"What the hell you are doing?"

His father's voice was cold and angry and Scott turned.

John and Gordon had finally succumbed to sleep, both of them sprawled over Scott's bed. They had protested, but Scott knew how to handle his younger brothers. It had been easy to turn John's argument back on himself, claiming he was no use to Virgil when exhausted. Gordon was even easier: Scott had always been able to get Gordon to – eventually – listen and do as he was told. The guilt of failing one brother was eating away at him. Scott wasn't prepared to increase that by not looking out for the younger ones, even if they were all adults.

Scott was in the lounge, examining the rest of the kit from John's bag. There was more than one weapon hidden amongst the wires and monitors. He looked up at his dad. The furious expression on the man's face revealed he realised his sons weren't planning on sitting around for much longer. Scott slowly stood, squaring his shoulders. He was glad the others were asleep: it had always been him who had to face their father when something had gone awry. Only this time, he wasn't a misbehaving child.

"Going to get Virgil," Scott said simply.

"You don't know where he is."

Scott knew it was fear that was making his father angry. He kept his voice calm, slipping into the professional mode that he was used to.

"John's still monitoring the hangar. Even if he isn't there, it might give us a clue where to go next."

"The police-"

"The police don't know what they are dealing with, Dad!" Scott cried. He put down the gun he'd forgotten he had picked up and ran a hand through his hair. "Even if they accept it is Blag behind Matt's disappearance, they don't know what they are up against. They haven't faced him. We have to do this. I have to do this."

He knew by the time the police mustered a task-force to storm the hangar – if they took John's anonymous tip seriously – it would be too late. Blag would have moved by then. His father would have contacted their agents by now. But Matt was their main contact in New York – the others would either have to hack into the systems the way John did or travel to be here in person. That, too, was taking too much time for Scott to sit and wait.

"You can't just take matters into your own hands! Damnit, Scott, they took your brother - who can more than handle himself. You can't do this alone."

"He won't be alone."

Scott glanced over his shoulder as his brothers emerged from his room. The colour drained from his father's face. He had known John was on his way, but had no idea Gordon was coming as well. Scott looked between his father and brothers, wincing. As his dad took a step forward, John moved in front of Gordon.

"He can help, Dad. You know he can," John said quietly. His father's glare made him stop though, even shifting to one side so Gordon was visible again.

Scott shared concerned glances with John. Neither of them had ever seen their father look like this before. To say he was angry was an understatement. Scott didn't understand why the man hadn't expected it though; he knew what his sons were like. But then Scott realised he wasn't the only one terrified of Blag and his father's fear was morphing into anger. Unfortunately, his sons were the only people around for him to take it out on.

But Jeff didn't say anything. To Scott's surprise, he pulled out his cell.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked.

"Arranging an escort to send all three of you home."

"Dad!" John stepped forward, forcing Scott to do the same. He didn't trust anyone's temper right now.

"No. I told you not to come here. Do you have any idea how much danger you have put yourself in, John? That you put Gordon in by bringing him? Blag will be watching; he'll know you're both on the mainland. You've just made yourselves targets!"

"I know what I'm doing, Dad," John protested. His expression was indignant. "I'm the one normally covering our tracks."

"Not against Blag, you're not."

John visibly winced, looking at the floor at the harsh note in their father's voice. Scott moved and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He and Virgil may have awoken screaming that they couldn't save each other, but John's nightmares had always been about failing to find Scott, despite having only been a child.

"Dad, stop." Gordon's voice was calm. Scott glanced at him and saw his brother was unruffled by the scene in front of him. This was the Gordon their victims saw, the man in control of any situation regardless of what nature was throwing at them. This was the man who could calm even the most hysterical victim down with just a few words.

"If he is that good, then it would only be a matter of time until he found the island. Found Grandma, and Al. We've brought the fight to him. Besides, he can't be as bad as the nightmares, right?"

"You don't remember-"

"I'm pretty sure he can't sprout wings in real life," Gordon cut in, his voice steady.

