I forgot to mention - I don't own Thunderbirds. I'm far too young!!

"Will you be quiet?"

"Me be quiet? You be quiet!"

Scott sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot this morning. He forcibly pulled Gordon away from Virgil, sending the older of the pair a frown. The bigger man, broad and strong while his brothers were tall and leanly muscled, took a deep breath.

"Sorry, Gordy. I didn't mean to snap."

Just an inch taller than Virgil but much slighter, Gordon nodded sharply. "Yeah, I know. Me too."

With tentative smiles, they turned away and back to their respective tasks. Scott took a moment to let his breath out slowly, before checking on the pair on the bed. Both the blond Tracy's remained out for the count, thankfully, despite the bickering.

There was no harm in it, for the moment. Virgil was testy at this time of the morning on a good day, and he'd had little sleep and less coffee, while Gordon's temper could be due to inactivity and his late night sugar crash. Which was why Scott had organised them into recon and scrounging, respectively. An idle Tracy was trouble, as their father often remarked.

The thought of Dad brought a pang he hadn't expected and Scott was pleased when Virgil and Gordon left for their missions. Alone, so to speak, he had a chance to think beyond the immediate.

Alan had mentioned a wall last night, which Scott's mind had labelled under 'interesting'. After what John had revealed, however, that had moved swiftly into 'important' and once Alan had recharged and had a good meal, Scott intended to know about that wall. Step one completed, Scott moved on.

They couldn't stay in John's room, it was stupid to imagine no one would see the other four at some point. No, they needed somewhere else, somewhere with less security and interest, where there wouldn't be anybody enquiring if everything was to their satisfaction and insisting on changing the towels twice a day. Scott briefly courted the idea of fleeing the city, but he and the boys were suited to city life. Here they could blend in, become part of the crowd and they knew where to run – even if they hadn't been in Boston in their lives before, they'd know where they could turn. Out in some drive through town where the main street was the only street, they'd stand out horribly, at least until they could adapt to the lifestyle, at any rate.

But a move to a quieter place was definitely the next step – possibly even before he got to quiz Alan. Who knew what the kid might reveal? What horrors lay beneath his eyelids waiting to be relived? Alan wasn't going to like it, Scott was damn sure of that. Turning to the object of his thoughts, Scott hid his surprise as large cobalt eyes gazed back at him.

"Morning," he smiled softly, checking to make sure John was still asleep. Alan didn't return the greeting. He watched his oldest brother a little warily, untangling himself from John's grasp with distracted tenderness.

"You've got that look," he accused Scott.

"What look?"

"That look. You're worried and you're thinking of a plan."

Scott, who had no idea he processed such a look, raised an eyebrow. "Well," he allowed, "I do have a plan."

Almost to himself, Alan nodded. "I knew it."

Finally free of John, the youngest of the Tracy sons stood. He seemed to wobble for a moment, and concerned, Scott rose to steady him, but Alan pushed away from him, glaring.

"You okay?" Scott pressed, backing off all the same.

Alan nodded, regarding his sleeping brother a moment. "John's really tired, isn't he?"

"Last night took a lot of effort," Scott reminded him. Alan looked confused, before the memory of what he had learnt widened his eyes. Uncharacteristically, Alan was quiet, giving Scott a cause for concern.

"Allie?"

The boy forgot about his need for independence and hurried into Scott's waiting arms. His face hidden in Scott's chest, Allie spoke plaintively.

"Where's Dad, Scott?"

The eldest Tracy brother shut his eyes, glad Alan couldn't see his expression and at a loss to answer the boy. "I don't know, kiddo," he managed eventually.

Alan broke the stretching silence. "Who's the man in the fire?"

Scott pulled back to look at him. He didn't want to frighten Alan, but he knew that keeping him ignorant couldn't help. Alan needed to be aware, if not of the whole truth.

"He's a demon, Al," he said slowly.

"He killed Mom," Alan murmured, refusing to meet his brother's gaze. "And he killed Ruddy."

Scott floundered, wondering what to say. "Demons exist for chaos," he began.

"What if he followed me?" Alan raised huge, frightened eyes to Scott.

"Then we send him back to hell."

The brothers held eye contact and Alan saw that for once he was being treated as an equal and not being babied. Despite all his complaining on the subject, Alan found he wouldn't have minded a little babying just now. Still, looking into Scott's strong, confident face, Alan lifted his chin and nodded.

