Home Turf

The eldest Tracy sibling thought of his brothers as his own personal property and didn't take to lightly anyone messing with them. What will happen when the Tracy brothers are attacked on their home turf? Alan whump.

Dedicated to PHX, who gave me permission to use her sentence as part of the summary, and Criminally Charmed, who agreed to look this over before I posted. Thanks to you both. This was originality supposed to be a one-shot, but spiraled into two chapters.

If you like, please R&R!

"Alan, what's wrong?" seventeen year old Scott demanded as he hugged his younger brother. Tears were streaking down Alan's face. Where on earth was the babysitter, anyway? He thought with a bitter sigh. At seventeen, Scott Tracy did not need a babysitter. He could have, in fact, been his older sibling's babysitter. But he had been away for a week at summer camp, and the part-time babysitter Jeff had hired had become full time. Their grandmother had quickly volunteered her services, but Jeff hadn't wanted to burden her, insisting that it was okay for his children to have a normal babysitter just once. Scott sighed and dropped his duffle bag to the floor. He'd only just gotten back… and this was what he was welcomed with.

Some days he wondered, not selfishly, what his family would do without him.

"I gottttttt hurtttttt," the seven-year-old wailed. Exactly ten years younger than Scott, Alan was guarded and protected by four older loving and caring brothers. Whenever he was hurt, he came rushing to one of them to "heal" them. Luckily, the seven-year-old didn't have too many 'boo-boo's' that couldn't be healed by his trio of older brothers. Scott was surprised that he was here, asking for Scott's help and not Virgil's. The fifteen-year-old had an unhealthy obsession with medicine and was determined to know everything that there was about it.

"I'm sorry, Alan," Scott said. He sighed, wishing that Alan was slightly older and that he didn't have to deal with every scraped knee. Still, he wouldn't trade his job of 'big brother' for the world. "Let me see, okay?"

"No!" Alan said, recoiling backwards faster than if Scott had slapped him in his face. Scott was stunned by Alan's reaction, and he was sure it was clearly visible on his face. "I don't want you to see!"

The tone of voice that Alan was using set off alarm bells in Scott's head. Why was Alan acting like this? Although Scott didn't want to be hero-worshiped 24/7 as Alan had so bluntly done before, he did need to know what was wrong.

"Alan, it's okay," Scott said, attempting to be soothing. "I just need to know what hurts so that I can make it all better." If he'd just gotten home, chances were high that Virgil already knew what was bugging Alan, and he would be here…

… in less than five seconds. Virgil's figure appeared, and Scott could tell from the look on his face that he looked extremely frustrated. In fact, pissed off would probably be a better way to describe it. But best not to say that to the teen now. Especially in front of Alan. Scott smiled to himself, thinking of the last time twelve-year-old Gordon had let loose an expletive in front of his youngest brother. He hadn't done that since. "Alan!" Virgil said, throwing up his hands, clearly exasperated. The fifteen-year-old looked murderous. "I didn't know where you went!"

"You can't touch me!" Alan screeched as he flung himself into Scott and started crying.

Scott shot a look at Virgil, one that he hoped stated, 'Explain. Now.' Virgil just shrugged; he was as clueless as Scott was, if not more. He had hoped that Alan would come clean to his injuries about Scott, and then Scott could do something about it.

In Virgil's mind, Scott could be a little over protective; he thought his brothers were his own personal property and didn't take highly to anyone messing with them. In fact, someone had beaten Gordon up on the school playground the last month. When the teachers didn't intervene, Gordon dreaded going to school for about a week.

When Scott came to pick up Gordon and saw him getting bullied in the hallway, he'd very nearly sent the other boy to the hospital and almost gotten expelled from school. Luckily, the teachers had broken up the fight just in time, listened to Scott's side of the story, and ended up transferring the other youngster to another school district where he would be under closer supervision by the teachers there. He'd already had a few incidents in the school, and Scott and Gordon were both glad to see him gone.

Virgil wanted Scott to swoop in and save the problem today - now - before he ax-murdered Alan with his own two bare hands. The alarm bells ringing in Virgil's head did nothing to ease his anxiety. Why wasn't Alan being forthcoming about his injuries? He always had been before. That lead Virgil – and probably Scott too – to think it was something more serious.

