concerned, he didn't deserve to be treated like a human.

Filling out the paperwork, she checked the box for unclaimed and filed the paperwork. The sooner he was buried in pauper's field the better. If the FBI tried to muscle in on this, the police would handle it. All the victims The Hunter claimed had been from their community, apart from the child he'd tried to kill.

~.~.~.~.~

Scott heaved a sigh. He was relieved, unbelievably so. Alan had been found and while not entirely one hundred percent, he'd heal up with time. At the request of his father, he'd placed a call to their long-time family friend Penny. He wanted her assistance, if possible, in tracking down any other potential victims that had been unfortunate to cross paths with The Hunter. He knew it wasn't her area of expertise to deal with homicide cases, but she had connections that had more power than state and local officials that could shed a little bit more light on just who The Hunter was and perhaps explain why he'd done the things he'd done.

Penny had been furious when Scott told her of Alan's abduction, after the fact and she'd chastised Scott; wholly so for not bringing her into the loop. She'd been named as a secondary guardian for Alan to step in when Jeff or any of his other sons were unavailable and so should have been made aware from the off. At least that was what Penny had emphatically stated. Worry and concern for Penny translated into vexation. She fit right in with the whole of the Tracy clan. Even Parker for that matter had sworn to do everything in his power to protect Alan. Scott appreciated the sentiment and he expressed exactly that when he'd finished accepting the tongue lashing from the aristocratic lady.

He figured he'd leave sleeping dogs lie for the time being and allow a bit more time until he placed a return call to his father to check in on Alan and how he'd done through the night. In the meantime, Scott allowed the fatigue to wash over him. He hadn't slept, it'd been a little more than twenty-four hours and he was beginning to feel the effects. He'd made Virgil and Gordon go to bed and John had told him he was going to hit the hay. But Scott had sat up. He hadn't been able to shut off his thoughts. They'd kept him high strung and Scott himself felt like he was floundering. Standing, Scott buried his hands in the pockets of his lounge pants and decided that taking a walk through Kyrano's garden was in order. It was peaceful and the whole lot of them often sought refuge there. He needed to think a little bit.

~.~.~.~.~

Lady Penelope peered over the rim of her teacup. She was gazing out into the courtyard of her sprawling landscape. She couldn't wrap her head around it. Alan had been kidnapped. Somehow, that fact hadn't surprised her. But the reason behind his abduction was what distressed her. Alan had fallen into the hands…well…fallen was conceivably the wrong word. Plucked was perchance a better term. Alan was plucked out of the loving protection provided by his father and made to undergo an ordeal that even the most stalwart don't always survive. But Alan was a child…he was a child. That was what astonished Penny the most since she'd learned of the ordeal. That Alan, a child that had not only survived being abducted by a serial killer, but evaded him for several hours, in the dark, underdressed, in an unknown location and had killed his own would-be killer.

Penny thought about discussing the possibility of having Alan undergo elite training such as she herself had to become a more specialized member of IR. With as crafty as Alan had been, Penny had no doubt that he would go on to do great things. Someday. But for now? She had a boy that was as much an honorary son as he was a friend in hospital and Penny needed to see him for herself.

"Parker, please prepare the car. We're going to go see Alan." Penny said as she set her teacup and saucer down to go prepare for her trip.

~.~.~.~.~

By the time Penny and Parker arrived in the nondescript town, it was late afternoon. Penny looked around, observing the townsfolk. Some were darting in and out of shops, there were people standing on the street corners laughing and smiling in crowds. Parker navigated the two-lane roads with ease and soon was pulling into park at a hospital.

Penny took a moment to steel her nerves. She knew Alan wasn't terribly hurt; Scott had reassured her of that. But she worried of how this would have affected the boy. She worried for him. The one thought she continually kept returning to was that he. Was. A child. A child! He never should have had to ever face anything like this, least of all when he was at such a tender age. Being a teenager was difficult enough, but to add on the weight of surviving a serial killer? Penny was already prepared with a list of some of the best child psychologists' that money could buy to help Alan through this.

~.~.~.~.~

Jeff was seated on the side of the bed, staring down at his son. He'd just returned from the hallway, after having a private discussion with Alan's attending. The injury to Alan's ear would need to be seen to by a specialist. His ear was brewing an infection and his attending was going to take Alan in to remove the stitches and again clean the injury in hopes that when the plastic surgeon arrived, they'd do better at being able to treat the infection and maybe fix the ear better. The antibiotics were not doing much to help and that had the attending worried.

