Gordon had been in some creepy places before. He'd dived shipwrecks, searched burned-out skeletons of buildings, survived the cursed tomb of an ancient king with a case of the giggles. But none of that could quite compare to the feeling of floating in his dead brother's space station.

Thunderbird 5 was as pristine as it had been a month ago, when John had left it for what he hadn't known was the last time. The lights were still on, the life support systems still hummed quietly, monitors and displays still flashed with lights and information. It was like the station was still waiting for John to come home to it. And maybe it was, given the AI that inhabited it.

John must have left the gravity off when he left, because the ring was spinning too slowly to keep Gordon's feet on the floor. While Gordon wasn't quite as hopeless as Virgil was in zero-g, he was nowhere near John's or Alan's, or even Scott's, level. He was glad no one could witness the undignified flailing that he was forced to employ in order to move about the space station.

Alan had once expressed disbelief in Gordon's issues in the absence of gravity. He'd seemed to be of the opinion that it wasn't that different from maneuvering in water, and if Gordon was good at one he should be good at the other. So the next time John had come down from Thunderbird 5, Gordon shoved him in the pool and recorded the results. He'd shown the video of his brother floundering in the water like a baby giraffe and a wet cat all rolled up into one irate ginger package to Alan as direct evidence to the contrary.

John would probably have gotten a kick out of seeing the tables turned on him now.

Gordon didn't know his way around all that well, but he knew enough to bypass the door that led to John's small bedroom. Maybe he'd come up here to feel closer to John, but he wasn't ready for that yet. He kept going, making his ungainly way through an open portal into the central control room, from which John had run most of his operations. The room was spherical, the lack of gravity rendering a floor useless, and the walls were paneled with specialized sensors and projector nodes that combined to create an interactive console that could project anything throughout the entire space. Its default seemed to be the globe, and Gordon found himself floating through Australia.

Gordon stopped as best he could, and looked around. He'd only been up here a couple of times before, but he knew enough to recognize about half of the gauges and displays he was seeing.

…Okay, maybe a third. There was the array of icons for placing a call to Tracy Island or any of the Thunderbirds. There were the feeds to all of the major news networks. There was the personal comm unit that John had used for the last conversation Gordon would ever have with him.

Gordon's throat tightened. Despite the fact that his body was weightless, his heart felt heavy as a stone in his chest.

"I've gotta say, you're the last person I would've expected to find up here."

Gordon jumped and spun around, accidentally sending himself pinwheeling through the Maldives.

"Whoa, easy." Virgil reached out to steady him. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Gordon had to take a moment to let his heart restart. He hadn't realized he'd been up here long enough for the space elevator to make another trip to and from Tracy Island. He'd also figured that everyone else would be worn out from the rescue, their first in a long, long month.

"You know, for such a big guy, you'd think you would make more noise," he said.

"I can start wearing a bell."

"I know you think you're kidding, but wait till you see what you get on your next birthday."

The moment Gordon's brain caught up to his words, his heart clenched. Yeah, that was sure to be one hell of a celebration, the day only one of the Tracy twins would get to turn another year older. Just because John had chosen years ago to celebrate on their half birthday so that Virgil could have the actual day to himself, didn't mean he wouldn't be at the forefront of everyone's minds. Gordon grimaced.

"Sorry-"

"It's okay," Virgil said, raising a hand. "We can't keep dancing around the subject forever. Especially here, of all places."

Gordon looked around. He'd almost forgotten where they were. Quite a feat, really, considering the fact that they were both floating in a giant holographic globe.

"I don't really know why I came up here," he admitted in answer to Virgil's unspoken question. "Just…this rescue, not having him talking us through it, it felt…"

"I know," Virgil said softly, and the sadness in his eyes was deep and breathtaking. "Believe me, I know. But it was better than not going on the rescue at all."

"I know it was."

Seeing the faces of the submarine crew after he'd towed them safely to the surface, watching them hug each other in relief and a few start laughing with the sheer joy of being alive, had been the best Gordon had felt since John's death. It was every other moment before and after that was miserable. Tension had been high, and tempers short. Scott had started yelling at Gordon when he thought he was taking an unnecessary risk, then Virgil had started yelling at Scott to lay off of Gordon, and it had taken Grandma yelling at all of them to get them to calm down.