After a minute, Alan calmed down, gulping tears. "He hitted me! And he tolded me that I was only good f'r money! And… and… he said you didn't want me, Scotty!"

Oh. So that was the problem. Someone had told Alan that his hero didn't want him anymore. Who had hit Alan, though? That was the million-dollar question. Virgil certainly hadn't, and John, a full year older, wouldn't have either, even if Alan had been on his nerves all afternoon. That left twelve-year-old Gordon, and Virgil knew that while the redhead had a temper, he never would have said what Alan had repeated… or at least he hoped.

The darkening look on Scott's face clearly showed that a storm was brewing. Someone had hurt his little brother. Probably his favorite little brother too. Virgil knew Scott loved them all but had a feeling that he loved Alan the most. At fifteen, Virgil was quite alright with that – he had no desire to be constantly under supervision by Scott, and if Alan gave him a needed distraction, than so be it.

But back to the present. Someone had hurt his little brother. And he was going to find out who had done it. And make them pay.

"They're wrong, buddy," Scott said, lifting Alan's chin up gently as he attempted to encourage the seven-year-old to look at him. Virgil sighed. Even though Scott had spent more time away than at home the past year, he knew he loved his younger brothers. "Who hurt you?" he demanded, his voice slightly sharp. He exhaled slowly, then said, "Allie, can you tell me where it hurts?"

At the use of his favorite nickname, seven-year-old Alan hiccupped, then nodded and lifted up his shirt. Virgil and Scott stared. There was no denying it. Someone had done far more than hit their little brother. There was a large, shoe-shaped bruise on his brother's bicep, hidden just under his shirt, as well as a hand-shaped bruise on his brother's belly. His face darkening, Scott glared at the bruise as if that would make it magically go away. He sank to his knees and lifted up Alan's left shirt sleeve lightly.

There was another bruise there.

The fact that someone had beaten their barley-seven-year-old brother made Virgil's blood boil. Scott spoke, snapping Virgil out of his thoughts. "Call Dad," he ordered, "now."

Virgil nodded and started to leave, but Alan stopped him. Tears were running down his cheeks. "He saided you'd be mad and you wouldn't love me if you found out!"

Another dark look was exchanged between the two older brothers. "Who, Alan?" Scott said. He gently wrapped his brother in a protective hug. Someone had beaten his baby brother… and there would be hell to pay…

"M-m-mat-thew!" Alan sobbed. He flung himself into Scott's shoulders once more.

Scott glanced up at Virgil, his mouth agape. The babysitter that had been watching the four youngest brothers all week had beaten Alan? Jeff had said he'd picked someone with only the highest recommendations and who had a track record of care. That had allowed Scott to mentally relax while at camp. Coming back and finding his baby brother beaten, quite possibly on his home turf, made Scott's blood temperature raise quite a few notches.

"Call Dad. We need him here, A.S.A.P.," Scott said. He ran a reassuring hand through Alan's hair. "We may need to take Sprout to the hospital."

"No!" Alan said, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. "He said he'd hurt you if I told anyone, Scotty!"

"Matthew said that?" a dark look of murder fell across Scott's face. If looks could kill, Virgil would have been an unintended victim of Scott.

Alan sniffled and nodded miserably into Scott's shoulder. Scott could feel the tears that Alan had been keeping carefully guarded drip onto his shirt.

"When did he hurt you?" Virgil asked, looking at his youngest brother. They needed to know this information. Then they needed to get Matthew the hell out of their house – now – before he hurt anyone else.

"Why, that was yesterday's injury," a new voice spoke up. Virgil froze at the tone of Matthew's voice. Scott dropped Alan's shirt, which read Property of Scott on it, and turned to face the man – who was holding a gun to Gordon's head.

"Now that the five of you are home," he said with an evil laugh, "it's time to get my real paycheck. Tell me Scott, how much do you think your father would pay to get all of you back? I mean, he has been away at a conference all this time… I don't think he cares about you, do you?"

