A/N: So, originally, this was supposed to be a one-shot. However, my muse decided that she had other ideas, and that this was going to be a two-shot. That was yesterday. Today, it's a three-shot with the second chapter complete. I'll have the third up either Wednesday or Thursday (depends on internship). I'd say be mad at my muse, but if you want the next chapter up soon, please don't be mad! I hope you all stay tuned for the last chapter.

Hey, look at it this way: More Alan whump for you all.

Oh, I did include a brief numb3rs scene in here - they are working with the FBI agents handing the case. For those of you who don't know them, just pretend they're any other FBI agents. For those of you who do know them, a nice gift.

Thanks for reading, and please review!

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The drive to the location they were going was long. Scott had been smacked twice when he wouldn't cooperate with Matthew, leaving the man agitated. Alan had burst into tears at seeing his hero hurt. Their trip to the gas station in an attempt for the kidnapper to fill up the car had gone badly. Gordon had tried to slip away, but the man had caught him and thrown him roughly into the car, causing one of his arms to bleed. He'd peeled away, the tires smoking in the dirt, despite Gordon's screams. Scott could only hope that someone saw something, and notified the police.

The situation that they were in was desperate. Sure, he could escape – or try too – if it was just himself. But how could he do it with four younger brothers, and especially Alan, who hadn't untangled himself from Scott's neck since he got here? Alan was painfully silent, and Scott sighed. Obviously the seven-year-old knew there was some kind of trouble.

Finally, the white van they were riding pulled into a large driveway. Matthew got out, his gun never wavering as he pointed at the boys. He opened John's door. The sixteen-year-old blearily got out, looking absolutely emotionally exhausted. Scott couldn't blame him – after all, Scott had been ready to go to bed since before the day had started, and he was still up and running. He'd been looking forward to a good meal and a good nap at home. No such luck.

Slowly getting out one by one – with the exception of Alan, who still clung to Scott's neck as if his life depended on it – the boys got out. John and Virgil got the overnight bags from the car as they made their way through to the house. The bags were dropped on the floor by order as the man smiled at them.

"Here's how it's going to work," he said. "Your father wanted me to watch you brats for a week, said he'd pay. Well, I'm going to get a much better paycheck than he originally intended. One by one, I'll let you go. I'll be contacting your father shortly. I'll need one of you to take with me when I talk on the phone as my insurance policy," he said with a sick smile.

John and Scott shared looks. "I'll go," Scott said. He would never put any of his brothers in harm's way if there was any possible alternative.

The man smiled, the look on his face absolutely sick. He reached out, tracing Alan's tear-streaked face with his hand. Scott abruptly yanked Alan away and was slapped for his efforts. Alan burst into tears.

"Sure," the man said with a sick smirk, "if you can untangle Alan from your spine. There are two rooms that you boys can share. Fight about who shares what room, I don't care. My wife has some clothes for boys your age already lined up. Oh, and boys, don't bother to try and escape. My friends roam this area, and they'll stop you quicker than you can hit city limits, and there's quite a few traps out there. Kappesh?"

John nodded, drawing Gordon closer as the maniac moved toward him. "Good. Your rooms."

- transition -

Finally, the two boys were settled in their rooms. There were four beds and five brothers. Alan had fallen asleep but had yet to move from Scott's arms, so Scott decided that he and Alan would share a bed. John would also be sharing his room. Virgil and Gordon could share a room.

How Scott hoped they didn't have to spend the night!

It was then when he noticed Gordon peeking into his room. The thirteen-year-old swimmer had looked absolutely terrified. While John and Scott could cope and put on a front because they knew they needed to protect the younger boys, Gordon knew exactly how bad it was and had never experienced anything this horrific before. He was really upset. John was currently in his room, trying to calm him down.

Not that there was any remedy for the situation, Scott thought with a tired sigh.

"Any ideas of where we are, Virgil?" Scott asked as he gently laid Alan down on the bed. His headache throbbed, and he knew he'd have a black eye in the morning.