Breaking the tension, Scott reached out to ruffle his brother's unruly hair. Much like Virgil's, Alan's hair curled when it reached a certain length and, much like Virgil, Alan had learnt it lent him a certain charm. Alan ducked out from under his hand, swatting at him.

"Let me guess," Scott smiled, "I'm wearing my 'big brother' look."

"Oh, that's not just yours," Alan told him airily, hitching John's borrowed sweatpants back up to his waist. "You all have that one."

Scott supposed there wasn't much of an argument for him there. Each of the boys were protective of each other, and of course it was easier to be overtly protective if those brother's were younger than yourself. Gordon only just got to pull rank, having only one younger sibling.

"Go get dressed. Gordon's gone for food," Scott added, sensing a fight from the youngster. Scott didn't need to be psychic to read his younger brothers, experience had given him a good handle on all of them. True to form, Alan scowled, but obeyed and Scott turned back to John, once more surprised to find himself confronted by open blue eyes, two shades lighter than Alan's and his owns'. Again, Scott successfully hid his expression. Being the oldest meant a reputation in its own right, after all.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Hot. Alan's a freaking radiator," John grumbled.

Scott shrugged, not put out by the third bad mood he'd encountered that morning. A shower, some food, a cup of coffee and last nights ill effects would be cured, he was sure.

"You're the one that wanted cuddles," he teased, instead.

"Alan was scared," John informed him, even though he knew neither of them were buying it.

"Hmm," Scott agreed.

John changed the subject. "What's the plan?"

"Plan?"

"You're Captain Next Step. You always have a plan," John pointed out, his mood beginning to balance off.

Scott scowled. "You're beginning to sound awfully like Alan."

"It's your own fault," John replied sweetly. "You brought us up to believe you could do anything. Is it our fault we fell for it?"

"I knew the hero worship would backfire on me one day."

"So, the plan?"

"The plan is breakfast. While we discuss the next step of the plan," Scott told him, glancing at the door. "I wonder where those two have gotten to? They should be back soon."

"They're in the elevator," Alan informed him, emerging from the bathroom in last nights clothing. "I need new clothes," he added, wrinkling his nose as he gingerly picked at his tee shirt. Meeting his brother's bemused and uncomprehending stares, he shrugged a little self-consciously. "I've been wearing the same things since Friday."

"I don't know about John, but I'm more than a little intrigued that you think the boys are in the elevator," Scott told him.

"Oh." Alan paused to consider it, as if he hadn't realised he'd said something strange. "It was just a hunch. I'm probably wrong, they'd be here by-"

He broke off as someone knocked on the door.

"-now."

Scott shot a look at John, who, true to type, shrugged laconically. Scott crossed the room to the door, peeking through the eyehole. He swallowed, opening the door. Both his other brothers were holding takeout bags, smelling strongly of coffee and pastries, Virgil also holding what appeared to be a nearly empty coffee cup of a different make and looking a lot less belligerent.

"Here," he said, handing across his bag. Catching his only big brother's expression, Virgil frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Did you two get the elevator together?"

Gordon and Virgil shared a quick glance. "I know we're supposed to be keeping a low profile, but sharing an empty elevator shouldn't be an automatic exclusion from the Hardy Boys club, Scott."

Scott ignored Gordon's glib remark and turned to stare at Alan.

"Shit," he murmured.

"Language," four voices mimicked happily. Cursing by one of the younger brothers was frowned upon by the eldest, who liked to fool himself occasionally that they were still the sweet children they had been.

"Precog," John added, smiling gently and nodding towards Alan.

Scott hastily shut the door and pulled himself back together. "Shower," he instructed the blond man. "Quickly."

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Gordon felt he should be wearing a trench coat a few shades lighter than the fedora he should also have been wearing. The image of himself as Richard Blaine tickled his sense of humour, and forgetting the reason he had been thinking of skulking in dark corners, he indulged himself in a brief Casablanca fantasy.

"Gordon! For Gods sake, get over here," Scott hissed from inside the sleepy looking hotel the red head was lurking in the doorway of. Gordon chuckled to himself, ducking in after the departing figure of his brother. A striking blond glanced his way as he crossed to the desk and Gordon felt compelled to try out his lines.

"Of all the gin joints in all the world," he smiled.

