So, long absence I know! I've explained it better in 'Dreams of an Island', but basically I went travelling again and I didn't have much time for writing! But I'm going to try and (slowly and steadily) make up for it! This is the next chapter of 'Crash Focus' and if you've worked out my pattern then you'll know who this chapter is all about.

It was just one of those things, the bet, a trivial thing to pass the time. That was what Gordon had started it out as, and it's what it still was. He remembered clearly when it had first come into play, the whole thing his direct older brother's attempt to keep his mind clear and focussed, happier and freer, lighter and hopeful. He'd appreciated it then. He wasn't prepared for his fellow blonde to throw it towards him now, and as apprehensive as he was to begin with, he appreciated it now too.

It was as Gordon said; keep the sparks alive.

Still, it wasn't to say he held no apprehension towards it still whatsoever… Gordon was never forthcoming with the 'other' outcomes, for lack of better words.

"What's the full bet?" He was being slightly cautious. It was a waiting reaction considering what they were heading towards and something he couldn't dispel with ease. It was, in all fairness, something he'd learnt to hold around the Aquanaut, in case of just in cases. The objective on the other hand, he was sure was being met. He knew exactly where they were going, yet still the pressure seemed to be fading ever so slightly when faced with what seemed like normal routine: the Terrible Two joking away.

Gordon's answer took a moment, but he found himself hanging on it, like you did an important call. He needed to know now it had been mentioned. "The closest to the number of people he's rescued from the wreck or assisted within it."

It was a wide area of results, one he was sure wouldn't be too high yet, but still he was tempted, reeled in like fishes on Gordon's old set of fishing wires (the one's he'd given up using after… well, he could only call it 'The Unthinkable').

"Ok." He kept some of his apprehension rolling over in his tone though, wary that still all the details weren't in his palm. He'd feel a lot safer when he had every bit of information to make a definitive choice on. That was another thing he'd learnt – it wasn't wise to shadow bet with Gordon, of all the people.

"And…" Gordon's vowel continued to roll over before the consonants appeared and after that, the slight pause was indicative of enough, of every piece of his older brother's struggle. It honestly made him fear what would roll from the swimmer's tongue. "I can't think of the loosing challenge."

He couldn't help scoffing at that, even though he knew it might cost him later. The Fish really had lost it if he thought he'd go for that like a fool, "You expect me to bet on something in the dark?"

"Of course I do. Have you seen the sky?"

It could have been a good one, on anyone else, in any other situation. Oppositely, this was a really serious bet, he needed the details. And yes, it was dark, something which he was trying to ignore right now. He loved it to be dark, just like John, yet this wasn't the sort of darkness he loved. He loved the dark when you had time to admire the stars, not when you were going to have to try and save lives.

"Funny, Gordon." Even as he said it, he was expecting exactly what his brother would throw back at him. It seemed he'd recovered his humour – if ever he'd lost it - and that was exactly the response he received. Predictable Gordon, as ever.

"What can I say? It's a talent." He had no doubt that his brother believed that to the full either. Honestly though, humour probably was his forte, and there was nothing he could say to take that away from the eldest blonde of their family. It wasn't like any of them were able to give him a real run for his money, though if ever he and Virgil had to come the closest. Still, Gordon had inherited all of it from somewhere and seemed happy to keep the skill to himself. "So? Your bet?"

"Hmm…" He decided he'd take a moment to think on it seriously. Considering he had no idea what the other half of the bet entailed, he didn't want to do his usual throughout of answers, just in case it didn't meet the mark. He had to think carefully on this one, as carefully as John thought through their plans and Scott their orders. He needed to put his sensible Alan Tracy hat on, not the crazy one. It was too big an unfounded risk to take. He was thinking of going for five, five was always a good number for them. Somehow lucky, destined to fit with who they were. He'd forgotten that he'd actually meant to be keeping an eye peeled for something.

The points came into view so suddenly he was sure he was hallucinating – and had they been crossing a dessert, he would have been certain of it. However, this time he took another look, glancing his eyes further for details. Blue, silver, metallic, wings – Thunderbird One.

Suddenly the power seemed to come into his lungs, the answer a straight of the bat expulsion of text, one which didn't even consciously pass through his mind: it came straight from his heart.

"One!"

"One?" Gordon sounded completely astounded. Oh, the bet. He was expecting an answer to the bet… "Really, I thought you had more faith in him than that."

He sighed, speaking once more, knowing his voice had retaken its light, bouncy vibes which were usually carried into this everyday life. He hoped that in itself might signal something to Gordon. "No, I mean Thunderbird One!"

He waved his hand, pointing and rushing to try and get Gordon to look (he might have realised Gordon couldn't see this action if he'd really taken a moment to think, but it made him feel better regardless). They were so close now. It was just to their right – Thunderbird One, a previously shadowy outline, which was now becoming stronger and stronger in material vision. They'd made it. They were here. They were so close, so nearly there.

Not long now.

He could only hope they weren't yet too late. That something would still be able to come out of this. That they could aid Scott, one way or another.

