Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who left reviews for the last chapter. Thank you also, for your patience with regard to me not posting these chapters as quickly as I had anticipated. Please continue to review, I value and appreciate everyone's thoughts and comments.

Chapter Fourteen – Tragic Revelations

Jeff headed over to the hotel door with a heavy sigh. Opening it to Alan's rising hand, intent on knocking once more. The young blonde halted at his father's appearance.

"Dad! Finally!" He exclaimed as he walked into the room without invitation. Gordon followed, an apologetic glance at their father for the intrusion.

Jeff's head pivoted to follow his youngest son. He had to physically stop himself from gawping at the vibrant young man that stood before him now. The change in Alan's demeanour since breakfast was more than a little surprising.

"Sorry about that, boys. I was on the 'phone." Jeff explained as he closed the door and followed them into the richly decorated room.

"We heard Marcus." Gordon informed him. "I hope we weren't interrupting anything important." The aquanaut glared at his younger brother. Revealing to Jeff that the insistent knocking was all Alan's doing. "How is he?"

Jeff nodded a smile. "Oh, you know Marcus. He's fine."

"There aren't any problems in New York are there?" Gordon asked anxiously. He knew deep down that his father would never leave Alan at such a crucial time. However, having told his brother he couldn't count on his support on Wednesday, he felt he should check that their father wasn't about to do the same thing.

"Nothing they can't handle, son." Jeff reassured him. He tried to catch Gordon's eye and give him some indication that he wanted to speak to Alan alone. "Actually he was just calling to check you were all okay and to offer his support." Gordon failed to notice his father's efforts.

He nodded at Jeff's explanation. However, the idea of this episode having a knock on effect on the family business was not so easy to dismiss.

"Scott said you wanted to talk to me." Alan looked across at his father. "So, here I am. What's up?"

Jeff sighed. "Erm," He cleared his throat. "Yes, Son. I did want to talk to you, erm…" He coughed again, as he turned to Gordon.

Gordon merely looked at his father, matching Alan's expectant gaze. It was only when Jeff glared at him and gestured, with his eyes, to the door that Gordon finally understood.

"Oh," He uttered. "Erm… I've just realised. I left my swim stuff in that bag in our room." His eyes grew wide at the utter absurdity off the excuse. He found himself glancing at his father for some kind of back up. "If I don't put it in soak straight away…" He shook his head, pulling a pained and awkward expression. "It'll reek of chlorine. I'd better go do that... now. Right now." He finished, struggling to complete the sentence. "I'll wait for you down there. Bye." He turned for the door and practically ran the small space, breathing a sigh of relied when it closed behind him.

Jeff smiled across at Alan, where he watched his brother's exit suspiciously. "You could have just said you wanted to talk to me alone." Alan frowned.

Jeff was taken aback by the bluntness of the comment. Nonetheless, he gestured to one of the plush armchairs. "Sit down, Son." Alan obliged silently, taking in a deep breath and watching his father carefully.

"Dad," Alan sighed. "What's all this about? Is everything okay?"

Jeff sat down in the chair alongside him with a sigh. "It's just…I didn't get the opportunity to speak to you yesterday, after the interview. And I've been with Virgil this morning. I just wanted to check you were okay."

Alan raised his eyebrows, not for one second believing that comment in its entirety. "I'm fine." He swallowed awkwardly. "You could have asked me that in front of Gordon." He observed.

Jeff seemed to ignore the last comment. "How's your shoulder?"

Alan shrugged, subconsciously kneaded the injured limb. "Still sore. I think I slept awkwardly last night, that won't have helped." In honesty, he'd spent the night resting on his injured side. In order to watch Gordon, for any signs that he might not be asleep.

"Speaking of sleep." Jeff looked up at him seriously. "How are the nightmares?"

Alan looked to the floor, irritated by the assumption. "What makes you so sure I've been having nightmares?" He became immediately defensive.

"Virgil said he's had a few." Jeff kept his voice soft. Ignoring the edge to Alan's tone. "I know I have. In fact, I dare say everyone has. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience for any of us."

"I'm sorry." Alan apologised automatically.

Jeff frowned. "What for?"

"It's my fault." Alan muttered with a shrug.

Jeff's frown deepened. "What do you mean it's your fault?"

"I'm the one who caused all the problems." Alan replied softly. "I'm the one that crashed the car and I'm the reason you're all here."