The woman shot him a confused look, called him a weirdo in a broad Boston accent and hurried up the stairs. Watching her calves disappear, Gordon shook his head.

"Worth a try," he smirked at John. This blond appreciated Gordon's delivery, however, and flashed the slow smile that melted hearts without his knowing.

"Didn't look like the type to sit through the classics," John replied a little wistfully.

"Oooh, classic's night," Gordon grinned. "Gotta be done. This place screams for it."

"Sorry kids, we've more pressing matters," Virgil told them, tossing John a room key attached to a heavy, wooden key fob, one hand resting on Alan's shoulder in deference to the boy's insatiable curiosity. Scott gestured that everyone go on ahead, and John led the way up the stairs. Gordon's eyes scanned the dark banisters for another glimpse of his would-be gin-joint companion, but the four levels were empty save Tracys.

"D'ya think they have roaches?" Alan asked eagerly and his brothers chuckled indulgently as they found their floor.

"As big as couches," Virgil suggested, glancing at the peeling walls. "If we're lucky."

"Don't encourage him," Scott groaned. "We'll wake up to find them sharing our pillows."

"I wouldn't do that," Alan protested, waiting while Scott unlocked one of the rooms.

Scott paused to glance behind him and smiled. "I wasn't talking about you, Sprout."

"What d'ya think would keep them on the pillow?" Gordon wondered casually.

"I saw jewelled cockroaches on gold chains, once."

All heads turned to John.

Virgil found his voice first. "What were you watching?"

"The women holding them." John pushed past his speechless brothers and into the room.

"D'ya think we looked a little weird coming in without luggage?" Virgil wondered vaguely, staring around the room with interest. The others could tell he was obviously composing a piece of music that would suit the room, or storing the details to use in a painting.

"I think I looked quite handsome," Gordon replied. "But you? Easy to label as weird."

"Why don't you bring in the cases?" Scott suggested.

John lifted his head. "Cases?"

"D'ya think breakfast was the only item on my list this morning?" Gordon asked archly. "With Captain Organisation here?"

With that, the red head left the room.

"What is it with you guys and the military titles today?" Scott sighed.

"It's psychological, can't help it," John replied simply.

Scott turned to Virgil, who shrugged. "You're acting like our field commander," he translated.

"Must get it from Dad," Alan agreed. Past the age where he would spontaneously hug his brothers and having never been a clingy child, Scott knew how rattled the boy was when Alan slid against his side, leaning against Scott without wrapping his arms about him. Scott resisted the impulse to pull his littlest brother into an embrace, instead settling for ruffling the soft blond locks.

"Just be glad I don't make you form the line," he said, smiling down at Alan.

"It wouldn't look much like a line with just four of us," Alan pointed out.

"That's right," Virgil agreed, "five is a line, four is just a group."

Scott looked at his brother worriedly. "You're actually serious, aren't you?"

With a small smile, Virgil turned away.

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"It's a dark wall," Alan said. "I can't make everything out on it, like its in shadows, or it's nearly night time."

His brothers sat around the small twin room, perched on various beds and other furniture. Their attention was fixed on the small face and they were silent and unwilling to interrupt. Alan himself was vacant eyed, distant and withdrawn, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

"There's a bit of light that shines on it, though," he continued. "I can see stuff pinned to it, writing, photo's, pages taken from books and printed from a computer. They've got red writing over them, notes and scribbles and some things are ringed as well."

Alan shivered a little, but didn't move to warm himself.

"I can't really read them," he confessed. "Its not very clear, at least the words aren't. But I can see the pictures. A woman, I think, wearing a dress. Or different women, I can't tell. But the really funny thing is, there's a name. It's almost all over the wall, begins with 'J'. I don't really know what it means."

He fell silent, shivering a second time, but didn't speak any more. Realising it was over, Scott tugged his coat off the back of a chair and wrapped it around his brother.

"Hey," he said softly, cupping the boy's face. "You with me, kiddo?"

Alan nodded tiredly. "I'm alright, Scotty."

"You say you tried contacting us?" Virgil asked thoughtfully.

"Everyone except Scott," Alan confirmed.

"Why didn't you return his call?" Scott demanded, lifting his worried gaze from Alan to Virgil. He couldn't understand it. Virgil was his second in command - when Scott wasn't there, Virgil called the shots. The idea of his baby brother leaving a message that Virgil didn't respond to went completely against the grain.