"Oh…" Yeah, he supposed Gordon was short of words too. It was quite monumental really, finally locating their own ship. He wondered whether the task would seem just as hard and arduous on the way back, or whether the green hulk would stand out as a clearer visual. When Gordon's pod suddenly stopped, he halted his as soon as possible too. Stopping made Thunderbird One's tail engines perfectly clear. It was hard to see much now too when looking around, considering the black had enveloped everything and he could only hope Virgil would be able to find his way to join them too. Gordon suddenly began to move again, turning the angle of his pod and he instantly moved to follow. "Let's turn right."

"FAB." He was so keen he could almost have risked pushing the pod to speeds he knew it wasn't capable of. He almost worried that if they didn't get there soon, it would feel like sand was falling through their hands, with everything starting to go wrong again. If they could get to Scott… it will all be ok, it will have to be… he really believed that could be true.

This part of their journey didn't seem to take anywhere near as long as the rest of it had and though he knew it was still a good few minutes, it certainly felt strangely relaxing.

The tracks began to form beneath the belly of Thunderbird One and soon the whole ship was in their view as they crossed the banks. Finally. It was about time after all.

Not long, Scott. They were finally going to be able to do something, something constructive.

It made him smile when the elder blonde nearly whacked straight into one of One's landing structs, because it was just the sort of thing they needed. It wouldn't have been funny in the slightest had it happened, but a near miss was actually quite entertaining. They halted the pods beneath Thunderbird One, knowing that was the safest spot they could choose, especially as no one should be coming near their ship.

Residing under the silver body's shadow, he felt somehow safe. It seemed like a space in which he could suddenly breath again, and leaving the pod he felt as though his legs actually had some strength. He'd expected them to be like jelly, but this was a positive notion to be taken forward. He felt stronger being here, stronger knowing their number was growing. He'd caught a glimpse from Thunderbird Two, the height they had in the sky hardly enough for a true representation. He'd dreaded the whole journey what they would see up close, feared what they'd face and hated the building feeling that it might tear them apart, pull them down to Earth. He'd never really grown up thinking that was where they lived. It had never been the way of their family, every single member of it somehow becoming bigger than life. The Thunderbirds made their existence an illusion, and it was one he never imagined being broken: thus, it was the one he knew would shatter him if ever it did.

He knew he had to look though. He had to see the truth, see what he was going to be facing and see that before stepping into it. He couldn't risk walking blindfolded across to a wreckage he was supposed to be assisting with.

Come on Alan.

It was going to take bravery, but he set his nerves as best as he could, hoping they would just stay together long enough to get through this. Long enough for him to be of some use. He may be the youngest, but he never wanted to be the useless member of this family – something it was easy to feel as though you were all things considered.

Please hold it together.

Sometimes he wondered if he said something enough in his head, if it would carry true into his body. He just needed to manage this today. He needed to be helpful, not a third wheel. He held his breathe as he looked round to the site though. He was sure there was worse to come as he looked on at the metal twisted and reformed into all shapes, scratched and jagged on the edges. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, the sudden feeling washing over him, cutting every bit of previously growing strength from his bones. It was like being winded by a pole, so suddenly gone. Dissipated into nothing. As though it had never been. Maybe it really hadn't been. It had just been a momentary surge he'd hoped to hold onto for longer than he knew he was capable of.

Woah…

This wasn't what he'd been expecting. Although he realises that was likely a bad term to use. What could you 'expect' in this situation other than a mess likely filled with death. John had been incredibly kind to them in his description. Far kinder than he would have been able to manage. Somehow, his elder space-loving brother had managed to find the alternate words to mysteriously soften the blow, when he wouldn't have even had a clue as to where to start. He began to wonder, increasingly whether he was suited to doing what John did for a living, or in fact to what any of his brothers did. His strength lay in piloting Thunderbird Three. He was no longer sure – and yes, he knew he'd rethink this later, he knew this was likely all caused by this blinking rescue appearing so tough, waring and emotionally draining – he was cut out for anything else.

He reached out towards Gordon, just to make sure his closest brother was still there. He was certain that without his fellow blonde's presence, that he would already have thrown up lunch. He definitely didn't want dinner or any sort of snack when they made it home. He might even go so far as to skip breakfast.

He made sure to walk at Gordon's side, unsure if his legs would hold him up with every step he took. He stepped out from beneath Thunderbird One's shadow into the dark's cloak and still felt as though the sun was casting a large shadow on him, a rain cloud building up for a thunderstorm looming above his head.

If he was dreaming this… if he was asleep, well someone pinch him. Wake him up now.

He knew though, so unfortunately that he was very much awake. Typically.

He didn't even know how to describe the appearance of the train, certainly not in any coherent form. He didn't have a clue where to even bother attempting to start at. The thought of Scott working in there, trying to somehow save people's lives… it made him shiver as though the breeze had turned to ice. It didn't seem possible for anyone to be alive or willing have entered that wreck, and yet, that was exactly what Scott had done.

