Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Oh, there's a line in this that is very similar to one from Blackadder – don't own it either. Unfortunately. ;-)

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad it made people laugh … :-) Huge thanks to nikki-browneyes, guiller, Loren W. Cobh, HyperCaz, virgilrocks, Mad-Friend, Cap'n Phoenix, Star 07, Williw, and Assena.

I'm basing this on the timeline in the show, not the movie, but I'm using a line from the movie trailer as a starting point … has confused herself Does that make sense now? Ack. I'm going to go shake my head out to clear it!

Alan leant back against the seat, and gave vent to a contented sigh. "This," he exclaimed to Gordon, who mirrored him, "is the life."

Their team was up 3-1 at half time, the attendents at the bar had accepted Gordon's fake I.D., and they had seen neither hide nor hair of their brothers.

"The only thing we need now is another few goals, and the night is perfect," Gordon replied.

Alan stared over his shoulder then ducked down. "It was perfect, you mean."

"What?"

"John, over by the bar."

Gordon risked a glance, and was horrified to see that Alan hadn't been mistaken; their brother was indeed standing at the bar. Gordo ducked down quickly.

"What now?" Alan asked desperately.

"Stay down," Gordon told him, "and hope he doesn't look over."

Alan nodded, and they both crouched down to wait. Gordon was muttering a string of words under his breath that Alan could only just catch, but he knew were strictly forbidden. He couldn't comment though – he was thinking exactly the same thing!

They waited another thirty seconds, then Gordon risked another look. He breathed a sigh of relief. "He's gone."

"Phew!" Alan exclaimed, letting go the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "That was close."

"What was close?" asked John, appearing beside Alan.

Alan let out a cry of surprise and alarm. Gordon froze. John grinned. "Well, well, little brothers. What are you doing here?" The menace in his tone was clearly obvious.

"Uh …" Gordon stammered.

A cheer went up from the crowd as the players entered the ground, and John looked over as the team entered. Gordon grabbed Alan's arm and pulled him bodily out of the seats. They made their way as quickly and quietly as possible up the stairs.

"As I was …" John's voice trailed off. "Hey!" he yelled, looking around for his brothers, but they were gone. He swore, reaching for his mobile phone as he walked back up the stairs. "Scott," he said, as his brother answered, "the squirts are here." He paused to listen to Scott's exclamations, then interrupted with, "I know all that, but I just saw them. They've done a runner." He told Scott his location, then hung up.

"Right, you little brats," he murmured, "no more Mr Nice Guy."

"Where are we going?" Alan asked as they sprinted down the stairs.

"Home," Gordon answered. "Or better yet … I may hide out in the bush until Dad gets back. They are going to kill us if they find us at home."

"No kidding, Einstein," Alan remarked, leaping down the last few stairs of a flight. "Aw hell …"

"What now?" Gordon asked, not stopping.

"I had stuff to do at home this week."

"Like what?"

"My woodwork project."

Gordon choked back a laugh as he clutched at the railing for support. "You got 'em good," he admitted.

Alan grinned. "Oh yeah."

They reached the bottom, and ran towards the gates. Alan grabbed Gordon's arm. "Slow down – we don't wanna make the guards suspicious."

Gordon nodded, and they slowed to a walk while they exited, trying to control their breathing.

The guards nodded at them as they exited, and the boys plastered on fake grins. The security guards nodded at them, and the moment they were a few metres away from the gates, they broke into jogs, which quickly accelerated into sprints as they neared the carpark.

"Think Sara will let us stay the night?" Alan asked, panting a little.

Gordon shook his head. "Too obvious. They may look there. Is a hotel sounding good to you?"

"A lot more attractive than going home, but … we're underage – is that legal?"

Gordon grimaced. "No better way to find out. Failing that, a night in the car is sounding like a pretty good deal!"

Alan glanced behind them. "No signs of pursuit yet."

"Good," Gordon panted as they reached the car. "You can drive."