Scott glanced at John, who shrugged. Neither of them realised Gordon's dreams had been so vivid. Their father opened his mouth, the anger still burning in his eyes, when Gordon spoke again.

"We can do this. You know we can. Trust us."

His tone was quiet and gentle. Somehow, it cut through to their father more than John's heated retorts. Scott watched as his dad opened his mouth, but no words escaped him. Noticing – not for the first time – how old his father looked, Scott moved forward, taking his arm and guiding him back to sit on the sofa. The fact his dad let it happen spoke volumes. Scott realised the man was shaking.

"Dad, what is it?" His own voice was soft as he crouched next to the man.

"I can't lose you as well. Any of you." His father looked down at his hands. "I spent so many nights promising Virgil that he was safe, that Blag couldn't come for him again. And now he has your brother. I broke my promise."

"Virg won't think that, Dad. He'll know you're doing all you can to get him back." John closed the distance between them as he spoke, perching on the arm of the chair and meeting Scott's eyes, looking for reassurance that he was saying the right thing. Scott nodded and John continued.

"Right now, this hangar is the best lead we have. Gordon's right; we can do this. You know we can. Scott and Gordon have handled things like before and I'll monitor the situation the way I always do. We'll be fine."

Jeff didn't say anything, only continued staring at his hands, and the three sons pulled back so that they could talk in private.

"Is he okay?" Gordon asked. Despite his previous calm tone, Scott could see how much this was getting to him. Gordon had been focused on getting Virgil back: it stopped him dwelling on the implications of said brother being missing in the first place.

But seeing their father – their commander – losing it had clearly got to him. It made Scott remember just how young Gordon still was. Reaching over, he squeezed the back of Gordon's neck.

"He will be when we get Virgil back."

"I'm still not sure he will let us go," John murmured, peering over Scott's shoulder at their father as he spoke.

Scott gave a shadow of a smirk. "Always do what Daddy tells you, Johnny?"

John answered with a smirk of his own, taking Scott's words as a challenge.

"When?" Gordon asked.

"Tonight," Scott said, "we'll get Dad to get some rest and then go. I can't wait any longer. If Virg is there, if there is even a clue there, I have to get to it before anyone else does. But the way Dad is thinking right now, I wouldn't put it past him to send someone after us. We don't have time for that; Virgil doesn't have time for that."

"Scott?"

Scott glanced at John just in time to see him and Gordon exchange hurried looks before they both looked back at him.

"Never mind Dad…"

"…are you alright?"

"I thought people said that Virg and I were the double-act?"

"Just answer the question," John said.

"Dad's not the only one who promised him that he would be safe. I need him back. Now."

Luckily, both of his brothers understood what he meant. Scott wasn't sure he could explain it in more elaborate terms than that even if he tried. While John headed back towards their father and Gordon returned to the bedroom, Scott once again found himself out on the balcony, hands gripping at the railings.

"I'm coming, Virg. Hold on, I'm coming."

Matt disappearing had escalated things. For the first time since Virgil had been taken, Scott felt the cops were on the right track. John's anonymous tip had made them start examining local airstrips and talk about how Virgil could have been taken out of the city without the alarm being raised. They hadn't found the hangar yet though, and Scott knew they couldn't wait for the police to piece it together. They had to move, with or without back-up. As much as he wanted to tell the cops precisely where to look, Scott felt this was personal. He wanted to face Blag once and for all, without the protection of a squad that wouldn't let him anywhere near the maniac. He didn't say anything to his brothers, but he didn't want the police to find anything in time.

There was another reason he didn't want the police too heavily involved. His father had called the cops all those years ago. John still bore the scars from that decision. Now Matt had gone missing and was no longer in control of the police, Scott didn't trust them. He wanted to, but he couldn't.