And it was what they too would do.

As he and Gordon came to a halt though, he just felt it hit him, as though the train had taken him with it on its impact path.

"Woah…" It was just a breath, words completely failing him, speech an apparent thing of the past. They didn't seem to fail Gordon, but then he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"What are we meant to rescue from that?" He gave Gordon no answer. There just wasn't one he could give in response to that. He wasn't sure how long he stood there for before Gordon spoke again, but not to him. "John? We're here. Where next?"

He sounded as lost as Alan felt. That wasn't much good for them really, considering it would be ideal for them to be able to help each other. He could only hope John wasn't as lost, which the elder certainly didn't sound, however confusing his words were.

"Hold on Gordon."

Uh oh… He could almost see it coming, his fellow blonde brother already seeming to be on fire, but he could never have predicted the fall out which was to follow. He'd been imaging things on a lesser scale, but he supposed it was only a matter of time before one of them blew up, with disastrous consequences or not. It was just bound to happen, but it didn't occur in the way he'd expected – or quite with the person. Then again, nothing was going to the way of expectations today, so he really shouldn't have put so a high price on the fluid things.

"Hold on?" Incredulous. That was the only word for Gordon's attitude and soon it was to become the adjective for his own. "What are we meant to 'hold on' to or for, Johnny? You're not seeing what we're seeing, and I don't care how good your systems are. You're not going to step foot on this site today and you're not going to be here. You're nice and safe up there, and we're doing all the heavy and hard work down here. Anyone can flick a few switches."

The irony in that wasn't lost on him; Gordon would fail at doing anything John could do up on Five. He'd not just fail, actually, he'd fail epically. Usually he would have laughed at that, but it truly didn't seem like a laughing matter. They were all going to be walking on highly strung, thin wires trailing across a wide ocean, but for Gordon's to start fraying – no, maybe snapping was a better word – so early, likely meant very stormy seas lay ahead.

He noted he should take that as an unspoken warning, and heed it.

Yet the fact remained that, even for Gordon that was harsh. John gave no answer, but that didn't mean he hadn't heard every word. He ran his tongue along the underside of his top lip, waiting for a moment to try and decide what his response should be. He didn't want to make anything worse for his brother, but it didn't feel as though he knew how to make it better. In the end, he decided it had to be Gordon's greatest weapon in most situations.

Because, surely that can't backfire on me too?

He sometimes felt as though he was the problem causer, as irrational as he knew that to be. And when everything around him began to crumble, those fears were raised. It seemed nothing would be alleviated today, the cycle endlessly continuing, twisting and turning into a spiral of constant movement. He hardly knew whether it was safe to dare to breathe.

"Do you have any air left in your lungs?"

"Not much." It wasn't really adorned with anything. It was purely a sentence which left his brother's lips, probably without even passing through his brain, but then with the elder blonde, that could on occasion be a good thing.

His next words didn't really cross his brain, and with him, it doubtlessly wasn't good. He was making a very simple and known point, however considering Gordon's current wobbly foothold, it probably wasn't the wisest move to point out his errors.

"You should really-"

"Yeah, I know." Gordon's tone had completely flipped and there was no doubt in him that his elder brother knew he'd overstepped the mark, knew he needed to make an apology and just didn't want that verbalised. You should have known, Alan. It wasn't like they were brothers- oh no, wait, it was.

Before he could say anything though, the Aquanaut was speaking again, but not to him this time. To anyone else it would look like they were speaking to thin air.

"John, I'm sorry-"

"Save it for later, Gordon. It doesn't matter." He couldn't see his fellow blonde brother's face, yet he was certain his jaw would have dropped. That was just another simple, though complex thing he'd never 'get' about John. He'd be out for blood right now if the situation was reversed, and if it was, he and Gordon often managed to achieve that outcome, even more so if the problem was between them. John appeared over Gordon's wrist communicator's holo-systems and he sidled closer to his on-Earth brother. It always upset him to think of how far away John was, and the lack of physical touch the holo-systems could offer them. Talking was all well and good, but sometimes it wasn't enough, and John had always been his go to.

It seemed at the moment as though they were trouble's go to. But then, weren't they always?

Gordon didn't seem to take the hint though, and having John before him – in some kind of form at least – made a fire ignite all over again, "But-"

"You said you're there?"

It was finite, a clear change of topic and Gordon seemed to go with it for this once – even though displeasure and guilt would be written all across his face, and Alan knew he didn't have to see that to know it was so. He knew the blonde too well, well enough to know exactly what way his eyebrows would have raised and which usually invisible lines would have wrinkled. It's strange really, he thought for a moment: high pressure situations really did do funny things to people; except for John. He seemed to still be functioning just fine. Perfectly fine in fact. Just like John Tracy. He didn't feel very much like Alan Tracy right now. He was beginning to feel a bit like a nobody in fact, beginning to lose all functions which he'd required to keep his head level and his actions sound. He didn't want to be a failure, not now, not today, ideally not ever. They all knew how dangerous this could become. It would only ever take one thing to tip the balance of the scales out of their favour. Right now, that was something they just couldn't afford.

