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Virgil grimaced as he regained consciousness. Pain pulsed from the back of his head and he knew, even without opening his eyes, that he was cramped into a small space. The twist of his limbs told him his hands were still cuffed. His feet were also bound, but after a small wriggle, Virgil was convinced it was only loosely. He was more concerned that he seemed to be gagged and there was something tied over his eyes.

His heart sank as he forced his eyes to open: he had indeed been blindfolded. It made him worry. Would he be able to recognise someone or something? Was he gagged because aid was close by? Frustration surged and Virgil gritted his teeth, tugging at his bonds. He wanted to know what was going on!

After his father had set up International Rescue, they had trained for various situations, using Scott and Gordon's past experiences with the military to shape potential scenarios. They knew there would be people opposed to them: one look at the Thunderbirds and people would covet their technology. They all knew their machines in the wrong hands would destroy the world far more effectively than their attempts to save it, and so they had practised reacting to hostile situations.

It was only now that Virgil released they hadn't covered kidnappings that had nothing to do with International Rescue.

He also realised how many of the scenarios seemed to result in one main cause of action: the brothers getting back to Scott. Or, rather, Mobile Control, but Virgil knew he wasn't the only one who instinctively moved towards their big brother when trouble struck.

If he wasn't already so disorientated, Virgil would have banged his head against something from sheer annoyance. What good was Scott to him now? He had no idea if his brother was next to him, or on the other side of the world.

With his vision restricted, Virgil had no idea what time of day it was. He could have been unconscious for minutes, or hours. Had his brother witnessed him being taken? Had Scott got himself caught as well? Or did his family have no idea anything was amiss? Virgil refused to believe that. Scott would have known he was in trouble. How, Virgil had no idea, but he trusted his gut and that told him Scott knew.

Virgil worked his feet free as he thought through his predicament. They hadn't planned ahead for this trip; no one knew they were in the city apart from his father's business associates. Virgil knew first hand they couldn't necessarily be trusted. But after events of the past, he knew his father took precautions and examined his partners closely.

The men had been waiting for him, however…

Virgil refused to panic. One thing International Rescue had taught him was he had to think rationally. Apart from the promotion, there was a reason why Matt had taken the job in New York – his role as an agent for them. He would know, and have warned them, if there was a threat.

Virgil told himself it had been a random attack and his family were already figuring it out. It didn't matter who was behind it. They would be made to pay as soon as Scott and their father caught up. Whoever it was might have been cautious with the blindfold, but it wouldn't save them from the wrath of the rest of the family.

The thoughts didn't help calm him.

As he lay there, his legs curled into his chest, Virgil heard the unmistakable sound of a key in a lock. He squirmed, kicking free the last of the rope around his feet and lashing out. His feet slammed against a wall and Virgil realised just how small his prison was. Before he could panic, however, fresh air washed over him and he breathed deeply. He could hear engines running nearby and his hands clenched into fists. They had caught him off guard the first time, but Virgil had no intention of being moved further away from his family without a fight.

A hand suddenly entwined with his collar, pulling him upright and dragging him forward at the same time. Virgil felt a rough edge press against his chest and figured he had been trapped in the trunk of a car. It didn't matter now though; two sets of hands grabbed his arms, pulling him free from the car.

His feet scrambled for purchase, but Virgil's balance was thrown off thanks to the blindfold. The hands moved, resting on his shoulders this time and forcing him down. Tied how he was, Virgil had no option but to fall, thudding down onto his knees. The hands stayed on his shoulders, keeping him down. Virgil prepared to try and rise, knowing full well how vulnerable he was on his knees. But when fingers started tugging at the blindfold, he remained still. He'd be a fool if he prevented them from releasing him.

A muffled cry, lost in the gag, escaped him as the blindfold was pulled free. Virgil screwed up his watering eyes, trying to clear the lights flashing behind his closed lids. A bright spotlight was in front of him, shining directly into his eyes. Even without the blindfold, he couldn't see any better.

Blinking, Virgil kept his gaze low, looking around the best he could without looking up. Numerous pairs of feet surrounded him and Virgil knew better than to attempt to rise – he was more than outnumbered and knew he had no chance against those odds. But something else caught his eye and Virgil twisted his upper body in order to see.