He had to grit his teeth as the day progressed. He knew he couldn't do this completely on his own, regardless of how much he hated the thought of any more brothers being in Blag's reach. He wanted to move, right now, but every time he tried to give the others a signal or even slip out the door, John stopped him. Sometimes with a hand to his wrist, sometimes just saying his name warningly. Scott knew John was hoping back up would arrive in time and Scott had no idea how to tell him that he wanted to handle this alone. But John was stubborn: his refusal to let Scott leave meant it was impossible to go without it leading to an argument. Once the police had returned to continue their investigation, the brothers were limited about what they could say.

The cops' interference wasn't Scott's only concern, though. They couldn't afford for their dad to stop them but Scott hoped he would be persuaded to rest. If not… Gordon had found the sleeping pills their father had used on Scott only a few days before.

Usually, Jeff would be the first to support a scheme his sons concocted; he knew better than most what they were capable of. Scott wasn't certain if it was because he had doubts about what they were planning or his fear over them confronting Blag after he had spent years trying to soothe their nightmares that stopped him from assisting them. But although he couldn't say anything with the cops in the room, Scott was aware that his father was watching him suspiciously as the day drew on. John's stare wasn't the only thing stopping Scott from sneaking out again.

As the day turned into evening, Scott and Gordon shut themselves in Scott's room. Scott tried to force Gordon to rest, but his brother gave him a scathing look and carried on with what he was doing. If anyone could get their father to agree to sleep, it was John. Jeff had looked frail earlier on and Scott hoped that he would listen to his son. Scott didn't want to resort to drastic measures, convinced his father would never forgive him if he did. But if it was that or pass up an opportunity to save Virgil, then it was no choice at all.

A soft knock on the door made Scott spring off the bed. He opened it as Gordon rolled off the bed, also standing.

John was alone.

"He's asleep," the blond muttered and Scott strode out of the room. Reaching the centre of the lounge, Scott saw that John had already started gathering the equipment they might need.

"How are we going to get there?" Gordon suddenly asked and John's face fell. Scott rolled his eyes. His brothers had been so focused on what would happen when they got there that they hadn't considered the first step in the plan.

"We're taking the Jeep," Scott said.

"What Jeep?" Gordon looked nonplussed.

"Dad's. It's at the office. It has room for all of us and can handle off-road if needed."

"So we're going to run halfway across town, despite knowing of at least two kidnappings, steal a car and flee the city?" John sounded incredulous but Scott was more concerned by the grin spreading over Gordon's face.

"Kind of," he said.

"Kind of?"

"Does it count as stealing if you have the keys?" Scott pulled out said keys, grinning at the look of disbelief on both Gordon and John's faces.

"How did you..?"

"I'll explain later. Right now, it's time for us to go and get our brother back."

It came as no surprise that no one argued as he led the way from the apartment.

TBTBTB

Virgil paused, shut his eyes and took a deep breath. The repetitive movement was starting to become irritating but he couldn't stop. He was just grateful that no one had heard the methodical thuds coming from their prisoner.

Gritting his teeth, he kicked back, his heel bouncing off the leg of the chair and causing pain to lance through his foot. He couldn't just sit here when the others were in danger. He had kicked back in frustration the first time, then realised the more he did it, the looser the ropes around his feet became. He had been at it for what felt like hours, driving his feet back one at a time and gradually feeling his bindings starting to slip. He only hoped that he hadn't hurt himself in the process, fully aware that he still needed to run even once he was free.

Just as he wondered whether he was fooling himself, he realised he could wriggle his left foot out of the rope. As soon as he could put his foot on the floor properly, no longer bound to the chair, he was able to work his right foot free. Virgil bit his lip, wincing as he was finally able to stretch out his legs properly for the first time in hours.

Once he had feeling back in his feet, Virgil stood. His hands were still bound to the chair though and his balance was precarious. But the chair had groaned every time he had struggled: it was old, wooden and rickety and had been digging splinters into him since he had regained consciousness. He knew why – Blag wanted him as uncomfortable as possible. It gave him hope though: the chair was weak.

Virgil shuffled towards the door, almost doubled over because of the chair. He pressed his ear to the door, listening hard. He couldn't hear anything and crossed his fingers that it meant there wasn't a guard directly outside of the door. He needed a little more time to free himself before anyone noticed.