Scott's teeth clenched as he gently wrapped his arms around Alan. "Let Gordon go, and I'll go with you and cooperate," Scott said. He wouldn't put his brothers in harm's way. "My father will hunt you down, you sadistic -"

"Now, now," the man said, kicking Scott's leg. Scott shifted his leg out of the way, and the man backed up just a little bit. "Your father hired me to watch you because he's known you for a long time. But he doesn't know that I just wanted the paycheck. Now that you're home, Scott, my money-collecting can begin." He smirked. "Here's what we're going to do, and if you want the Fish to live, you will shut up and listen to me…"

Jeff exhaled slowly. He was very tired, having just returned home from a conference that had taken way too long. The dinner had gone on two hours longer than it was supposed too, and while he enjoyed a week-long conference once a year, he needed to see his family.

There was a gnawing feeling in his stomach, screaming at him that he'd done something wrong. Jeff couldn't really place it, but he knew it was there. He sighed as he picked up his phone and dialed Scott.

No answer. He'd strictly informed his youngest that the second hegot home, he was to call Jeff – but there seemed to be nothing, no missed calls, and Jeff's eldest had been due when the dinner was scheduled to end.

Scott was three hours late calling in. That didn't bode well with Jeff. If it was Gordon or Virgil or John he probably would have been less worried, they had forgotten to check in on occasion, but Jeff couldn't shake his feeling of worry.

"How far are we now?" he asked his assistant, Ann-Marie. She smiled and checked her watch and the flight plans. She was a pleasant woman, extremely responsible, who had been his lead secretary since Tracy Enterprises had started. He smiled as he thought of the raise he planned to give her when she was back on base. She was full of good advice, and had made his trip much more pleasurable. He knew she was struggling a little bit financially, and wanted to make her be able to breathe a little easier when it came to the bills.

"A little under an hour, sir." Ann-Marie smiled. "Anxious to get home?"

"I just have this gnawing feeling in my gut that something's going to go wrong," Jeff muttered with a tired sigh. Ann-Marie, who was also the mother of two children, would no doubt know what he meant. She was the only one in Tracy Enterprises that Jeff considered to be able to talk to his feelings about.

"If it would make you feel better, I can check in with your children, sir, and see if they've left any additional messages?" she asked with a smile.

"That would be wonderful, thank you," Jeff said as he took another cup of coffee, taking a light sip. Why couldn't he shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong?

Maybe he needed to take his assistant's advice and cut back on the caffeine.

Jeff sighed as he checked his watch. Fifty-five minutes until landing. Maybe his anxiety attack that was threatening to build would stop by then.

Lucille, he prayed, please watch over our boys…

"Here's what's going to happen," the man said. The gun that he pointed directly at Gordon's head never wavered. Virgil shivered at the intensity of the man's glare. John, who had quickly come running when Virgil called him, looked stunned. Virgil looked like he felt he had personally betrayed John. Scott would have to assure him that he didn't do anything wrong. "I'm going to let Fish here get down. You're all going to give me your cell phones and any technology you have, iPods included. Then you're all going to pack an overnight bag. Scott, you might have to help Alan. I want you back here in fifteen minutes."

A rough shove spent Gordon sprawling to the ground. John helped him up and looked at Scott. Gordon was shaking.

"Then we're going to leave a nice little note for your father, and we're going to take off. When Jeff pays me my money, you can go home."

"Look," Scott said once, trying to put on a tough front and protect his younger brothers from this maniac, "Dad will personally kill you if you take all five of his boys – please just take me." The look on his face screamed I'll be good, really!

The man just offered a sick smile. "No can do. Alan and I need some bonding time," he said with a grin.

Alan burst into tears. They cascaded down his cheeks like a river. Scott, being careful not to injure his already-bruised ribs, hugged him tighter.

"Touch him and you die," Scott said furiously.

"Isn't that nice?" the man cooed. His expression darkened. "Wish you could have been my older brother. Mine threw me to the wolves. Oh, John, you might have to get Virgil's bag. He's staying with me was insurance. And don't bother trying to call the police – I've already cut the wires for the phone and the internet."

The Tracy boys, one by one, relinquished their cell phones. Scott sighed as he handed over his cell phone and other electronics. Slowly, not wanting to spook the gunman, Scott got up. Alan refused to let him go, and he clung tightly to Scott's neck, wrapping his legs around Scott's waist. Although Scott normally wanted Alan to walk on his own, he didn't have the heart to put him down now.