To start with, he couldn't work out why his captors let him see the plane – they had been cautious up until now. But as the hard tarmac pressed into his knees and his shoulders strained with his hands tied behind him, Virgil knew why. He felt utterly helpless.

With Scott as a brother, Virgil knew enough about planes to know this one could fly low, avoiding the official flight paths and not having to make contact with the authorities. They could take him anywhere, and only a handful of people would even know a plane had taken off, let alone know he was on it. Virgil was sure this wasn't the type of craft to keep a passenger log.

Slow and deliberate footsteps could be heard over the low purr of the engines. Virgil wasn't surprised when they came to a stop right in front of him – there didn't appear to be anyone else at the airstrip. Virgil swallowed, a cold feeling slowly growing in his chest.

He was on his own. There was no one to help him.

Craning his head up, Virgil squinted against the light as he stared up at his captor. He had been expecting a gang, someone who looked intimidating. This man, however, was dressed in a smart suit, his hair immaculate and an expression of indifference on his face. He stared at Virgil even as Virgil glared up at him, not saying a word.

There was something familiar about the man but Virgil couldn't put his finger on what. He didn't know him personally, that was for sure. But Virgil was convinced he had seen him somewhere before. He wondered if it was a rescue victim, but that didn't feel right. The man radiated a sense of danger and Virgil racked his brains, searching for a clue as to where he knew him from.

A sharp blow to the face sent Virgil reeling. He managed to keep his balance, but only just. Virgil continued trying to figure the man out. A second punch, however, banished the thoughts from his mind and he fell. With his hands tied behind him, he had no chance of kneeling back up as the man stepped closer.

All he could do was grit his teeth, and hope the beating ended as suddenly as it started.

Unfortunately for him, Virgil could feel blood trickling from his nose and one eye was puffy and swollen by the time the man drew back. He wasn't even panting. Virgil groaned behind the gag, trying not to cough as he caught his own breath, knowing it would only aggravate his protesting ribs.

"Get him on board," the man ordered quietly. Virgil was sure there was a hint of Russian in the accent. They hadn't been on a rescue in Russia for a long time – this was certainly no victim.

Virgil hadn't noticed two men approaching until they once again grabbed his arms, hauling him up and dragging him towards the plan. Virgil tried to get his feet under him, but the men didn't seem to feel his struggles as they steadily pulled him forwards. Virgil fought with everything he had as they reached the steps, but it made no difference. His hands were tied and his head was swimming. The men merely tightened their grip, laughed, and started forcing him onto the plane.

Virgil knew his chance of being back at the penthouse that evening was long gone.

TBTBTB

John knew something was wrong. He didn't know who, he didn't know what, but he knew. It was because he hadn't heard anything from the mainland. After the news he had broken earlier, he had expected his father to make contact, even if it was just to check he had calmed down and reassured Gordon. The entire family would be affected by Blag's breakout; John had expected contact before now.

Yet there had been nothing but silence.

The astronaut glanced at Gordon sitting opposite him, ashen-faced and silent. John knew Gordon didn't remember as much about that time as the rest of them. But he had known enough: Gordon had suffered from his own nightmares, terrified of being left alone. Even now, Gordon had moments of overprotectiveness that rivalled Scott's if someone was out of sight, even if the young man didn't realise why he was doing it. He remembered enough to know how the news would affect his older siblings. John had honestly thought Gordon was going to pass out when he had told his brother what was wrong.

"They should have called by now." It was the first thing Gordon had said for hours. John knew he wasn't the only one thinking something was wrong.

"Dad was taking them out for dinner. Maybe they stayed out later than planned?" Even to his own ears, John's words sounded false. Their father wouldn't stay out, perhaps wouldn't even go out in the first place. Gordon shot him an irritated look, not in the mood to be placated.

John sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

"What do you want me to say, Gords? I have no more idea than you do. Yes, they should have called by now, but they haven't. There isn't anything I can do about it."

"We could call them," Gordon muttered, uncurling himself from the chair.

John would have felt relieved that Gordon was moving again. Seeing him sitting that still for such an extended length of time had been unnerving – it simply wasn't Gordon.

