A/N: Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter. 1,984 words! Should keep you busy for... well, however long it takes you to read that many words. Enjoy.
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Alan seemed to be doing okay, even if he was distressed about his missing memory. While Colby had slept at the hospital with Alan Trangh, Megan, David, and Don had pulled an all-nighter at the FBI office. Megan, always an expert at information, tried to pull up information on Ryan Trangh. There was next to nothing, except information about the house he'd just purchased. The search had proven fruitless and, despite David and Don's best attempts, there had been little to go on.
"Charlie!" Don called, setting the papers down on the table.
"What's up?" Charlie asked. Alan maybe-or-maybe not Trangh bounded into the kitchen, following Don.
"Alan, this is my brother, Charlie," Don said. Alan smiled sheepishly before hiding under Don's leg. "Charlie, this is Alan."
"Welcome, Alan," Charlie responded as he nodded towards the teenager. He agreed with Don upon first assessment. Twelve seemed too young for the teenager – he seemed to be older than that. He'd heard the story when Don had come home for ten minutes the previous night. Colby had agreed to stay at the hospital overnight with Alan.
"Do you want something to eat?" Don asked. "I think Dad has some leftovers in the fridge."
"I can make something," Charlie offered, half-offended, half-relieved that Don hadn't offered.
"Sure, Charlie can make something, too," Don replied, "If you don't mind it tasting like shoe leather." He shot a grin at Alan, and Alan relaxed just a little bit. For some reason, the stage felt familiar.
"I heard that!" Charlie called from the kitchen. "And my cooking does not taste like shoe leather - only my steaks do!"
A slow smile passed through Alan's face for the first time since Don had known him. "I think," he said quietly, "that I have a brother."
"A brother?" Don asked. He had been able to drop Alan off at his house because the FBI was getting ready to clean out the house right next door for leads on information. They knew that Alan's father – if that's who the man even was; Don had his doubts – had planned on living there. "Do you know a name, age, anything like that?" Okay, so that was a dumb question – it should have been, do you remember…
Hey, at least this would give them something to go on. Something just didn't feel right about the whole scenario. Whatever happened, Don would be glad when – not if – when Alan got his memory back.
"Older," Alan said. Just as soon as the flash of memory came, it had gone. "He likes Pepsi," Alan added suddenly, unsure why that was important or significant.
Don scribbled in his notebook, probable older brother, likes Pepsi. "Anything else?" he asked.
"I think he might know how to fly?" Alan responded quietly. He wasn't sure why that was important or significant, either. Great, he had an older brother and all he could remember was that the man liked Pepsi? Whoopti-Do.
He must have said his thoughts about the fact that the fact that his older brother liked Pepsi wasn't very useful outloud because Don responded, "Hey, every little bit helps."
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After a days' time, Scott was allowed out of the hospital. He'd been mostly fine, with primarily internal injuries. Jeff had wanted him to rest overnight before heading back to New York, where Gordon was. Gordon sighed. It was 2 weeks since Alan had gone missing, and he couldn't wait to see Scott again. He couldn't wait to see Alan again, either. He really, really missed the kid, especially since he felt like the kid's said abduction was his fault.
Gordon was exhausted both emotionally and physically when he got the phone call. He almost hadn't answered it. He had planned on swimming a few laps, and going straight to bed. But it was his friend from the FBI office department that he rarely talked too, David Sinclair. David was a good ten years older than he was, but had met him through the WASP program. They'd kept in touch ever since.
"Hey, Sinclair," Gordon Tracy said, checking the time on his watch. It read 9:00 Island Time, which meant that David would be calling from about 12:00 P.M. California time. "What's up, and why the call so late?"
"Oh, you know, one of those long, hard-ass days at work," David responded. Gordon got the feeling that he was trying to be deliberately vague. "Just now got away. Listen, I wanted to ask you… Are you missing a kid brother?"
"What?" Gordon's heart skipped a beat. Was he missing a kid brother? Did Donald Trump have a bad haircut? Yes, he was missing a kid brother, and he wasn't very happy about it! "Yeah, Alan's missing… he's been missing here for a week now, no, more than a week; why?" Had it really been just a little over a week and a half since his younger brother had gone missing, they'd seen that terrible video of Scott and Alan being abducted, and… Gordon swallowed hard, remembering the conversation he'd had with Scott on the vid-phone earlier.
"I'm so sorry, Scott!" Gordon said. He wished he could embrace his brother in a hug, and see for himself that Scott was really alright. He'd heard that Scott was alive from Virgil earlier, and that in itself was a huge relief, but he couldn't wait to see for himself that his brother was alright. He wanted, admittedly, to hear from Scott that it wasn't his fault that he and Alan were kidnapped.