"And thank goodness we were all here." Jeff sighed. "This weekend has been tough, I'm not denying that. Those few moments when we knew it was you in the car, but we didn't know if you were dead or alive. They were the longest few moments of my life. But Son, I would rather go through that a thousand times than have you deal with this on your own."

Alan swallowed, smiling softly. "I'm glad you were here too." He admitted.

"It's not your fault. So," Jeff sighed. "Tell me about these nightmares."

"It's nothing Dad." He assured his father. "Really, it's fine. Gordy and I can handle it."

Content that Alan was accepting Gordon's help on that front Jeff went on. "And what about Gordon? Or is that nothing too?" He asked smoothly.

"Gordon?" Alan frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't follow. What's any of this got to do with Gordon?"

"Don't insult my intelligence Alan; I'm not stupid. Your face at the mention of his name this morning told me far more than any explanation could. And his absence didn't exactly go unnoticed." Jeff pointed out as Alan hung his head. "Son?" Jeff prodded for an explanation.

"Last night, I said some things to Gordon that I shouldn't have." Alan began. "I was upset and I lashed out at him." He sighed remorsefully. "This morning, he didn't want to be anywhere near me and I can't blame him for that."

"And now?"

"We're okay, I think." He shrugged. "We were going to go and get something to eat. He's hungry." Alan explained. He was about to go on further when his 'phone rang. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and glanced at the screen. "Oh… It's Simon …. from Ferrari US." He said hesitantly.

"Well, take it." Jeff nodded. "I'll have a word with him myself."

At that comment, Alan cancelled the call. "No, it's okay Dad. I'll call him back later."

"The sooner you talk to him, the sooner you can get the car fixed." Jeff frowned. "The costs not a problem, just call him back."

"No, Dad. There's no rush .…"

"No rush!" Jeff exclaimed. "Of course there's a rush. Here, I'll call him." He announced. Moving as if to reach for his 'phone.

"No Dad, stop!" Alan called. "I need to talk to you first, there's something you should know." He paused, looking to his father nervously. "You see Dad, I … I err I think I'm going to sell the Ferrari. I've decided I'm not racing anymore." He looked up to his fathers face; surprised at his lack of expression. "But you knew that already, didn't you?" He realised with a heavy sigh. "Virgil." He cursed as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Virgil didn't say anything." Jeff lied. "When were you planning on telling me?"

"When I'd decided." Alan replied quickly.

"So, you haven't come to a decision yet then?" Jeff concluded.

"No." Alan agreed. "Not really. I promised the others I'd wait until after Wednesday. They seem to think I'll feel differently then." He added bitterly.

"And what do you think?" Jeff asked.

Alan sighed. Shaking his head and shrugging. "I don't know. If the report on Wednesday favours me, which they all think it will. Then yeah, I guess I will feel differently. But then again, I'm not so sure the report will favour me. "

"Why not? It was an accident. Accidents happen." Jeff stated with a frown.

"Accident's don't happen; they're caused. What if there was something that I could have done, that would have prevented all this from happening? Something that would have stopped Mark from dying and stopped Virgil from getting hurt. I just didn't do it." Alan theorised.

"Do what? What could you have possibly have done?" Jeff asked with a frown of confusion.

"I don't know. Something." Alan shrugged. "I'm not sure what, I'm sure they'll point it out on Wednesday." He sighed. "Just before they take my licence away and end my career on the track for good."

"You sound like you've given up." Jeff pointed out. "You want to sell the car, you want to quit racing and now you're saying you're sure the investigation will go against you." He sighed loudly, running a hand over his hair. "I'm not going to lie to you Son, getting back in that car will be one of the hardest things you'll have ever done. But you'll do it, because it's who you are. We're not in the business of giving up."

"Don't you see?" Alan swallowed, shaking his head. "I'm not giving up Dad. I tried, I tried my hardest and I failed. I'm not a successful race driver, I'm not even good."

"That's not true. You are good, you're very good. You wouldn't be here if you weren't good. And you certainly wouldn't have made it into this class. Alan, you don't fail at something until you give up trying." Jeff leant forward so as he was even closer to his son. "If you quit the car now. That's when you'll have given up and that's when you'll have failed."

"Then maybe I'm a failure, because I don't think I can do that Dad. Knowing I'm responsible for a man's death on the track and then going on to race. It just wouldn't be right."