He left the conversational side of things to Gordon, but he smiled at John, who smiled lightly back. He didn't think he had much in the way of a voice to utilise at the moment, so he didn't even dare try. He wondered if this was communicated to John or if the red head just assumed he had naught to say. He imagined at John would have garnered his reasons; the communications expert excelled in the field of knowledge that was his brothers, even if not the world.

"Yeah. No clue where to start."

The comment brought him back and he blinked in an attempt to clear his blurring vision. The stress was already taking its toll on him, and he'd barely done anything.

Pull yourself together, Alan!

John didn't seem to need any such encouragement to do just that as his voice came clear over the airwaves, like crystal and chocolate, a taste of home in a place which couldn't be less like it, a situation which couldn't be more out of place for their idyllic island. Oh, how much he wished they could just go home right now, bring John back down and continue as though nothing had occurred. Yet, here they were. This is their job. It's what they just have to get on and do. He'd have to just pluck up the courage to get on with the job. Just like Scott, just like John. He was part of International Rescue too; if they could do it, surely he could. Though, if even Gordon was struggling to access his mind… It worried him.

"The plan Gordon."

"The plan?" He asked, curious, unsure they'd ever created one. He began to wonder just how much he retreated into his head whilst they were travelling here in the pods, because he knew he'd tuned into a conversation of some sort, even if he didn't know the specific details to hand. It didn't seem to clear any mist in his fellow blonde's mind either, as the aquanaut simply screwed his face up.

"You've been thinking about that one." John answered, calmly, almost assuredly. It was like he knew it would be enough, the right answer at the right time. Whilst it seemed like a complete riddle to him, it succeeded in jolting something awake within Gordon.

"Oh, right… yeah."

There was a slight wobble to his tone, and for a moment he could only watch Gordon carefully, wondering what the elder would have to say – or if he'd be able to say anything at all. By the silence, it seemed John was listening intently for the same thing. After a minute, he wondered if his troublesome counterpart was going to be able to handle speech. Since it was coming close to the wire, he was massively tempted to speak, to encourage and push, but decided that as long as John remained silent, he would too. It probably was only a matter of time before the wave hit and they'd have their answer released and revealed. Finally, seconds that felt like minutes later, hit it did.

"Alan, join Scott. I'll try and get in with this lot," He made some vague wave towards the personal in multiple local uniforms, "Try to find out what I can, and wait for Virgil."

With it spoken, it was as though a switch was flicked. Yeah, they had mentioned something along those lines during the journey. It was coming back to him now that a primary point had been so clearly refreshed. He was just glad he was the one who got to join Scott, however that tied in with the worry that he had to make himself useful at any cost.

He pondered whether the aquanaut was feeling the same pressure.

It was almost impossible to feel though with what was to come, small and simple as it was, "Good plan Gordon."

Funny, he thought, and it truly sounded it – to hear his second eldest brother praise the younger for an idea which they all knew had never originated from Gordon's brain. After all, the swimmer's brain didn't do plans or orders very well at all. What he did best was eat, sleep, swim, rescue, argue, watch TV, and be on the receiving end of those orders. Hmm… he was actually quite proud of that description. It was wonderfully true with regards to his brother, even if it was the concise version. It was still precise. Maybe he hadn't yet lost it all down the drain just yet; he might just have something left to give after all.

Gordon shrugged. Alan supposed it was a meaningless action in theory, but then again, it passed the time, it made you feel like you were at least doing something. Maybe it wasn't even a conscious thing. Heck, there were so many things he could be doing right now which he wasn't aware of.

"Well, it was yours. I've just hijacked it." You could always count on the family's fish to make you laugh. He'd been thinking it, and of course he knew Gordon knew it, but having him say it was a different matter entirely. Usually, achieving that was like prising a diamond back through the fourth Tracy brother's lips. It seemed they finally found the situation which won out against such strong genetic stubbornness. Not that he would ever wish them to face this again, even if it would win him the world from Gordon. He'd rather have nothing.

"That's fine." He was sure he heard someone else's voice begin to protest, but he didn't bother to ask, just in case he was beginning to hear things. It didn't bother John, which was the most telling thing.

No need to worry, Alan. It felt as though everyone of his senses had been hypersensitised and were now on permanent alert. It was incredibly disconcerting and he couldn't remember a time he'd ever felt like this, even on the more drastic and dangerous rescues he'd been a part of, even when the island was invaded by their enemy, even when they lost Dad. It was the strangest of feelings, one he didn't quite know where to direct within his internal emotional system, everything which bypassed his brain feeling more complex then when it originated from impulse. Why was life so problematic and perplexing sometimes? It was something he didn't think he'd ever come close to understanding, if it was even possible to do so.

Once again, it was John continuing to speak which broke him from a trance of thought. He knew he'd have to start trying to pinch himself if this pattern of retreating into his head continued.

