Please insert usual disclaimers here. Have a nice day.

Jeff stood in the doorway, watching his second son.

John was seated at the desk, busily typing away on the computer. He chewed on a pen cap, a habit Jeff loathed, occasionally muttering under his breath. Jeff wasn't sure, but thought it sounded like Russian.

He continued watching as John glanced from the computer to scribble something on the note pad next to him. Finally he tossed his pen across the desk and glared moodily at the computer screen.

Jeff stepped into the room. "Problems son?"

John looked up in surprise. "Dad, I didn't hear you come in." He sighed and tossed the mangled pen cap into the trash.

"What are you working on?" Jeff asked, glancing down at John's notes. I was right, Russian. He shook his head and chuckled.

"What?"

Jeff looked up to see a puzzled expression on John's face. "Just wondering how you can think in another language."

John laughed. "Blame my Russian teacher who beat it into me…literally!" Then his smile faded. "Any news on Scott?"

Jeff shook his head. "Not since we dropped him off this morning." Earlier in the day, Jeff had taken Scott to the hospital for his surgery. Rosie had them that the procedure would take at least two to three hours, with recovery being nearly that long. Scott had assured his father that he would be fine, and not to sit around waiting. Rosie promised to call as soon as they were through.

John sighed and glanced at his watch. "I'd have thought we'd have heard something by now."

Jeff nodded and leaned against the desk. "So, you going to tell me what you're working on or do I have to use my rather rusty language skills to figure it out?"

John chuckled. "Nothing much, just finishing up some research I had started before…" His voice trailed off. He shook off the memories. "I'm starving, want a sandwich?" He asked, turning off the computer.

Jeff sighed in defeat. "Sure." They made their way down to the kitchen. John turned on the small TV on the counter then began rummaging in the refrigerator while Jeff got out glasses and plates.

They quickly put together a few sandwiches and sat down at the table. "I talked to Virgil this morning. He and Gordon picked up Brains and Alan last night."

John looked up. "Gordon? He must be feeling better then." He said carefully.

"He is. Steve said he was back to swimming lengths in the pool, slower than usual, but he is back at it."

"Maybe the chlorine will soak into his brain. At this point, it could only be an improvement." John muttered softly to himself.

Jeff frowned at him. "You know, this little feud of yours has gone on long enough, don't you think?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." John mumbled, not looking up, but concentrating on his lunch.

"John."

"What?"

Jeff sighed. "The problem is, you and Gordon are too much alike."

Now John's head snapped up. "We're what?" He asked with surprise.

Jeff calmly took another bite of his sandwich. "You two are nearly identical, personality wise. You're both loyal, dependable, have a terrific sense of humor, and..." Jeff's brown eyes bored into John's blue ones. "You're both more stubborn than a pack of mules." He took another bite. "Face it John, Gordon is just a noisier version of you."

"He is not."

"He is too."

"Dad..."

"John." Jeff got up and put his dishes in the sink.

"He started it." John folded his arms across his chest.

"And I expect you to finish it."

John glared at his father and muttered something under his breath. "And speak English if you're going to curse at me." Jeff added, lightly swatting his son on the head.

John sighed and rubbed a hand over his head. "I didn't—"

"...the Hood."

Both their heads snapped up to stare at the television, and Jeff quickly turned up the volume.

"His real name being Trangh Belagant, he attempted to rob the Bank of London in April. He escaped from custody a few weeks later and was apprehended by the Thunderbirds in Malaysia a few days later. The Hood, as he prefers to be called, is scheduled to be arraigned in three weeks."

John got up and paced the length of the kitchen, before coming to a stop leaning his hands on the counter, his head hanging down, his body trembling. Jeff walked over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "John, it's going to be alright."

John shook his head. "Sometimes I don't think things will ever be alright again." He said softly.

"Son, he can't hurt you."

John shook his head. "Yes Dad, he can."

"Not if you don't let him."

"You don't understand Dad. He's in my head. Half the time I don't know what's real and what's not!" John's hands clenched into fists. "He twists my thoughts and memories around to the point that the stuff he says sounds...right!"

Jeff stood very still, afraid that if he said or did anything, John would close up again. John straightened and looked up at his father, his blue eyes dark with emotion. "Dad..."

Before he could continue, the phone rang. Jeff groaned inwardly. Great timing. He picked up the phone. "Hello?...We'll be there shortly...Thank-you." He turned to John. "That was the hospital. Scott is out of surgery and in recovery. They expect him to wake in the next hour or so."

John forced a smile. "Then let's get going."

Jeff caught his son's arm as he walked past. "John wait. Scott will be a while in coming out of it. Finish your thoughts."

John shook his head. "It's nothing Dad. C'mon, Scott's waiting." Jeff sighed and followed John out to the Jeep. Fifteen minutes later, they were walking through the hallway of the hospital.

Dr. Vickers looked up as they approached the nurse's station. "Scott's surgery went well. The damage wasn't actually as bad as I had feared. Provided he does what he's instructed, I expect a full recovery."

Jeff let out a sigh of relief. "Can we see him?"

Rosie nodded. "He's just coming out of it, and we have him on painkillers, so expect him to be a little out of it." She caught Jeff's look. "He has to be on them for at least a week. After that, we'll start weaning him off. I haven't lost a patient to addiction yet Mr. Tracy. And I don't intend to let that happen with Scott."

"Thank-you Doctor." Jeff replied.

She smiled. "Anytime. Now, go in and see him."

Jeff and John walked into the room. Scott was lying on the bed, IV tubes running into his left arm. There was an oxygen tube in his nose and his right shoulder was heavily bandaged.

