Chapter Six

Years before, when Scott and the other members of the team had been going through their own privately-arranged EMT training in advance of IR beginning operations, one of the medics who taught the course had warned them there would be times when no matter what they did, they wouldn't be able to control the outcome of a situation. To illustrate, he'd told them a quietly horrifying story about when he'd been a young paramedic and he'd been called to transport a pregnant woman who'd just gone into labor. Everything appeared perfectly normal...until it took a sudden left turn into the stuff of nightmares. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop it all from falling apart. Shit's just going to happen, the medic had said, his expression making it quite clear that the incident still haunted him, and sometimes there won't be shit you can do to make it stop.

Watching Gaat walk away, dismissing them as a threat so completely that he turned his back on them without hesitation, Scott knew the meaning of those words up close and personal. He had seldom in his life felt so utterly powerless. Virgil lay on the concrete nearby, very probably dying. And now, although Gaat had been thwarted in his attempt to steal Thunderbird One, the consequence of that was Tin-Tin frozen in place like a mannequin, staring ahead through blank eyes, not responding to anything either Scott or Alan did or said.

And with two of his team now out of commission, the odds had just gotten infinitely worse of Scott ever getting them out of this mess.

He forced himself to take inventory anyway. Concentrate on what you have, not on what you don't. Their wristcoms were still completely dead, regardless of the bright electric light that burned in the hangar. Thunderbird One sat tantalizingly close, although she might as well have been on another planet for all the good she did them right now. With the medical supplies they had, he could keep Virgil going for a little while yet, provided something worse wasn't lurking, waiting to strike.

With a cold wash of fear, Scott suddenly remembered Gordon, who they'd left sitting back in Thunderbird Two. Was he still there? Had he been captured by these people as well? And if he hadn't, then why hadn't he tried to make contact somehow? Surely he must have realized by now that something was very wrong…

"Sonofabitch," Alan growled from behind him. Scott turned, saw his youngest brother clench his fist. "If I could get hold of that bastard right now, I'd…"

"That makes two of us," Scott said. Between them, he and Alan managed to get Tin-Tin to sit down against the wall, although she still didn't give any sign that she knew they were even there.

"It's like he put her into some kind of trance," Alan said, worry acute in his expression. "I don't know what to do, Scott."

Something was niggling at the back of Scott's brain. "You know," he said slowly, "this is beginning to remind me of something. Lake Anasta, when Tin-Tin and Brains went looking for that treasure with Professor Blakely. When we answered the distress call, Virgil said he found her in the trailer looking like this."

Alan looked at him sharply. "Scott…do you think this guy – Tin-Tin's uncle – could be the same one who keeps turning up at our rescues and trying to steal our secrets? Could he be the same guy who nearly killed Gordon and Brains at Lake Anasta?"

Scott didn't like the way the math added up. It made his stomach churn uneasily. "Are you suggesting that Tin-Tin knows more than she's told us about all this?"

"No, of course not. Tin-Tin wouldn't hide something like this from us…" Alan trailed off. When he spoke again, he sounded a lot less certain. "Would she?"

A quiet, choked-off groan from Virgil made Scott scramble quickly to his side. "What is it, Virg? What can I do?"

He took his brother's pulse as Virgil tried to look up at him. It was getting weaker, his breathing growing more labored. His skin was gray and felt clammy under Scott's fingers and he was in very obvious pain. "M'kay," he managed to grunt.

"The hell you are." Scott attempted a smile, failed miserably. "Virg, I'm going to put you on a low dose of morphine, OK?"

Virgil's head slid up and back in a nod. The very fact that he didn't even attempt to argue spoke volumes about his condition.

Scott fished in the med bag, found the morphine. Only two milligrams at a time…he couldn't risk any more for fear of depressing his brother's respiration too much. It was a fine balance…the stress of the pain vs the slip towards unconsciousness. Scott knew there was probably internal bleeding, but he had absolutely no way to either measure or treat it. All he could do was try to maintain Virgil's life until he found a way out for them all.

The morphine hit his brother's system; he saw the relief loosen the clenched jaw, the lines of his face relax. Scott took Virgil's hand, keeping his voice steady. "Stay with me, Virg. Tell me how you're doing."

Virgil murmured something incomprehensible, managed a small squeeze of Scott's hand.

"What is he up to?" Alan muttered.

Scott looked up; realized that Alan wasn't looking at him or Virgil. He followed his youngest brother's gaze to where Gaat was emerging from the smaller jet tucked in behind Thunderbird One. He strode back to the circle with a black case that looked very much like a doctor's bag. He put it on the floor, taking out several objects that were hard to make out at this distance and placing them in the golden bowl. Then he began to chant slowly in a guttural, unfamiliar language. Scott started to wish John was there; he might have known what the language was. Then he realized what he was wishing for and took it back in a hurry. The last thing he wanted right now was any more of his family members in harm's way.

A tangible stir went through the demon ranks grouped around the circle. They watched Gaat with rapt attention, as if they were anticipating something. Scott didn't want to know what.

A sense of urgency made his eyes stray, not for the first time, to the side door they had entered through. If he could just get to it while Gaat was distracted… No, not him…there was no way in hell he was leaving Virgil. But maybe…

"Al," he said, in tones barely above a whisper, pretending to adjust the field dressings on Virgil's back.

Alan looked at him. Scott waited a moment, then he flicked his eyes toward the door.

Alan glanced briefly at the door, then at Gaat. "But…Tin-Tin…"

"The sooner you bring help, the sooner we'll get her and Virgil out of here."

Alan nodded, reluctant but understanding. "OK."

"On my signal," Scott murmured.

Alan squeezed Tin-Tin's hand. He drew his legs up under him, making it look as if he was moving to help Scott.

Gaat threw his arms up in the air and gave a great shout, which was echoed by all the demons around the circle. Flame exploded from the golden bowl, searing both Tracys' eyes with its brightness. "Go!" Scott hissed, and Alan came up off the floor like a runner from the starting blocks.

It was going to work. The commotion around the circle was holding Gaat's attention; nobody had seen Alan's bid for freedom. He was at the door now, wrenching it open.

Immediately he reeled back, gasping in shock. Scott sprang to his feet, clearly able to see the open door from where he was.

It framed something thick and black and howling, shot through with spears of lightning. As Scott stared in disbelief, long fingers of that blackness reached in as if alive, headed for his brother. Scott was beside him in seconds, trying to drag him back, but the vortex or whatever the hell it was had them squarely in its gravitational pull, sucking them both relentlessly toward the opening. Scott threw all his weight backward but resist as they both might, they were slowly losing ground, and the force beyond the doorway was growing stronger and stronger.

Abruptly, the door slammed shut. The resistance gone, Scott and Alan collapsed backwards to the floor. Gaat's voice boomed out. "Do not do that again."

Breathing hard, Scott rolled over, cursing himself silently for having underestimated their captor. Of course Gaat didn't think he had to watch them…he'd already cut off their escape. How, Scott couldn't even fathom.

Before he could even try to figure out what to do next, his overloaded senses got yet another shock. In the middle of the circle, where nothing had been a few moments before, there were now three newcomers, all men. They seemed to be distentangling themselves from one another, as if they'd been in the middle of a fight or some kind of physical struggle.

All of them looked very surprised to be there.

"The hell, Crowley," said one, a very tall young man whose shaggy hair brushed the collar of his green army surplus jacket. "Now what have you done?"