"You're acting as though it's a foregone conclusion that you were responsible. There's any number of reasons you lost control; it could have been faults on the wheels or the tires." Jeff suggested.

"Sam and Virgil checked the brake pads after the qualifier. The tires, wheels and braking systems were all functioning perfectly." Alan dismissed the idea.

"Okay well, we've had problems with the transmission before. It could have been a faulty component there." Jeff made another suggestion.

Alan shook his head again. "Highly unlikely. Ferrari US refitted the transmission. I doubt they'd make a mistake like that."

"I don't see why not. They're a big company but they're not infallible." Jeff frowned. "And there's a lot to a transmission system."

"No Dad." Alan shook his head again. "Ferrari US don't make mistakes; not like that."

"Why not?" Jeff continued to question. "We're a big company but we still make mistakes. There's a whole number of things that could go wrong with the transmission. Most of which could cause you to spin. A clutch problem could have the same effect, couldn't it?"

"No." Alan still disagreed. "What's more likely Dad? A huge, multi-million dollar company like Ferrari US made a mistake, or little me?" The silence was his only response. "Exactly."

"What about Sam?" Jeff asked softly. He wasn't sure what kind of response he'd get for voicing these thoughts but decided to go ahead anyway.

"What about Sam?" Alan questioned. Frowning and shaking his head at the comment.

"The first time he takes on the responsibility of chief mechanic and this happens." Jeff shrugged. "You're not exactly a nobody Son." He pointed out. "Sam had access to the car throughout and he's in a position of responsibility that he's not used to."

Alan blinked. "Are you insinuating that Sam may have missed something?" He paused for a moment to shake his head in shock at the comment and narrow his brow in irritation. "Why Sam, why not Virgil? He was part of the mechanical team too. It wasn't just Sam that was responsible for the running of the car."

"I'm not necessarily thinking of an unintentional mistake Son." Jeff glanced up almost nervously as Alan seemed to slowly process his words.

"Not unintentional? So… So you mean intentionally?" Alan questioned. "You think Sam sabotaged my car?" Alan's voice rose in horror at the utterance. "I can't believe you'd say that! Sam has done so much for me with this car, and my racing; I can't believe you'd even consider that!" Alan got to his feet, beginning to pace in pure disbelief at his fathers insinuation. "Sam's …. Sam's my friend. More than that, he's one of Virgil's closest friends. He would never, never do anything to hurt me, or Virgil. He thinks of Virgil as a brother, for crying out loud!" Alan turned to his father, waving his hands erratically. "Jesus Dad! You're not just barking up the wrong tree, you're not even in the right forest!" He exclaimed.

"Okay, okay!" Jeff sighed. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make it sound as though I was accusing Sam. I just think sabotage should be considered. You're a high profile case and I don't mean because of our affluent financial situation. You show a hell of a lot of talent on that track."

Alan was shaking his head. "No." He stated emphatically. "There wasn't a moment when either me, Virgil or Sam wasn't with the car. We were working on it, right up until I went out." Alan sighed. "Sabotage just wasn't possible Dad. I think maybe we should accept the fact that I could have been wrong."

Jeff shook his head. "I don't believe that."

"Well, we've already established it's the most likely thing to have happened." Alan concluded glumly.

"When you buy a lottery ticket, it's most likely you'll lose. That doesn't mean people don't win." Jeff told him firmly. "Son, I don't want you to make any rash decisions and I don't want you to worry about anything unnecessarily." Jeff paused. "We're all here to help you; you just have to say the word."

"Thanks Dad." Alan smiled. "I appreciate you guys being here. I know I don't show it sometimes, but I do."

"We know." Jeff smiled. "Just like you know, right?"

"Right." Alan agreed. A short silence followed that Alan took eagerly as his chance to leave. "I'd better get going. Gordon will be waiting." He got to his feet.

Jeff nodded; he draped an arm around Alan's shoulders as they walked towards the door. "I know you're all adults now, you included. But you'll always be my sons and I'll always support you, all of you."

"Even if Scott's gets a boyfriend." Alan joked with a mischievous grin. "And Gordon wants surgically implanted gills?"

Jeff frowned with a smile, pleased even though a little suspicious at this remarkable change in Alan's attitude. "Even if Scott somehow acquires a boyfriend and Gordon wants surgically implanted gills." He paused. Smiling at the way Alan's grin actually reached his eyes. "And even if this investigation doesn't go our way. It doesn't change anything. Whatever happens and whatever you decide, you know we'll support you. I'll support you."