Jeff leaned over his son. "Scott? Scott can you hear me?"

Scott's eyelids fluttered. "D-Dad?" He whispered hoarsely.

"I'm here son. How are you feeling?"

"Like...shit..."

"Language Scott." Jeff smiled.

John stepped forward. "Hey there bro."

"John..." Scott's eyes closed.

"Scott? You still there?" John asked frowning.

Scott's eyes fluttered. "Hurts..." He rasped, his eyes closing again.

Jeff stepped up to the bed. "Scott?" He called urgently. His only reply was a low moan. John automatically stepped back, his heart beating painfully in his chest.

The nurse quickly stepped forward and checked Scott's vitals. "He's fine. It's just the anesthetic wearing off."

Jeff let out a sigh of relief. "We'll go grab something to eat, then be back. Coming John?" Jeff turned. "John?"

He was gone.

John parked the Jeep in front of the house, and hurried up the steps. His hands were shaking so badly that it took three tries for him to get the door unlocked. Once inside, he started immediately towards the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a generous shot of whiskey, and swallowed it in one fast gulp. As he poured himself another, he stopped and caught his reflection in the mirror.

His eyes were bright in his pale face, and the hand holding the drink shook.

Christa was right. I am a drunk.

John slammed the glass down, the alcohol spilling over the side. He took a shuddering breath and tore the collar open on his shirt. "Scott's fine...it was routine surgery...he's fine."

He dropped to his knees as the memories rushed over him.

Scott was slumped on his knees on the floor, his left hand clutching his right shoulder, which in turn was soaked with blood.

Hood laughed again and motioned for Mullion to step forward. "I shall enjoy breaking the rest of your body. Then when I'm finished with you, I'll have a bit of fun with your brother. By the time I'm through, he'll be begging me to kill him." Mullion sneered.

"No...Scott..." John clutched his temples as the memories continued.

"Scott! Don't do this! Stay with me!"

Jeff broke into a run, John, Penny and Gordon following at his heels. They arrived at the door to the medical bay together. "Virgil, what's going on?"

Virgil was standing next to Scott, working furiously. Scott was hooked up to the scanner, which was emitting a dull tone. His face was deathly white, and he lay unmoving. "I'm losing him! His heart keeps stopping!"

Jeff rushed forward, taking Scott's hand in his own. "Scott! Scott wake up!"

"Scott...Scott...Please don't die...This is all my fault." John choked back a sob. "All my fault..."

It was late on Tracy Island. The sun was nearly set, but the lights of the villa were warm and bright.

Tin-Tin's head snapped up from where she was sitting by the pool. "John!"

Alan and Fermat both stopped their game of water volleyball. "Tin-Tin?" Alan swam over and placed a hand on her knee. "Tin-Tin, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Alan! We need to find your father!" She looked around in confusion.

Alan glanced at Fermat. "Tin-Tin! He's in Boston, with Scott, remember?" Alan said softly.

She frowned. "Then we need to call him. Hurry!" She got to her feet and ran inside the villa.

"Tin-Tin, wait!" Alan pulled himself out of the pool and without stopping for a towel, followed on her heels. Rushing down the hallway, he ran smack into Virgil.

"Hey! Easy there Sprout!" Virgil frowned. "You're not supposed to be running in the house, let alone doing it dripping wet."

Alan shrugged off his brother's grip. "Did Tin-Tin come through here?"

"I don't—" Whatever else Virgil was about to say was cut off as Alan raced down the hallway.

Fermat appeared in the same condition. "Virgil did A-A-A—"

"He went that way." Virgil pointed down the hallway.

"Th-thanks!" Fermat ran after Alan.

Virgil sighed. "Somehow, I don't think this is good news." He hurried after them.

He finally caught up with Alan in their father's office. Tin-Tin was sitting on the floor, her hands pressed against her head, Fermat gripping her shoulder. Alan was frantically pressing buttons on the phone.

"Somebody want to explain what the heck is going on here?" Virgil demanded.

Alan glanced up briefly. "It's John." He then turned his attention back to the phone. "Dad!"

"Alan, is everything alright?"

"No Dad! Where are you? Where's John?"

"I'm at the hospital with Scott. John's disappeared."

Alan glanced towards Tin-Tin. She looked up, her eyes golden. "He's at the brownstone."

Alan turned back to the phone. "Dad, he's gone back to the house. You have to hurry!"

"FAB son." Jeff quickly signed off, and Alan dropped to Tin-Tin's side.

Virgil folded his arms across his chest. "Ahem."

They all looked up. Virgil stood glaring at them. Alan grinned sheepishly. "Hey Virgil. I found her."

"I can see that. Want to tell me what that was all about?"

"John."

Virgil walked over and helped Tin-Tin to her feet, then led her over to the couch. "Talk to me honey. What happened to John?"

She shook her head to clear it. "It wasn't my un...the Hood."

Now it was Alan's turn to frown. "It wasn't? Then what?"

She looked up at him. "I'm not sure exactly. But I could...hear John. He's very, very upset about." She shook her head. "It has something to do with Scott."

"Scott!" Alan yelped.

"Chill Sprout." Virgil turned back to Tin-Tin. "Do you know what happened?"

Tin-Tin shook her head. "No, just that John is in terrible pain. Not physical pain, but emotional."

"And you're sure the Hood has nothing to do with this?" She nodded. "Alright then, all of you off to bed, it's late." Virgil held his hand up to stem off Alan's protests. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear something Alan."

Alan glared at his brother. "You'd better."

"I promise. Now scat, all of you." Virgil watched as they left the room, then sitting himself in his father's chair, prepared himself for a long wait.