As usual, I don't own 'em so please don't sue. Enjoy!

Jeff tore up the front steps, hesitating briefly beside the open door to the brownstone. Not even wanting to contemplate what that might mean, he rushed inside. "John! JOHN!"

A low moan alerted his attention and he spun towards the living room. "John!"

John was crouched on his knees, his arms wrapped around himself, rocking back and forth. "No...my fault..."

Jeff knelt down next to his son. "John?" He called softly.

John didn't reply, but continued his rocking, his eyes clenched tightly shut.

"Son? Talk to me." Jeff placed his hand on John's shoulder.

John struck like a snake, his fist connecting solidly with his father's face. Jeff fell back, blood trickling from his lip, staring up at his son in surprise.

"Where is he? What have you done with him?" John growled, his fists still clenched.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"My brother dammit! What have you done with him?"

He advanced forward, and Jeff scrambled to get out of the way. "John, stop! It's me, your father!"

"Liar!" John swung again, only this time Jeff was anticipating the move and swung his leg, catching John about the knees. John went down hard, but quickly recovered.

Both men scrambled to their feet and circled each other warily. "I'll kill you if you've hurt him." John snarled, his eyes not quite sane. He swung again and Jeff narrowly avoided the punch.

"John! Stop!" He ducked as John swung again.

"Where's Scott? What have you done to my brother?" John advanced on Jeff, his face grim. "I'll kill you..."

Jeff blocked John's next punch and instinctively sent one of his own flying. John went sailing into the coffee table, the wood cracking under his weight.

Jeff looked to where his son lay sprawled across the broken pieces of the table then glanced down at his own clenched fists and took a shuddering breath. Dear God! What have I done? He dropped to his knees next to John. "Son? I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry!"

"Dad? What?" John's eyes cleared and he shook his head. "Dad!" The last came out in a sob as John threw himself into his father's arms.

Jeff held his son awkwardly until the strain on his back was too much. "John? I need to get up son." John pulled back a little and Jeff got stiffly to his feet. He gingerly sat down on the couch and a moment later, John was back in his arms, sobbing as if his heart would break.

Feeling helpless, Jeff could only hold his son as he let loose all his pent up emotions.

"Shouldn't have told you...all my fault..." John kept repeating over and over.

"Told me what John?" Jeff asked softly.

John shook his head. "Scott...my fault..." He said brokenly.

Jeff frowned in puzzlement and ran his hand over John's head, murmuring soothingly. After what seemed like hours, Jeff felt John start to pull away. He watched in silence as John sat on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands, his body still trembling with emotion.

"John?" Jeff called quietly a few minutes later.

"I'm sorry." John whispered.

"Sorry for what son?"

John shook his head. "I can't...it's all my fault..." He took a shuddering breath and got to his feet, pacing the length of the room, coming to stop in front of the large bay window. "If I had never sent that mayday, you wouldn't have come and Hood never would have gotten us." He said hoarsely, staring out at nothing.

Dammit, Virgil was right... "John, that's not true." Jeff got up and walked to his son's side. "Why do you doubt that I would have come? You were hurt. No matter what had hit you, meteor, missile or even a UFO, I would have been there. And before you say it, your brothers felt the same way. Scott didn't even try for the pilot's seat and do you know why?" John shook his head. "So he could be out first. He had no other thoughts than to get to you." Jeff sighed. "John, I've left you alone hoping you'd find the peace you need and now I'm wondering if I was wrong to do that. What really happened up there?"

John continued staring out the widow. Long minutes went by. "I didn't think you heard me..." He whispered finally. "I was working on some...research when the proximity alarm went off." He closed his eyes, shuddering against the memories.

"RED ALERT!"

John jumped up from where he was working and rushed to the main controls. "What the—"

"Warning—Impact imminent."

Something was aiming straight for the space station, its impact probability increasing by the second. He stood staring at the screen until he realized what was happening

"Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island! Mayday! MAYDAY!"

The explosion ripped through the command center, sending him sailing across the station. He hit the back wall of the bulkhead and everything went dark.

"When I came to, the first thing I was aware of was the pain." John said, his voice quiet. "My back, my head, my shoulder...There was smoke and fire everywhere. I tried to get up before I realized I had broken ribs on top of everything else." He took a deep breath. "I finally got my brain working and figured out it hadn't been a meteor, but a missile. I tried to raise you, to tell you to stay back, but there was nothing. No reply at all either from the Island or Thunderbird 3."

"We were being jammed." Jeff told him. "We never got anything after your initial mayday."