"I think you should get moving. Gordon, hold fire and keep an eye out for Virgil whilst I direct Alan to Scott. Once I know he's on track, I'll give you some information about the people you'll be working with."

He nodded, though it didn't seem relevant too, considering John hadn't addressed him with anything requiring an answer, nor directly spoken to him. Gordon's acknowledgement was hardly soft and subtle.

"I hope they know how to do their job."

He had to chuckle anew. It was a grumble which really translated to, 'I hope they'll listen to us, because we know how to do this job'.

Seriously, it was right though. International Rescue were the leading experts in their field (recognised by most, he wasn't going to go so far as to say all just yet), and those who didn't deal with these things on a daily basis or had become complacent since IR started operating, just weren't as well equipped to handle these events. He'd seen people tend to panic, or end up ill, or start fighting… he wasn't going to say it was ridiculous, because the likelihood was, for people who didn't specialise in this area, there was just too much to handle. Even so, they couldn't afford for that to happen today of all days, with this rescue of all rescues.

So, he supposed they'd need to take a firm hand on that quickly – or that Gordon and Virgil would in order to sort out as much as possible. And he and Scott… he had no clue really, so he supposed they'd just have to keep moving and doing whatever they could do. It meant he should probably do something, rather than just standing looking over the elder's shoulder like a numpty.

Because he still wasn't going to allow his eyes to stray to that wreckage.

Well, John had said 'get moving' and it was on that premise that he decided to make a break for it. It was quite clear to him that Gordon wasn't going to move anytime soon, his feet and knees looking locked into position. He wasn't even sure a crowd barrelling into the blonde right now would knock him over. He understood this perfectly though, because at the same time, he didn't really want to leave Gordon. It didn't matter that he knew Scott would be waiting for him on the other side, it was beside the point that Virgil would be arriving at – hopefully – any moment to join his brother: it was as simple as instinct. Neither of them really wanted to part from the other, in case the safety barrier broke.

Here, beneath Thunderbird One, they could stay safe from harm and clear out of the way.

But they were International Rescue, they couldn't have that privilege and whilst people needed them, it was only right that they shouldn't.

He stepped back towards his pod and reached in for the first aid kits, grabbing about ten and stuffing them into his arms. It wouldn't be enough, and he'd have to come back for most of them if they needed more, but they'd have to find the way to make do.

He smiled (yes, he knew, not a good place to be smiling, but what could he say? It was a coping mechanism), waving as he started to walk off, calling over his shoulder – because that made it easier to depart than face to face conversation, which would no doubt keep him held exactly as he was. It would make it easier for his elder brother too considering it would take the decision from his shoulder and the power from his hands. It wasn't easy, but it was necessary.

Sometimes – he'd learnt this young, younger than he would have liked in hindsight – that was the way of the world.

"Later Gordon." He didn't quite catch his brother's reply, but the floating word of bet travelled far enough to give him a rough sketch. He didn't dare look back. He knew if he did, even just for a second, he would come to a staggering halt. He couldn't do that. Not when Scott needed him. Not when International Rescue needed him. When a train full of people, whatever their current state, needed him.

He tried to cut off the pathway his brain made to the words 'current state'. He didn't want to dare think or imagine what would be in those carriages, however exact it could end up being, because it was risky, dangerous, saddening, weakening, crushing. He knew it couldn't exactly be easy for anyone in there, dying or alive. The only ones who would know nothing were the dead, and still about that you could not find any happiness. They might not have died peacefully – most likely they didn't – and someone was going to feel the backlash of that. If they had any family or friends who cared about them…

It was a dark path to walk, one he knew he should never have let his mind wander down. He shut his eyes, stumbling for a second over the terrain as he took a deep breath. Pull it together, Alan. He could do this. He just had to keep his mind from those dark dwellings, avoid those depressing and draining thoughts. If he could just keep moving, keep the routes which would affect him blocked off, well then he may just stand a chance at being of some use, of maintaining his sanity.

He opened his eyes, the darkness acting as a buffer for his pupils, but not a welcoming presence for his return.

He realised he was walking with no known destination other than Scott, and that he (unfortunately) couldn't be used as a homing beacon. Not from down here anyhow. He tapped at his wrist communicator to activate the holo-screen, feeling that he needed a safe, comforting blanket of some sort back – and direction, "John, where to?"

He was sure his voice had u-turned, no longer steady and confident, but whistled and unsteady. Of course, the perfect balance existed, something which it seemed the red-head could always find for each of them, to match exactly their current tones. John's voice shifted and changed like the tides; for four entirely separate tides. He sometimes wondered if they really were like the four marked corners of their island, with their spaceman as the centre of gravity – ironically.

"Can you see the front of the train?" He had to blink a few times again to pinpoint it, but he located it soon enough. Luckily, it didn't look like it was in too much of a state. Not like the centre of the train, which he was desperately trying to keep shielded, far out of his field of vision. He noticed John frown for a moment before a fog seemed to clear and he figured his elder brother knew what he was seeking to avoid.

"Yes." He tried to sure up his voice. He should at least be able to do this.