But he knew he couldn't let Gordon call. If anyone had to do it – especially if their suspicions were right – John knew it had to be him. Scott would expect it of him, keeping Gordon safe from bad news until there was a better way to break it.

"Gordon." His voice was quiet, yet John knew there was enough authority in it to make his little brother pause. Sure enough, Gordon stopped halfway between standing and sitting, glancing back at him.

"You want to know what is going on too," Gordon said softly and John sighed.

Gordon had to know what that tone of voice did to his brother. John couldn't deny him anything when Gordon sounded like that. He was so quiet, so unsure and unlike himself that it was instinct for John to try and make it better. It had worked when Gordon was five…and it worked now.

Gordon started to move again, but John stood up first.

"I'll do it," he said.

His phone was in his pocket, he hadn't needed to move. But it allowed him to turn away from Gordon, ensuring his expression gave nothing away. Still, his thumb hovered over the button, reluctant to connect. Their father could be deep in conversation with their brothers, talking through the implications of Blag being out. They could be out for dinner, having a great time and wondering why John was being paranoid. Or something could have happened, and they couldn't get in contact even if they wanted to.

John wanted to know what was going on: he was terrified of finding out.

"Pressing dial is usually a good start," Gordon said. John blinked, looking over his shoulder and realising Gordon was watching him intently, waiting for him to make the call. Gordon looked ready to bolt and John knew if he didn't make the call, Gordon would. Sighing, he hit the button and lifted the phone as Scott's began to ring hundreds of miles away.

Normally, when John called his big brother, Scott answered immediately. It didn't matter if John was using conventional means or the technology that International Rescue had left at their disposal, it never took more than a couple of rings for Scott to pick up.

When it got to the fourth ring, John knew for sure that something was wrong.

He sent Gordon a reassuring smile to hide that he was beginning to panic, willing Scott to answer.

"John."

John nearly dropped the phone. Scott sounded broken, vulnerable in a way John hadn't heard for years. Now, more than ever, John was glad he hadn't let Gordon call.

John took a deep breath. He was used to distressing phone calls; it was what he did day in, day out. All he had to do was detach himself from what was being spoken about and he knew that he would be able to handle it.

Of course, that was a lot easier when it wasn't his own family on the other end of the line. But Scott needed him to keep calm and John slipped into the role of a rescuer. It made it easier.

"What's happened?" he asked, his voice calm despite his heart in his mouth. He turned back to the wall, ensuring that Gordon couldn't see his face. He could hear his brother huffing in annoyance, but John didn't look around this time. He had to know the facts, had to know what he was dealing with, before he let Gordon realise the severity of the situation. He couldn't hide his words from his brother, but he could hide his fear.

"Scott, what's going on?" John knew how good Scott was at hiding how he was feeling. Finding out about Blag wouldn't cause Scott to sound like this; he would have made an effort to cover it up before talking to his brother. Something else had happened. John's heart was pounding, his mouth going dry even as his palms sweated. He wasn't being paranoid; something bad had happened.

"Scott?"

"Something happened to Virg… Someone… Johnny, someone took him."

"What?" John had heard perfectly clearly what his brother had said. But the words didn't want to register in his brain. How could something have happened to Virgil? They all knew how to defend themselves, the majority of people in New York wouldn't have stood a chance against Virgil. John shut his eyes, taking another deep breath. It had been a long time since he had panicked.

"What happened?"

"They were waiting for him. There were loads of them. They were armed. I couldn't get close, I couldn't get to him…"

"Are you-?"

"I'm fine."

John sagged back onto the seat. He knew by Scott's voice that he was not fine, but at least he was talking and being enough of his stubborn self to not admit if anything else was wrong. John could only imagine how helpless Scott must feel right now, knowing that someone had taken his brother from under his nose and he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

"Is it…" John didn't know how to finish his sentence. What if Scott didn't know that Blag was out and John was just about to make the whole situation worse? But he had to know; had to hear what the cops were saying.

If nothing else, he needed a starting point himself. He could do a lot more than the local police even though he was miles away.

"We don't know," Scott said quietly. John heard far more in Scott's words than his brother knew. Scott did know about Blag and John knew that Scott hadn't finished speaking. He stayed quiet, waiting to see what Scott was going to say next.

"There's no proof, no real link apart from one vague connection. But it is him, John. I just know it."