They paused at the door and Alan instinctively pulled his arms up around his father's neck. Surprised by the sudden contact, Jeff hesitated before melting to the embrace. The strength with which Alan held him, squeezing every inch of life out of him, was testament to his young sons fear. The thought though, that his father would believe in him no matter what, was more than a little reassuring to hear. They were words he not only wanted to hear; but also needed to hear. And for the first time, Alan began to consider the possibly that he could do this. Whatever the outcome, he could be strong for his family and with their support; he could come through it in one piece.

XxxxX

Scott eventually found Sam and John in the latter's hotel room. Scott knocked flippantly. A gesture more than anything, before pushing the unlocked door open and striding into the room. John looked up from the small laptop computer he tapped feverishly at and, with a nod, acknowledged his oldest brother's presence.

"Hey, thought I'd find you guys in here." Scott plopped himself down into one of the armchairs and cocked his head to one side to stare over John's shoulder at the small screen. "How are you getting on?" He asked, genuinely interested.

"Well," John started distractedly. "We've had a few problems getting the program to load properly but we got there eventually. We've just loaded the digital pictures so, any minute now we should find where it's stored them." John was saying vaguely as he frowned at the screen. "The screens on these laptops are too small to see properly so I've managed to create a WAVO connection through the TV. That should give us a better picture. And Sam's been working on recreating the track." John paused. "So hopefully, when I do this." The computer whirred softly and within minutes, the television sprung to life with a rotating three-dimensional picture of the car.

Scott looked at him blankly. "So WAVO means through the television?" He asked with a sarcastic grin.

John glared at him. "WAVO is wireless audio and visual output; it means we can use the television as a medium." Scott shook his head blankly, uninterested. "They've been doing this for years Scott; it's hardly ground breaking technology." John told his brother in disgust. "Okay, here are the pictures Sam. Have you loaded that mechanical diagram?"

"It's coming." Sam said as he ejected the disc from his own computer and passed it over to John. "Here."

"Okay now if we, blow up this picture of the wreckage to the same size as the diagram." Sam was saying as he concentrated on doing exactly that. "And run an evaluation report, it should give us an estimate of what the damage is. Or at least one possibility." He waited as the computer obeyed his orders and droned again; both John and Sam watched it intently. Scott however stared around the room, uninterested in there technical exchange. "I was planning to reconstruct the crash." Sam was saying as he shrugged slightly. "I thought it might give us a better idea of what could have happened." He explained to Scott's questioning stare. "So if we load the track up next, it should give us some kind of reconstruction that we can then tweak a bit."

Meanwhile Scott spotted a small silver box. About as deep as a book and the size of a small laptop computer, he reached out for it, intrigued as to what it was. Picking it up, he turned the object over in his hands before opening it to reveal a flat screen and very few keys.

"Hey Sam, what's this?" He asked with a frown, picking up the two black discs that had been discarded alongside the object.

"Oh, they're the discs from the cameras on the car." Sam sighed. He dismissed Scott's question quickly, turning to John instead. "John this isn't working." He said impatiently.

"Here, let me have a look. It could just be the size of the information we're asking it to compare, be patient." John took over at the computer, frowning and tapping away as he muttered to himself.

"Alan has cameras on his car?" Scott asked to no one specific. Surprise and intrigue screwing his dark features into a frown. "I didn't know that." He muttered as he experimented with the silver gadget.

"Yeah." Sam said as he sat down alongside the pilot; evidently tired of being patient. "Here." He took the silver box from Scott and flicked a switch causing the screen to flicker into being. "You put the disc in here." He gestured to a slot on the side. "And then you can play them back. It's so as Alan can evaluate his race from the comfort of his own paddock." Sam smirked.

"So how does it work?" Scott enquired.

Sam glanced up to John who was still tapping away, before turning back to explain further. "Well, normally when Alan's racing he records his laps through two cameras. An external one here." He reached out to the flat screen television where a three dimensional model GX10 was now spinning. He tapped at the screen between the headlights, where the grill sat. "And another one inside the car." Sam continued on, he could see Scott was listening carefully and nodding occasionally in understanding and amazement.