"Son, wake up." Jeff was reluctant to awaken Alan, his son had tossed and turned much of the night. First his nightmares kept him agitated, then his sleep was disrupted by a rising fever. Jeff hadn't gotten much for sleep himself, apart from waking every time Alan stirred, his own nightmares had kept him piqued.

Having learned of Alan claiming the life of his would-be killer had incensed Jeff. He'd done everything he conceivably could to protect his youngest from all outside influence apart from those he allowed to be involved. This was the last possible thing he'd ever imagined happening. Now dealing with this made Jeff feel like the daily threats against himself and his sons was a cakewalk when in comparison.

"Alan, wake up." Jeff said softly, running his knuckles against the swell of Alan's right cheek and smiling reassuringly when Alan's exhausted eyes pried open. "Hi there, sorry to wake you."

"Dad?" Alan asked tiredly as he looked around. "Where are we?"

Jeff's lips thinned as he took in Alan's question. Of course, Alan might forget his whereabouts. The day previous had passed in such a blur that even Jeff had to question what day it was.

"We're at the hospital kiddo." Jeff lowered his voice. "I woke you so you could go have your ear looked at."

"Will you come with me?" Alan asked, suddenly afraid of being taken from his dad.

"I'll follow as far as they'll allow me to go." Jeff said who looked up shortly thereafter to greet the two orderlies that were going to take Alan back to a treatment room. Jeff followed when Alan wouldn't relinquish his grasp.

~.~.~.~.~

Penny and Parker both walked into the room where they'd been directed and found it was empty. It was clear the room was still occupied, Jeff's zip-up hoodie was still draped over the back of the unoccupied chair.

"Hmm, I wonder where they are." Penny questioned aloud.

"Milady, perhaps we should take this time to go secure a room. Give Mr. Tracy and the young mister Alan time to return and we come back later." Parker said. He was careful not to order his lady about, but friendly suggestions were often accepted.

"Yes, Parker. Thank you for following up on these details." Penny said as she accepted Parker's offered arm and left the room.

~.~.~.~.~

Word spread like wildfire of Alan's survival. Though due to his age, his identity was kept secret. Everyone that spoke of him, called him 'The Kid That Survived'. Alan had been in the hospital for the second night following his ordeal. That evening Jeff was woken up, by none other than Penny. Jeff was perplexed as he wasn't expecting her arrival.

"Jeff, you've got to see this." Penny said softly.

Jeff sat up, gently easing Alan off himself. They'd both fallen asleep, Jeff cradling Alan close and savoring being able to hold his boy. He'd been running a fever all day as well as having further treatment on his ear.

"What?" Jeff whispered back. "When did…?"

"Later. Come, come here." Penny whispered with a serene smile. She motioned with a hand, urging Jeff to follow her. Jeff stood, following his friend to the window where Parker was standing. The Englishman was looking out the window, into the courtyard outside.

Jeff stopped in front of the window and felt his eyes mist over. He rarely cried in front of anyone, but this was an exception. Turning away, Jeff walked back over to Alan's bed. He gently shook the teen, waking him up for the second time that day. Alan pried sleep-heavy eyes open to look up at his father. Jeff leaned down to Alan, whispering to his son to wrap his arms around his neck.

True, Alan could have walked over. But this gave Jeff a reason to hold his son some more.

Alan did as his dad said and soon, he was being picked up, blankets and all. One of Jeff's arms supported Alan's back and the other under his knees. Alan was finally eye level to his father, and he tried to meet his father's gaze, but Jeff studiously averted his eyes. Carrying Alan to the window, Jeff held his son tenderly as they all took in the sight outside.

~.~.~.~.~

Carlie Strom stood, her arms wrapped around Wyatt and Julie's shoulders. They were one group of many that stood outside the hospital. They were all surrounded by a flickering orange glow. Men, women, and children of all ages stood en masse, every single one of them holding candles that burned bright. The crowd was innumerable. Where one line ended, another started.

A light warm breeze blew through the area, and Julie looked up at her stepmother. Carlie looked down at Julie and nodded. Stepping forward, Julie knelt and placed a flower and candy bouquet amongst the gathered collection of get-well gifts and flowers. Every single person in the surrounding communities had come to join in the candlelight prayer vigil.

~.~.~.~.~

"Wow." Alan hugged his father tightly, burying his feverish face in his dad's neck. He couldn't believe the number of people gathered. And for him, no less.