"But it doesn't feel right, just…just carrying on. I mean is this just how we're supposed to do things from now on, forever? Just pretend that we're not missing this huge part of what - of who we are?"

"No one's pretending anything, Gordon," Virgil sighed. He glanced around the control room, his gaze lingering on the minimized window that displayed a frozen scene from John's favorite TV show, evidence of what he'd been doing when Gordon had called a lifetime ago. "We all miss John, and we always will."

"It just- it feels like we're saying we didn't need him."

"Yeah? How many times on that mission did you start trying to say something to him, or ask him something, before you caught yourself and remembered?" Virgil held Gordon's startled gaze. "Because I lost track, myself."

Gordon's eyes stung, but he was relieved that it hadn't been just him.

"We're…we're broken, Gords," Virgil went on, but he looked away now. "Just like we were when we lost Mom, and then Dad. We'll never be the same again, and for a little while there I thought this was the time we couldn't come back from it, couldn't keep going. But…Gordon, we're still here. So we figure out a way to make that mean something. It's all we can do."

"I know." And that's what they'd done today. That's what they would keep doing every day. "But man, this sucks."

That drew a huff from Virgil.

"To say the least."

He reached out, managing to snag Gordon and tug him close enough to wrap his arms around him. Gordon thought about putting up a token protest, but getting hugged by Virgil was like being enveloped in sunshine and surrounded by puppies at the same time, and he didn't have it in him to resist. Besides, he knew it was important to Virgil to feel like he was doing something, supporting the others.

He wasn't sure how long they floated there, these two pieces of a broken family, but he knew they couldn't stay like that forever. At last, he squeezed Virgil just a little tighter, and then let go.

"Zero-g hugs are weird," he sniffed, his voice a touch thicker than usual.

Virgil chuckled, and let them drift apart slightly.

"You won't hear me argue," he said. "What do you say we head back down to terra firma?"

"Actually, I guess I did come up here for a reason," Gordon said, remembering. "I was gonna, well…" Man, it felt stupider up here, trying to put his plan into words.

"You were gonna what?" Virgil prompted when he didn't say anything else.

"Well, I mean, no one will be up here for a while, right? It's not like we're just gonna maroon Alan up here, and none of the rest of us are astronauts, so it's gonna stay empty."

"Yeah…" Virgil said slowly, still clearly not understanding where this was headed. Gordon wasn't entirely sure he himself understood either.

"I was just thinking, Eos is kind of like a kid in some ways, right? John's kid, sort of." Virgil's dark eyebrows went up, but Gordon kept forging ahead before he could say anything. "Well, when I was a kid, I would've hated being stuck alone on a space station. I mean, I guess I'd hate that as an adult too, but that's not the point. I was just thinking that Eos might like to come down to Tracy Island to, uh, stay with us."

Virgil was staring at him now, and Gordon felt like an idiot.

Truthfully, he was a little surprised by his own actions. He would never have considered himself a member of the Eos fan club. His introduction to the AI had consisted of standing by helplessly while he listened to her almost killing John. Not something that he found particularly endearing, and that was before Alan had confided in him the next day, needing someone to talk to about what he'd experienced. He'd told Gordon how close to death John had been when he found him, and how the vicious computer program had persisted, continuing its onslaught against its creator, against Alan as he tried to help John.

It was therefore unsurprising that even after John had made friends with it, trust didn't come so easily to the rest of the family. Gordon couldn't speak for the rest of them, but he'd never felt quite secure in John's safety for a long time after that. In all that time though, Eos had been a faithful companion to John, and she'd never given them another reason to question her. Still, it had been hard not to wonder, at times.

But then Stelair Satellite 2-1 had blown up. Gordon had listened to the audio recordings of the moments just before and after; they all had, back when they thought that John was still alive and they might find clues to his whereabouts by studying the explosion. He'd heard how anxious Eos had sounded when John was in trouble. Then he'd watched how hard Eos had been working to find him, delving through vast computer networks, crunching impossible amounts of data in search of anything useful. And when they'd been forced to give up on John, when Gordon had gone for his ill-fated swim in the ocean, Eos had been the one to track him down, to tell Alan where to find him before it was too late.

