A/N: Here is the next update to this story, sorry for the delay to anyone reading this. Had a migraine the day I planned to update and then just running all over hell's half acre the next two days between work and taking care of my parents. There is a bit of language use later in the chapter so be warned.

I've been thinking of posting some of my stories to Archive of Our Own, I have an account there but just never got around to it. My penname there is IloveToRun if anyone is interested.

Reviews are greatly appreciated; they give me the motivation to write and makes me smile.

Thanks to those of you that do read my work.

Gordon sighed to himself as he exited his bathroom after a relaxing shower. He and his brothers apart from Alan just returned from a rescue and they were all okay. It wasn't a long mission, rather it probably wasn't necessary for all of them to go. It was an apartment fire, a rather small one too. Nothing that Scott and Virgil couldn't have handled on their own. But Gordon went along for the ride and he got to 'play' in the ash with his brothers, so naturally he came back caked in inky blackness that required a shower of the most thorough kind. When he left his bathroom, he jumped when he was surprised to see his little brother laying on his bed. Alan apparently had fallen asleep reading one of the many comics that Gordon kept around.

The aquanaut would deny it if asked, but he walked over and pulled the top sheet over the kid. Gordon had originally been woken from a sort of restful sleep to attend the rescue. So his bed was already unmade and Gordon remembered days of his and Alan's youth, coming home from kindergarten and grammar school respectively and Alan almost instantly falling sound asleep, curled up on Gordon's bed when the older boy had to do his homework. It was one of the few childish allowances excused by the then child Gordon. Now though, it was clear he hadn't been sleeping well. He, Scott, Virgil and their father all had woken Alan on multiple occasions when he was trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Finding a seat, Gordon grabbed a journal and began writing. It wasn't his usual way, but he was going back to what was assigned to him for therapy immediately following his hydrofoil accident. Truthfully, he desperately wanted to go for a swim, but he was exhausted after the rescue.

His therapist had told him that to work through his emotions, the guilt of survival over some of his fellow aquanauts, his inability to walk…that he should focus a little on introspection and write it down. At the time, Gordon thought it was so stupid. He didn't have the words, couldn't formulate anything that accurately described what was going through his mind. The only word he could think of that filled every single possible space was a false idiom. For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge…or that was what he was told by John when he'd been a kid and pointedly asked where the word came from. John being rather bookish told him that it was an acronym the police used when dealing with sex crimes. Even though the kid was a growing boy and probably already knew the word, Gordon kept his F-book hidden. At least until he couldn't write anything more down and burned it in the incinerator where they disposed of their trash.

Pausing, Gordon thought about what he wanted to write. Did he want to write to The Hunter, knowing the guy was dead and expressing his regret that he couldn't have been the one that had beaten The Hunter at his own game? Did he want to write about how he felt the moment he learned that Alan was in trouble? Did he want to write a letter to Alan, telling him how glad he was that Alan lived through it? He wasn't very good with words, and he couldn't express or accurately describe himself without making it a game either. Gordon stopped, erasing what he just wrote and leaning back in his seat to grab a pen from the obligatory desk that all the brothers had for multiple purposes, from high school or college homework, to prank planning, mission reports and swapping his pencil for a pen. The aquanaut took to drumming his pen on the notebook as he tried to decipher what it was that he wanted to write. A brief look over at Alan and Gordon found that the words came to him a little easier.

'I often wonder what strength looks like from the eyes of another. Does it appear as the strong silence that comes from a military background and learned patience? Is it the annoyance that bubbles to the surface in the face of younger brothers that like to prank and run? Is it the gentle patience of a good listener or the emotional sturdiness of a big heart and an even greater wealth of careful generosity? Or is it all of these, wrapped carefully into one?