"It records sound too." Sam continued on, since he had a captive audience. "You see, inside Alan's crash helmet is a microphone that's connected to headsets that Virgil and I have on. It's so as we can communicate; if we know he's coming into the pits than we can be prepared to help him." He explained with a grin and a soft sigh. "These discs record everything that's said."

"Hold on a minute." Scott frowned. "If he can record the laps and look at them back in the paddock. Why didn't Virgil just look at the footage? Why did he need to go in the car in the first place?"

"That's what I said." John smirked, waving a hand as he still struggled with the compact computer in front of him.

Sam waved a hand indicating for them both to be quiet and that the question was irrelevant. "Because Alan forgot to put a disk in the recorder for the qualifier. If he'd recorded the warm up, he'd have gone straight to the grid and there was no way either of us could have advised him. So Virgil offered to sit in. He wanted to hear how the gears held up under the strain of that hairpin bend, anyway that doesn't matter." He waved his hand again; Scott smirked at the gesture as it reminded him of a nutty professor. "These recording's are of the race. I just haven't had time to look at them yet and to be honest; I don't know what good they'll be. I'd be surprised if they play properly after the beating the car took."

"Who forgets to put cameras in their own car? That kid gives blondes a bad name!" John complained, with a smirk.

Scott laughed at the comment. "So can we play them now?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, if you like, but I don't know whether they'll even work." He watched Scott fumble with the technology for a while. Eventually taking it out of his hands with a smug grin and succinctly placing the first disc into its holder. "Would you look at this John?" Sam teased. "State of the art jet plane pilot but he can't operate a simple disc player."

John smirked. "You think that's bad, you should see him in the …" He trailed off. "Whoa! Here we go." He said excitedly as Sam jumped to his feet and sat down alongside him. "Right now if I do this…" He trailed off as he clicked and tapped appropriately. "There, now it should… do that!" He exclaimed with a grin of achievement.

Their voices trailed off into insignificant mumblings to Scott. Tapping away on the touch screen of the disc player, he was rewarded when, within seconds; an image appeared. "This must be the external camera." Scott thought aloud to himself. Sam and John were far too engrossed in their reconstruction to hear him.

To begin with, the picture had been steady but after a sudden lurch, it spun wildly. Turning the surrounding scenery into a blur of colours.

"Whoa!" Scott blinked, looking away as the spinning action made him dizzy. The rotating started to slow and a figure suddenly came into sight. It rolled away from the picture and brightly coloured flack jackets could also be seen approaching from the distance.

Scott instantly recognised the red race suit and helmet. "There's Alan." He muttered, frowning in concentration.

There was a jolt on the screen before it shuddered and came to a halt, wobbling a bit before it steadied off. 'That must be Mark's car hitting Al's.' Scott thought to himself as he watched, absorbed by the unfolding drama. In the distance, he could see Alan push himself unsteadily to his feet and urgently remove his helmet before running back towards the wreck. Scott could see he was shouting something, he presumed it be his brother's name but he didn't get close enough to see. Three or four brightly coloured jackets reached out to him and despite his struggling against them, led him in the opposite direction.

There were a few minutes footage of Alan being led away, not without complaint. Then, to Scott's surprise, the camera wobbled again. A much more violent judder this time that caused it to fall. Scott had to close his eyes for a few seconds as the picture jumped about, before it came to rest with only a view of the grey tarmac. He let it roll for a bit longer just to check that there was nothing else on it before Sam's voice penetrated his concentration.

"Come and look at this Scott." Sam was saying as he hovered over John's shoulder. "We'd better save that one for your Dad; he's going to want to see it."

Scott peered between the two blondes to see a replica of Alan's car. More specifically, the wreckage of his car, alternating from one viewpoint to another. The three-dimensional diagrams allowed the mechanics of the car to be revealed. In his amazement, it took him a few minutes to realise Sam was giving him a commentary. "And you see where the wheel arch is, we'll have to check the steering. That doesn't look good. If the whole chassis had been jolted out of line, it might be more serious than I thought. If there's more structural damage there, it might mean a complete re-model. That could be expensive and time consuming too. I wish I could have had time to go over the car properly." He sighed.

"Pass me that disc, will you?" John was saying. "I'll load the track next." Sam obliged, asking if he could do anything to help. "No, give Scott a lesson in how to use a disc player." John replied, with a smug smirk.

Sam smiled back but turned his attention to Scott nonetheless. "Have you watched it?" He asked, gesturing to the open silver box as Scott sat back down and put it on his lap. "Did it work?"