Now she'd pulled them together, given them the kick in the pants they needed to act instead of drowning in their grief. She was just as responsible for the survival of those 37 joyous submariners today as any human member of International Rescue.

And, perhaps the most significant reason Gordon was up here: she was a piece of John. Whatever she was, John had created her, and he'd cared for her. Gordon couldn't help thinking that he'd want his family to do the same.

"That's very thoughtful, Gordon. I'm sorry for making fun of your fashion sense."

Gordon blinked at the sound of the childlike voice. He tilted his head up to look at the ceiling, despite the fact that 'ceiling' was a relative term up here, and that probably wasn't where Eos' cameras were anyway.

"What exactly did you have to say about my fashion sense?" he demanded.

"Perhaps you should ask that question of Lady Penelope the next time you see her."

Gordon could only splutter indignantly for a moment.

"Yeah, well, your…"

He jumped as a holographic projection of Eos appeared in the air before him. The spacesuit she wore was identical to John's, although her utility belt was purple instead of orange. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin.

"No, do go on," she prompted, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. "I'd love to hear your comments on the way I dress my immaterial avatar."

Gordon scowled at the AI, all four feet of her. For all that he knew she was a super-intelligent computer program, he couldn't bring himself to insult a little girl. Even when she gave him an impish, self-satisfied smile.

"That's what I thought."

He wasn't above sticking his tongue out at her though. And she apparently wasn't above returning the gesture.

"All right," Virgil said, in the voice he usually reserved for dealing with Gordon and Alan when they were up to their typical shenanigans. He looked at Eos, his expression gentling. "We can make it happen, if you want, Eos. But you're also welcome to stay up here and keep running Thunderbird 5."

Eos uncrossed her arms and looked back and forth between Virgil and Gordon. Her expression had gone weirdly…blank. Not in a way that suggested that she was angry, but rather that she didn't know what emotion to display, and had defaulted to neutral.

"I'm touched by the offer," she said at last. "But my utility will be maximized up here. I may be young, in human terms, but despite the appearance I've chosen, I'm not like human children in most regards. I'm quite capable of looking after myself, and I don't experience loneliness, at least not the way you do. And if I do find myself wishing for intelligent company, I'll call…"

"Yeah, you're welcome anytime-"

"…Captain O'Bannon," Eos finished with a smirk.

Her image flickered and vanished, leaving Gordon with nothing to do but splutter at Virgil, who had no business looking like he was fighting a smile.

"You did say she was like John's kid," Virgil said with a shrug. "Guess that comes with his attitude."

There was nothing left for the two of them on the space station, so they made their way back out into the gravity ring, which Eos had deigned to turn on for them. They boarded the space elevator, and one rousing game of rock-paper-scissors later, Virgil was strapping himself into the comfortable main seat while a grumbling Gordon buckled himself into one of the standing-room-only wall harnesses. They disengaged from Thunderbird 5 with a jolt, and Gordon's stomach turned over. He made a grab for the straps of his harness, clinging tight.

"Wanna hold my hand?" Virgil asked him, eyebrow raised.

"Wanna shut up?"

Virgil just smirked, but it wasn't long before a somber mood reclaimed them both. They descended toward the earth in silence for a few minutes.

"Gordon?" Eos didn't bother projecting an image of her avatar this time.

"Yeah?"

"John taught me how to play chess, and I suppose…well, I've rather missed our regular games. He told me you like to play as well…"

Gordon's throat went tight again. Mom had tried to teach all of the boys how to play chess, but only Gordon and John had been interested. It was one of the only things that could actually make Gordon sit still for any length of time when he was little, and therefore one of the only means he had of spending time with John. Four years his elder, John had won most of those early games, not the type to go easy on his little brother. But he'd also pretended not to notice when Gordon moved the pieces around when he thought John wasn't looking, so things evened out.