I know you wouldn't understand why I'm writing this, to be honest I don't even know if what I'm writing even makes sense. But the emotional upheaval you caused, the earth-shattering confusion of just why you did it makes me wonder. Why? What was it about my little brother that appealed to you and your absolutely dismal and obviously skewed version of fun? Was it because he was the youngest victim you'd ever stumbled upon? I can't wrap my head around the way you think and honestly, I don't know that I want to. Your logic is beyond screwed up and I am glad that my little brother stopped you. I just wish you hadn't taken the innocence from him.

He's just a kid and now he's saddled with the guilt of having had to have taken your life just so he could live to see another day. My brothers and me. We all have not had life easy. Now I know what you must be thinking. Poor little rich boys, they don't know the first thing about true pain. But in fact, we do. You see, we weren't always rich. My brothers and I, we were all born in a house of modest means. Our mom was a daycare worker and dad started off helping on the farm every summer while he was waiting on his business to take off. He'd already done his time as an astronaut. Life was good, we had a mom and dad that loved us and doted on our every whim. Then my only little brother was born, and he made life interesting. I'd never give him up for all the money in the world, though most would probably think I was mad about losing his parents solo affection. How wrong they are.

When Alan was born, I remember that he was too small for me to hold for more than a minute if that. I was five when I became the big brother I'd always wanted to be. And you nearly took my job away from me. He is my little brother and only I can pin him down, thump him on the head or give him what for and tickle him. You have no right nor had the right to pin him down and try to take his life. Like I said, he is my responsibility along with our other brothers and you can go to hell. I'm glad you're dead, what my brother did to you, stabbing you in the throat was a mercy. Myself and my oldest brother would not have been so lenient had you still been alive. We both have elite military training and would gladly show you how we handle people that mean to harm our family.

I guess then that I've answered my question from earlier. What does strength look like from the eyes of another? It looks like a lot of things. But from my perspective, it looks like everything my little brother is and all the things you are not nor will ever be. You are not strong, you were a coward, claiming the lives of others for something to do is sick and you are a monster. You will pay for your crimes in the long run.

Goodbye and good riddance.'

Gordon paused in his musings as he thought about if he wanted to continue writing. He certainly felt better now. He got some things off his chest that were winding him up and now he didn't feel like he was going to lose his head. Looking back at his journal, Gordon was surprised he had written such a long letter. It was a couple pages front to back. His therapist was right, he should continue this exercise any time he is struggling to make sense out of whatever is bothering him.

~.~.~.~.~

It was very early in the morning, Onaha had always been an early riser. Three or four in the morning was usual for her. There were times that she had woken up for the start of her day only to find Jeff still wiling away at his Tracy Enterprises work.

Since Jeff and Alan's return after Alan's run-in with The Hunter, it was normal for Onaha to find Alan in the living room, or the infirmary as she often walked through the villa, checking all the normally occupied rooms for dirty dishes. This morning however, found Onaha in the kitchen after her walk through the villa. She was loading the dish washer with dirty dishes that had not made it back to the kitchen the night or day previous. Just as she picked up a crystal drinking glass, she was startled by a loud, terror filled and agonizing scream. She dropped the glass, not flinching as she heard it shatter when it met the tile flooring.

Running, Onaha raced through the halls of the villa, darting into the lounge where Alan was sprawled out on the couch, screaming at the top of his lungs and acting out whatever he might have been seeing in his mind's eye, if anything at all. His eyes were wide open, but unblinking. It unnerved Onaha to see Alan like this. She often referred to him as her little bola cahaya matahari. Gordon had asked once in front of John what Onaha had said, while still learning the Malaysian language. Onaha had giggled at John's face when he deadpanned a look at his younger brother before he said in a tone that hinted Gordon should have already been familiar with the word.

"She's calling Alan her little ball of sunshine."

And it was true, he was like a son to her but also, much like the sun that shone onto their island home. He was bright, happy, warm, friendly, fierce, and radiant. His personality would shine out, illuminating the world around him and inviting people in to know him. He lived up to the nickname that Onaha had taken to calling him. So, it tore at her soul to see Alan hit rock bottom.