As satisfied as he could be, Virgil moved awkwardly over to the closest wall. His brothers were walking into a trap and he refused to sit there and let it happen. He also flatly refused to be the bait that lured Scott in. Letting the frustration and anger at the situation fuel him, Virgil spun sharply, slamming the chair into the wall as hard as he could.

To his horror, the noise was just as loud as he feared it would be. But although the chair squeaked in protest, it didn't break. The noise would have no doubt drawn attention and Virgil knew he needed to be able to defend himself when his captor arrived. Blag wouldn't let him escape.

Steeling himself, he repeated his action. The chair creaked on the second hit and on the third, it finally smashed.

Sighing in relief, Virgil brought his arms in front of him, his shoulders aching from the unnatural position they had been in for so long. His wrists were still tied to odd splinters of wood and Virgil instantly dropped to his knees, fumbling for the ropes. He could hear footsteps in the hallway and knew at least two men were heading his way.

He had just managed to get his hands free when he heard the sound of the bolt being driven back. Virgil suddenly realised that solved his next problem - how to get out of the door.

He was ready for them as soon as the door opened. The first man took a step into the room and Virgil snatched up a large piece of wood, throwing it with all his strength. He groaned, the muscles in his arms protesting the movement, but his aim was true. The wood hit the man in the head and Virgil followed it up with a swift blow while the guard was still trying to figure out what had happened.

He didn't have time to repeat the action as a second man charged in, deftly jumping over his comrade and making a beeline straight for him. Virgil's mind went numb; he had no idea how to react. The man was almost on top of him and instinct made Virgil take a step to the side at the last moment. To his delight, the man's momentum carried him too far and he couldn't stop himself before he hit the wall, throwing himself off balance.

Virgil reacted fast. Moving behind the man, he looped one arm around his neck, trying to pin him against the wall. The man was bigger than him and it was only his desperation that meant Virgil could exert enough pressure. The guard fought him, but Virgil had the advantageous position and, eventually, his opponent slumped. Virgil dropped him to the floor.

He wouldn't be out cold for long – Virgil wasn't strong enough for that. Grabbing the rope, he bound the man before dragging the other further into the room and repeating the action. Once satisfied that they were both secure, he moved to the door, slipping into the corridor before heaving it shut and drawing the bolt. He hoped the locked door would buy him time and no one would check on him until Blag ordered it. He had no idea how many men Blag had – remaining undetected was the best chance he had.

Virgil paused, trying to work out which route offered him freedom and a chance to warn the others. Choosing a direction, he realised they weren't necessarily the same thing. But if his freedom was the price to pay for saving the others, Virgil would gladly pay it.

He ran down the corridor. A shiver ran down his spine, though. There was something about this place that was creeping him out, beyond the fact he was being held prisoner by a madman. It almost felt familiar…

Pushing it from his mind, he continued running. He could deal with creepy thoughts afterwards; right now, he needed to get out.

The hallway was deserted and Virgil took that as a good sign. The fact that Matt would need to be guarded as well would help scatter Blag's forces. But knowing the maniac himself was here somewhere meant Virgil stayed alert, jumping at every shadow.

He was only halfway down the hallway before he realised the building appeared to be a house. It was clear no one lived here, though. Dust a few inches thick covered everything, apart from where Blag and his men had been moving around. For a split-second, Virgil smirked. His grandmother would have a field day over this place.

But as he realised it was indeed a house, he stopped. Another shudder wracked him. He was in line with a window, revealing he was on the ground floor. It would make escaping easier, but that wasn't what drew Virgil's attention. On the horizon, a dark smudge caught his eye. As Virgil focused, he realised it was a forest.

Scott had mentioned a forest when he had escaped, all those years ago.

He stumbled back from the window, hitting the opposite wall and freezing, staring out of the window.

He knew where he was.

Blag had taken him back to where it had all started. Literally.

Virgil had never been here himself, but he had heard enough from Scott (mainly through nightmarish mutterings rather than anything his brother consciously spoke about) and he had seen the police reports once he was old enough to understand them. If things had gone differently all those years ago, he would have been the one trapped here as a terrified child.