"Head towards it. Look for the first carriage. Scott managed to get someone out a few minutes ago, so there may be a near crowd."

John wasn't far wrong. A bunch of policemen stood staring at the carriage as though waiting for a surprise Jack-in-the-box to appear. A little further behind them was an ambulance crew, buzzing and moving like flittering birds. He made no move to keep watching them, for multiple valid reasons; he didn't have the time, he didn't want to see whatever there would be, even if it would give him a hint as to what he'd face up ahead. Still, it was very telling location wise. He took a deep breath and tried to fill his whole body with confidence. He'd be fine now he knew where he was going, now he knew Scott was going to be close.

You can do this. He kept repeating it, knowing it would be his only hope.

"I think I can find it." He tried to imitate what he saw Scott do all the time, when he gave orders under pressure and never seemed to falter; when he squared his shoulders and spoke with a voice strong as stone. He didn't think it worked half as well as when his eldest brother did such, but it was enough to make him feel like the bravado wasn't thoroughly false. "Update Gordon."

"Call if you need me." He knew he could, and he could talk to John endlessly about anything throughout the course of this rescue (mainly for his own health) with ease, but he was going to plan on doing neither. This was where he was needed, on the front line, so that was where all of his attentions had to be diverted if he was going to have any success, no bad phrasing… to be of any use. That was better.

"I will." With that assurance John disappeared from his sight. He hoped he wouldn't be left alone in the silence for long. It wasn't soundless of course, not in the slightest, but it felt like being stuck in a vacuum.

No one made to stop him as he moved towards the wreck, and it was at times like these when he became immensely glad of their uniforms. For a simple thing, it did and meant so much. It was just one piece of what represented International Rescue in the busy world, something they were recognised by.

He finally managed to make it close enough to the train to try and access his way up. He rested against the metal, the underside of the carriage looking to be an incredibly dangerous set up where some of it had been stripped away, pieces left hanging and strewn at all angles. He hated to think that anyone was in there, let alone his own family, not to mention the fact that he'd be joining him, Gordon and Virgil joining them… He'd come to worry recently in these situations what could happen to them all, and if anything did, what John would do. Up there alone… he really would be if anything drastically terrible befell them.

He took a deep breath, cleared his mind and looked to start again.

It took him a moment to establish exactly how he was meant to climb up to the new roof and many close calls for a tumble. He realised in the end he'd have to take it one kit as a time, carrying the green unit by his teeth, requiring both hands to pull himself up. It wasn't an ideal situation – when was it when International Rescue were required? – and he'd have to go up and down a few times in order to lug them all up before he could even think about heading in to help Scott.

It didn't mean, however, that he couldn't make his presence known. Once he finished straining and knew he was securely resting on the roof, locating the doorway was easy. Looking in didn't take much more effort either, he just had to position his hands in the right place to avoid some disrupted shards of metal. Yet, it was harder to locate Scott with the inside of the carriage being so dim. This was why he and Gordon had brought all those extra torches. Well, Gordon had been the one to pick them up, the one to think instinctively and he was glad of that now. He had about five strapped to his belt, all of them fitted with Brains' well-developed long-life LED spotlights. He'd always griped at Virgil that they held the keys, smaller versions of the giant he had to lug around; right now, he'd give anything to have his big brother's torch slung over his shoulder. He supposed it was typical for the emergency lighting to either be rubbish or have cut out.

It was a selfish thought, but one which gave him a moment of respite. If the lights were out, the torches were needed - and he was almost glad they would be needed now, because the whole journey and attempt to get up here, they'd been whacking into his leg. Not to mention the about of extra batteries he was carrying right now. For they were strangely heavy things. He'd have to mention the design fault to Brains. An investment for the future, just like International Rescue had been for their father, for them, for the world.

His mind couldn't be cleared, but a specific nag forced its way to the forefront. He needed to be down there.

"Scott?" He knew he sounded a little breathless, but the elder didn't seem to notice – or choose to pay attention. There were likely other things on his mind, in fairness, and noticing that his youngest brother was slightly out of puff, probably didn't even make the top ten when usually it would be higher up.

"Alan?" There was a bounce in the pilot's voice though, and he supposed that was new. It was a good sign though. Not that he could see the brunette yet.

"The one and only." It was a bad joke, a Gordon level joke, and he silently cursed himself for using it so unconsciously. Though Scott seemed to turn to light laughter almost instantly, so all was resolved in his mind. If the eldest could see the bright side of their family humour in a time like this too, then maybe not all was lost after all.

"About time little brother." Scott was still mostly all voice, no body, but there was a slight shape to his stature pushing through the darkness, an outline he could probably only recognise because he knew the shape of his brother so well. Off by heart, was better terminology. He had to smile, although told himself they were likely better kept for out here, in the rapidly darkening cold world.

He wondered what it would be like down there. It seemed just as dark from above, whether it was warm he couldn't tell. It definitely seemed claustrophobic. He wasn't even sure he wanted to venture down there, though he knew he must.

