A cold fog swept around him, encircling him until he could see nothing. He was alone. Alone with the darkness and the silence, whose depths concealed unknown danger. Alan wrapped his arms around himself. His body was sore and his head pounded. He struggled to breathe through the thick mist.

Suddenly he saw something. A flicker of movement. A shadow.

"Hello?" he called, uncertainly.

There was no reply. Alan spun around as the shadow whipped past him again. "Who's there?" he cried, fear making his stomach churn.

"It's me, Alan."

"Dad?"

"It's ok, Alan, I'm here."

The figure stopped, now a perfect silhouette against the gloom.

"I thought I was alone," Alan whimpered, shivering.

"You'll never be alone, Alan," said Jeff.

Alan drank in the warmth that radiated from the sound of his father's voice. It was a shield against the darkness, the cold and the chilling silence.

Jeff spoke to him, "I'll always be here, Alan. I'll watch you, I'll hear you and I'll talk to you."

Alan frowned. Something about the voice had changed and it sent chills up his spine.

"I'll be there, all the time. You know that, don't you?"

The hairs on Alan's neck stood on end.

No, it couldn't be…he was dead…

"What's the matter, Alan? Can't you show a little respect and answer your father?"

It was him!

Peter moved forward, a gun in one hand, the other reaching out to Alan, who immediately began to run.

Peter's voice echoed around him. "Why are you running, Alan? Why are you running from me like you did your father?"

"I didn't run from him," murmured Alan, his head whipping around to try and find the source of the voice.

"No?" Peter sneered. "You ran from him, Alan. Don't deny it. We both know it's true. You ran from him, pushed him away, and pretended you didn't know him. Instead you came crying to me, begging me to solve your problems."

"No," whimpered Alan.

"Poor, lost, little Alan…"

"Please stop it!" Alan sobbed, tears running down his face. "Dad, please, I'm sorry! The world churned and tilted, sending Alan plummeting into blackness.

"Please, Dad!"

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

"Dad..."

Why wasn't his voice working? Why was it so dark? Where was he?

"Dad…"

He could hear something. A beeping penetrated the silence. Where was his Dad?

He struggled, unwilling to return to the dark world he had just fled. He tried to breathe. Something was over his face. His chest hurt. Everything hurt. He tried to gain some sensation in his limbs, but found they wouldn't move. He began to panic.

"DAD!"

"Alan?"

Voices appeared out of nowhere.

"He's waking up!"

"Gordon, get Dr Fletcher!"

"I'm on it!"

"What's going on?"

"Virgil! Alan is waking up!"

"Someone find Dad!"

Alan lurched at the mention of his father. "Dad!" The name came out as a sob and hot tears leaked from his eyes. The voices grew softer and gentle.

"Alan, it's ok. We've got you."

"Alan, Shhhh, you're safe, just relax."

His hands were being held and stroked and another hand was rubbing his shoulder. It hurt. It was still sore from when he had fallen down the stairs. When he had been running from…

Immediately a thousand images fell on top of him. He managed to tear his eyes open with a harsh cry, before more sobs escaped him. Above him stood Scott and John, all wearing the same worried expressions on their faces.

Scott gently removed something, a mask of some sort, from his face and held his cheek in his hand. "Alan, you with us?" he asked, gently.

Alan could only reply with yet another sob, which turned into a racking cough that tore through his chest.

John rubbed his arm, tenderly. "Calm down, Alan. It's ok. Everything ok now," he soothed. Alan was so grateful for his calming voice.

"Alan, look at me," instructed Scott, gently. Alan looked up into his brother's cool, blue eyes. "It's alright," Scott whispered.

The message had sunk in at last, yet Alan was not satisfied.

"Da-Dad," he cried, weakly.

He was so weak. His chest still hurt and he resisted the urge to cough, knowing it would only make the pain worse.

"Virgil has gone to get Dad, Alan. He'll be here in a minute, okay?" Scott told him gently.

Alan couldn't seem to understand a word he was saying. Scott must have noticed, because he began stroking Alan cheek and forehead, "Dad is coming," he assured.

Alan lifted one arm, with much difficulty, and grasped Scott's wrist, clinging to it for dear life, praying that his brother's touch wouldn't disappear. Scott responded by rubbing his hand, softly.

"Alan?"

Alan jumped at the alien voice. A man in a white coat was now behind John, looking at Alan with stern, green eyes. Alan unconsciously tightened his grip on Scott's wrist.

"How are you feeling, Alan?" the man asked.

John began to move out of the way to let the man move closer to Alan, but Alan was having none of it. He refused to let John's hand slip away from his own.

"Alan, it's ok," said Gordon, who had also appeared, "This is Dr Fletcher. You're in hospital."

Alan's confusion fuelled his panic, which made breathing more difficult.

Dr Fletcher put a hand on his leg. "Alan, I need you to calm down. I'm not going to hurt you," he said.

Desperate, Alan looked up to Scott, "I…want Dad," he pleaded.

Scott nodded. "He's coming, Alan, I promise."

Dr Fletcher persisted, now standing in front of John, right above Alan's head. "Alan, I'm just going to shine a light in your eyes. It won't hurt, just try and stay still," he instructed.

Alan only grew more frightened. He wanted his Dad. Why wouldn't they let him see his father? Wasn't he coming at all? Was Scott lying to him?

A sickening dread boiled up within him as memories continued to resurface. Dr Fletcher was holding a light above his eye. As the light filled Alan's retina, he heard Corper's mad laughter and then the sound of a gunshot. With a cry, Alan pulled away, curling into a ball.

The gun…. Corper…. Corper had shot his Dad! That was why he wasn't there. It was all his fault! He had caused this to happen! And now he could never see his father again. He had betrayed his Dad…

Alan began sobbing once more, hardly noticed the stern voice that exclaimed, "Stop it! Whatever you're doing, just stop it!"

He did notice the strong arms that embraced him, lifting his frail body and cradling him against a warm chest. He had treasured that embrace ever since he was born. He could never confuse it with anything else. He could never forget the embrace of the man he had longed to see for so long.

"Dad…"

He laid his head against the body, hearing the thumping of his father's heart.

"It's ok, Alan. I'm here. You're safe now."

Hearing his father's voice at last brought every experience of the past few weeks crashing down on him. Alan sobbed into his father's shirt. He didn't care where he was or who else was there. All that mattered was that his father was alive. His father didn't hate him or blame him.

"Shhhh, Alan, just let it out. Everything's all right. I'm here."

The arms tightened around him and Alan gratefully wrapped an arm around his father's neck with no intent on letting go.