"What's Dad saying?"

"That we have to keep our options open."

John grimaced at the bitterness in Scott's voice. He knew why he was sounding like that, though. No doubt their father was as convinced as they were that Blag was behind this. His refusal to admit it and to look at practical solutions must be driving Scott mad.

He knew why his father was doing it. If there was any chance that it was a local gang, or even a disgruntled employee, behind Virgil's abduction, they had a chance. They would be able to find him and bring the people responsible to justice. If it was Blag, John knew they faced a completely different scenario. One they had no idea how to address.

"John, I gotta go, they need me to tell them for the hundredth time what happened. It's not like it's going to change with each retelling…"

Scott hung up even as he continued mumbling to himself and for a split second, John allowed himself a smile. Scott didn't like not being in charge of the situation. It didn't matter who was behind this, Scott would want to be the one to find Virgil in order to make them pay for taking his brother. Having to follow orders and do as he was told would not be sitting well with Scott.

But the smile only lasted a split second before fading as quickly as it had come. John stared down at the phone clutched in his hand, his mind reeling.

Virgil was gone.

How could Virgil be gone?

They had gone there to try and help Scott, to try and put the past behind them for once and for all, despite having already believed they had done that. How could it be happening now? Whether it was Blag or not, John knew the sort of impact this was going to have on Scott. The nightmares would be even worse and this time, there would be no way he would agree to go and talk to anyone.

Right now, though, he didn't care about his brother's nightmares. Virgil was the only thing that mattered. John knew he had to find him, had to do something!

Without saying a word to Gordon, John started moving from the room, his mind firmly locked on how he could solve this. He wanted to trace Virgil's watch, but he knew it wouldn't be that easy. Scott would have made contact the second Virgil had disappeared if it was a simple matter of tracking him down again. John didn't know why, but he knew Virgil's watch was out of action. It made him grit his teeth in anger – he didn't have a starting point right now.

The one advantage of spending most of his time on a space station was that John had come to know the feeling of helplessness quite well. But it had also given him ways of channelling it and stopping it from consuming him. He just needed another way to think about the situation rather than focusing on the fact that he had no idea where Virgil was.

"John?" Gordon's tone indicated that it wasn't the first time he had called his brother. John blinked, shaking off the haze his mind had sunk into and looked back at Gordon. The younger man was even paler than before and John cursed. Just because he had been looking the other way didn't mean that Gordon hadn't heard his conversation. He knew something was wrong.

But there was also a glint in his eye, the same determination that John could feel racing through him. John hadn't worked out what he was going to tell Gordon – wanting to protect him from the truth even though Gordon was an adult who could handle himself. But one look at his brother's face and John knew he had to be honest. Gordon wouldn't accept anything else.

"What's happened to Virgil?"

John started. Then he realised that he had used Scott's name more than once and mentioned their father in the conversation. Gordon had heard too much – he had already figured out more than John gave him credit for.

John turned, putting his hand on Gordon's shoulder.

"Someone's taken him, Gords. They don't really know anything yet, but…" John realised he was shaking. Saying the words out loud made it so real, and he had to take a deep breath in order not to freak out.

Someone had taken his little brother.

Virgil was gone.

"John, breathe."

The order was soft and gentle and John once again forced himself to suck in a sharp breath before nodding at Gordon in gratitude. He could do this, he was used to having to control his emotions while being stuck away from the action and knowing there was nothing he could do to help.

"So what do I need to do?"

"What?"

"To get him back? I'm assuming you are about to go and hack into the police system and see what they have been filing so far in order to try and get a lead on something. And I know you can't do this alone, no matter how awesome you might be. So, what do I need to do?"

This time, John found that his smile was genuine and he squeezed Gordon's shoulder before walking off. He called back a list of instructions, equipment that he would need, over his shoulder as he did so, not realising he was using the technical names for the items. When he finally looked around, Gordon was staring at him, looking utterly confused. John shook his head fondly.

"Go and make me a coffee?"

Gordon was obviously serious about helping as he turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen without a single complaint. John watched him for a moment before continuing up the stairs.

Gordon was right: they were going to get Virgil back.

And then they were going to show whoever was responsible what happened when you tried to mess with the Tracy family.