"Yeah it worked okay." Scott shrugged. "But there's not a lot on it. The first one was the external camera; it was just lots of spinning scenery and Alan being dragged away by men in fluorescent jackets."

"Makes a change from men in white coats!" Sam joked as he handed Scott the second disc. "This is the one from inside the car; it probably won't work very well. It looks like all the jolting scratched it." He held the disc up to the light for a few seconds, inspecting it before passing it on.

Scott took the black disc and placed it in the correct slot. The monitor lit up brightly as an image of Alan filled the screen. Wide blue, adrenaline fuelled eyes stared back, hard with concentration. His helmet visor hovered above his head enabling a sudden smirk to light up his, otherwise serious features. The sound removed Scott could only watch the pictures roll.

"We have sound on this one. Here." Sam reached forward to a gauge on the bottom of the screen and suddenly the dull, roar of the engine could be heard bellowing in the background. The camera shook gently with the vibrations of the car and Alan was now laughing as both of his gloved hands griped the steering wheel tightly.

"Sounds like we picked up some engine noise too." Sam commented as he leaned across the bed, peering over Scott's shoulder so as he could see. The film continued to play on the small screen that rested in the older mans lap.

"He didn't mean it like that Al." Virgil's deep voice could be heard clearly, in his usual role of pacifier.

"He doesn't understand. He thinks none of us have matured any, since we were like fifteen! I'm tired of him treating me as if…." There was a pause as Alan concentrated. "As if I was a kid. I'm not a kid anymore." Virgil's voice could be heard on the playback; a failed attempt at butting in. "I know he's the eldest and I know he's not had it easy Virg, but this is ridiculous. He still acts as though we're all little kids that need protecting from the big bad world! He makes me feel as though I…." Another pause, as he concentrated. "I'm lazy, but I'm not. The racings the hardest…I'm not lazy. And I'm not arrogant…"

"We know you're not Al." Sam's voice filtered through the speakers. "Now concentrate. Forget about Scott, we'll talk to him later."

The pilot turned his attention away from the screen at the comment to give Sam a questioning stare. The recipient coughed awkwardly, smiled sheepishly and went back to watching the tragedy unfurl.

"He's right." Virgil agreed. "Concentrate, Mark'll be backing off soon. You should've seen the way he took the first bend Sam; he barely came off the gas." Virgil told the mechanic. "And he's so close to Al's tail, he's practically in the trunk."

"He's just sore because I kicked his butt in the qualifier." Alan announced jovially.

"Alright," Virgil sighed. "We're nearing that bad bend and he can't stay that close to you through that." He paused. "Now, listen for the change in the engine." Another pause; the engine clattering in the background. "As soon as you hear her start to struggle, change. Got it?"

"Yeah." Alan replied. "I got it, I am the expert here remember?" The picture wobbled slightly. Scott assumed from the natural vibrations of the car but then thought it might've been a scratch on the disc.

"Now, Al! Now!" Virgil's shout, over the whine of the engines was clearly audible through the speakers.

What followed Scott could only describe as horrific.

The engine screeched so loudly that Sam reached for the volume control and turned it down. Scott thought it had drowned out his brother's voices. But as the screaming continued, he realised that it wasn't just the engines or the tyres. He could hear both his brothers wailing too. Cursing that his Grandmother would be horrified at, as the car spun at a frightening speed out of control. The camera trained on Alan began shaking violently as it spun with him. Illustrating the tension the car was under; Alan's head shook fiercely with the spinning momentum.

"Argh!" Alan grunted, the force of the spin prevented him from taking any control of the car. He glanced down at the instrumentation in front of him. Reaching forward and hitting the button that would cut all power to the engine.

"The revs!" Virgil was yelling over the engine, his voice strained with terror and physical exertion. "Al, it'll blow, we've got to get out!"

"Virg' … Al …. 'ear me?" Sam's voice faltered through the speakers. "… 'you 'kay?" There was a pause. " 'omeone 'swer me.

"I guess they couldn't hear me." Sam muttered to himself as he too watched the film continue, in utter shock.

The camera showed Alan turn to his passenger, before Virgil's hand reached out to his chest and hit the emergency release button on his harness. "Jump!" Virgil was yelling as Alan began to manoeuvre the released safety belt away from his arms and pushed his visor down.