"They're praying for a swift recovery. For you." Jeff said as he dipped his head, talking softly to his son.

"But I wasn't badly hurt." Alan whispered, surprised that so many people would do this.

"Still, you were hurt, and you survived. That's reason enough." Jeff said as he met Alan's gaze. Pressing his forehead against Alan's, Jeff quirked a sad smile.

"They're glad that you're okay, my darling." Penny murmured as she leaned in to kiss upon Alan's cheek. He smiled despite himself when Jeff and Penny both kissed his face tenderly.

"There's more coming 'er milady." Parker remarked as he looked out at the sea of people that was growing. There were even cars turning in off the side streets. A few kids about Alan's age held up handwritten signs that read, 'Get Well Soon', 'We're With You!', 'Stay Strong', 'Praying For Your Fast Recovery'. The one sign that did make Alan and Jeff simultaneously choke up though, was by a little girl that was maybe eight years old. She held up a sign that read, "You're My Hero". She was sitting on the shoulders of an older man, clearly her grandfather.

Penny delicately wiped at her cheeks, brushing the fallen tears away at the moving scene that she was bearing witness to. People rarely did this anymore, but it was refreshing to see communities' band together to show support. Even for someone that they didn't know.

~.~.~.~.~

The day following the candlelight prayer vigil, a majority of all the gifts were brought in. Alan was looking dubiously around the room at the sheer number of stuffed animals he'd received and cringed. He was a boy, a teenage boy. And he'd grown out of stuffed animals when he was nine.

Okay, so maybe he still had his stuffed elephant Ellie from his childhood. But she…it…she first belonged to Scott. She held special meaning for Alan. All these others, though? He'd already asked his father to distribute the flowers amongst the many patients in the hospital.

"Dad, would it be wrong to donate these to the pediatric wing here in the hospital? I'm never going to live this down if the guys found out. Gords will tease me until he's blue in the face and Virgil won't hesitate to join in."

"They won't tease you son. They'll be so relieved to see you that they won't care to notice the stuffed animals. Besides, I kind of thought we could take most of them home with us." Jeff said as he stifled a snicker. His son was practically drowning in a sea of stuffed animals.

"Dad, you realize I stopped playing with stuffed animals before my tenth birthday…right?" Alan asked as a stuffed tiger rolled out of the horde of stuffed animals to land in his lap. It was kind of cute, maybe he could keep one…as a gift to someone…of course.

"Yeah? But International Rescue could always put these to good use. We're always needing to keep a supply of stuffies to keep the kids and grieving victims that we rescue calm. Why not pay it forward?"

Alan really liked that plan and he nodded at his father in response. It was a fabulous idea, that Alan couldn't dislike if he tried. After all, his brothers always complained about having to go replenish their stores and usually got Tin-Tin and Onaha to go in their stead. Provided they didn't have a devastating run of bad rescues, they'd probably have enough to last them at least half of a year.

~.~.~.~.~

Parker sat in a chair beside Alan's hospital bed. He'd listened to Penny trying to coerce Jeff into returning to the hotel room to get some much-needed rest and after much convincing, the socialite managed to convince Jeff to take a break. Go for a walk, leave the hospital for at the minimum an hour. It'd been added incentive when Jeff balked over leaving as Parker had raised the hem of his trousers to show his ankle holster that he always wore, not to mention the shoulder holster he wore beneath his jacket which he'd also showed to Jeff. The Englishman didn't take his duties lightly and he'd protect Alan at all costs. He was a reformed criminal; he knew how to work around the law.

"Oy, mister Alan. Ye' can't do this to yer father or her ladyship again. It gave all of us a right fright." Parker murmured as he reached into one of his pockets and removed a complex lock and lock-pick. He'd keep his hands busy trying to break the lock and watch Alan in the process. After some time, Alan who had nodded off prior to his father's exit awoke to find Parker, diligently keeping watch over him. Alan watched Parker picking the lock and spoke.

"Thank you, for teaching me how to pick locks. It came in handy."

Alan whispered, gracing Parker with a small smile when the Englishman looked up to meet his gaze.

"Yer welcome, young sir." Parker said, not needing to say more.

~.~.~.~.~

It was another two days before Alan was deemed 'okay' to be discharged from the hospital. Penny and Parker both teamed up against Jeff, insisting on them all spending an additional night in this town if only to persuade Jeff to get some sleep. He'd remained at Alan's bedside the whole time apart from the occasional walk through the hospital grounds or to the cafeteria for nourishment.

