Scott Tracy refused to believe it. He refused to believe that the Hood was telling him the truth. After all, when had he ever done that in the past? But there was a crunching, sickening reality that was telling him to just accept it as fact, that his one of his younger brothers was dead; dead because he'd tried to rescue another brother.

The fact that John never should have been put in that didn't even register with Scott. Scott swallowed hard, trying to fight the tears dripping down his cheeks. It had been twelve hours since he'd heard but he was just now starting to process it. His brother was dead. That was what the Hood had said, and that was what Alan believed. Maybe he hadn't really had time to process it because he was still trying to process everyone else.

Alan had been sullen and hadn't put up a fight during the transport to the car from the plane, which Scott was sure had something to do with the gunfight outside. Scott had heard the shots, and unable to move, had simply prayed that nobody was hurt. He had been shocked when the Hood had told him what happened.

The Hood hadn't told him and Alan anything until they'd gotten them to the new house. Then, he'd sat them down and told them that their brother, John, was dead; that he'd just heard that fact on the news. He also informed them that they may as well give up because their family would never want them back now. He'd make sure they never wanted them back. That had set Alan into tears. The Hood didn't bother to let Scott comfort Alan this time, but instead moved Scott somewhere else – Scott didn't really know where he was.

Flashback

"I'd like to tell you boys something else, too," the Hood responded, having given Alan and Scott a chance to digest their new house 'rules.' It was some type of sick, twisted fantasy that they were forced to play. Scott felt like it was a sick game of hide-and-go seek. "Boys, when you heard that gunshot… I fired at John's arm just to scare John, but I think he must have moved, because the bullet hit him somewhere I didn't intend it too. He's dead, boys."

"You're lying!" Alan said, leaping from the blue couch instantly. Scott hadn't even noticed the couch, too absorbed in the information. He was too numb to move. John dead? His younger, star-gazing, Coke-loving brother dead? He was numb with shock. One thought that might have jolted him had he not been so numb was that now the Coke company would have a serious loss of income because his brother wasn't drinking it. "That's not true! I saw you – you didn't hit…"

Alan was physically grabbed and shoved against the wall. Scott was up an instant, yelling, "Don't hurt him!"

The Hood dropped Alan to the floor, sending a quick kick to his stomach as he glared at Scott. "I thought I told you not to talk," he growled. His teeth showed, and they weren't white. Scott backed up, trying to move the Hood as far away as he could from his baby brother as possible. He tried to look over the Hood's shoulder at Alan, but wasn't able to. "Scott!" Alan cried, trying to get up, but there was no use. Another man had come from behind and grabbed Alan's shoulders, holding him back as the Hood dragged Scott away.

## end flashback ##

Scott mulled over that last thought. There had been another man there, hadn't there? He knew he'd seen one. The man had held Alan back while the Hood had dragged him away. Swallowing hard, Scott sighed. That made two enemies that the boys would have to fight to get back home.

If they were even allowed back home, and if there was anything waiting for them when they got back home. No – Scott couldn't allow himself to think like that; it was such a stupid notion that he would be stupid to believe. Exhaling slowly, Scott closed his eyes. He may as well go to sleep. There was nothing he could do.

God, he prayed, please take care of Alan, because I can't comfort him right now…

## break ##

"No!" Alan said as he glared at the Hood defiantly. He wouldn't do it. There was no way that he could allow himself to write that note.

The blank piece of paper sat on the table, untouched. There was a gray, sharpened pencil that was currently laying perfectly still next to it. Alan knew exactly what he was supposed to write, and refused to do so. He couldn't believe that the Hood – oh, wait, Ryan-whatever-his-face-was – had killed his older brother.

He felt sick to his stomach and knew that the torture was only just beginning. "I won't do it," Alan added.

The Hood shrugged. He had expected this result from Alan. After all, Alan had shown his inability to compromise with the whole waterboarding incident. He hadn't really wanted to torture the teen, but had no choice, he felt. Alan had to learn some way to cooperate. "Do you really want a repeat of last time?" he asked, making sure his voice was at a chillingly low level.

"I'm not writing the letter!" Alan responded. He grabbed the paper, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it at the Hood's face. "Go to hell!" he added, running out of the room. It was a classic Alan tantrum that had last manifested when Scott had tried to teach him his alphabet – about ten years ago. Alan wasn't thinking about that now though; he was thinking of the fact that he had to get away, and he had to get away now.