"Ah-ha," Alan exclaimed, grinning as he got into the car. "So you're admitting I'm a better driver then?"

"No – you're faster," Gordon retorted, "like I said before. And if there's a time we need speed, it's now."

Alan nodded fervently in agreement, as he turned the keys in the ignition. "Come on, come on," he whispered at the car. Gordon didn't intervene – this was usual behaviour for Alan. "Come on, baby, don't give out on me – thankyou," he finished with a smile, as he turned off the handbrake and slipped the car into drive. "Off we go!"

Gordon gave vent to a whoop of success, despite the knowledge that their deaths were imminent! He high-fived Alan enthusiastically. Alan grinned back, but his grin faded as he glanced in the side mirror.

"Uh … Gordon …"

"What?"

"Does that car behind you look … familiar?"

Gordon turned his head, and glanced behind him. His eyes widened in horror. "We are dead …" he whispered. "Lose 'em."

"Yes sir," Alan replied laughingly, but neither of them felt like laughing with three mad brothers on their tail. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped away. He vaguely heard the other car speed up to follow them, as a plan began to form in his mind. Gordon was holding on to the seat handle for dear life.

"Alan … I hope you have a plan to get us out of this," he said fervently.

Alan rolled his eyes. "Of course I've got a plan. Leave it to me."

Gordon looked incredulously at him.

"Just trust me, OK?"

Another incredulous look.

"What?"

"Alan, we are in Scott's Porsche, speeding, we have just been to an event we were not supposed to go to, we have both been drinking, and we have three mad brothers on our trail. How are we going to get out of this one?"

"Just trust me."

"Alan, somehow that doesn't fill me with confidence," Gordon replied dryly.

"Well what do you want to hear?"

"Can you give me at least a hint as to what you're planning," Gordon begged.

Alan smiled evilly. "It has to do with … a bridge."

"Oh Lord," Gordon groaned. "Alan, last time you said that, you flew a car off a bridge and only just landed on the other side of the road!"

"I had it perfectly under control," Alan snapped, irritated.

"Perfectly under control?! Then why were you screaming and panicking?"

"I was not!" Alan contested hotly.

"You were – ALAN!" he yelled, breaking off as a semi-trailer ran across their path. Alan slammed his foot on the brakes, and the car came to a grinding halt. He lent against the wheel briefly, panting and shaking.

Gordon held onto the handle of the seat, petrified. "Phew," he groaned at last. He glanced across at his younger brother. "Alan – you OK? … Alan?"

His brother didn't move.

"Alan?" Gordon repeated, alarmed. "Are you all right?"

Alan lifted his head, and nodded. He looked a little shaken. "Sorry Gordo."

Gordon grinned half-heartedly. "Don't worry. You – uh … you want a rest?"

Alan looked like he was shell-shocked; his face was pale and he was shaking. "I'm fine." He started up the car again, appearing to regain some of his colour. "Come on … we've got big brothers to avoid." He attempted a laugh, but it choked in his throat.

"OK, kid," Gordon said commandingly. "Get out of the driver's seat. It's my turn." He moved Alan over with little protest. He suspected that Alan was a little unnerved by the lucky escape they had just had; that combined with liberal amounts of alcohol had made him sleepy and easy to boss around.

He sighed and shook his head as Alan fell asleep. We have to work on the kid's alcohol tolerance levels, he thought wryly, glancing in the rear vision mirror.

"Oh hell."

A car had parked itself behind them, and three very familiar figures were at that point walking straight towards him. Gordon didn't bother even turning the ignition on – the game was over, and by the looks of things, he and Alan had lost. Badly.  

"Gordon Tracy," Scott said menacingly as he stood beside his trembling brother and ripped the car keys out of his hands, "I suggest that you make the explanation you are about to give me, exceptionally good."

"Uh …"

Scott's eyes glittered. "I thought so. What the hell were you doing?"

"Gordon?" Alan mumbled, slipping back into consciousness as Scott's raised voice hit his ears.