They'd stopped playing for a long time after Mom died though, neither ready to face the memories of her that came with the game. It hadn't been until Gordon's lengthy hospital stay after his hydrofoil accident that John had shown up with their battered old chess set under his arm. Neither of them had said much, but Gordon had been grateful for the challenge, for the distraction from the pain of his healing body and dashed dreams. John still hadn't let him win though.

"Yeah, Eos," Gordon said now. "I do." He didn't make her ask the next question. "Tonight at seven?"

"You're on. I hope you play better than you dress."

Jeff's relationship with sleep had long ago grown tenuous, but tonight it had finally deserted him altogether. He suspected it might never return.

He was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the force field, his forehead resting against the barrier. His aching eyes were fixed on the figure sleeping just feet away, unblinking as he tracked the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He'd unconsciously timed his own breath to the rhythm, because each time John's chest sank, Jeff couldn't breathe until it started to rise again. His very existence seemed to have narrowed down to that motion.

They'd killed John that day.

The pneumonia had been sapping John's strength at an alarming rate. Worse though, it had diminished his lung capacity, which his tormentors had failed to account for. Jeff had been keeping his promise, facing away from the projection, but he'd heard the sudden cursing from Barrett's men. Worse, though, was what he hadn't heard, which was the rattling wheeze of John's breath. Unable to stand not knowing, he'd turned to see the sudden frenzy of activity, one of the men doing compressions on John's motionless chest while another vanished from view and then reappeared with an automatic defibrillator. They'd had to resuscitate John, and for the worst two minutes of Jeff's life, he hadn't been sure they would succeed.

John hadn't said a word about the incident once he'd been returned to their cell. For the first time though, he also hadn't had so much as looked at his father. He'd barely even moved from where the guards had dumped him, just curled up and shut his eyes, shivering. Jeff had tried talking to him, telling him another innocuous story, but his voice had faltered, his throat closing. The only sound since then had been John's labored breathing and the occasional hacking cough. He had fallen asleep eventually, but that wasn't an option for Jeff.

The intensity of his vigil meant that he noticed the second John's breathing started to speed up. At first, he thought it meant that John was waking up, although he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. But John's eyes remained closed, and then he cried out, making Jeff jump. He clambered to his feet as John lashed out, flailing against an unseen enemy. He shouted again, a terrified, pained cry.

"John!" Jeff called to him. "Wake up, son, it's just a nightmare. John!"

But there was no indication that John had heard him. He continued to thrash, his eyes darting wildly beneath their lids.

"No, please!" he whimpered. His entire body was shaking, his chest heaving. "Stop, I can't- please!"

Jeff pounded his fist against the force field, calling out to his son again. He'd always had a loud, commanding voice, good for keeping subordinates in line or wrangling wayward children in a crowd. In that moment, though, it did nothing, still not enough to draw John from whatever horrors were plaguing his sleep.

Either John was so deep in a fevered haze that he couldn't hear his father, or…Jeff cast a suspicious look at the faint shimmer in the air. Could the barrier have been rigged somehow, to block the travel of sound from one side? Was Barrett really that devious?

"John!"

It was no use. He wasn't getting through to him. Jeff could only watch, helpless to save his son from even this.

"Dad." Before Jeff could feel more than a split second of relief, he realized that John was still asleep, his voice terrified and pleading. "Dad, help me."

Jeff slumped down to the floor again, dropping his head into his hands. For the first time since his captivity had begun, he broke down in tears.

There was little point in waking up from nightmares anymore. Not when his days held the same horrors as his nights, and the line between them grew blurred by fever. But it was still a relief when sleep released John, even as awareness brought with it the aches and chills and suffocating pressure of his illness. He couldn't remember exactly what last night's dream had been about now, but he knew it'd been a doozy.

He sat up with a groan and a painful cough, propping his body against the wall. Being upright eased his breathing a little. Not much, but it was something. He wrapped his arms around himself as a painful shiver wracked his body. His chest was absolutely on fire, worse than anything the pneumonia had thrown at him yet, and he knew that some of his ribs had to be broken from…from the chest compressions that had helped revived him. Jesus.

