Disclaimer: I do not own the Thunderbirds, the Tracys, any of it. I only own the story line.

Not sure how I feel about this chapter, but oh well…

By now John had come to the Island to help his brothers. He would be much more help down on the Island than in Thunderbird 5. He and Scott were sitting at the table and Alan was with Gordon. It had been four days, Gordon was getting worse. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, pale and sick looking. His body hardly moved. All Alan could remember was that big eyed look that Gordon would give him every time he did wake up. The look that to anyone just said, make it end.

With Gordon being sick, and Virgil missing, the three remaining Tracy's were having a really hard time. Alan was falling into a depression almost. Usually when he had a problem he would go to Gordon, but this time Gordon was half of his problem. Alan wasn't sleeping, his brothers had to force him to eat. It was hard on the youngest Tracy.

Scott has been working out so hard that he exhausted himself so much that the only way he was getting sleep was because he was to tired to do anything else. He was distracting himself. Undermining the problem at hand, and how much it was really affecting him.

John, well he was actually doing research to try and find Virgil day in and day out. He hadn't been working on finding him as long as his brothers had, so he hadn't had the crushing realization that Virgil might be gone. As much as none of the Tracy's wanted to admit that Virgil would never be found, just like their father, the boys had continue to be International Rescue. It was a blow to the gut, but with all the evidence, or lack thereof, it wasn't looking good.

"John," Scott started, "I don't want to ask this, but what do we do if we can't find Virgil. The desperate attempts we have had have only disappointed us and Alan, well he isn't coping with not knowing."

"Well whatever we do we aren't going to stop looking for him. We just may have to keep that information from Alan and tell him that for now Virgil is MIA. I mean, tell him that as far as we can tell his is safe, but still MIA."

"I hate lying to the kid, but I hate seeing him in this condition even more." Scott tried not to think about it. These last few days had been rough. Reminiscing about what has happened wouldn't do anything so Scott continued to help John paw through all the data.

A few hours later Scott's radio perked up with Lady Penelope's voice. "Hello," her beautiful British voice rang, "Scott? Are you there?"

"Hello Lady Penelope, how are you?" Scott replied trying to perk up his mood.

"Scott I found some information out about Virgil." With those words John and Scott both looked up, their eyebrows raised, and eyes wide. "I went to the crash site and looked around for potential witnesses, there was only one at the time given how late it was. The man is older so his eyesight and hearing is not that good, but he remembers the city going black and the only light were that of a ship."

"But if Virgil's ship was hit with an EMP that means he wouldn't have had any power. Not even lights," John queued in.

"Exactly!" Lady Penelope's voice was perky and excited, "that means that there was another ship. Virgil was shot down!"

"That is great news Lady Penelope! Thank you! Do you have any other news" Scott asked.

"Well I have the witness with Parker right now doing the best he can to describe the ship. Hopefully we can get a good description and find the electronic log books of all like ships and track it down."

"FAB" Scott replied, "Tracy Island out." After signing off Scott and John started to exclaim their joy. If they could find the ship, they could find out who took Virgil, and then they could find Virgil! The brothers high fived, relief overwhelmed them as the tension left their bodies.

"We have to go tell Alan," John exclaimed. Scott nodded his head and joined John in his run to the med bay. Once the two eldest brothers practically crashed through the med bay door they started to exclaim, relaying the information to Alan. When Alan looked up from his lap though, the boys could see that he had been crying. Immediately their faces of excitement dropped.

"Alan?" Scott started, "what's wrong?"

At this point Alan was trying hard not to sob when he spoke. "I think Gordon is dying. If he isn't already…" he lip began to quiver uncontrollably, his eyes tearing up. Scott immediately ran over to his brother to read his vitals, he couldn't even be mad at Alan for not telling him sooner, because after reading the stats himself it was to hard to believe. John took a knee by Alan who was sitting in the chair beside his brothers bed. Scott looked up, tears beading down his face as he looked at John. Alan now had his head buried in his hands, so he didn't see the fear struck look on his oldest brother's face. Scott simply shook his head and mouthed to John, "he's dead."

"Here, " John tried to say his voice choking, "I'm going to go get you a wet washcloth, Scott, can I talk to you for a minute?" John stood and headed for the door, Scott behind him, leaving his gaze on Gordon as he walked.

Once into the hallway and far from ears reach John began, "what do you mean he's dead?"

"His pulse was 10 beats per minute half an hour ago and now nothing. I talked to Brains earlier, he couldn't do anything for him." Scott began to pace back and forth. He didn't know what to do. He needed Virgil and his medical expertise.

"Look , Brains is scheduled to come back today, in twenty minutes actually, so we will do nothing, nothing" John said grabbing Scott's shoulder, "until he gets to look at him. In the meantime when we go back in I will take Alan for some food and you stay with Gordon." It was unusual for Scott to be in this circumstance, but John was right. Nothing was certain yet. After all, believing that technology can be faulty gave the brothers some hope.

Virgil couldn't tell how many days had passed, but without proper treatment or painkillers, it felt like months. His captor had given him two meals a day to keep him healthy enough to do what was needed of him. Right now he was sitting on the edge of the bed, wrist bound , but nothing else. He was given a wet cloth, some rubbing alcohol and some other basic medical tools so he could dress his wounds. His right leg was bruised, badly, the same with his arms. Scars covered his arm from where pieces of his ship had pierced his uniform and held contact with his skin. He winced as he dabbed the cloth with the disinfectant onto his wounds He also had a four inch cut in his left side from a piece of shrapnel. Virgil had wrapped his head and dressed the cut on his cheek. Because the cut was small, it had already begun to heal.

"Mr. Tracy," the mysterious man suddenly appeared in the room. "Are you ready to treat your patient?" His voice was slick, smooth, his tone, sneaky and unnerving.

Virgil glared at the man, "I guess I have no choice."