The Hood, however, had about a hundred pounds on Alan and had spent much of his life running as well. He also knew the layout of this land as well – this was where he'd grown up. He'd always thought of it as his house. He would never be found here. "Get back here, Alan," he ordered. Knowing he wouldn't comply, the Hood grinned as he moved through the secret passage in the wall, cutting off Alan. A surprised Alan tried to backtrack, but wasn't able too. The Hood tackled him and pinned him to the floor, pressing Alan's arms firmly against the ground so that he could not move.

"I don't like having to chase you, Alan. Really, I'm just trying to protect you from a family who doesn't want you," the Hood responded. He grinned inwardly, but kept an angry outward expression. This was so much more fun than just killing Alan outright. He should have thought of this approach in prison. If not for his wife, though, he wouldn't have thought about it.

"They do want me!" Alan responded, gripping the carpet, trying to fight back against the Hood. The black carpet explained exactly how he was feeling inside: Stormy and angry. He would have to continue to fight back. Sure, the Hood had seen him at his lowest point at the bank at London, but he had no idea how hard Alan could and would fight back.

"Just sign the letter, Alan," the Hood ordered. He smirked, seeing that Alan was at least being a good boy and wearing his brace. He moved himself up, keeping a tight grip on Alan that had forced him down to the floor. He stepped carefully on the teen's already injured arm, making the teen cry out in pain. "Look," the Hood responded, "either you get that letter written, or I'll go blow up Tracy Island right now and then make you write the letter." The Hood knew that the boys wouldn't be on the island, but also suspected that threat wouldn't matter to Alan.

Alan's shoulders slumped. So this was it – he had no choice. Even if his family hated him… he couldn't let the Hood kill any more of them. A tear dripped down his face as he stared at the black carpet, thinking of John. "I'll write it," he said.

"Good," the Hood said. He grabbed Alan by his arm, physically dragging him to the kitchen, even though the teenager offered no resistance. The Hood shoved Alan into the brown table leg, making the teenage boy wince. The Hood went to the trash can, picked up the paper where it had fallen, and shoved that and the pencil at Alan. Now maybe he could get Alan to write a note saying that he didn't want to be found and scale off the search. "Now write it."

## break ##

Virgil Tracy was terrified. He had never been more scared in his life. Sure, there were plenty of life-threatening issues that he'd dealt with before, and he'd had his medical training. But there was nothing that could have prepared him for this. Seeing Alan get forced into the plane… There was no Scott there; he thought, wildly, remembering the detail. Where was Scott?

He'd called and left a message on his father's answering machine. Virgil had tried calling his brother Gordon, but there was no answer from that. Which made sense – his phone was dead back at the island. Virgil cursed himself for not remembering that.

The ambulance plane had come and picked up John and was taking him to the airport. One police officer had waited with Virgil, allowing him the freedom to make some calls, until he'd come back. He had been asked a bunch of questions – questions that admittedly, Virgil Tracy did not even remember now. Now, Virgil was sitting in the dull, blue waiting room at the hospital.

Soon, Anastasia greeted him. She smiled at the young Tracy "Your father has notified me that he is on his way," he said. "John will be fine, Virgil. You did the right thing by getting John help so quickly."

"I guess," Virgil responded. "His arm will be fine?"

Anastasia nodded. "They're patching it up right now. How is Gordon doing?"

Virgil smiled as he thought of his fair-haired younger brother. If he'd have thought about it, he would have realized that Anastasia was trying to do a classic trick: get him distracted and calmed down. "Gordon's doing much better, although I think he's taken out a permanent spot at the Y."

"Are there any leads on your brother's case?"

"There are a few. We know who took him, but there have been no reported sightings. I'm wondering if any of the leads are still valid, since I know they got moved today," he said with a sigh.

"I can tell you're nervous about something," Anastasia responded quietly. There was more to the surface then the gentle, panio-playing boy was telling her.

"I saw Alan, but I didn't see Scott. I mean, I know he could have already been in the plane, but…" for the first time since Alan's abduction nearly a week and a half ago, Virgil Tracy broke down into tears as he realized he had not seen his eldest brother anywhere in the vicinity.

Was it possible that Scott was dead?

## break ##

To be continued…