Hello everyone! Sorry for the long delay, but real life got in the way again.

Many, many thanks to everyone who helped me out with this chapter. Tikatue, Grumpy, Convert, Bluegrass! Kyrano would have gotten axed without you!

Again, I don't own them, so please don't sue.

Virgil stared up at the ceiling in his father's office.

"Ring...Ring...Ring...Ring...Ring...Ring..."

Snarling, he disconnected the call and marched into the kitchen.

"Any luck reaching Mr. John?" Kyrano asked, setting a glass of orange juice in front of Virgil.

"Thanks Kyrano. No. He's not answering." Virgil swallowed half the juice in one gulp. And I know he's there, Dad said he talked to him yesterday."

"Perhaps, Mr. John does not wish to discuss the incident yet."

"I really don't care. This whole thing has gone on long enough." He sighed irritably.

Alan walked in at that moment. "Hey." He said wearily, plopping himself down in the seat next to Virgil. "I just went to see Gordon. He's awake, but really ugly."

"Headache?"

Alan nodded. "Yeah. Steve gave him something for it and said once it kicked in, Gordon would probably be out of it for the rest of the day."

"Good, let him rest." Virgil eyed his younger brother critically. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Like sh-crap." Alan rubbed his temples. "The headache's almost gone, but I feel like I've been run over by a truck."

Virgil smiled. "Yeah, I feel kinda like that myself."

"Did you get in touch with John?"

Virgil's smile faded. "No, not yet."

Alan glanced up at Kyrano, who nodded encouragingly. "You know Virg, maybe we should just give John a little space for now. Let him sort things out first."

Virgil turned to his younger brother, his hazel eyes flashing fire. "That's been the whole problem all along! 'Just leave him alone, he'll be fine.' Yeah, that worked really well now didn't it?" Virgil pushed off from the table and stormed out of the room.

Alan watched him go and sighed. "This sucks Kyrano."

"I agree, it is not pleasant." Kyrano replied.

"Everybody's fighting. I just don't know what to do anymore..." Alan's voice trailed off.

The Malaysian man sat down next to Alan. "There is nothing you can do at this point Alan. You, Virgil, Gordon...you must all let John work things out on his own, in his own way."

Alan sighed. "Yeah, but like Virg said, that hasn't really worked so far."

"You are all under the impression that Hood is entirely behind John's behavior."

Alan looked up in surprise. "Of course he is!"

Kyrano shook his head. "No, Alan he was not."

Alan stared at the man in surprise. "But—but John—"

"Mr. John has many feelings and thoughts that he has buried deep inside himself. Things that have not even begun to reach the surface yet. The John you are all waiting for to return, he is gone Alan."

Alan looked at Kyrano in stunned disbelief. "You mean John...he's not coming back?"

Kyrano shook his head. "You misunderstand what I am saying. Come with me." He led Alan over to the counter, and pulled a piece of fruit out of the bowl. "What is this?"

Alan looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "An orange."

"Very good." Pulling a large knife out of the drawer, Kyrano deftly sliced the orange down the middle, cut it in half, then peeled and quartered it, handing a section to Alan. "Eat it."

"OK..." Mystified, Alan took a bite and chewed. "Yeah, tastes like an orange."

Kyrano ignored the jibe, and took the other half of the orange, placing it on the juicer. He skillfully twisted the fruit until the bottom half of the glass was filled with juice. He handed it to Alan and nodded.

Alan sighed and drank it down. "And that would be orange juice. Kyrano, I fail to see where you're going with this."

Kyrano smiled patiently. "You are correct in that the juice is still an orange. It is, only different."

Alan frowned for a moment. Then he looked up at Kyrano. "Are you saying that John is like this...orange?"

Kyrano nodded sagely. "Yes, in a manner of speaking. He is still John, only not a John that you are all used to seeing."

"So I was right, he's not coming back?" Alan's voice held a touch of desperation to it.

Kyrano shook his head. "Only your brother can answer that question. What I am saying is, give John time. Let him see himself through his own eyes before you judge him." With that, Kyrano smiled and left Alan alone with his thoughts.

John glanced up as the phone rang again. Seeing it was the island, he sighed. "Sorry Virg. Just not in the mood." He muttered under his breath, as continued with his cleaning in the living room.

Virgil's fingers wandered across the piano keys, as the somber notes of Chopin filled the room. He finished that piece and started another, this time one of his own making. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the music.

The last notes where still echoing in the room, when a voice startled him.

"That was beautiful, Virgil."

His eyes snapped open. "I didn't hear you come in."

Onaha smiled. "I shouldn't think so. You were elsewhere." She placed her dust rag on the end table and walked over to him. "What is troubling you Virgil?"

Virgil sighed and ran a weary hand over his eyes. "Nothing...everything. I feel like I'm being pulled in ten different directions Onaha. Like I'm a guitar string, strung too tight." He sighed. "John won't answer my calls, Gordon's a mess down in the infirmary, Dad's in London...I just can't take much more of this!" He slumped down on the piano, the keys crashing discordantly.

She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Virgil, kasih, no one expects you to do everything." She said softly, as she began to massage his tensed muscles.

Virgil snorted. "Yeah right." He sighed. "I'm sorry Onaha, I didn't mean to come down on you."

"There is no need to apologize." She smiled and continued rubbing him. "Tell me about Gordon."

"He's still out of it downstairs. Steve's not worried. He said he talked to Kyrano and that he said Gordon's memory was the hardest to pull. Gordon didn't want to remember." He frowned. "And when he has woken up, Gord's isn't wanting to talk." He sighed again. "Then there's John. Or, I assume there's John. He won't answer the phone. I must have left a dozen messages!" He shook his head. "I wish Dad was here..."