"Alan," Gordon said, shaking his head, "you really don't wanna wake up."

"Why not …" He rubbed his eyes, blinking … "Ah." He looked at his – very angry – older brothers. "We're dead, right?"

"Yep." John's voice was terse.

"Give the boy a prize," Virgil remarked sarcastically.

"Right – we'll deal with this at home," Scott decided. "Alan – how much did you put away?" he asked, noticing his brother's blurry eyes and evident sleepiness.

Alan shrugged. "Don't know."

"Gordon?"

Gordon shook his head. "I can't remember."

Scott grimaced. "Right. Gordon, you go with Virg and John. Alan, stay where you are, I'm driving."

Virgil headed back to his car, while John waited for Gordon. "Make it quick, Gordo," he ordered. Gordon did – when John was cross, you did not mess with him.

He got into the back seat of Virgil's car, and immediately lent back and closed his eyes. He was feeling rather tired all of a sudden. John shook his head, but didn't comment. Instead, he reached for the radio controls, finding a station playing heavy metal, and turning the volume up to the max.

"OW!" Gordon yelled, holding his hands over his ears. "Turn it down, you nut!"

"Turn it down, you nut, please," Virgil corrected.

"Ok, please turn it down?"

John obligied with a smile. "I thought you liked that kind of 'music', Gordon?"

"Not when I'm trying to sleep, no," Gordon replied irritably.

"Note the use of the word 'music' in its widest possible sense," Virg added, turning the car onto the freeway. Gordon rolled his eyes, but was secretly pleased. His brothers weren't being as hostile as he'd thought they'd be.

"So Gordon … how would you like to die?"

Should have touched wood, should have touched wood …

"Come on … I wasn't that bad, was I?" he pleaded.

Two silent glares were his only response.

"Ok … so I was …" he conceded. "Still … let bygones be bygones, huh?"

"We will when you will," John retorted. "If you guys hadn't been so uptight about this soccer match –"

"That's because we really wanted to go! And we wouldn't have drunk if we'd been with you guys!"

Virgil laughed. "Yeah right, kid. Gordon the tee-totaller?" He snickered. "Nice try."

"What I want to see," John said, menacingly, "it just how clean, our room is."

Gordon stifled a laugh. At least he and Al would be let off for that one. He had no doubt in Sara and her mother's skill.

As neither of his brothers seemed inclined to talk further, Gordon pulled out his phone, intending to message Sara to thank her again … and found one unread message. He read it and his spirits sank.

'Hey Gordo, Sara here. Sorry, but we had to leave before we finished – a friend of Mum's had a car accident. See ya later, love Sara.'

His jaw hit the seat. I am dead … I am so dead … He began to message her back, being careful not to sound angry.

'Hi – don't worry about it. Hope your Mum's friend is OK. Gordo'

He sent the message, and lent back against the seat with a sigh, closing his eyes. Damn, could this get any worse?

Scott's car was a lot quieter than Virgil's car – Alan had fallen asleep almost immediately upon Scott starting the car up again, and Scott didn't want to wake the kid. He would give Alan hell when they got home, but there was no reason to start early … especially with his brother in his current state. Scott doubted that he would be able to remain awake for more than thirty seconds at a time.

They reached home first, and Scott woke Alan with a non-too-gentle shake. "Come on, squirt, we're home," he growled. "I'm not carrying you in," he warned, as Alan stirred briefly, then made to go back to sleep. "It's walk in yourself, or sleep out here. Choose." 

With a sigh, Alan pushed himself into wakefulness, and clambered out of the car. "I think …" he murmured, "that it's catching up to me."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Scott replied dryly. "Come on. To bed." He helped Alan up to his room, and laid him down on the bed. He wasn't surprised to Alan pull the blankets across him and immediately go to sleep. "I'll deal with you in the morning," he promised, with a grim smile, exiting the room.

He walked back down to his car, mildly surprised that Virgil and the others weren't home yet …

Yes, Gordon decided, it could – and just did – get worse.