Alan raised an arm, clawing at an unknown assailant and screaming out. His scream came from deep inside, voicing what words couldn't accurately describe, the terror, the pain, the pure unadulterated panic that tore his soul apart from the inside out. Sweat slicked Alan's face, his eyes were wide, unseeing and his breaths came in heaving, and shuddering gasps between every wave of mounting terror.

Onaha knew better than to awaken Alan. She'd once done so by accident when Alan was younger and wound up catching the blonde when his legs had gone slack. Instead, Onaha lowered onto her knees, gently caressing Alan's cheek and ignoring the look on Alan's face at every following scream. She shushed him softly, singing a variety of Malaysian lullabies in attempt to calm the boy. Eventually, Alan's agonized screams subsided, and he woke up, throat raw from the screaming and vocal abuse.

"O-na-ha." Alan mumbled, eyes crossing slightly as sleep reclaimed him and his eyes fell closed.

"Sleep now bola cahaya matahari." Onaha said reverently as she stayed on her knees, singing lullabies that she remembered her own mother singing to her when she was a tiny girl. She'd clean up the broken glass later, right now she needed to make sure her ball of sunshine didn't implode upon himself.

~.~.~.~.~

It was just a quarter after midnight the following night and Jeff woke up like clockwork. He was never one for sleeping through the night, at least not until he'd done his routine checks on his sons. After a long day spent working, Jeff was tired. He'd only been home with Alan for just shy of a week since Alan's discharge from the hospital. He'd called an early night, which for him meant an eleven or eleven-thirty bedtime. Tonight however, he'd been unable to focus. At least as the night wore on, Jeff kept finding himself getting lost in thought. He'd turned in a little after nine. His sons, apart from Alan had asked if he was okay.

Jeff wondered himself. He didn't feel physically sick, rarely did he ever. Heartsick maybe at the knowledge of what his youngest had gone through. Jeff just wanted to put his mind at ease, check on his sons…primarily Alan and return to bed. Sitting up on the side of his bed, Jeff reached across to his bedpost, grabbing his bathrobe, and donning it. He didn't bother with slippers, he liked feeling the cool floor underfoot.

Exiting his room, Jeff ventured down the hall, he passed Virgil's room, intentionally because his bear of a son had a sixth sense of his father's presence and would wake up no matter how quiet Jeff was. Jeff tried not going into Virgil's room if he could help it and just checking in from the open doorway. Jeff however did stop at the next room. Gently opening the door, Jeff stepped in. Walking over, Jeff couldn't help but to smile. His copper haired son had always been a bed hog. Laid out much like a starfish, Gordon slept peacefully. Jeff watched Gordon for a moment before he pulled up the covers which had slipped down to Gordon's waist. Satisfied that Gordon was sleeping well, Jeff smiled in a way and turned to leave.

Closing the door, Jeff stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. Lifting his gaze, Jeff soon walked over to open Alan's bedroom door. Alan and Gordon had both chosen rooms across the hall from one another and utilized the closeness to formulate pranks quite often. Stepping through the door, Jeff walked over until he stopped by his youngest son's bedside. The room was lightly lit, the ceiling lights dimmed to the lowest setting imaginable.

Alan was blessedly asleep, having finally given into exhaustion. Jeff looked at Alan, observing his son's sleeping habits. He was as usual, sleeping mostly on his side, one hand resting beside his head on the pillow, the other resting on the mattress. Also, the norm, Alan wasn't wearing a shirt to bed. He usually got too hot while asleep and had gotten into the habit of only wearing shorts to bed. Jeff sat on the mattress, reaching out a hand and gently brushing some of the fringe from Alan's forehead. He didn't wake up. His eyes however were darting around beneath his eyelids and Jeff wondered about what his son was dreaming about. Alan's face was relaxed, his lips quirking into a small smile then going slack again.

'How did I ever get so lucky to have you and your brothers as my sons? You all are so amazingly strong in your own ways; it makes me proud to see how far you all have come.'

