Hello again everyone!

Firstly, I would like to express my apologies for not updating lately. It's been really hectic at uni lately and finding the time to update my fics has been rather difficult. I've posted a second chapter as a token of my gratitude for your patience. Thankyou again to ALL the wonderful people who reviewed! Your advice and encouragement is greatly appreciated.

I'm on holidays at the moment, so after July 1 (after i finish the play I'm currently onvolved in), i guarantee you will see many more chapters!

Boann xxx

For three long days, Alan Tracy did not stir. For 72 exhausting hours, the Tracy family took turns to sit at his bedside to hold his hand, talk to him, and tell him that he was safe. But by now, Jeff was growing anxious.

"His body is just taking its time to heal, that's all," Doctor Fletcher had told him. "Alan will wake up when he is ready."

Two days later, Alan hadn't showed the slightest flicker of movement. Although Jeff was both worried and impatient, he was taking great care not to let his concentration on Alan cause him to forget his other sons.

After Scott had been discharged, he'd arranged for them all to stay at a new hotel and was extremely firm with them when it came to getting a decent meal and a good night's sleep. Of course, Jeff himself had spent very little time at the hotel and it wasn't unusual for Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon or Lady Penelope to find him fast asleep in the chair beside Alan's bed.

After tying up any loose ends legally, Lady Penelope regretfully returned to England.

Maintaining contact with those who were still on Tracy Island was another necessity, as Fermat and Tintin especially, demanded daily updates on their friend's condition.

It was now the morning of the sixth day since Alan had been rescued, and John was making his way through the hospital corridors towards Alan's room. A folded newspaper was tucked under his arm and two cups of steaming coffee were in his hands. When he reached Alan's room, he wasn't surprised to see Jeff still there, his chin resting on his chest, in deep slumber. Scott was also there, sitting in another chair opposite his father and holding his little brother's hand.

He looked up when John entered, letting out a soft sigh, "My hero", he whispered, taking the coffee John held out to him.

John surveyed Alan.

"They've removed the respirator," Scott said. "Fletcher said his vitals are growing stronger and his temp's down."

"That's some news at least," said John, softly. "Does Dad know?"

Scott nodded, "Fletcher said Dad was here when they removed the respirator. He hoped that Alan would wake up during the procedure but…" he trailed off.

"Well, while he's asleep, I think it's safe to show you something," said John, putting his coffee down on the small table and pulling out the newspaper. Scott took it and read the front page, before sighing.

"Just what we need," he murmured, sadly.

John rested his hands on his hips, "I don't think we should tell him," he whispered, nodding at Jeff, who hadn't moved.

Scott looked at him, "He's going to find out sooner or later, John," he said.

"Dad's got enough on his plate with Alan. To let him find out about this would only make things worse," John reasoned.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "I don't think it's going to be long before he find out, John. Would you rather he found out from us or from the press?"

John was about to answer when another voice cut him off.

"Too late, Scott."

The two brothers looked to see Jeff raise his head. Their father's tired eyes stared at them dully, "And don't worry yourselves. This was bound to happen."

"Dad, you look awful," said Scott. "Go to the hotel and get some decent sleep," he pleaded.

Jeff rose to his feet slowly. "I think I might do that, for a few hours. You'll let me know if anything happens?"

Scott and John both nodded. Jeff smiled and, after giving Alan's hand a quick squeeze, left the room. No sooner had he left than Gordon entered, carrying his own cup of coffee.

"Hey," he greeted softly.

"You must have got up early. You weren't in the hotel room when I left," said Scott.

Gordon took his father's unoccupied chair, "Yeah, I went to the community baths. Do some thinking."

Scott and John both nodded in understanding. Swimming was Gordon's stress outlet.

"Is Virgil still in the room?" Scott asked John.

John nodded, "You know Virg. The world would be ending, but if it was any time before 9am, Virgil would still be asleep."

"And loudly!" commented Gordon, screwing up his face, "You guys never told me he snores!"

"If we had told you Virg snores, you wouldn't have agreed to bunk with him," explained John innocently, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah Gords, your ignorance made you a very convenient victim," added Scott with a grin.

Gordon gave a small snort before turning to Alan, "You're going to have to get them back for me," he said, patting his brother's motionless hand. "Will you do that?"

John noticed Gordon's fresh face droop slightly when he was given no reaction. He decided to change the subject. "Seen the papers today?" he asked, mentally cursing himself for moving on to such a depressing topic.

Gordon frowned, "No, why?"

Scott threw the paper to him.

"No way," Gordon murmured as he read the headline, his face frozen with shock. "They can't do this!"

"It was bound to happen, Gordo," said John, sadly, leaning against the arm of Scott's chair.

"Yeah, but…" Gordon was obviously lost for words. "They don't understand," he concluded, his face hardening.

"No, they don't," agreed Scott, "Which is why this won't affect us. We know what the situation is. We know why we can't dedicate ourselves to the organisation right now. And we will not be pressured by the media of all things!"

Despite his disapproval of Scott's blatant ferocity, John admired his brother's motivational attitude.

Gordon seemed to appreciate it too. He gave a tight nod, before turning to Alan.

"You'll get them back for me too, won't you?"

He was once more greeted with silence, whilst the paper's headline, 'INTERNATIONAL RESCUE BETRAYS THE WORLD- Where Are The Thunderbirds?' glared scornfully at him.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

"Alan! Alan, where are you?"

"I'm here, Dad! What's up?"

Jeff sighed in relief as his youngest son approached him, a smile on his face. A smile so like Lucille's. One that shone with honesty and friendliness. One that was lopsided, revealing cheekiness within.

"Come on, Dad," called Alan.

Gratefully, Jeff followed his son. Where they were going, he did not know. Where he was…where was he?

Suddenly the ground began to swirl into a black whirlpool. Jeff found himself standing on a ledge directly above it.

"Dad!"

He could no longer see his son!

"Dad!"

"Alan!"

He looked down to see Alan clinging to the side of the ledge, hanging on for dear life. His smiling face had been replaced with one showing pure terror.

"Dad! Please!" he gasped.

"Alan! Take my hand!" Jeff fell to his knees, his hand outstretched to his son. Their fingers were centimetres apart. Jeff's eyes widened as he saw a hand sneaking up from within the black vortex, snaking itself around Alan's ankle.

"No!" he cried out, but it was too late. Alan was pulled away and lost his grip, falling into the darkness.

A cold laughter echoed in Jeff's ears.

"You let him go!" a voice sneered, "You failed him! Your own son! He's gone!"

Jeff stood up, searching for the owner of the somewhat familiar voice, "No! He's safe! He's with me! Leave him alone!"

"He is alone!" cackled the voice, manically. "You hurt him, deserted him!"

"I will not fear you!" cried Jeff, "Show yourself!"

"I'm here, Jeff," said the voice, now smooth and calm.

Jeff spun around to face Peter Corper.

"Did you really think you could take Alan away from me? I will always be here. He'll always see me. He'll always hear me. And so will you," said Peter.

"If you ever come near my son again…" Jeff spat through clenched teeth.

Peter smiled, "You committed the ultimate betrayal, Jeff. A father who abandoned his son."

"No," whispered Jeff, "My betrayal wasn't yours. I didn't try to kill him. I didn't cause him the pain you did."

Peter smiled, "Didn't you? Lets see what Alan thinks…"

Peter disappeared, his laughter transformed into the screams of Jeff's son.

"Dad, please! Dad, help me! Don't leave me! DAD!"

In his hotel room, Jeff bolted up in his bed.

"Alan!" he cried.

From a hospital room a few miles away, Alan's lips formed the word, 'Dad'.