"I didn't know that at the time." John sighed. "I knew I had to do something or I would lose what little power I had left. I made it to the console and tried to do some repairs, but I was too dizzy and only ended up burning my hands. God, it hurt to breathe and my back..." He took a shuddering breath. "I must have blacked out again, because next thing I knew, there was Thunderbird 3 in my windows. Then, the alarms started again..."

"I'm losing all power...Repeat, I'm losing all power..."

"Hang on John, we're coming in."

"You have no idea what I felt when I heard your voice. Relief that I wasn't alone..." John looked up at his father, his blue eyes filled with emotion. "Fear that I had called you to your deaths."

Jeff placed his hand on John's arm. "I would have come John, no matter what. You could have been being attacked by an army and I still would have come." Jeff told him, his brown eyes boring into his son's. "What happened today John?"

John turned back to the window. "Seeing Scott lying there, it brought back seeing him in the mine. After Mullion shot him..." He clenched his eyes shut. "I'm sorry Dad." He whispered.

"Stop saying that John. You have nothing to be sorry for." Jeff paced the room. "Dammit John! Don't you think I have the same fears! I was terrified when we saw the station. I couldn't believe we'd find you alive. And as to the mine incident, none of us expected it to turn out the way it did. I almost lost all of you that day. It was one of the worst days of my life." Now it was Jeff's turn to shudder. "How do you think I felt seeing you on the bed in the infirmary, fighting for your life?"

John smiled softly. "I'm a Tracy. We're tough."

Jeff chuckled. "That we are."

John's smile faded. "But the Hood..."

"He's a mad-man John. The authorities will see that he is brought to justice this time. That he won't ever hurt anyone again."

"If only I could believe that." John walked back over to the bar and stared down at the whiskey bottle. "He's in my head Dad. He tells me things...things that start to make sense..."

"He's lying."

John shook his head. "That's the scary part, he's not." He looked up at his father. "I hear him all the time Dad. He won't leave me alone." He sat back down on the couch and put his head in his hands. "I can't do this anymore Dad. I just want it to stop...Or by God I'll find some way to make it stop."

The utter conviction in John's voice sent a chill up Jeff's spine. "John, don't talk that way."

Before John could reply, they heard the front door open. "Hello? Anyone home?"

"In here babe." John sighed. "Dad, don't mention this to her. I've told her a highly edited version of events. I don't need our stories crossing."

"Maybe you should just tell her the truth."

John's eyes widened in surprise as Christa breezed into the room. "Hey honey." She leaned over from behind the sofa and placed a soft kiss on the top of John's head. "Hi Mr. T."

Jeff rolled his eyes, but laughed. "Hello Christa."

"I looked in on Scott. Rosie says things are looking good." She walked around to the front of the couch. "I figured you two would be there—John! What's wrong!"

John looked up at her, his face pale and tear streaked. "It's nothing Christa. Just reliving some bad memories."

She sat down and looked closely at him. "About your attack?"

John nodded. "Yeah some. Seeing Scott today brought back some things I'd rather forget."

"Oh honey..." She pulled him close and met Jeff's eyes. He tried to smile encouragingly. "Why don't I go start supper, while you two finish talking." Christa told them.

John pulled away and shook his head. "No, I think I'll just go lay down a bit." He got to his feet and made his way out of the room.

Once John was out of earshot, Christa turned to Jeff. "What happened?" She demanded.

Jeff held his hands up. "You heard him. He had a hard time seeing his brother."

"Bullshit!" Christa folded her arms across her chest. "Are you going to start lying to me too?"

"Christa..."

"Don't say it! Don't say you're not lying because I know—" A crash from upstairs made them both look up.

"John!" Jeff bolted from the room, Christa at his heels.

John was on his knees on the first stair landing, his hands pressed against his head.

"John!" Jeff called again as he raced up the stairs. He knelt by his son. "What's wrong?"

John looked up with pain filled eyes. "Headache...migraine...God..." His voice trailed off.

Christa pushed by Jeff and placed on hand on John's forehead and the other at his wrist. "Pulse is a little high. Let's get you up to bed."

"Good idea." Jeff helped John to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a moment, then nodded. Jeff helped his son up the stairs to his room.

John collapsed down on the bed, pressing his hands to his eyes. "Christa, do you have anything for this?"

Christa frowned in concern. "Is it that bad honey?"

John nodded then wined. "Yeah...it's that bad."

"Stay here while I get my bag." She hurried from the room.

Jeff sat down on the bed next to his son. "Is it a headache or..."

John cracked his eyes open. "Headache. He's usually more subtle than this. I think it's just from the stress."

"You sure?"

