Thanks once again to all those who left a review! Really appreciate them.

This chapter deals with exposition a bit more, so although its light on action, it goes a long way in explaining our boys.

Light, yet insistent, knocking awoke the twelve year old from a soundless dream where he replayed Ruddy's death on a loop along with the other horrors from that night. The knocking came again, a little louder this time and Alan turned to look at John. The older Tracy was fast asleep and showing no signs of waking. With a huff, Alan pulled himself from out of his brother's embrace and staggered to the door. His eyes widened in surprise when he opened it.

"Hiya, kid," Scott grinned, stepping into the room and ruffling Alan's hair. Virgil smiled at his youngest brother from the hallway, but pushed Gordon after Scott before he came in himself. Gordon offered Alan a weak smile, looking exhausted and mumbling something about room service.

"Better not, Gordo," Scott told him, scanning the room out of habit. "We want to maintain a low profile."

"Right," Gordon sighed, sinking into the single, plush chair in the corner of the room.

"Here."

Virgil handed his second youngest brother a candy bar, which Gordon tore into ravenously. Scott wordlessly gave him a second and tapped a silver case, which held a couple of shots of insulin. Gordon scowled, shaking his head and practically inhaling Scott's offering. Alan watched him uneasily.

"Are you alright?"

Gordon nodded with a lopsided grin and a sudden thought struck Alan. "Scott, d'ya think John might be ill too? He was talking strangely earlier, and he didn't wake up when you knocked."

Scott glanced at Virgil, who immediately moved to check on the middle Tracy boy.

"I'm sure he's fine, Alan," Scott soothed, receiving a nod from Virgil.

"Really? Cos he wasn't making much sense after he called you. Actually, before he called. He said he didn't need phones," Alan added, scowling at Scott as if it was somehow his fault.

Scott smiled. "He did, huh?"

"Yeah," Alan nodded. "Then he started saying all sorts of weird things after he called you."

"Yeah," Gordon grinned. "He can get a little screwy when-"

"Wait," Scott interrupted, turning back to Alan. "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing," Alan grumbled. "I don't understand what's going on, I don't know what you're talking about and I don't know why I keep dreaming the same thing all the time!"

A heavy silence filled the room and Alan realised what he said.

"I … it's just …"

"What do you dream about, Allie?" Scott asked softly, reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"The fire," the boy whispered, caught by his brother's eyes and unable to break the connection. "I dream about the fire and … other stuff. Always the same."

"It could be post traumatic stress," Virgil hedged quietly.

Scott didn't look away from his youngest brother. "When was the first time you had this dream?"

"The night I fell." Alan paused. "Scott, I thought it was cos I'd hit my head! But then the fire started and … it came true."

As expected, Scott inspected the nearly healed wound on his brother's temple, before dropping his hands with a sigh.

"Alright, Alan," he said. "I think it's time. Sit down."

"Oh boy," Gordon grinned. "This oughta be good."

"Quiet, Gordy," Scott reprimanded him. He turned back to the youngest Tracy and took a deep breath. This wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd have to handle, he'd been more than willing to leave this conversation to Dad. They hadn't planned on this, but he'd simply have to make do.

"Scott?" Alan's voice was soft, unsure. "What's going on?"

Scott was silent a moment longer, trying to marshal his scattered thoughts. How the hell was he meant to start this?

"Well," he coughed. "The thing is … you know mom died in a fire?"

Alan was surprised. What had all this to do with mom?

"It wasn't an ordinary fire," Scott explained.

Alan frowned. He felt regret, loss. He felt anger and fear. The strange thing was, none of those feelings were from him. He'd never remembered his mother, it was hard to miss her, or feel angry that she'd died. He'd never been afraid that he could lose someone, like the others had, because he'd never known her to lose her. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly feeling it all now. Scott continued, oblivious, and his words brought Alan back to the situation sharply.

"I'm sure you'd recognise the traits of that fire, Alan. You came face to face with it just recently."

"Mom died like Ruddy did?" Alan asked, breathless.

Scott nodded. "Yeah. She was targeted. Ah, because she was …" he trailed off helplessly, glancing at Virgil.

"Alan, mom was special," the other man said, taking up the challenge. "And some … people … didn't like that."

"What?" Alan asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh good grief," Gordon sighed. "What these morons are trying to sugar coat for you is; mom was an angel and some demon had it in for her."

Pandemonium broke out, Alan demanding Gordon be serious. Scott started in on him too, furious with the way Gordon had handled it and the boy himself was loudly defending his method. Virgil stepped away from his brothers, pinching the bridge of his nose in an unknowing imitation of his father.

"Guys," he said quietly. "You're gonna wake John."

No-one listened and Virgil sighed heavily. Waking the middle Tracy child while he was in this state was going to be detrimental to everyone's health. John, because he needed time out to recover from his monumental effort, and the other's because John needed time out to recover from his monumental effort. If he woke now, John was going to be pissed. Very pissed. And not at all concerned with who knew it. The drain in John's energy not only resulted in splitting migraines and the ability to see psychic energy, but it gave him unstable mood swings. If he woke up now, he'd probably weigh in with his fists before he even knew what he was doing, laughing hysterically.