By the time they all had gotten into a large executive suite with separate bedrooms, Alan had dropped off and Jeff soon followed Alan's example. It wasn't until his dad was good and asleep that Alan opened his eyes. He feigned sleep, hoping his dad would do the same, only sleeping for real.

After his dad had fallen asleep, Alan got up and ventured over to sit on the window ledge. He was careful not to shuffle too loudly. He looked out at the scenery and lost himself to his thoughts. He began to go over everything that had happened the other night. He began to wonder if he'd have done better to protect himself. Would he have had to face this? Feeling the self-doubt rising within him, Alan tried desperately to think of something else. He couldn't wait to go home.

~.~.~.~.~

Scott was tapping a finger to an obscure rhythm at the breakfast table. Ordinarily, Scott practically inhaled his meal the moment the plate was given to him by their motherly housekeeper and cook. But today he hadn't had the appetite. He hadn't slept much the night previous, and it was creeping up on him now. Usually affecting his appetite before anything else.

"Scott, would you like something else? You've barely touched your meal." Onaha pointed out, hesitantly.

"No, thank you anyway. I'm just not too hungry." Scott murmured. Feeling like he couldn't wait a minute longer, Scott addressed his two earth bound brothers. Nobody else in the room existed as far as he was concerned. "Guys, can I ask a favor? When dad and Alan come home, could you two…I don't know. Allow me the chance to get a feel for how Alan is doing? Before we all swarm him? I want to get an idea for his mental state, and I can't do that when we're all popping around him like popcorn kernels in a hot pan."

"You realize that I'm the medic, right? I'm usually the one tasked with assessing mental, physical, and emotional wounds and decide on the best course of action. Shouldn't I be the first to see Alan?" Virgil grew defensive, feeling a little like Scott was encroaching on his territory. He failed, however, to see Scott's point.

"Virge, ordinarily I'd agree with you…but that's International Rescue. This is Alan, he's not the scope of a mission. He's our brother and I must agree with Scooter on this one. Scott always has been and always will be the oldest brother that for lack of a better description kissed our boo-boos and made them better. Let's let Scott have first dibs. As much as I want to steal Alan away and keep him to myself the moment they land, I know that Scott can smother the sprout the best out of any of us." Gordon said, hating himself for agreeing with Scott when truthfully, he wanted to allow his own selfish desires to run wild and crazy.

~.~.~.~.~

The first day after Alan got home was bittersweet. From the moment the jet touched down, Alan was almost a shadow of his former self. He'd pretended well, kept up the façade that he was okay and healing. Penny, Parker, and Jeff had kept a close eye on him and conferred multiple times. They all knew Alan was far from okay. He'd been staying up odd hours, lack of sleep making him short at times. Even with Penny and Parker when they'd suggested he rest, elevate his leg, or try to nap a bit.

Jeff had watched as Alan limped his way down the stairs of the jet to practically be swept off his feet by Scott. The youngest of all the brothers wordlessly latched onto Scott, staring off into the distance and barely saying a word to anyone.

It worked in Scott's favor really, having Alan willingly glom onto him meant Scott could better protect him. It was a fallacy that Scott kept telling himself. That he could protect his baby brother from everyone and everything, but it made Scott feel like less of a failure at being able to protect Alan from learning the cruel ways in which some people operated. Nobody said anything when Scott disappeared with the youngest in their family. Scott had some damage to correct. Everyone else would have their chance, but for now this was Scott's time to shine.

Scott led Alan to their spot. It was a location on the island that they both would meet up if they wanted to talk. Scott had figured it out years ago that sometimes there were things Alan just wouldn't discuss with anyone but him. The elder brother couldn't recall how they'd chosen this area, maybe it was a fluke. But they called it their spot. It was where Alan felt safe letting down his walls. Scott too. Tears were shed, words were said, and bonds formed. Scott never chastised Alan if he said things that were untoward for someone his age, if they were in their spot then anything could be said.

Once at their spot Scott found a seat in the sand and sank down. Alan wouldn't let go of him. The youngest brother stayed close to Scott like he had sprouted octopus tentacles. Scott for that matter wrapped his arms around Alan and just held him. This felt good. For his part, Scott feared he'd never, ever get this chance ever again. From the moment Virgil spoke of The Hunter, Scott hadn't had a good feeling and he dreaded that phone call. The one in which police were informing their family that Alan…hadn't.

"So, kiddo." Scott whispered.

Alan for his part, shook his head. He couldn't go through it again. He'd already told his family everything, why did they need to know more? Or why did Scott need to know more? Wasn't it enough to already know what happened?

