A/N: Wasn't going to update until Monday, but had some free time today, so why not? Please R&R. For those of you who haven't noticed, this is a brief - but very brief - crossover with numb3rs; the guest-star FBI agents. Hope this chapter answers some of your questions!

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He didn't feel very good. That was the first thing Scott Tracy noticed as he awoke the second time. He felt, actually, like shit. He swallowed hard as he looked around the room, and there, on the side of the couch, was his younger brother, John.

Scott sucked in a breath. He briefly remembered Virgil telling him that John was alive, but he hadn't wanted to get his hopes up without actually seeing him.

John snapped up, his head bobbing up as he looked at Scott. "Scott!" he said, embracing his older brother instantly. He'd heard Virgil say what Scott had said, that Scott had thought he was dead, and was kicking himself for not being near the room when Scott had woken up.

"John," Scott said, breathing a sigh of relief as he wholeheartedly embraced his brother. He could believe it now; John was alive. He couldn't wait to tell Alan that. Scott swallowed hard, a lump dissolving in his throat. Maybe Mullion wasn't telling the truth. He couldn't be. The Hood had been adamant about wanting Alan as his child; why would he turn around all his hard work and kill Alan? No, he'd leave him alive. Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry, Scott," John said. He meant it, too. After a minute, Scott was able to release John from his grasp and breathe a little easier.

"It's not your fault," Scott said. He guessed what John was blaming himself for – the same thing that Scott was blaming himself for, probably.

"But I couldn't save you or Alan!" John responded. He swallowed hard, trying not to release the emotions that threatened to build. "I was right there, within inches of saving you and Alan…"

"And you were shot because of it," Scott responded. "Alan told me, John. We don't blame you. The Hood is a vicious, evil, son-of-a-b…"

"Scott Carpenter Tracy!" Jeff said, snapping his eldest out of what as he was about to say. "You're awake," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. He embraced his son with a hug, and gratefully relished in the fact that one of his sons was alive.

Jeff and John sank to the couch. "Are there any leads on Alan, Dad?" Scott anxiously asked as a nurse came in, took his temperature, and left.

John looked at his father, who seemed to have aged ten years in the last two weeks. "Dad?" he asked, his voice barley auditable.

"There was one. We think we found the house he kept you at, Scott. We were hoping Alan would be there. But as soon as we got there, the house was clear and Alan was gone."

"He's been one step ahead of us the whole time," John muttered grimly.

Suddenly, Scott blinked into awareness. "Shit!" he exclaimed grimly, ignoring his father's warning look. "Dad, I think I figured out what the Hood was telling me."

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"I can't believe this is working out so well!" the Hood said gleefully. He grinned as he taunted Scott. Scott eyed him warily as he leaned against the kitchen counter. "I found out some interesting news from my friend in the FBI."

"Your friend in the FBI?" Scott asked wearily.

The Hood smiled. "My other half-brother. He got adopted at a very young age. We have always kept in touch." He grinned. "I have received information from him that the FBI know of our location. So, sorry, Scotty-boy, but you've got to go. I think Alan and I would be much less suspicious as we travel if you did not tag along."

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"Another half-brother who got adopted," Jeff muttered darkly. "That would explain why we were one step behind you the whole time. Did he give you any more information than that?"

Scott winced, feeling like he would disappoint his father once again. He flashed back to when he'd disappointed the Hood, and the Hood had almost beaten him to death. He closed his eyes, trying to force himself not to think about it.

"Thanks for the information, Scott. I'll follow up on it right away. John, will you please call Gordon and let him know Scott's awake?"

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Alan swallowed hard as he watched the Hood's gun waver. He had heard the Hood click the safety off the trigger and knew he was in danger now. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, two shots rang out and he was dropped to the ground.

"Check his pulse," one voice said to the other. A two-hundred pound FBI agent reached towards the body, and checked it.

Colby felt for a pulse. "Shit!" he swore as he looked at the body. "He's dead," he muttered as he shoved the body over. "Kid, you okay?" he asked, trying to see the kid in the dimly lit light.

It was dark in Southern California, and it was after eight o'clock at night. He knelt to the ground and did a brief assessment, as best as he could in the dim light. A very small trickle of blood ran down the kid's face from where he'd been hit. Colby dug a bandanna out of his pocket and placed it against the kid's head gently. "My name's Colby," he said, "FBI Agent Colby Granger. What's your name?"

Alan swallowed hard. He knew the Hood had members inside the FBI. If for some reason I die – which I won't – I have people all over the FBI, Alan. I can and will get to you. Don't believe anything you hear." Alan swallowed hard, again, not trusting his voice. Colby had already gently reached into Alan's pocket, spying the wallet with the falsified information that the Hood had given him.