"I can't!" Alan was yelling back. "We're going too fast!"

There was a grunt of exertion followed by a muttered curse from the older brother. Scott though, could only see Alan being shaken around like a rag doll. "What is it?" Alan asked shakily.

"You've got to get out!" Virgil replied. Scott frowned at his brother's tone of voice, it sounded strained. More so than before.

"What about you?" Alan was questioning. There was a jolt as the car spun into something and then continued to spiral.

It was only when Virgil hesitated that Scott realised his discovery. He had tried to release the safety harness and it had failed, but he didn't want to have to tell Alan that. Probably for fear that the younger man would refuse to leave him, Scott thought. He watched on as Virgil's reply came eventually.

"I'll follow. We're slowing down now, jump! Go on, jump!" The camera continued to vibrate but the fabric of Alan's suit close up obscured the view.

Scott frowned as he watched the display, thoroughly disturbed. "What's he doing?" He muttered.

"Getting ready to jump." Sam informed him. "Exactly the way they teach you in training by the look of it. Helmet on, head tucked down, arms tucked in and legs together. You're supposed to hit the ground rolling." Sam let out a low breath. "They must've still been spinning pretty fast though; he's mighty brave. God knows how he got off so lightly." Sam said in awe. "His suit will have protected him a bit but not completely." He winced at the sounds that were coming from the screen.

Scott turned his attention back to the screen where Alan's boot connected with the camera and it was knocked out of line. It wobbled for a while, not really focusing on anything until eventually, it came to a stop. Trained on Virgil now, Scott could see as well as hear his brothers every distress. Scott frowned again as Alan's legs came into the frame and then disappeared as his youngest brother let out a yell punctuated only by painful grunts. Sam found himself shuddering at the sound.

Scott watched on as Virgil was frantically trying to release his safety harness. The mechanism having locked; his gloved hands worked feverishly at releasing himself somehow. His uneven, panicked breathes where audible through the speakers as muttered cursing interspersed groans of exertion. The harder he tried to break the restraints designed to hold him in place, the more haggard his breathing became. And consequentially, the more desperate he sounded. His fingers fumbled with the gold coloured release mechanism and he pulled on it agitatedly. As if by continuing to work the broken catch, it would miraculously release. Scott felt his stomach lurch at the fear and desperation his brother was experiencing as he squirmed around in the seat, desperate for some kind of escape. He closed his eyes for a second; Virgil's distress becoming too much for him to watch. However, the grunts of exertion continued to penetrate his hearing.

When Scott opened his eyes again, he saw his brother glance to one side. Virgil's eyes widened before he resumed his attempts to free himself with renewed vigour and anguish. Then came the tell tale screeching of tyres, moments before a sickeningly loud bang and the sound of metal impacting metal. The camera wobbled again, focussing now solely on Virgil. There was a sickening squeal as metal folded underneath the pressure of the impact and the hissing of air and steam suddenly became louder than the dying whine of the engines. Above it all, Virgil's breathing resounded around them. The harsh, gasped breaths, accompanied by soft, yet painful groans. His breathing worsened and he could be heard spluttering for breath as he struggled to contain the obvious agony in his chest. Panic continually threatening to consume him.

The pitiful display had long since drawn John's attention.

"Oh my God." The blonde Tracy muttered from his position alongside Sam.

"That must've been Mark's car hitting." Sam assumed, frowning.

Panting to get his breathing under control, Virgil brought trembling hands up to his helmet. With a grunt, he removed the object, and tossed it aside.

Sam tutted. "He knows better than to do that." He muttered to himself, quietly.

Virgil's face contorted with the pain that the short and panicked breaths were causing him. Scott winced, having seen the damage to Virgil's chest; he was more than a little sympathetic towards his brother. Virgil's hair was tousled from the helmet and his face red from the exertion of his attempted escape. He was evidently concerned about the noises around him and looked around wildly, clearly afraid. Scott watched with growing pity as Virgil's eyes and expression portrayed his every feeling and its intensity, far too accurately.

He needed to distract himself from the raw emotion before he imploded. Finally, he found his voice. "When we were at the hospital he told me Mark's car hitting was the last thing he remembered. He passed out not long after." Scott frowned as he watched his brother go back to struggling against the restraint of the harness that held him. As the film continued to roll, he found himself watching in horror as the nightmare continued and Virgil showed no signs of losing consciousness… …