A/N: Well, hopefully this starts to answer some questions...

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It was later that night when Virgil woke up Scott by shaking his shoulders non-to-gently. "I think something's really wrong," he responded as he watched the twenty-four-year-old attempt to process the information. He hated waking up Scott at night, because inasmuch as Alan hero-worshiped him, he could be a real pain in the ass at night.

"What?" Scott asked sleepily as he blinked his eyes in an attempt to process the information. Virgil would have snickered if the situation wasn't so dire. This was exactly why he avoided waking Scott up at all costs.

Actually, waking Scott up had become so complicated, that his father had made sure one of Scott's sixteenth birthday presents was an alarm clock he couldn't break.

"Gordon. Something. Wrong," Virgil responded, trying not to torment Scott too much. After all, he hadn't spent the last half hour watching his younger brother puke his guts out.

Luckily, that Scott seemed to process. He bolted out of bed, pulling on his jeans and then a corresponding T-shirt. Virgil smirked at the fact that his brother's nightshirt screamed Pepsi. He'd have to write something on the Internet about that, really; all of Commander Scott's fans swore he was a Coke fan. Hmm. This was tempting… But then again, the Coke company would be so disappointed.

Guess they were doing a good job of keeping who they were secret.

Which was good for times right now. Speaking of which… He exhaled slowly. Someone still needed to be here for International Rescue – but Gordon was clearly sick, and Virgil wasn't taking chances.

"What's wrong with Gordon?" Scott asked as he pressed his way through the dark corridor, using language that would have made their father blush as they rounded the hall and Scott stubbed his toe. Despite the fact that they'd lived here for many years, Scott obviously hadn't learned his way around the corridor.

"Don't know," Virgil responded with a tired sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "That's why I want to get him checked out. Scott, he spent the last half hour puking his guts out. Something's wrong."

A frown crossed Scott's face. "That's not good," he muttered with the shake of his head.

"No duh, Sherlock. I don't know what to do – I really don't want to wake up Dad, and I don't want to take Gordon to the island by myself," Virgil said as he checked his watch. It was 2:10 A.M. in the morning.

"What's going on, Scott?" Alan asked, coming out of his room and turning on the light, making the previously dark corridor now visible. Virgil smirked as he clearly saw John's laundry in the laundry room. Ohana would have her hands full, that was for sure. Although Jeff tried to treat his employees well, they always insisted on going above and beyond for their job. Despite that Ohana and Kyrano mostly handled cooking, they still did the other needed jobs around the house. Their salaries rivaled some professional teachers with PHDs.

"Gordon's sick," Scott responded, his voice laced with concern. He understood Virgil completely. On one hand, Gordon needed to go to a hospital. On another hand, there was International Rescue to think about. They couldn't risk anyone finding out who they were.

The trio made their way closer to the infirmary, pressing towards the door. Gordon could be heard throwing up again.

Screw International Rescue, Scott thought. When it boiled down to it, no matter how they treated each other, they were a family. He was the commander in charge of the team, and his team was now in trouble. He exhaled slowly, thinking quietly. "Alright," he said finally. "Alan, how do you feel about a trip to mainland?"

"A trip?" Alan asked, not catching on. It was clear that he was tired.

"Why don't you go with Gordon and I to mainland?" Normally, he would have asked Virgil to go – Virgil was a doctor and would understand the medical mumbo jumbo best – but to be honest, Virgil hadn't exactly been Alan's best friend lately. He could take Alan with him and not worry as much as if John or Virgil was with him. John and Virgil had both handled solo rescues before, and there was always his father.

Although, at the moment, he thought it best to let his father lie around in bed. He hadn't exactly gotten a lot of sleep the previous night. Scott yawned. He hated being the oldest sometimes.

"Okay," Alan said with a shrug. "I'll go get my shoes."

Scott glanced at Virgil after Alan left the room. "How bad?" Scott asked, gesturing towards the room.