"For what, Gordon?" Scott said. Gordon sighed, knowing that Scott would probably have picked the information if he'd been feeling better.
"For getting you and Alan kidnapped!" Gordon blurted out. He swallowed hard, sure that even Scott saw the lump in his throat.
"How is that even your fault?" Scott asked, his mouth dropping open.
"I was the one who needed the midnight rescue one! I probably played right into the Hood's hands, and… led you right into the Hood's path!"
"Nonsense, Gordon," Scott said firmly. Gordon swallowed hard, hoping that at some day he could believe that himself. "Look, the Hood wanted to kidnap Alan and would have stopped at nothing to do so. At least this way, I was with Alan for awhile and was able to protect him somewhat. You have nothing to blame yourself for, Gordon."
"I guess," Gordon said, still not convinced. He swallowed hard and settled for changing the subject. He didn't really want to talk about this anymore, anyway.
"Look, anyway, we have a kid who reminds me of Alan the one time I met him," David said. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in flying up and visiting him?"
"Yeah," Gordon said before pausing. "You obviously have something else, so just come out with it."
"We were originally stumped on leads because the kid's identification says that he's Alan Trangh," David explained. "We have someone who is claiming to be Trangh's relative, but neither Don nor I believe that he is Alan's relative. However, he does have some identifying information that could put him in Alan's care. Don's not willing to let him go yet. But anyway, if you want to come see if this kid is his brother…"
"I'll be there in less than two hours," Gordon promised as he hung up the phone and logged a flight plan, an uneasy feeling in his gut.
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"He doesn't look familiar to me," Alan said in a passive voice, a pseudo whisper if you will, to Colby as he looked at the man through the window. He winced. "No, wait, he does look familiar. I don't know!" he said as he threw up his hands in exasperation and sank down to the bench.
"Hey, it's okay," Colby responded. "Look, don't try and force the memory, okay? It will come naturally, eventually."
"I'm sure," Alan said as he sank into his seat. At least Don's father had said he could stay with him until he regained his memory. Ironically, his name was also Alan.
"Hey, why don't you go wait with Megan in the conference room?" Colby said, waving that direction. "Charlie! Hey, Charlie!" he said, trying to get the math man's attention. Alan smiled at the scene. That reminded him of all the times Scott had tried to help John with his math…
John! He had another name. Was he John? No, his name was obviously Alan; that's what it had said on the ID. Was his brother's name John, or was it one of his friends? Or his brother's friends? Alan swallowed hard. He couldn't think, and he didn't feel well. He slowly made his way to the conference room and sank down to the chair.
"Alan!" a voice said, causing Alan to turn his head. The man looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn't place him. Within seconds, the twenty-something redhead was over by his side.
"We have to take you in the conference room first," Don said, striding over towards Alan protectively. He didn't know why he felt the need to protect the kid so strongly, but the need was there. It was probably because Colby had shot the kid's father (if Ryan Trangh was even the man's father - Don had his doubts), and there was someone else claiming to be related to Alan in another conference room. Plus, why on earth had this guy waited almost a day and a half to come forward with the fact that his brother was the said victim?
"He's my brother," the man responded as he pointed at Alan. "Alan. Alan Tracy."
"Really?" Don said, his eyebrow raising. He wasn't stupid, he knew the name. However, he also knew that there was another guy who was also in there claiming to be Alan's brother or half-brother or something – he couldn't remember.
"Yes," the man said. "I'm sorry. I'm Gordon. Gordon Tracy," he said, sticking out his hand.
Don shook it. "Let's go to the conference room," he said.
Colby Granger winced as Don Eppes and Gordon Tracy went into the conference room. "Shit," he muttered, using the expletive that only halfway described how he was feeling.
"What's up?" David asked, pausing from his papers. If Gordon said that this was his brother Alan, David believed him, but also knew they'd need to see the proof for Don, if nobody else.
"I know where I recognized that guy," Colby said as he pointed in the room. "Do you remember when that guy called the Hood got arrested last summer?"
"Robbing London banks with the Thunderbird technology, yeah. Why?"
"That," Colby said, pointing with deadly accuracy at the man, "was his sidekick, the one and only, Mullion."
"Damn," David said. He glanced at Colby. "You're sure about this?"
"Fingerprints don't lie," Colby said as he showed David the papers. "How often do we get to make an arrest in the FBI office?"
"Not that often, and we might not now, either," David said. He held up his gun, startling Colby, who dropped the fingerprint papers and moved towards the glass room. "Drop the gun now, Mullion!"
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A/N: So, your challenge: What is Mullion going to try? Will Alan get his memory back? And will Don believe Gordon's story?