Virgil shuddered. It was the laughter that always got to him.

Doing the only thing he could, and perhaps in a way that would bring the boys back to the topic at hand, Virgil created a field of energy around his sleeping younger brother. Naturally, it was Alan, his emphatic nature picking up on the slightest shiver of discord running through his brothers, that noticed it first.

"Virgil?"

His shocked voice silenced the others, while the breathless, frightened way he spoke tore at Virgil's heart.

"It's alright, Alan," Virgil said quietly, his famed calm in place. "John needs to sleep right now. I'm just protecting him."

"How?" Alan's voice was still shaky, his huge eyes widening further. "Virgil, how'd you do that?"

Scott took charge again, moving to stand behind his youngest brother and speaking quietly, so as to not spook the boy. "What Gordon said was true, Alan. Mom was an angel. She passed on some of her people's gifts to us. Virgil can create solid energy. It's not something he should do for long or often, as the strain can stress his facial structures."

Alan, his own, as yet undisclosed talents shining through, understood. "The nose bleeds?"

"They're the beginning, yes," Scott agreed. "Alright, Virge. Lower it. We'll be quiet."

Virgil nodded, and the shimmering wall vanished.

"You really flew 'Air Gordon'?" Alan asked, trembling.

Gordon grinned. "It's not really flying, Allie. It's translocating. I can be anywhere, anytime I want. Whatever I'm holding, I carry with me. People, objects, anything. When I heard John, I went to Scott and Virgil and brought them here with me."

"Again, it's a talent he shouldn't overuse," Scott said, the warning low in his voice. "Gordon's metabolism's pretty shaky; he burns off too much fat and sugar for it to cope with."

"The shock thing?" Alan asked, thinking of the times his brother had suffered with hypoglycaemic shock. The family had announced Gordon was diabetic around Alan's fourth birthday.

"That's right. It's why he eats so much and why we all carry candy and insulin with us," Scott replied.

"And John?"

"John's a psychic. Mostly he can pick up on group thoughts, but if he really concentrates he can get a single, individual mind. Earlier he reversed his power, projecting a thought to us instead, something I'd rather he didn't do. It's much more difficult for him and it causes quite a lot of strain."

Alan finally turned to face him. "What can you do?"

Scott smiled. "I can move objects with my mind," he revealed. "I can bend them, lift them, turn them. I can force them to my will."

Alan smiled at Scott's enthusiasm, but had to ask. "What does it do to you?"

"Scott passes out," Virgil answered.

Alan turned, unimpressed, back to his eldest brother. "You faint?"

Scott glowered, while Gordon sniggered in the background.

"It's a little more complicated than that, Sprout," Virgil explained.

"Not much more," Gordon laughed.

"Alright, that's enough," Scott sighed, having obviously been through the teasing many times before. In truth he often suffered concussions, but felt there was no need to worry Alan unnecessarily. He looked his kid brother over carefully.

"We've been wondering for years what you would turn out to do," he said. "I thought it'd go more down the empath route. You've always been good at guessing peoples feelings."

"Now we know. Precognition," Virgil smiled, the mechanic in him needing to label his brother's talent.

"I think it may be more than that."

The four spun to John's bed. The man was lying on his back staring at the ceiling, as pale as the sheets beneath him. "I caught some of his dreams, guys. I don't think he remembers half of them."

"What are you doing awake?" Virgil asked, sitting on the bed and lying a hand on his brother's forehead. It was a useless gesture medically as there was nothing wrong with John's temperature and Virgil had known that, but it was a comfort to both of them and John allowed his brother the touch.

"Relax, I got enough time out to be civil," John grumbled. "I won't hit anyone, promise."

"Really, cos that was a big shout, John," Virgil fretted.

"Yeah, my ears are still ringing," Gordon agreed.

"The light's gone," John replied, and his brother's relaxed.

"What does that mean?" Alan asked, almost afraid of the answer. Did it mean John was blind?

"John gets migraines, as well as uncontrollable mood swings," Virgil explained. "The migraines allow him to see psychic energy, which is really painful when there's one in the room. As it is, his own energy flows around the place, so he's never going to escape it."

Scott nudged his younger brother out of the way to take his seat on John's bed. The man was still not looking at anyone, fixed on the ceiling. "John? What did you mean about Alan's dreams?"

Alan crept forward also, curious.

"I think our little Sprout's got a much stronger clairvoyance than precog alone," John answered, a little woodenly. Alan's stomach clenched. He'd frightened his brother with his dreams.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted. "I didn't know I was dreaming! Except about the lady on the bridge and that wall."

John finally turned to look at him, his gaze connecting with the boy. "It's my fault. I tapped into your mind, kid. I wanted to see for myself what you were dreaming of, since I couldn't get a straight answer from you."

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to frighten you," Alan cried. He choked back a sob, unsure if the emotion was completely his.

Scott touched John's shoulder. "Tone it down, Johnny," he said softly. "You're gonna give the kid nightmares."