Jeff leaned down and gently kissed Alan's forehead, taking great care to tuck the blankets in around Alan a little more snuggly. Alan exhaled a soft sigh, which brought a smile to Jeff's face. Standing, Jeff turned to leave the room. He was satisfied that for now anyway, Alan was finally getting some sleep. He'd been worrying nonstop since reacquiring his son because Alan had reverted to his childhood habit of night terrors. Jeff had hoped when Alan grew out of them that he wouldn't suffer from them again except only occasionally and then this happened, and Alan had gone back about fifty steps. Old habits die hard after all.

~.~.~.~.~

Virgil woke up much earlier than was his norm. Peeling his eyes open, Virgil was surprised to see the early morning light, the sun just barely beginning to lighten the sky to a mixture of periwinkle and pink. Sitting up, Virgil stretched his arms out in front of himself and looked at his alarm.

"Oh god. Why am I even awake?" Virgil muttered as he lazily scratched at his chest. He looked around his room. Scooting back so that he was resting against the headboard, Virgil reached up a hand to rub at his eyes. He felt like he'd only just gone to sleep and then it was morning. Way, way too early to be awake.

Virgil sat there, unmoving for the most part as he did a mental check of possible reasons, he'd be awake and his thoughts continually returned to one reason. Alan. At least, that's what his rummy-dummy mind supplied. Throwing back his blankets, Virgil pulled on his bathrobe and much like his dad had done several hours earlier, Virgil got up to go check on Alan. His other brothers he wasn't too concerned with. But Alan…poor kid was not handling being a victim of kidnap very well. He put up a good front. All bravado and blasé until behind closed doors either his own or a concerned brother's.

Yeah, Virgil was worried. No doubts there. He wondered how much longer it'd be before his dad hauled Alan kicking and screaming into a psychiatrist's office. And that's a bad mental image. His brother described his kidnapping to have started off the exact same way. Kicking and screaming. Hauled away.

"Maybe I could benefit from a visit also." Virgil mused aloud. "God knows we all could probably work through some baggage."

Exiting his bedroom, Virgil wandered down to his youngest brother's room. He promised himself he would not go in and risk waking Alan. The kid needs the sleep more. However, Virgil was not prepared to find his brother's bed empty. That alarmed the older brother and he spun on his heel, intention to check his baby brother's other known haunts to try finding him. Especially since he hadn't been at all present when Virgil did a room sweep. Imagine his surprise when he finds the kid in the lounge, doing a sleeping imitation of a bobble head and resting with his back against one of Virgil's piano legs. Striding over to Alan, Virgil knelt to wake his brother and coax him to sit on the couch at least.

"Al, Allie. Al-lie." Virgil cajoled in a singsong tone of voice, resorting to using Alan's childhood nickname to awaken his brother. They'd stopped using Alan's nickname at his insistence, usually only using it to rile him up or piss him off. The fact that he didn't wake right up and slug Virgil was a testament to how completely out of it the kid was. Another attempt, using the other long hated nickname of Allie-gator woke the teen and he glared at Virgil much like an African rain frog identified with the gloomy weather.

"Hey, why don't you select a more forgiving surface to sleep on than a piano leg?" Virgil asked, hint of amusement heard in his voice.

"…" Alan remained quiet for a time as if he were trying to figure out what he wanted to say.

Virgil smiled again, attempt to reassure Alan doing nothing but making him stare back at him. Alan stared at him long enough that Virgil began to wonder if Alan was even actually awake or if Virgil had managed to catch Alan in the limbo state between wakefulness and sleep.

"Kiddo, are you with me?" Virgil inquired, feeling concern that Alan just wasn't there. He got his answer when Alan's head bobbed forward, and he let out a soft snore. He wasn't awake. He had developed a childhood habit of sleepwalking and it'd been a source of concern between them all. John had hypothesized that Alan would only sleepwalk when he was stressed out. Which he had been at the time. And at varying times over the years, that had been their sign that something was bothering Alan. And clearly Alan was stressed now, and Virgil questioned how he could make things better.