Virgil had just been pulled over for speeding. Luckily for him, he was just below the limit for alcohol. However, with the on-the-spot speeding fine, plus the demerit points against his license, and the indignity of having to let John drive his car home, as John had decided that Virgil was in no fit mood to drive, had combined to make Virgil a time bomb, ready to go off at any second … and Gordon was ready to bet that he or Alan would be the ones to cop it.

Gordon leant back against the seat, and sighed again. He opened his mouth to ask if John could change the radio station, but John growled, "Say a word, Gordo, and I will personally rip out your tongue and stuff it down your throat."

Gordon decided that he didn't really mind the radio station afterall.

They arrived home half an hour after Scott and Alan. Scott was waiting in the living room for them. His face was grim, and he glared at Gordon the moment Gordon came into his line of sight. Gordon stepped back. "What?"

"Our room," Scott growled.

"Ah."

"What?" John yelled. "It's not clean?"

"It is partially clean," Scott conceded.

Virgil shook his head. "Where's the other one?"

"Asleep – and in no condition to talk about anything. He's out to it." He smiled a little, then turned back to Gordon. "You, on the other hand, are not. You are quite fine. So perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining how this happened?"

"Well actually I do …"

"It wasn't a question."

"Well …" Gordon paused, an idea occuring to him. "Why don't you ask Virgil why we're so late?" he suggested innocently.

"YOU RAT!" Virgil yelled.

Scott frowned. "Virg?"

Virgil was fuming. He glared intensely at Gordon, who shrugged. "It had to come out, Virg."

"Virgil got a speeding fine," John told Scott. Scott's eyes narrowed.

"That so, Virgil?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah but –"

"Think if that's the case, you don't really deserve a car."

"Oh come on –"

Gordon grinned. He'd managed to successfully shift attention. Now, all he had to do was sneak out and make his way to his secret hideout – a cave in a nearby mountain. They'd never find him there, and he could return the following morning. Of course, Alan would cop it in the morning if Gordon "accidentally" returned late, but … the boy had brought it on himself, Gordon considered. He began edging his way towards the door, watching as Scott and Virgil's argument progressed to full-blown shouting, while John tried to play mediator.

"What would you know, you –"

"More than you, you cocky little brat!"

"Hey! Hey, cool it!"

Gordon grinned, and made his way – inch by inch – to the door. With a contented sigh, he eased his way out, and in less than thirty secodns he had grabbed all that he needed from a hidden store downstairs and had gone trekking into the night.

"Guys …"

"If you weren't so damn cocky –"

"Excuse me? ME? COCKY? A bit rich coming from you, Mr Scott 'If it flies I can fly it' Tracy!"

"Guys …"

"Pardon? Have you got a problem, soldier? There is a difference between knowing what you can and can't do and being cocky!"

"Oh really? Well, commander, I'll tell you what you can do with that difference –"

"BOYS!" John yelled. He was gratified to see them snap to attention immediately. It was times like this John thanked his father for instilling such obedience into his sons. He decided not to muck around: "Gordon's gone."

"WHAT?" Scott and Virgil yelled together.

Scott shook his head angrily. Virgil simply sighed.

"Dumb move, little brother," Scott said ominously, before returning his attention to John and Virg. "He can't have been gone long."

"Long enough," Virgil retorted. "You know Gordo in the bushes around here – it's the only place he's comfortable – apart from of course water! He could hide in plain sight out there and we'd never see him … especially not at night."

John nodded. "He's right. In the morning … we go Gordon hunting."

Scott frowned. He was not happy with the idea of Gordon being out there on his own all night.

Virgil sighed again. "Scott, you are far too easy to read. Gordon will be fine. He has camped out that many times before …"

"But he's always had someone with him. We should at least have a look tonight, OK?"

John gave vent to a groan. "Fine. Let's get it over with … but if I catch that little brat …"

Author's Note: Well, there's another chapter for you! There will be another one I promise … :-)

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