"No," the teenage boy said with a tired and put-on sigh. "I really don't know what to do."

"Look," Scott said, kneeling down in front of Virgil, "I don't know what will happen, Virg, and I'm not going to lie, it's bad. But if for some reason John and I disappear, promise me to look after Gordon and Scott, okay?"

"Why would you disappear?" the fifteen-year-old demanded loudly.

"Shh!" Scott hissed, ducking his head out into the hall. "Look, I don't think it will be a problem. I just want to plan for the worst and hope for the best. And no matter what, don't give up. Promise me?"

Virgil nodded. "Promise."

It was then when the man came into the room and made his way towards Scott. He checked his watch. "Yup, your father should be worried enough. Time to go."

Scott looked reluctant to let go of Alan. The man forcibly grabbed Alan from Scott's arms, waking the seven-year-old, who let out a startled cry. Matthew slapped Alan, not once, but twice, much to Scott's dismay.

"Don't hurt him!" Scott pleaded, only to be shoved into the wall. Matthew dropped Alan to the floor and kicked him in his stomach. The seven-year-old's sobs only grew louder.

"Let's go," Matthew stated darkly, grabbing Scott by his arm so tightly Scott knew he was going to leave a bruise. Scott sent Virgil a look before the two left. He was semi-relieved to see Virgil pick the sobbing Alan up.

Scott's nervousness grew as he moved towards the front door with Matthew. There was a feeling of trepidation that mocked Scott, screaming, something's going to go wrong, something's going to go wrong, something's going to go wrong.

- transition -

The phone call hadn't gone well, and Scott came back sporting a bruised arm and a black eye. The man was more furious than ever, and Scott looked absolutely exhausted. The look on John's face darkened. They had get out of there. Alan had finally cried himself to sleep. John wasn't sure if he should be grateful that Alan was asleep or pissed off that the man had hurt him that much.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked Scott as the teen quietly closed the door most of the way to the room.

"No," Scott muttered, the look on his face dark. "He had me tied and blindfolded the whole time."

John traced the bruise on his brother's face. "And what happened here?"

"I pissed him off."

Glancing back at the sleeping Alan, John sighed. "Well – maybe you could send Dad a message on the Touch and let him know we're okay?"

"I don't think we're 'okay'," Scott said tiredly, "but yeah, that will work."

"Wait!" John said, a thought occurring to him. "I have an idea."

"Somehow," Scott said as he watched his brother, "I have a feeling I'm not going to like this."

- transition -

The FBI officers slowly made their way out of the vehicle. FBI officer Colby Granger stopped at the scene, clearly put-off by the blood on the gravel.. "We're positive it was the kidnapper here?" he asked, touching the phone with his gloved hands.

"Yeah, kid made a phone call from this pay phone about twenty minutes ago. His dad used some fancy, high-tech mumbo jumbo to trace it here," Special Agent in Charge Don Eppes responded. He checked his watch. "See that car? What do you want to bet that he dumped the car and switched it out with a new car?"

Colby nodded. "Yeah, let's get Megan on that – she's always been good with security cameras, right? Maybe she can find a car with a new license plate."

"Well, he called twenty minutes ago; probably took off when he hung up." Don Eppes sighed. The normal California Natives weren't used to working in New York. In fact, they had come to New York only for a brief training course; but that had been interrupted when Jeff Tracy, the multi-billionaire, had reported all five of his children missing.

The email that they'd gotten from Jeff's eldest, Scott, was absolutely chilling. David, trying to play Devil's Advocate, had wondered if Scott had set up the kidnapping; but that thought had quickly been smashed with a video of Scott not only being forced to speak on a phone but roughly being shoved into a dark black van. Colby's voice broke Don's train of thought.

"That only gives him twenty minutes of escape time," Colby responded. He glanced at Special Agent David Sinclair. "Got something?"

David hung up the phone. "Megan got a car with a license plate on it. The video shows him pulling away with a screaming kid. What do you want to bet that it's this guy? Kid looked like the picture," David added, flashing the most recent picture of seventeen-year-old Scott Tracy.