Even Fermat reported having tied a Christmas decoration – a sleigh bell to the door in their dorm so he would wake up if Alan tried to either sneak past while he was sleeping, or the bell would wake Alan and he'd go back to bed.

Rolling his eyes more to himself, Virgil hefted Alan up. He grabbed onto Alan's slack hands and pulled him up to his feet and scooped him up into one of the bear hugs that Alan dubbed as 'legendary'. Moving just a couple feet, Virgil was gentle in settling Alan on the couch. He sat beside Alan and reflected on everything that had happened recently. Alan slumped into Virgil's side and the older brother crisscrossed his legs on the couch. He'd sacrifice sleep, just this once to stay by Alan's side. Clearly his brother needed the support.

~.~.~.~.~

Brains wandered past the lounge, cradling a coffee tumbler on his way to his lab. He had to enter the main Tracy villa from his and Fermat's apartment. Most people would likely refer to the apartment as a mothers-in-law house. It was merely an extension of the villa that unfortunately didn't have access to the lab due in part to the location in the villa's layout.

As it were, the Hackenbacker patriarch had to enter the villa from the kitchen entrance, which gave him prime access to freshly brewed coffee and a very quick bite of breakfast ala Onaha. As he was exiting the kitchen, he had to walk past the lounge, and he paused. Alan was sitting up on the couch, his gaze turned to his older brother who was sprawled out on the cushions. Pausing, Brains smiled at the sight. He was immensely put at ease with Alan's return.

The senior scientist had done his best to shield his only son from the fact of Alan's abduction. Partly because he didn't know what to say in the face of any questions Fermat may pose. The other part of him had dreaded telling Fermat, giving him false hope, and then having to tell his boy that his best friend was gone and never to return. It was something Brains hoped to never face again. He'd known Alan since he was a small boy, his own son being distant to Alan because of their differences.

Fermat had been interested in books, learning and in general the science behind it all. Alan, a little over a year and a half older than Fermat had been interested elsewhere. His interests had been involved in the mechanics of machines, complex puzzles, and video games. Education and practically all manner of learning had repelled Alan. Even Brains many attempts to inspire the boy had the opposite effect. By the time Alan and Fermat could have been forming a friendship, Alan had gone to live with his grandmother in Kansas. The boy had returned to the island for roughly a month every summer and still he and Fermat barely spoke.

It wasn't until Alan had gone to boarding school and Fermat had gone along as they'd both started in the same grade. Brains would never forget the boy's initial reaction to not only sharing sleeping quarters but a living space nine months out of the year.

Fermat had been mollified. Alan had just shaken his head and began muttering something under his breath that likely was a curse word. Jeff had given him a venomous glare and turned away. Both fathers had left their youngest or only child respectively at that boarding school. And been pleasantly surprised when the first holiday break heralded two pre-teen boys and a fast-forming friendship with an even tighter bond. Even now the thought of Alan and Fermat's friendship brought a smile to Brains face.

Alan by chance glanced over his shoulder as if he'd felt Brains gaze linger on him. A quick look back at Virgil and Alan stood up, he showed a bit of uncharacteristic gentleness towards his brother and tucked an Afghan knitted by the Tracy matriarch around the middle son after pulling it from the back of the couch.

Brains crooked a finger at Alan, wordlessly asking the boy to follow him. Alan followed his best friend's father down to the lab, yawning intermittently. His limp was still prominent, more so now than before. Upon entering the lab, Brains wordlessly went over to his workstation. He didn't speak, merely grabbing an object and turning back to Alan.

"I t-too…um made you a n-new watch." Brains said before he handed it over to the young blonde. "T-to rep-…restore the one in p-police evidence."

"Police evidence?"

Brains sat down with Alan, explained that Alan's dad had filled him in over a late-night scotch upon their return that police had found Alan's watch in the field, the wrist band had been irreparably damaged and so that had affected the inner electronic components. To fit so many different components into such a small device, some of the inner workings were designed into the wristband.