"Yeah. Hold on a minute. I'll be back."

He knew Scott would likely wonder where he was going, and he also knew he'd be more than a minute, but it was the easiest – and best sounding – of the things he could have said. Jumping down was definitely easier than clawing upwards, however he supposed that was to be expected. It probably took him at least a couple of minutes to make it back up with the bundles of first aid kits, but after a while he'd managed to make a green stack beside him on the roof, and it made him feel a lot better. He was glad he didn't drop any of them when on his way up considering it would have added more trips. Luckily, he managed to do it in the fewest possible and the quickest he hoped. How long it had been he didn't know. Where Scott still was he didn't entirely know. He took the closest torch from his belt and switched it on, flicking the small light down into the abyss. After a moment he came across blue, the same blue which clothed him. He kept his focus there and eventually Scott's face came into view, the eldest clearly having realised it was easier for him to step into the light than for him to move it.

He was glad. He'd feared moving it too far for chance of what he might glimpse. He knew he'd have no choice but to face it once he was down there, but he had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that if he were to see it now, he would never go below. And Scott needed him. Or help, for the short straw, not necessarily his of course. Virgil would definitely be more use to them now.

He spared a moment for a quick glance across the land, being higher up now, he did wonder if he might be able to spot the green and blue contrast… but there was nothing. No approaching Virgil, no decent view either.

Come on, Virgil.

Scott would just have to make do with his help for now: he would just have to steel his courage and hope the front held.

"I've got the first aid kits. Shall I chuck a few down?" He didn't particularly want to whack anyone – not that it would be the worst thing to fall on you – yet that door didn't like the easiest of things to navigate back up from. And this was the problem with things falling on their sides. No easy access. He could only wish Virgil would hurry it up.

"I don't think they'll be much use, but you might as well." He didn't wait and simply started to throw them through the gap. Scott made no protests, nor did anyone else (still, not exactly easy to say what he was expecting to hear), so he continued, throwing them a few at a time. When he had none left to throw, Scott's face returned to his torch light. "I'd much rather a second pair of hands."

That was what he intended to be, and as much as it scared him (diving into the deep like this) he had no qualms in joining his brother. He let that be the thing which motivated him to take the plunge. Still, he took a large swallow of the air above, because it assuredly wasn't going to have much quality down there – if much of it in itself.

"Ok, I'm coming down." He switched the torch off, clipping it back to his belt as he reached his hands out once more. He figured he'd be able to make it down without a torch, especially as it would have to be kept in his grip, which would only make it a harder task to achieve. No, he could definitely manage without it. A good, strong hold was much more important. He fixed his hands tightly on either side of the open door, clenching tightly until his knuckles were white, before slipping his legs through the gap. After that, he figured it was as simple as dropping down into the abyss.

His moves had been fluent, taken only mere seconds, and he was already releasing the grip of his hands, as his brother's voice travelled, "Ok, but Alan, hold on, I'll come meet you, there's-"

Scott's words didn't really filter through his hearing. Not in enough time anyway. By the time he figured the eldest had actually spoken aloud, and not in his head, he'd already jumped through, letting go of the metal he'd gripped hold of. He knew something was wrong instantly when he fell further than he'd expected and in the darkness. Of course, he had no real idea as to where he was supposed to end up, but he'd imagined a solid surface appearing beneath his feet. All he knew was that he landed eventually with a crash, a splintering vibration throughout his form, which seemed to cage all movement for a momentary spell. Sparks still seemed to be settling, pins and needles running through his entire body, making it hard to tell what had or hadn't happened. He wasn't even sure which way up he was, or exactly where. Finally, his eyes caught track of a small beam of moving light, the slight sound of echoing footsteps and eventually a very reassuring voice.

"I didn't say that quick enough, did I?"

"No." He grumbled. Surely Scott knew how impulsive he was by now? But then again, maybe that made it his fault… he dismissed he thought.

He knew though, it probably should have sparked bells, why his brother had to move in order to get to him, because surely he should have dropped straight down and landed before the pilot? Ok, it was a scene from a comic book which he was envisioning, the landing on the feet without harm thing, but he'd at least expected some of it to work.

He groaned, attempting to sit up. Scott knelt beside him and soon the light was giving him an idea as to where he was. Definitely the front of the carriage. He thought for a moment his head was spinning, but of course there would be seats above him. Really, what was he expecting?

The bloody thing's on its side Alan! Idiot.

The seats were empty, he could make that out as he reached towards his belt to unhook a torch of his own. Flicking it on, he realised the first aid kits had softened the fall for his back – luckily. He figured he could only be thankful that Scott had clearly chosen to throw them here. Continuing to travel the warm, white circle, he noticed a line hanging above him, and wondered if that's what Scott had been going to tell him about: the easy way down it seemed as he briefly studied it. He wasn't even sure quite where his feet had ended up in their tangle of limbs, but he could feel the seats at the end of his feet. He was guessing he was meant to use the chairs as his way down, the line as his slide, as opposed to merely leaping.