"I don't know. But I don't know what's causing it, and I'd feel much better with a hospital close buy," Virgil grumbled. He paused. "He could be having symptoms of appendicitis, and I don't really have the ability to check that out on hand. That goes beyond the scope of my medical training. But I will say this – and don't worry, Scott, John is powering up Tracy One – I figured we'd need someone to take him. Gordon's symptoms are abdominal pain, he's not hungry and he barely touched dinner; so check one up for lack of appetite… anyway, I've written them all down, the one that really got to me was the fever."

"Wonderful," Scott muttered. Alan came back with his shoes. "Alright. Just let Dad know where I've gone."

"Will do. As soon as he's had about three cups of coffee," Virgil responded cheerfully.

Scott smacked his brother playfully. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Virgil looked uncomfortable upon noticing Alan. "Sorry for what I said earlier, Sprout. I didn't mean it quite the way I said it."

Alan looked surprised. Normally, when his brothers teased him, they never bothered to apologize. "Thanks," he said as he slipped on his sneakers.

John came back into the corridor. "Tracy One is ready to go," he responded as he glanced at Alan. "Who's going?"

"Scott and Alan," Virgil responded. At John's look, he added, "Yeah, Gordon's going too. I thought, being the brilliant scientist you are, you would know that."

"Hey, even brilliant scientists need sleep at three o'clock A.M.," John retorted as he rolled his eyes and ruffled his younger brother's hair. "Thanks, Scott. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Hey, I've been looking out for you guys since Alan was in diapers," Scott said. John smirked because he knew exactly what Scott meant. "I think I can manage a trip to the hospital." He didn't speak the rest of what he wanted to say: I'd much rather be appendicitis than the Hydrofoil accident.

"Great," John responded as he helped Scott get Gordon ready to be transported to the mainland.

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Alan sat in the passenger seat of Tracy one. Gordon had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Scott had already called the hospital in New York to let them know that they would be landing soon. The woman, who had known Scott all too well, had just responded, "I'll get it cleared."

Scott liked Anastasia – she was an excellent hospital worker, and she knew his family all too well. She was one of the select few at the hospital who knew about International Rescue.

Too bad she was spoken for.

"Are you okay, Alan?" Scott asked as he watched his younger brother. He knew it was three o'clock in the morning, but normally his youngest brother would be excited over a trip like this.

"Is Gordon going to die?" Alan suddenly blurted out.

"What?" Scott asked, his mouth agape. This wasn't like Alan. He wasn't scared, or clingy, or... well, never mind. "No, Alan. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Okay," Alan responded, suddenly reassured. It was then when they touched down, and the action started. Scott's cell phone rang, and he shoved it at Alan, saying, "Answer it and meet me at the cafeteria!"

Alan sighed and picked up the phone, answering, "Alan Tracy."

"Alan?" Virgil's worried voice came over the phone. "Why are you picking up Scott's phone?"

"Just tell me what's wrong, Virgil," Alan said tiredly.

"It's the Hood, Alan," Virgil finally said. His voice sounded flat. "He escaped."

"Okay," Alan responded, his voice shaky. He had to go inside and sit down, and maybe get something to drink like Scott suggested. "I'll go get Scott, and..."

"No, no, no you won't," the Hood said, his voice cold. Alan swallowed hard as he turned around, his mouth open. How had the Hood made his way here? How was he on hospital grounds without anyone seeing? Alan mentally snorted. Everyone was so busy wrapped up caring for everyone else. But there were more pressing matters.

"Virgil!" Alan said as he took off, screaming into his cell phone. "Tell Dad the Hood is at the hos-"

"Tsk, tsk, little Alan," the Hood said, taking Alan's out of his hand with a mere thought. He grabbed it and stepped on it, crushing it with his foot, ignoring Virgil's screams. "Listen to me very carefully. Gordon is sick, but part of it is controlled by me. I can make him get better quick or I can make him get worse. I can kill your family, and I can destroy the hospital. Or you can come with me. What do you want to do?" he asked. His eyes glittered dangerously. "Or, I can do all that and take you by force," he added, lifting up his shirt to reveal his weapon. "So, Alan... what's your choice?"

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Oh, yes, the true whump is just beginning...

Challenge: What will be Alan's "choice?"