Brains had made a new watch to replace the original and he couldn't help but to smile a little more broadly when he was gifted a small glimmer of the old Alan that had remained hidden away after his kidnapping. Brains knew it'd be a good long while before Alan made a comeback to his old self again. But seeing that glimmer, that tiny spark in those cerulean depths that made Alan…Alan gave Brains hope.

~.~.~.~.~

Kyrano drifted through the gardens, silent as a church mouse. He was tending to the many herbal and medicinal plants he cultivated for Virgil's use in the infirmary. Some of the herbs Kyrano provided proved more than substantially effective to residents. One such herb had been used in a tea, brewed fresh by Onaha after Alan's abduction and subsequent recovery.

Virgil, Gordon, and Scott all had been overwrought, understandably so. Gordon who despised tea on a good day had accepted the herbal concoction when he'd craved something, if truth be told anything that would warm him up. Kyrano had been concerned to feel the unusually clammy hands of the resident aquanaut. Which was all the more noticeable due to the early summer heat that was just a little warmer than on their southern pacific island home. But he'd drank the tea, then listening to the suggestion from Scott to go to bed.

Virgil had offered a little bit more fuss over being made to go to bed. He wanted to go out and get the guy that dared to kidnap Alan. Even though he clearly was exhausted. It only took a mug of that same herbal remedy to relax and calm Virgil enough to suggest that he get some sleep. Kyrano had personally guided Virgil back to his room when his eyelids had sagged so suddenly that Kyrano worried that Virgil wouldn't make it there under his own steam.

Kyrano mused to himself, the first moment that he learned of Alan's abduction, he'd known the situation was dire. He hadn't known, nor had an inkling of just what kind of danger Alan was in. But the point was, he just had a feeling that from the moment he heard Scott announce to his brothers of Alan's abduction the situation would have an outcome that wouldn't have a positive ending. He just wished he'd been wrong.

Kyrano would give anything to go back and not be the one to hold his uncontrollable sobbing daughter and weeping wife after he'd delivered the news to them over what should have been a relaxing and enjoyable lunch. His Tin-Tin was a great friend of Alan's and despite their occasional misunderstandings they had, Kyrano knew they were both extremely fond of each other. His employer Jeff had hinted on a number of occasions that Alan might be more than just fond of his daughter and going so far as to elaborate by describing Alan as smitten. Kyrano didn't really want to think of his sweet daughter forming any kind of romantic interest, as of yet anyway. But maybe someday he'd be able to get on board with the idea of his daughter and Mr. Tracy's youngest son. He was just very glad to get that opportunity back. He didn't look forward to seeing how long his daughter would remain in complete and total devastation. At least not this early on.

~.~.~.~.~

Alan closed his bedroom door flicking the lock closed in the process, throat tight and his eyes burning. Was it too much to ask that his family not crowd him, make him feel like he was the fragile China doll that sat atop his grandmother's writing bureau that was stationed front and center in his late grandfather's office? He knew they meant well, had appreciated all their efforts. But he just needed a moment. He needed to be alone, to catch his breath. To think.

He wanted to go back to how he felt, the day he and his dad had gone on their camping trip. He missed the 'sulky teenager' that he embodied when around his brothers. They were the ones that often said he was sulky. Alan had never thought of himself as sulky. He was just a kid, dealing with the normal day to day teenage hormone fluctuations that every teenager or young adult dealt with.

But how he was feeling now went way beyond normal teenage hormone fluctuations. He couldn't exactly describe how he felt. All he knew was that he didn't feel like himself. Sure, he wasn't mortally injured in a life-or-death scenario, but somehow, he felt like a part of him died the day he killed his abductor. Pressing his back against the door, Alan wrapped his arms around his frame, holding on tightly. His chest became tighter, making breathing very difficult. His bottom lip trembled and Alan bit down, trying to force a calm that he most certainly did not feel.