John nodded and eased himself to a sitting position, resting his head in his hands. "Jesus, how does anyone live through these things..." He moaned.

Jeff placed his hand on John's neck and rubbed lightly. "Your mother used to get them when...you're not pregnant are you?" Jeff grinned.

John looked up at his father and laughed, then grimaced. "Don't make me laugh..."

"Sorry son."

Christa came back in, her bag in hand. She set it on the night stand and rummaged through it. "Hmmm...I have migraine meds, but only in injection form."

John's head snapped up. "Injection?"

Christa nodded. "Sorry John."

He groaned. "I guess if that's what I have to do."

"Roll up your sleeve." Holding the syringe between her teeth, she wiped John's arm with an alcohol swap then plunged the needle into him.

John yelped in surprise. "Warn a guy next time will you!" John grumbled. He let out another wince as she withdrew the needle and held a gauze pad over the wound.

"Just sit a minute." She ordered him when he tried to get up.

"Christa, if you don't let me get up I'm going to throw up on your feet." John stumbled to his feet and rushed to the bathroom. A moment later they could hear the sounds of him being violently ill.

Jeff frowned. "Is he alright? Should we call a doctor?"

Christa shook her head. "No, it's a typical migraine symptom. I'll keep a close watch on him. If he's not feeling better in a few hours, then we'll call someone." She sighed. "I am concerned however that he asked for meds. I've never met anyone with such an aversion to medicine before."

"John's my stubborn one. He wouldn't take a band-aid if he were bleeding to death." He chuckled. "You should have seen him when he had his tonsils out. His mother and I had to crush the medicine and put it in his drink. And this when he was all of ten years old." Jeff smiled fondly at the memory.

"So this is nothing new then?"

Jeff shook his head. "No nothing new." They both looked up as the bathroom door opened. "Feeling any better son?"

John was deathly pale, his eyes glassy. He had stripped down to a pair of shorts and held the door frame for support. "I think I want to die." He muttered as he collapsed down on the bed with a groan. He pulled the covers up over his head and lay still.

Christa sat down on the edge of the bed. "Want me to stay here with you?"

"No." Came the muffled reply.

Jeff laughed softly. "Get some rest son."

"I would if you people would get out and let me."

Christa bit back a laugh of her own. "I'll be back later to check on you."

"Bye."

Jeff turned to Christa and smiled. "Isn't he a wonderful patient?"

"When are you two going to get out and let me die?"

Together Jeff and Christa left John in his misery. They went downstairs to the kitchen. "I'm starving, want a sandwich?" Christa asked.

"That would be wonderful." Jeff got out glasses and poured them each a drink as Christa made them a couple of sandwiches. They sat down and started eating in silence. Finally Christa looked up at Jeff. "If you want to go back to the hospital, Scott should be more with it by now. I can stay here with John."

Jeff nodded thoughtfully. "I may just do that." He sighed. "I feel like I'm being pulled in two different directions."

Christa placed a hand on his arm. "Go see Scott. John will be out of it for a couple of hours at least. I'll call you if anything changes, I promise."

Jeff squeezed her hand. "Thank-you Christa. I can see why John is in love with you."

She blushed and looked down. "I love him right back."

"I'm glad. He needs someone strong to stand by him. I have a feeling his opening up to me tonight was just the beginning."

Christa looked up, a fierce determination in her indigo eyes. "I'm not going anywhere sir."

Jeff smiled. "Good. I'll be back later."

Christa cleaned up the few dishes in the sink and made her way back upstairs. John seemed to be asleep and hadn't appeared to have moved since they had left him. "John?" She called softly.

"Mmmmm?"

She sat down next to him. "How are you feeling?"

John peeled the blankets off his head and blinked owlishly up at her. "Like shit." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The medicine seems to be working though. At least I can see only one of you now."

Christa frowned. "You were seeing double?" She took something out of her bag. "Lay back and relax. Look past me to the stars on the ceiling." He did and she shone a small penlight into his eyes. After a moment, she shut it off and took his pulse. "Anything else wrong?"

John eased himself to a sitting position. "No, not really."

"No or not really?"

"Christa..."

"OK, just checking to make sure this is only a headache."

"It is." He got to is feet and after waiting for the dizziness to pass, walked into the bathroom. She heard him get sick again and sighed.

"John?" She called out, going into the bathroom. He was sitting on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands. "It's a side effect of the meds John. Let's get you back to bed." She helped him to his feet and they made their way back to the bedroom.

Once again John collapsed with a moan, only this time he went instantly to sleep without saying another word. Christa tucked the blankets around him and settled herself down on the window seat to wait until he awoke.