He wished he could just take a deep breath, but he'd learned the hard way that even trying was a bad idea. So he just closed his eyes for a moment, did his best to settle himself. He wished he could just think, but his mind had been growing slow and murky. At last, he looked up, searching out his father. He hadn't quite been able to manage it the day before, knowing that he didn't have it in him to hide the defeat he was feeling, the hopelessness…the regret.

Because part of him wished that Barrett's men hadn't succeeded in bringing him back.

Dad was already awake, sitting on the other side of the barrier. John didn't quite understand the look his father was giving him. His eyes were rimmed with red, from exhaustion or…no, surely just exhaustion. John studied him in concern.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice coming out thin and raspy.

For some reason, the question made Dad's expression twist. He placed his palm against the force field, and leaned his forehead beside it. He took a deep breath.

"I am so proud of you, John," he said. "I don't know exactly what's gonna happen next, but I need you to know that, and that I am so, so sorry that this is happening to you because of me."

"It's not your fault," John told him at once, putting as much of his remaining strength as he could into the words. All it did was trigger another agonizing coughing fit, but when it was over, he looked at Dad again. "This is all on Barrett."

As if he had been summoned by the sound of his name, the door behind John slid open and Barrett appeared, flanked by the usual guards. There were only two of them this time. John was pretty sure he would have been insulted by that if he had the energy.

"Good morning," Barrett said. He flashed John a cruel smile. "Sleep well?"

John just blinked up at him, unable to muster up the will for a smart response. Barrett's smile didn't fade as he stepped aside to let the guards past him. Despite the routine of the situation, John couldn't help flinching away from the armed men as they stooped to grab him, his broken body already bracing for what was to come. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to survive another day of this.

"No, wait!"

Now that wasn't routine. Dad's shout gave the guards pause, and John looked up at his father. He was standing with his hands pressed to the force field, eyes locked on Barrett.

"Leave him alone," he said. "I'll do it."

Barrett blinked, his smile slipping for an instant, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, after all this time.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," he said.

"I'll do it," Dad repeated, glowering at Barrett. "I'll do it, okay, you piece of shit. I'll design your weapons. Just don't touch him again."

"Dad…" John said weakly. But he suddenly found he didn't have the words of protest left in him, and he hated himself for it.

"Listen to your father," Barrett snapped at him.

But then he smiled at Dad.

"I'm glad you're finally seeing things my way," he said. "And to show you that I'm not as unreasonable as you seem to think, I'll even let you have a few minutes with your son before you get started."

He left, and Dad tested the barrier that had been separating him from John for so long. When he found it absent at last, he rushed to his son's side, kneeling beside him. He pressed the back of one hand to John's forehead, and checked his pulse with the other. He frowned.

"Just hang in there," he said, voice laced with concern. "I'm gonna try to get you some medicine."

"Dad, you shouldn't've…"

"Don't," Dad admonished. "I can't…" His expression twisted. "I can't watch that again, John. I just can't."

John closed his eyes, forgetting himself and trying to take a deep breath. It stabbed at his chest, and he gasped, coughing. His eyes watered with the pain of it, and he grasped blindly for his father's hand, squeezing it tight.

"I'm sorry," he whispered miserably. "I should've been stronger."

"John, you've been stronger than I ever could've imagined," Dad told him. "Stronger than you ever should've had to be. It's my turn now."

He looped an arm behind John's shoulders and helped him sit and then stand, moving towards the bed at the back of the cell. John's legs felt like putty beneath him, and he had to lean more on his father than he would have liked. He certainly didn't feel strong.

Seven faces flashed through his mind, the seven people whose deaths he'd presided over. How many more would be joining them? How many more people would suffer for his failings? How many others like…like…No. No.

He didn't remember their names.

A vise closed around John's heart, and his breathing sped painfully. No, surely, surely he hadn't forgotten…Ava DuMoir, Tariq…Tariq Daher, Gui…Gui…John pressed his palms to his forehead, as if he could force the information from his wasting mind. There had been a girl, nineteen years old, the age Gordon had been at the time. She'd just gotten her pilot's license, and had lost one of her engines to a flock of geese on her first solo flight. She'd crashed in the Catskills, and her chest had been crushed on impact. She'd still had enough control over her body to call for International Rescue though. Ten minutes later, she'd died with a choked plea for John not to leave her alone.