Pressing his back against his bedroom door, Alan allowed his legs to go all limp noodle on him and then Alan curled upon himself, burying his head into his knees, and unwrapped his arms from his torso and instead wrapped his arms around his legs. And then he just cried, deep wrenching sobs that had the potential to tear at the heart of anyone within hearing range. He didn't bother to stifle his cries; he doubted his family would hear him considering they were all on a mission and Alan's bedroom was in a different wing entirely.

He cried for the fact that he was kidnapped, never in a million years did he ever think that was what would happen. He cried for his irreversible act of taking The Hunter's life. He still felt guilt, despite the number of times practically every member of his family or household tried to comfort Alan or reassure him that he hadn't…had not done anything wrong. Alan still struggled to accept what he had done.

~.~.~.~.~

Tin-Tin and Fermat both sat in the lounge, a stony silence loud and all consuming. The two teenagers had gone and stayed silent after Alan was summoned from where they'd been attempting to go back to the normal that they all were familiar with. It wasn't going as easily as they'd hoped. Alan wouldn't discuss what he'd gone through, and he'd bit off any response, directing a pleading look at his friends when asked.

Alan had been called to his father's office, not because he was in trouble. But because his family needed to discuss things. What? Fermat and Tin-Tin didn't know exactly. Neither of them was involved in the family meeting. So, they adopted the rigidity of stone as they waited for Alan to return. The klaxon hadn't sounded, since all the boys were in the room. They only knew about the call for help when they heard the telltale sound of Thunderbird One's engine firing up. About twenty minutes after mission start, Alan must have either been excused by his father or he'd excused himself.

They'd just watched Alan pass by, the slightly older boy having just left command and control after seeing his family off on a rescue. Tin-Tin and Fermat, nor the Belegants or Brains had been a part of the private family meeting that had been interrupted by a call for help and Alan hadn't looked in at them when they called his name.

Fermat was fidgeting, opening, and closing his clamshell glasses case almost repetitively. The two continued to sit in a companionable silence for several long minutes. Tin-Tin though perked up when she heard a noise. It was barely audible, but it intrigued the island girl, nonetheless. She stood up, leaving Fermat to his fidgeting and left the lounge.

~.~.~.~.~

'Breathe, calm down, you're okay. Breathe, calm down, you're okay. Breathe, calm down, you're…not okay. You're not okay. You're not okay. Fuck…I'm not okay.'

Alan's crying had finally subsided, but in its wake came the granddaddy of all panic attacks. His stomach was cramping, his chest felt impossibly tight, his breathing sounded like Fermat during one of his really bad asthma attacks and Alan felt like he was barreling down a densely populated road, completely out of control and no way to stop. The mental brakes in his mind were nonexistent and so Alan couldn't get how he felt under control. It just wouldn't stop.

Chest heaving, Alan drew his knees up tighter to his chest, uncaring at the note of discomfort from pulling on the stitches in his leg. In a moment of desperation, Alan had tightly gripped his own arm, feeling at least one stitch pop in the process. The pain brought him back down to earth, which was no small feat. So distracted was he amid his panic attack, that he didn't notice the tentative knock on the other side of the door.

~.~.~.~.~

Tin-Tin stood on the other side of Alan's bedroom door, frown firmly in place as she could hear Alan losing it behind his bedroom door. She'd never heard Alan like this before, he wasn't normally one that showed these kinds of emotions. He was always either smiling and happy or frowning and angry. There typically was no in between. At least, not for Alan. But it wasn't every day that you got kidnapped by a serial killer.

Raising a hand, Tin-Tin knocked twice. She didn't immediately get a response from Alan. He was too caught up in what he was feeling.

"Alan? May I come in?" Tin-Tin asked, voice raised slightly so she could be heard through the door, but not so loud to be shouting.

"G-Go…Away. Please!" Alan finally spoke, his voice downcast and plainly miserable.

"No…Alan. I'm not going anywhere." Tin-Tin insisted. Ordinarily she would leave Alan alone when requested. But he didn't need to be alone. He shouldn't be alone.