Colby turned on his flashlight, reading the name on the birth certificate and social security number, comparing it with the fake identification that looked all too real. Alan Trangh. Alan could see the last name even from here. A tear slowly slid down his face. "Hey, hey, don't cry," Colby said, hastily. He embraced Alan in a hug.

"Colby, why don't you take him to the hospital?" Don suggested. He'd seen the terrified look on the kid's face. He pulled the identification information out of Colby's hands.

Alan Trangh

Height 5'6 Weight 165

Eye color Blue

Hair color Blonde

He skimmed over the other information before handing it back to Colby. "Identification says he's twelve?" Don asked, his voice in slight disbelief. It could be plausible, he supposed. "Anyway, the ID's match up. This is Ryan Trangh – the kid's dad, probably. Maybe his brother or something?" he added as a quizzical afterthought.

"Think he's got a mother?" Colby asked as he took the ID back from Don's grasp.

"We won't know that until we search the house. Normally I'd say ambulance, no question, but I think that you should go. Just stay with him at all times, 'kay?" Don asked. He couldn't explain why, but he felt that it was important not to let the kid out of the FBI's sight.

"You want me to go with him?" Colby asked. He gently set Alan down, saying, "Just a second, kid," before stepping off with Don. "Don, I killed his father! The kid's going to hate me –"

"Colby, the kid's father, if that's even what he was, took the kid and slammed him into the house, head-first. I don't think there will be too much of a loss, there," Don responded. "Just do it for me, please? I'll get David and Megan out here to clean up the crime scene."

That Colby could deal with. "Okay," he said as he turned back towards Alan, picking him up and gently lifting him into the black FBI-issued SUV.

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Alan heard voices. Voices that faded in and out. He heard the beep, beep, beep of the machine. He groaned as he awoke. He tried to remember his last name. Nothing came to mind. He slowly raised his hand up, seeing the hospital bracelet that read Alan Trangh. The name, 'Trangh', didn't feel right to Alan.

He sighed as he touched his bracelet. With that, the figure beside his bed moved. "You're awake," he said, handing the teen some ice chips.

Alan accepted them gratefully. "You're not my father, right?" he asked, quietly. For some reason he had been accepting a happy reunion between father and son. He shoved the wish down.

The doctor frowned as she came in, checking Alan's vital signs. "Alan, this is FBI agent Colby Granger," she responded. "He's the one who brought you to us yesterday. Can you tell me what you remember last night?"

Raised voices? Maybe? Shouting, for sure. But was that even last night? And if it was, who was the shouting directed at? "It's a blur," he responded.

Colby Granger looked at the woman in question.

"Amnesia is usually common with blunt force trauma," she responded. "Can you tell me your last name?"

"I know my first name is Alan," he responded. He fingered his bracelet carefully. "And my last name is Trangh, I guess," he added. "But it doesn't feel right."

Colby exchanged a glance with the nurse. "It was on your identification that was in your pocket," Colby responded.

"I'll let you talk to him, Agent Granger. He should be fine to go later this afternoon, since he has been held overnight for observation. I'll get the doctor to sign off on him."

"Thanks, I think," Colby told the doctor's retreating form. He sighed as he closed his eyes. How do I tell the kid I shot his father?

Suddenly, a name hit Alan in a flash. "Ryan," he said suddenly. "I'm not going back with him. I can't!" he said. He shrunk back against the blanket and hospital pillow in fear.

Colby swallowed hard. "Alan," he said, "Ryan Trangh is dead. I shot him last night because he held a gun to your head and wouldn't let go."

"Oh," Alan said in a flat voice.

Now what?

"Was he your father?" Colby pressed carefully.

"I don't know," Alan said. He let out a whine. "I don't really know." Suddenly, the thought that he didn't know who he was hit him like a tidal force. He may have been out of his father's hands - was the man even his father? He couldn't remember! - but now he didn't remember anything. "I don't remember who I am!" he swallowed hard and glanced at Colby, hoping somehow that the FBI agent would have the answers.

"It'll come back, in time," Colby said, trying to be reassuring.

"Yeah, but what about until then?" One memory returned to Alan in a flash. "I can't live with my dad, so what will happen?"

"Until you get your memory back, we'll take care of you," Colby said, trying to be reassuring, "we always take care of our own."

Shit, Colby thought, grimly, now what?

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A/N: Well, we know that the FBI agents are the good guys. But will Alan trust them? And will Alan be able to get his memory back?