And John didn't remember her name.

"Easy, John, don't cry," Dad said. John hadn't realized he was, but now he didn't quite see how he was supposed to stop. "It's gonna be all right."

John had never known his father to be a liar, but he couldn't make himself believe that one.

Virgil wasn't sure he would have believed it possible a month ago, but they were finding a new normal. International Rescue was back up and running in earnest, taking on as many rescues as they had before they'd lost John. Eos had taken over running ops, although despite her best efforts, she still wasn't as good at certain things, like anticipating the needs and questions of the others, tempering the idiotic ideas that arose, knowing who needed a break and when. In short, she wasn't John.

But, on the surface at least, they were managing. They were carrying out their father's mission, honoring their brother's legacy.

And if a somber cloud still hung over Tracy Island, if tempers were short and conversations shorter, if the occasional shouting drew everyone into someone's bedroom after a nightmare, then that was the cost of mourning. In some ways, John had become more present in death than he had been in life, for the absence of him permeated the very atmosphere at home, stifling and impossible to ignore.

Some other things had changed, of course. Scott had a tendency to come along on rescues where he wasn't needed, and when he couldn't go, he'd send Kayo as added security. It felt rather like having a babysitter, but not even Alan had complained (much) about the new oversight. They all knew where the concern came from.

Today actually marked the first day that Virgil and Gordon were on a rescue by themselves, taking care of a pair of divers who'd been trapped by an underwater rockslide. Kayo had been called out earlier to deal with a stranded hiker, and Scott had flown out with Thunderbird 2, but then Eos had sent him to a collapsing water tower.

Despite Scott's fears, the rescue was going fine without bodyguards. Gordon had located the divers without difficulty, and now he was picking his way to them using Thunderbird 4's grasping arms. Virgil was keeping a careful eye on things from above, but Gordon had things well in hand. Maybe Scott would start to ease up a little after-

"Mayday, mayday, mayday! Tracy Island to Thunderbirds 1 and 2. Come in, please!"

Virgil's heart dropped into the sea below at his grandmother's call. Grandma Tracy never panicked, but the fear in her voice was unmistakeable.

"What's wrong, Grandma?" Scott demanded, beating Virgil to the words.

"Brains and I were just locked in the workshop by a couple of armed thugs. The Hood's men."

"Are either of you hurt?" Virgil asked.

"No, we're fine. But the Hood is here, and Alan is upstairs."

"Go, Thunderbird 2," Gordon said at once. "I'll finish this up on my own and wait for you to pick me up."

"FAB," Virgil said, already engaging his thrusters.

Not having Thunderbird 4's module attached wreaked havoc on his ship's aerodynamics, but the decreased weight meant that he wasn't really slowed down. It still felt like he was moving at a crawl though as he raced toward the island that had never felt farther away. The thought of Alan and the Hood in the same place made his heart feel like it was frozen in a block of ice.

"I'm on my way back too," Scott said. "I got things stabilized enough here for the locals to deal with. Thunderbird Shadow?"

"I'm halfway around the world," Kayo said, the frustration audible in her voice. "It'll be at least two hours before I can get there."

"We'll handle it," Virgil said. "Grandma, what exactly happened?"

"We don't know. Brains was just showing me a new prototype he was excited about, and suddenly these hooligans showed up and locked us in. They had those silly masks on, the ones that make 'em look like sith lords."

"Can you get out?" Kayo asked.

"I'm t-t-trying now," said Brains, his voice sounding more distant than Grandma's had. "But the lock on the door appears to be j-jammed. We might have to c-cut through it."

"Just be careful," Virgil warned. "It sounds like you're safe in there, but the moment you try to leave, you'll be in danger."

"We're not gonna just stay put while my grandson is at the mercy of that bald creep who's tried to kill all of you more than once!"

Yeah, Virgil could understand that. He coaxed an extra burst of speed from his ship.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he said, voice tight. "Eos, can you see anything?"

There was no response.