"What are we going to do?" John asked Scott. As second oldest, he knew that he and Scott would make every move to protect their younger brothers. Gordon was really shaken up because of the man's surprise attack and John couldn't say he blamed him – they all were.

"I don't know," Scott muttered darkly. Alan wrapped around him tighter. "Look, John, leave a note in your bedroom, okay? Let Dad know what's going on? Fish, you're with me. We'll pack up our bags."

John nodded, knowing what Scott meant. The boys had developed a code when a photographer had tried to take off with Alan once. It was to be used only in case of emergency, and this was no doubt an emergency. "Got you," he said, his face darkening. "I'll grab Gordon's bag, too."

"Good," Scott responded.

The overnight bags had easily been packed, and Scott felt quite pleased that he'd managed to slip his iPod Touch into his bag. He could get wireless internet on there and might be able to slip a message with details to his father. He hoped the man wouldn't notice it in Virgil's bag. It was buried in a compartment, and it wasn't like it was a phone.

The Tracy boys were riding rather uncomfortably in the large van. John was sitting upfront with a man while the other Tracy boys were closer to the back. The man wasn't taking any chances with the Tracy boys. Scott sighed, his face darkening. Then his smile brightened as he remembered the command he'd given Virgil before they'd left the house – maybe there was something they could do. "Virgil, did you get the first aid kit?" he whispered.

Virgil nodded. He always kept it stocked. "Yeah, right here," he said. He knelt down towards Alan. "Can you be quiet for me, Alan?" he asked, his voice a hush whisper as he didn't want to be overheard.

Alan nodded, and much to Scott's surprise, was deathly silent as Virgil checked over his injuries. Virgil sighed; there wasn't much he could do besides given Alan two Tylenol and rub a little bit of cream on his bruises.

"Put it back in the bag," Scott whispered quietly. "We don't want the man knowing we have it."

Virgil nodded as he tucked in the bag. "Yeah, agreed," he responded. He knelt down, tucking it back in Scott's bag. His face flushed as he felt his fingers touch solid metal. "Scott!" he breathed, showing Scott the iPod touch that Scott had packed. Scott had ended up packing it in Virgil's bag. That way, if the man searched the bag and found it, they could say it was a mix-up.

Scott nodded. He pressed his finger to his lips, and then whispered something into Alan's ear. Alan was gently passed into Gordon's lap as Scott fired up his iPod touch. He was able to access wifi in seconds, and within a minute, an email was fired off to their father.

The iPod Touch was put back into their bag like nothing had happened, and Scott accepted Alan back from Gordon's lap. At least, if nothing else, their father would notice something was wrong.

Jeff sighed as he looked at Ann-Marie. She had been gone for about fifteen minutes, and now she was back with a concerned look on her face. "Sir, I think something is very wrong. I can't get in touch with the boys, and this was in your email account. It's from Scott, sir."

Whenever Ann-Marie resorted to calling him 'Sir' instead of Mr. Tracy, Jeff knew something was wrong. It had almost become a code in the past years that she'd worked for him.

Jeff took her iPhone from her and glanced at the message.

Dad,

Matthews is trouble! I came home from summer camp and found that Alan had been beaten. Matthews admitted to doing it, Dad! Not only that, we're – the next word was unreadable – we're in this jerk's car. I don't know were we're going – wait, we just passed an exit sign for New York City! Dad, come find us, he's got a gun!

Scott hadn't signed off with his name, but the email had been finished.

"Oh, Lord," Jeff breathed, his voice hoarse, "Someone has my boys… Ann-Marie, someone has my boys!"

"Calling the local police immediately, sir. I'll have them on dock when we touch down," Ann-Marie said as she stood up and got on her phone.

"Oh, God," Jeff breathed. Then he re-read the email.

Someone had beaten Alan.

His seven year old boy.

There would be hell to pay, and Matthew would pay it…

… if it took everything Jeff had.

He'd lost his wife, but he would not loose his boys…

To be continued - please R&R if you liked! I have the second chapter mostly written and hope to post it either Monday or Tuesday.