Alan forced himself to calm down also, not wanting Scott to think he couldn't handle what was happening. Some of the feelings went away and Alan opened his eyes in amazement. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," John replied, dredging a smile up from somewhere. "It was all you, Allie."

"What's this all mean?" Gordon, ever impatient, demanded.

"It means," Scott sighed, "that I was right. Alan's an empath."

"As well as a clairvoyant," John reminded them. "And it works both ways. He made me feel calm just then. He can project his feelings onto others."

"Handy," Gordon mused.

"Dangerous," Scott argued.

"Never mind that for now," Virgil once more steered the conversation straight. "What did you mean about the clairvoyance, John?"

"He's a medium," the man replied. "He can see the future, but I think he can also watch the past. If the memory is strong enough, he'll pick up on it. It's not as strong as the future, which is why it kicked in subconsciously."

Scott watched as John frowned. "What else?"

"I could hear voices, Scott. They wanted to talk to Alan. All of them. They could sense him and they demanded his attention. They got quite angry when he wouldn't give it to them."

Alan shivered. He didn't remember that, and that was unsettling enough alone.

"Do you know who these people were?" Scott asked.

"Use your head," Gordon snorted. "He's talking about ghosts."

John nodded. "Alan's got all the traits of a strong clairvoyant. He's gonna have to work hard to get them under control."

"Why don't I remember that?" Alan asked, worried.

Scott reached out to the boy, who joined his brothers on the bed. "That's probably our fault."

"How?"

"Mom gave us these gifts as she died. We were old enough, mostly," and here Scott shot Gordon a little look, "to control them, and work on them. But you were just a baby and … well, you were plagued, kiddo. Day and night. The spirits wanted you to help them, wherever you went. There weren't many at home, but outside? You hated it. And you were too young to communicate properly with them."

"We had some seriously pissed off ghosts on our hands," Gordon remembered.

"They could only see you as someone to communicate their needs too, they didn't realise you were a baby," Virgil explained. "They got angry. It's a base emotion, and those are often the only ones left to them."

"We couldn't bear to see you so upset, and with everything else going on, Dad thought it best to … protect you," Gordon said quietly.

"Protect me how?"

"He got your powers suppressed. Don't ask me how or by whom, I've no idea," Scott shrugged. "He said when you were old enough, you'd break down the walls. And that you'd probably not have the same talents."

"Well, it looks like he does," John sighed. "Trust me on this. Alan's got more talent than he knows what to do with."

"Empathy, precognition, memory sensitivity, spiritual communication … that's it so far, right?" Virgil listed.

"So far? What more do you think's lurking in his head?" Scott demanded, worried.

"Well, for a start, we have no idea what his price is," Virgil responded reasonably. "I mean, no nose bleeds, headaches or bright lights, right Sprout?"

Alan shook his head. "No. Nothing. Except I can't remember what John saw."

"That might be it," Gordon suggested. "A little bit of amnesia. I mean, he's bombarded with other people's memories and demands, right? If I remember rightly, and I'm not sure I do, spirits don't really talk. They much prefer to show. That mean's they're forcing their thoughts on Alan, making him relive what they've been through."

"Right," Virgil agreed. "His brain must get so scrambled he can't remember who he is. He blocks it out, to give himself time to right himself."

Scott had been watching the boy while the others had been speaking. Alan looked ready to drop. It wasn't surprising, after all, he'd had a bad time of it recently, not much chance for a good sleep and it was well after midnight.

"Alright, guys. Time to crash. Lights out in ten."

It was his 'big brother' voice, the same no nonsense tone that had sent his younger siblings off to bed when they had been small, and programmed as they were, the others reluctantly obeyed. As no one had anything with him save John, it didn't really take anytime before everyone had settled in. Scott placed Alan next to John, the two blonds easily settling into the close, comfortable positions they had adopted earlier. Scott oversaw his other brothers into piles of blankets on the floor before making a nest for himself. He surveyed each of them quickly, once he'd turned off the lights with a thought.

John had slipped back to sleep easily. Exhausted, his body had been all too happy to obey Scott's order. Virgil, although having built the field around John for a few moments, wasn't tested the same way his brother's had been, but still, the night had been long and he was a heavy sleeper anyway. Virgil, the sleeping bear, had a reputation for liking his bed. Gordon, understandably, was shattered. He'd been yawning for the last half of the conversation anyway, ready to curl up and bury himself under a pile of blankets. When Scott had mentioned bed, he'd been the first to make his nest.

Scott's attention turned back to the bed. Alan had sprawled on his stomach, his favourite sleeping position, one of John's hands resting on his back. The younger boy had pressed his side to John's chest, seeking comfort. Scott's gaze lingered on his youngest brother's face, turned from John and displayed to the rest of the room. Even in sleep, he didn't look completely relaxed. The events of the last week had taken their toll on the little Tracy, he'd lost weight, he was pale, his face looked gaunt and a permanent frown creased his smooth brow.

Scott sighed, hoping the dreams would leave the kid alone for tonight. If what they thought was true, the most frightening aspect of Alan regaining his powers, he was going to need all the rest he could get. With a small sigh and a lot on his mind, Scott fell asleep.