"I'm not going to ask; I know you don't want to talk about it…but if at any point you feel like you're hanging by a thread and just need to get something off your chest…know that I'm here."

Alan didn't say anything. Scott didn't need to know Alan's tells to know his brother was trying not to cry, he just held Alan close and let the tears come. Alan stared at his hands; his breath began stuttering. He could still see the blood. It was like he couldn't wash it off. Alan's hands shook before he buried them in the sand, hoping to hide them from view.

"I…I didn't want to…to kill him…Scott. I feel like such a…a monster." Alan sobbed as the tears poured in torrents from his eyes. Scott didn't say anything to argue the point. He just remained steadfast. He wasn't going to let his own tears come until Alan had cried himself out. Alan needed him to be strong. To stay strong. Until Alan could be seen through this catastrophic upheaval.

"Oh kiddo." Scott whispered. He wrapped an arm around Alan's shoulders and pulled him closer. Alan wasn't afraid to cry, not here. Not in his and Scott's spot. Here was safe, here was private, here was sanctuary. It was far enough from the villa proper that nobody could hear anything, even the few times that Scott and Alan both went to this spot to scream at one another when both brothers were on their last nerve. "It's okay, just let it out. I'm here."

Alan sobbed out the pain, the fear and frustration. He held tight to Scott and soon enough there were no tears left to fall, but still Alan couldn't stop crying. By the time Alan's sobs subsided, Alan and Scott had gone from sitting to laying in the sand. Scott held Alan against his chest, uncaring to the fact that Alan had left a spot on his shirt from not only his tears but his nose which had begun to run.

Once Alan had fallen asleep, Scott allowed his own tears to fall silently. He hated that he hadn't been there to protect Alan. He felt like a failure, like he hadn't done enough to protect his brother. Not that he'd been able to. He was over a thousand miles away and couldn't have been there fast enough had he known. But Scott's feelings of failure extended far beyond that as the only reason why.

It'd been his idea to suggest Alan and their dad go camping at all. Scott felt like he was the primary parent to his youngest brother at times and knew that wasn't healthy if Alan and their dad didn't have boundaries like most parent/child relationships did. So, he suggested they go on a father/son outing. He pushed for them to go spend time together, so he felt like he was to blame.

"Scott, my head hurts." Alan murmured, his chest still heaving after crying such a long time and so hard.

"Yeah, buddy. It's from all that crying." Scott said as he rolled onto his side to face Alan. He used his thumbs to brush any fallen tears away then used the hem of his open button-down shirt to dry Alan's nose which was still running like a sieve.

"You don't have to use your shirt. I'm capable of using my own." Alan grumbled.

"This isn't the first time, nor will it be the last kiddo. It's fine. Besides, it's no different than when you threw up in dad's new car when you were four and I used my hands like a bowl to keep it from getting on the floorboards." Scott said, grinning at his brother when that remark earned a glare.

"So glad I grew out of my motion sickness." Alan said as he glared hard at Scott for bringing up another thing he'd rather forget.

"You, Johnny and Virgil as well."

~.~.~.~.~

Virgil did as Scott, he was known most among his family for following Scott almost blindly to the ends of the earth. But this was not one of these times. Virgil followed in Scott's footsteps, sure but when trying to reverse the damage done, Virgil was in his element. He was a 'smother brother', had been one of the first to coin the term in their household. Once Alan had been freed from Scott's well-meaning clutches almost three days later, Virgil took his chance and whisked his youngest brother off to do as he did best. Healing, correcting, mending, fixing, patching. Use whichever's synonyms worked for you, but this was Virgil's gig now and he was determined to see Alan through this tempest.

"Hey kiddo, want to hang out in my studio with me for a bit?" Virgil asked as he caught Alan limping through one of the halls in their large home. Alan clearly had been leaving Scott's room, the oldest son had a room in a different wing of the house, much like Virgil. Or rather, all the members of the household. There was no particular hall that provided refuge to the family. Their home was their sanctuary.

Alan lifted his head and despite the oldest son's best attempts, nothing so far had been able to dispel the haunted look in Alan's eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well as of late, had been waking regularly, screaming, and flailing about like one would do upon entering a scare zone at a scream park. It bothered Virgil to see such a desolate look in Alan's eyes, like he had no will to do anything besides struggle through the day.

"Hey kiddo. Are you doing, okay?" Virgil questioned as he stepped closer into Alan's personal space to lift his brother's chin.