It was exactly the same house.

As his heart-rate started to settle, Virgil forced himself to think rationally. This could be a good thing. He knew his family would have worked out it was Blag – Virgil realised his father knew about Blag breaking out and that was why he had sent the cops to bring his son back to the penthouse. But they knew how Blag's mind worked. They might realise where he was. If, of course, they survived whatever surprise Blag had left at the hangar.

Virgil had no idea how Blag was going to send Scott a message about the hangar. But he knew his brother, and knew with the technology they had at their disposal, there was every chance that John had already tracked the hangar down. If Virgil had indeed been there, his brothers would find out.

He had to get out of here! He took a step away from the wall and slammed his shoulder into the window. It was locked, but the frame creaked at the pressure. Once again repeating his action – and wondering how many more bruises he was gaining – Virgil rammed it again and this time, the hinge on the window gave. It swung open, lopsidedly hanging by just a few screws. The house hadn't managed to contain Scott: years of neglect only made it easier to force a few hinges.

He hauled himself onto the ledge and dropped down the other side, groaning as his aching body protested. The fresh air caused adrenaline to surge and he tensed, bracing himself. Looking around revealed the area to be clear. Focusing on the distant tree line, Virgil once again started to run.

It was nothing compared to the speeds that Virgil was used to, but he had underestimated how long he had been Blag's prisoner for. The drugs coupled with the lack of food and drink were taking their toll, plus the physical exertion of struggling for so long. Virgil could have sworn the trees were getting further away with every step he took.

He had to reach cover though - the grassy area he was currently crossing was too exposed. All Blag had to do was glance out of the window and he would see his prisoner escaping. But as he tried to put on another burst of speed, he stumbled. The lack of guards suddenly made sense. They were in the middle of nowhere and Virgil knew that unless he slowed down, he would pass out before he made the treeline. But if he slowed, he would be seen.

Swearing, Virgil forced himself to keep moving, biting his lip as he did so. The sharp pain helped him to focus beyond the black spots dancing in front of his vision and Virgil covered a little more distance.

It didn't help him though.

A shout sounded and Virgil made the mistake of turning around. He could see at least three men sprinting towards him and knew it was now or never. Forcing his tired body to move, Virgil ran as fast as he could. If he could get to the trees, then he would be able to take cover and let them run on straight past him…

A sharp crack filled the air and he fell with a cry. His whole body jerked for a moment as he fumbled blindly for his leg. It was the centre point for the pain, but it radiated across his entire body.

Eventually, his fumbling hand managed to find a dart lodged in his leg. Virgil pulled it out, staring at the wires leading from it. As his leg continued to tremble, he realised he had, once again, been hit with a taser. The men were closer than he thought. Attempting to stand, Virgil shouted in pain and frustration as his leg buckled under his weight and he hit the ground again, unprepared for the sudden movement.

But he wasn't going to sit there and wait to be caught. Stubbornness ran in his veins and Virgil gritted his teeth, painfully pulling himself across the ground.

He didn't get far before the men surrounded him. One put their foot in the centre of his back, slamming him back down to the ground before rough hands turned him over. Virgil lay where he was, panting as he glared up at them. His heart was thudding and it wasn't just due to the exertion. He swallowed his fear, refusing to let the men see it. But he was afraid: afraid of what was about to happen to him, but most of all, what that would mean for his family. Breathing heavily through his nose, Virgil clenched his hands into fists, making it appear as if he was angry. It was better than them realising he was trembling.

"Go on then," he snarled, wondering if this was going to be it. "Kill me."

"You really think it's that easy?"

The man's mocking tone made Virgil glare but he didn't say anything as all three men crouched next to him. Two held him down – Virgil only just resisted the urge to tell them he wasn't going anywhere – while the third pulled out a needle. He tried tensing, but it was too late as it was pushed into his neck.

Their grinning faces was the last thing he saw until the world once again went dark.