"I didn't know there was a call," Virgil explained, reasonably. "I got this bit of static, but I'd been messing around with a magnetised component we've been working on and it's really not that unusual for it to interfere with cell phones."

Scott frowned. "Dad's number is programmed into your contact book, Virge. How could you not recognise it? Or you two?"

John shrugged guiltily. "My phone was off and staying off. I'd left Dad the hotel number should he need me for anything, but Alan knew I wasn't going to be taking any calls. I haven't checked it since, actually."

"Do it," Scott said crisply, before turning to the second youngest. "Alright Gordon, what's your excuse?"

"Hey, I didn't exactly leave the kid high and dry," the red head protested. "I didn't get a message. Check the inbox if you like. The Sprout must have dialled the wrong number."

"I heard your recording," Alan told him.

Scott's frown deepened. "Show me your phone."

Gordon dug it out of his pocket and handed it over. Before Scott could access the memory, John caught his attention.

"That's just weird. The home line must have gone down or something." He handed his older brother his phone also. "All I'm getting is static too."

"It can't have been my line," Alan grumbled, as Scott listened to John's message box. "I could hear your voice mail, remember?"

Scott handed Virgil John's phone. "Is that the same thing you heard?"

Virgil's left eyebrow rose as he pressed the small object to his ear. "Yeah, that's it all right. If I'd not have been working on that particular project at the time, I'd have taken a closer look, tried to trace the call."

"Trace it?"

"You'll notice the phone's memory didn't recognise the number," Virgil pointed out.

Scott glanced at Gordon's phone. Sure enough, 'Caller Unknown' stared back up at him from the display.

"I thought it was Moose," Gordon said softly when Scott's glance demanded an explanation. "We'd been prank calling all week. It didn't show as Dad's office line, I'd never have ignored it if I'd known, honest Scott."

His oldest brother sighed wearily. "I know, Gordo, I know. All right. Virgil, work on them, see if you can get anything other than the white noise. Something must have jammed them, they can't all go on the blink at the same time. John, try yours and see if you can get through to Alan's school. Tell them we've a family emergency and we're pulling Alan out. He's going to be home schooled, so get his records sent to Dad's office."

Scott stood up to pace and his brothers shared knowing grins. Captain I-Can-Fix-Anything was in control again.

"Gordon, you're going to have to quit WASP. I know its asking a lot and its going to look bad on the record, but this is an emergency and you're AWOL as it is. Sever all ties. Once we've got Dad back, I'm sure we can come up with something convincing to get you back in again. John, once you're finished with Alan's headmaster, contact Gordon's base. You're going to be the Tracy liaison officer for the duration of this little adventure, I'm afraid. Dad's had a very nasty accident and we're not giving out details of our private lives. We're known recluses, it'll have to do until we can think of something better. Then you can call my base and Virgil's project manager. Stick to the same story, keep the facts to the minimum and try and act a little dazed."

"In other words, just be yourself," Gordon smirked, glad it wasn't going to be him that made those calls.

"I'm sure the fire would have made local news days ago," Scott continued, ignoring Gordon. "We can use that to our advantage. Gordon, I want you to get onto contractors, building merchants and gather estimates. To the outside world, the Tracy's are rebuilding. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now, the trick is to act as normal as possible. You're going to be our face until this is sorted. You'll have to handle the media, too. Think you can manage it?"

Gordon grinned. He'd always had fun playing with the media since his Olympic days. "Piece of cake," he answered confidently.

Scott paused to frown at him. "Take this seriously, Gordy. We've an image to protect, and an illusion to maintain until Dad's back home. One wrong word from you and some nosy reporters gonna start snooping around and wondering where we've actually disappeared to, why Dad isn't in any hospital and what we're doing. You've got to keep them happy, give them enough to go on but no actual details. Think you can handle that?"

Gordon had lost all trace of humour. "You can count on me, Scott," he promised sincerely. "I won't let you down."

"Good."

Virgil, phone already plugged into John's laptop and systems checking, glanced up at his older brother. "What are you going to be doing, Scotty?"

Scott grimaced. "I'm going to be calling Tracy Industries. The departmental chiefs are going to be frantic, what with both Dad and Ruddy MIA. I'll do what I can to smooth things over and make sure the place is still standing by the time Dad sits back down in that office."

"What are you going to tell them?" Gordon asked, intrigued.

"That depends on what they know already."