Onaha's heart bled a little. She hated to see any of 'her' boys in pain, whether it be physical or mental. She had hoped that after the events of the past few days, things would begin to turn back to normal. Obviously not... She ran her fingers through Virgil's hair. "Virgil, you must not take this burden yourself."

"There's no one else here Onaha." He sighed wearily and smiled up at her, his tawny eyes clouded. "Thanks for listening. I'll go try John again."

Onaha watched Virgil leave the room, before picking up the dust cloth and going in search of her husband.

John sat with his chin resting on his hands, staring at the bottle in front of him on the bar. He poured the whiskey into a glass, the amber liquid glowing in the light from the setting sun. He heard the front door open, but didn't move.

"John? Hey, Johnny, you home?" Scott called out. He wandered into the living room. "You finished painting? It looks..." His voice trailed off as he caught sight of his brother. "John?"

John looked up. "Hi Scott." He turned his gaze back to the bottle. "Do you know how badly I want a drink...Need a drink?" He closed his eyes and visibly shook. "I don't think I can do this Scott. I'm not strong enough."

Time for a little payback, brother mine. Scott walked up to the bar and pulled another glass out from the cupboard. "Then why fight it?" He poured a generous amount of whiskey for himself, then clinked his glass against John's. "Bottom's up, John." He raised the glass to his lips, then frowned. "C'mon, what are you waiting for? Drink up!"

John watched in disbelief as Scott swallowed the alcohol, then poured himself another. "Scott, w-what..."

"It's your party, John-boy." Scott shrugged. "What's the matter, I thought you liked this stuff?"

John shook his head and pushed the glass away. "Knock it off Scott. You're not funny."

"Wasn't trying to be." He nodded towards John's glass. "Well, you gonna drink that?"

John eyed the glass and took a shuddering breath. "No. NO." He grabbed the glass and the bottle and marched into the kitchen, Scott at his heels. John walked over to the sink and unceremoniously, dumped the contents of the bottle and his glass down the drain. He then slammed them down on the counter, and stood leaning against it, his head down, his body quivering.

"John?" Scott stepped forward and placed his hand on John's shoulder. "You OK?"

"No." He took a deep breath. "But that's my problem." He looked up at Scott, really seeing him for the first time. "You're back in a sling. What did the doc say?"

Scott shrugged, carefully. "No new damage. Mostly bruising and a few glass splinters. She wanted to know what happened, so I kind of hedged the truth. I should be fine in a couple of days."

John looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry Scott."

"Hey, it wasn't entirely your fault bro." Scott sat down at the table. "So, you didn't take a drink..."

John shook his head. "No, not this time."

"This time?"

John sighed and sat down across from his brother. "God Scott. I don't want a drink, I need one! You have no idea how badly I'm dying for one."

"Yes, John, I do." Scott said quietly.

John looked up at hearing the emotion in his brother's tone. "Damn, I'm sorry, Scott." He sighed. "Just one more thing I've screwed up." He got up and paced the room. "I'm starting to think I should have just let Hood finish what he started." He dropped his head and closed his eyes. "That all of you would have been better off without me."

Scott shook his head. "You really don't get it do you?" John looked up at him in surprise. "Do you have any idea what kind of hole you would leave in this family? What kind of hole you already have left?" Scott walked over to his brother. "Look John, I'm not trying to pull a guilt trip on you, God knows you're beating yourself up enough already. I'm just trying to tell you how much we do care. Didn't the other night mean anything to you?"

John clenched his hands into fists. "Of course it did."

"Then why do you still not believe us? Believe me! Dammit John!" Scott exploded. "Forget it, just forget it. Wallow in your self pity. I'm done." He stormed out of the room.

John waited a heartbeat, then followed his brother. Scott had gone back into the living room and was standing in front of the bay window, a stony expression on his face. "I don't know what you want from me, Scott! You all tell me to talk about what's bothering me, then when I do, you blast me for it! Well, fuck you!"

They stood glaring at each other for a few moments, until Scott broke into a smile.

"What?" John demanded.

"You. You're still here."

"Of course I'm still here, where would I go?"

Scott shrugged. "Well, for the past six months you've run off every time one of us tried to talk to you."

"That's not true."

Scott arched an eyebrow. "Isn't it John?"

John leveled his icy gaze on his brother. "So you staged all this to try and get me to talk?"

Scott shook his head. "No. I'm mad as hell at you right now, and if I had two good arms, I'd knock you into next week for even contemplating suicide."

"I was—"

"No, you're going to listen to me now. I have had it with your self-depreciating attitude. Yes, you've had a hell of an ordeal, but you know what, the rest of us have too. And before you add the 'you weren't attacked' routine, yes John, we were. Maybe not directly, but we were in the thick of things, right next to you." Scott's eyes flashed in anger. "And you were lucky enough to be unconscious through the worst of it. I had to watch Virgil working on you, trying to keep you alive. I had to see the worry and guilt on Dad's face that he brought this down on us."

Scott's voice was cold as he went on. "Alan's the one who had to deal with the Hood directly. And he almost died because of it. Dad has to live with that knowledge too."

John took a step back at his brother's tone. He tried again to say something, but Scott kept going.

"As to the Hood messing up your head, yeah, I'll give you that one. But John, did you try, really try to get rid of him? I saw your face when he was talking to you. There were times it seemed like he wasn't bothering you as much as we all thought he was."

A red flush creeped up John's face, and he looked away, not knowing what to say.

Scott merely stared at his brother. "So, before you start the next installment of this pity-party, think about us instead of yourself for a change." Without another word, Scott marched past his brother, leaving John to stare after him in stunned silence.