Alan for his part at least admitted that he wasn't as okay as he'd like his family to believe, and he shook his head. Virgil, being the biggest hugger in their family hugged Alan tightly. Virgil rested his chin atop Alan's head reassuring himself that Alan would be okay again, someday. Honestly, he'd be more concerned if Alan insisted that he was okay after what he'd gone through. Virgil knew he'd be in Alan's shoes if he'd been the one to be pursued by The Hunter instead of Alan.

"Come on kiddo, a bit of art therapy may make you feel better." Virgil said as he led Alan from where they were hugging in the hall that branched off to a different wing. When they made it to Virgil's studio, he tapped his watch and left an audio request to John. "If anyone reaches out to you in search of Alan, I've got him with me."

Once in the art studio with Virgil, the older brother walked over to a nondescript cupboard. Opening a drawer, Virgil pulled out a couple very oversized shirts and tossed one to Alan to put on over his shirt that he was already wearing. The younger boy stared at Virgil in question before he pulled the shirt on. The material was so baggy that it hung almost to his knees. Keeping a curious gaze locked on his brother, Alan soon found a bandanna tied around his head thereby covering his hair.

"What are we doing?" Alan questioned, unsure if he even wanted to know what Virgil had in mind.

"Well, it's something that I like to do when I'm having trouble working through my thoughts or when I'm angry and playing the piano doesn't work." Virgil said as he opened a closet that stored a bunch of sizes and varieties of paint cans. "Ever heard of paint splatter? It's an art style that encourages the concept of being messy. I've got all these cans of discounted paint that I buy from paint stores for such occasions. It's cheap and isn't any particular color."

Alan looked at his brother skeptically. He didn't know how this would work for him. He wasn't a painter. Never had been one for enjoying art unless he was admiring the things Virgil had done.

"So, I also like to listen to music when I'm doing this. Was there a particular type you wanted to listen to? I'm all ears. No music choice is a bad one."

Alan hesitated in looking through Virgil's music system before selecting random. Alan wasn't really in the mood for music, but Virgil figured that if a song struck Alan right, he might blow off some steam. However, Virgil had to try not to begin laughing out loud when the first song that came on was probably the exact opposite that Alan was feeling and his kid brother glared when Virgil snorted.

"Let me pick a different playlist." Virgil said as he selected a genre that both he and Alan were familiar with. Virgil picked out the playlist he liked to listen to when he was angry, sad or just plain confused. He turned up the volume a little bit and then he grabbed a can of paint for Alan.

~.~.~.~.~

Kyrano was walking down the hall, in search of Alan and Virgil. It was lunch time and neither he nor his wife wanted either boy to go without. He had already questioned John about the two brother's whereabouts and John replied that they were together, but offered no more than that. As he made his way down one of the many halls in the villa, he felt, rather than heard what was causing the floor under his feet to begin shaking.

Apparently, they were in the art studio. Virgil often liked to listen to music ungodly loud so his father had the room soundproofed. He knew with the volume the music was playing at that neither boy would hear if he knocked, so Kyrano simply opened the door. His ears were assaulted by the angriest music… (could this even be considered music?) in the world. Kyrano took one look in the room and wisely backed out, closing the door with care. Alan and Virgil would be okay missing one meal. There was so much paint flying around the room, Kyrano himself dreaded the dressing down his wife would give if any paint found its way out of the studio and into her immaculate dining room.

Back with the brothers, Virgil smiled as he watched Alan stick his hand in the can of paint, just to hurl a glob at the large canvas set up for just such an occasion. Alan yelled in frustration as Virgil encouraged and soon, he was covered practically head to toe in paint, as was Virgil. He'd chosen this loud playlist intentionally, so if Alan felt like it, he could scream and rage. Which Alan was doing. Virgil had thought fast prior to starting this little activity and wrapped Alan's arm in saranwrap so he wouldn't get paint soaking into his bandages.

By the time they were finished, Virgil determined he'd need to go buy some more discount paint and he looked at what Alan had done. A majority of the splatter was a mix of reds, blues, blacks, and greens. All dark shades. The black had been what Alan threw last and it had covered a great majority of what Alan and he had done. Virgil walked over to Alan and pulled him in for a hug uncaring that both he and Alan looked a sight. Alan did admit that he felt a little bit better. Though he still felt far from okay. But this was a good way to let off some steam. And Alan may have chuckled as Virgil tapped him on the tip of his nose with a paint covered hand.