"Eos? Can you hear me?" Still nothing. Virgil's knuckles whitened on his controls. "Tracy Island, can you reach Eos?"

This time, there was no response from Grandma or Brains either. Virgil's heart sank that much lower.

"He must have figured out how to disable the signals from base," Kayo said after a tense moment of silence.

No one wanted to argue with her, because the alternative was that Grandma and Brains couldn't talk at all.

"We should've seen this coming," Scott said after a minute or two, sounding angry with himself. "The Hood's known where the island is for months; he could've been planning something this whole time."

"What exactly could we have done about it, Scott?" Virgil asked. "It's not like we were gonna just pick up and move."

"We could've strengthened our defenses."

"Don't you think Kayo's already made them as strong as possible?"

"You don't have to defend me, Virgil," Kayo said. "Scott's right, we should've been prepared for something like this."

"We can worry about that later," Virgil said. "Right now, we need to focus on Alan."

The reminder sobered all of them. Virgil checked his gauges, but he was already asking all he could from his engines. His instruments told him that he was still a little under ten long minutes away. He clenched his jaw, fighting down panic that wouldn't help anyone. Trying to, anyway.

The twins had always been the most levelheaded in the family. They were the voices of reason, the ones who could take a step back and assess even the worst of situations with calm poise, who could reel in the others when they threatened to go flying off the handle. Virgil had been struggling to maintain control over his emotions recently though, and never more so than in that moment.

Not Alan, too, please not Alan not Alan…

At long last, Tracy Island loomed on the horizon, and Virgil leaned forward in his seat. A dark shape stood out against the blue sky above the island, the unmistakeable profile of a ship.

"Scott-"

"I see it."

Virgil glanced at his instruments, spotting the signal of Thunderbird 1 approaching from his left. The two of them would reach the island at about the same time. All they could do now was pray that it would be soon enough.

"That has to be the Hood's ship," Virgil said.

"Yeah, but wait, is it-? It looks like he's leaving."

Virgil's stomach lurched, and he squinted through his windshield. Sure enough, while the profile of Tracy Island was steadily growing, the Hood's ship seemed to be shrinking in size, drawing farther away.

"Why would he…what if he's got Alan?"

It seemed a terrifyingly real possibility. Just as terrifying was the possibility of the alternatives. For if the Hood hadn't taken Alan, then what had he left behind?

Please.

"See if you can catch up to him, just in case, while I cover the island. But be careful, Scott. If the Hood has Alan, there's no telling what he might do to him if he feels threatened."

And even if he didn't, they'd already seen just how proficient the Hood's defenses could be.

After one final agonizing minute, Thunderbird 2 was reaching Tracy Island. Virgil didn't have the time to waste on a normal landing. He just switched on Thunderbird 2's autopilot and hooked a cable to his belt before diving from the ship, slowing his descent just before his feet hit the concrete that ringed the pool. He disconnected himself in an instant and sprinted towards the house, dreading what he might find.

"Alan!" he shouted as he ran. "Alan, are you here? Alan!"

His heart turned over when he spotted the figure standing unhurt in the middle of the dining area. Alan looked up at the sound of his shout.

"Virgil, I'm o-" was as far as he got before Virgil was upon him, gathering him in a crushing hug. He let out a muffled squeak. "Can't - breathe - bro."

Virgil released him, but kept a grip on his shoulders, pulling back to study him.

"Do you have him? Is he all right?" Scott's worried voice came over the comm on Virgil's wrist.

"I'm fine, Scott!" Alan insisted. "He didn't hurt me."

"Good. I'm not gonna be so considerate when I catch up to him."

Alan frowned at Virgil in confusion.

"Scott's going after the Hood," Virgil explained.

"He's not gonna catch him. He planned all of this."

"Then why would he let you go?"

"He said he just wanted to talk to me."

"Talk to you? Why? About what?"

Alan just blinked up at him, his blue eyes wide and shocked. Virgil looked him over again, but he really did look unharmed. A moment later though, he understood.

"He told me he knows what happened to John."

A/N: I did promise a rough ride, didn't I?

Just a few more chapters to go, now. Thank you so much to everyone who has made writing this such an enjoyable experience :)