He shook his head and was glad to notice that nothing seemed to be wrong with himself from a quick, improvised mental scan. He couldn't notice anything being out of place, although he imagined he'd find a fair share of bruises later, and quite possibly some aches for a few days, but nothing serious was available to note and he knew that should be savoured as luck. He could still be of some help to Scott with aches and pains, bruises and knocks. He'd fear for a moment he'd have completely screwed up, but it seemed everything was going to pan out.

He was just a little shaken up. Just a little shaken.

Scott waited with him for a moment whilst he recovered his bearings, a welcomed hand sitting on his shoulder. When he spoke, his tone was colder than it had been before, but perhaps only because the excitement at seeing his brother had likely been drained from it when he tumbled. After all, with the day they were having, the eldest was probably expecting him to have broken his neck or something else extreme in the fashion of the day. Likely, there was guilt creeping in too.

"Sorry."

He shook off the apology (because it was his fault really for not waiting) and began to dust off his uniform a little, patting himself down to check for injury as he went. He should have known it wouldn't be a simple job of jumping down, especially not into a dark pit. That was just stupid of him. He should have waited. Any sensible or sane person would have waited. What happened to not messing up, Alan? He'd barely even been here for the best part of five minutes. He knew the eldest was waiting in silent questioning, silent likely for good reasoning. It wouldn't do to go spooking those they were supposed to be rescuing by making it clear their supposed rescuers couldn't even do the job properly. He nodded his head, trying to assure Scott that he was just fine. He was here to help his brother and to help the masses. He just had to pick himself back up, dust of the dirt and get back in the saddle again – that was what their father had always taught them, because the time you don't get up, will be the time you never do that thing ever again.

Scott seemed able to take this for what it was though and tapped him on the back, as though the situation was different; it was the sort of 'do you want a brotherly swim' tap. It was a simple thing, but it made him feel calmer all of a sudden for reasons he couldn't verbalise, considering they were instinctive reactions really. The words which rolled from his tongue were easily as simple, but held the same effect – motivating, calming, empowering, settling. It was the perfect balance that Scott seemed capable of restoring whenever they were out on missions.

"Come on then. There's still a lot do to here."

"Long evacuation?" It wasn't at all in question, but putting it to Scott in that form would make the answer a simplified version too, and right now a little bit of simplicity was everything. It would give him a rough sketch of what they were facing, even though he already had a painted picture. It would just be a subtle touch. And that could go a long, long way in these situations.

"Longer than you think." He could only echo the message, why did it have to be the metro? Trains were always busy enough without it being the rush hour service. So much for the easy life they'd been trying to live out on the island today. He would curse Gordon for opening his mouth, but then he was sure his brother had already felt that enough today for himself without him adding to the pile. Scott was sounding exhausted already, and he was struggling to think of any decent jokes, so he decided it was best to go with the practical approach.

"Let's get back to it then." He couldn't sit around forever, and he had no intention to. John had only filled in him briefly on the events occurring during their journey here, but it sounded as though Scott had already started performing miracles. He couldn't hold him back, and he knew from the tired tones already pushing through to the pilot's voice, that he needed someone to assist him if they were to continue on that road.

Scott smiled, and he would take that expression for all it was worth. In a situation like this, it was rare any of them would smile, but for family they could sometimes manage it. Even then, they were moments to hold onto, and he did, gratefully to each and every single one.

"Come on. Oh and Alan," He glanced back up to Scott, the elder towering above him now he'd made it back to his feet. "Follow me this time." He nodded, certain that he would be. He didn't want any more (later to be) embarrassing material to be developed from this rescue. Not to mention, he wanted it to actually be a rescue, not a case of him messing everything up. He needed to be working in tandem with Scott the way they could when trying to avoid a shopping trip with Grandma until Virgil was fenced into it.

With that as his energy, he carefully pulled himself up onto his feet, torch in hand, the extra light casting just about enough for basic sight between himself and Scott. Even with the elder's light dimming as he headed away. He realised that he might have spoken too soon about messing everything up though, for as soon as he was on his feet, ready to take a step, he was tumbling back down again.

"Ow!"

As soon as the sound left his mouth, he regretted it, wished it could have been kept inside his head. It was hardly contained though and he knew – before anything had to be said – that it had bounced around the metal shell – it would have to be the perfect container for bouncing sound, wouldn't it? The best of all drums.

"What?" Scott's voice initially sounded further away, but the sound of footsteps soon came closer and within a matter of seconds the pilot had knelt beside him. He gestured down towards his feet, still trying to continue on the premise Scott had set up – do not panic everyone. He was beginning to panic himself though and as Scott swung his torchlight around that feeling only intensified.

It really, really wasn't a good day. It was definitely turning out to not be theirs. His heart sunk at the thought and he saw Scott's shoulder's sag as he turned to his eldest brother, desperate for some kind of moral support. This just wasn't going well after all. And he just had to make it worse by rushing in…

"Oh, that's all we need."

In this case, with Scott he had to agree.

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