"Good," Don nodded. He was always happiest when there was a lead. He stripped off his gloves, throwing them into a nearby trash can. "He has to be close by. Let's circle around. If we find the car, we can always get a warrant for this bastard's house, right?"

"Sure," David said with a nod, "if we find him, and if the kid hasn't been shot."

Colby shook his head, waving a dismissive hand at Don's theory. "No. If he wanted to shoot the kid, he would have done so already – or he would have left him where we could have found him."

"He probably knows that Tracy wouldn't pay if any of his kids were hurt," David responded grimly, checking his watch. He picked up his phone. "I'm going to get the NYPD working on tracing that car and everything about it. I know Megan is working on it but they might have recourses we don't." He stepped way from the conversation again.

"You gotta figure, though," Don muttered, "that was pretty damn stupid. Taking all five of the kids? He woulda done better to kidnap one, and then make his getaway. Why did he take all five?"

"Coulda thought that five would have made a bigger impact? Gotten a bigger ransom? He seems to be after money," Colby said. "Although, Tracy's already pissed. Apparently, the youngest boy, Alan, was beaten. The kid is seven! Seven!"

"Sick," Don muttered, then responded, "Well, at least Tracy's cooperating with us – that makes our job much eaiser."

And then they heard a kid's voice screaming. "No!" the boy's voice suddenly pleaded, making the FBI agents instantly alert. Colby's hand found his gun instantly, and he moved forward, Don advancing. "Don't touch me! Let – me – go – you – stupid –" the kid's head was roughly shoved against the wall, and Don heard a hissed, I can do anything that I want.

"Let the kid go!" Colby demanded, his voice rising slightly when he recognized the boy. John Tracy. He didn't recognize the man though.

"No, no, this kid is worth money," the man responded.

Don exhaled slowly, glancing at David. It wasn't the same guy who had talked to them on the phone. Another guy? What had happened?

"I was just walkin' in the neighborhood, gettin' ready to get a beer, and looky who I found wondering loose?" the man was slightly drunk and his voice slurred. "Looks like this Tracy kid could get me a million bucks!"

"Does he realize he's talking to FBI agents?" Colby Granger hissed under his breath.

"Probably not, dude's drunker than… never mind," David hissed back. His phone conversation had been finished and his gun was now drawn, taking aim at the man who held the helpless teenage boy. According to the man it was one of the Tracy boys, but from the angle, David couldn't see who it was.

"Look," Don said, laying down his weapon on the ground and stepping forward, "Do me a favor and let that kid go, okay? Then we'll talk about what kind of money we can get for you."

Colby could have sworn the man's eyes shined like dollar signs.

"Sounds… good," he said.

With that, the drunk slumped over, and John Tracy fell out of the man's hands.

- transition -

The FBI agents were still in the danger zone. David had volunteered to ride his SUV and take the other man to FBI lock-up to ask him questions, which left Colby and Don at the scene with the Tracy teenager. "My name is Special Agent Colby Granger," Colby said as he knelt down next to the teen. Colby had always been better with teenagers than Don – probably because he'd actually had a good relationship with his younger siblings at that age. "What's your name?" he asked, even though he already knew.

The teenage boy looked terrified. Don didn't blame him. "J-J-John," he finally stuttered, "J-J-John Tracy."

So they'd found one of the kids alive. Thank God.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Colby asked gently.

John nodded and started to talk.

- transition -

Scott was beyond worried. When John had told him about his plan to slip away and escape he'd protested, saying that he didn't want John to get hurt, but John was having none of it. They had very nearly broken into a fight before Alan had broken into tears and reminded them in a not-so-gentle way to keep their voices down.

"I mean, Scott, we're not your damn personal property, and you're not the only one who can protect us! I'm sixteen, Scott – I don't know everything, but if you're gone this guy's gonna know in an instant. You're older, it's obvious; if I escape, you can always say I'm using the bathroom or something else and stall him! Or maybe you can pretend Virgil is me or something. But he knows who you are – he's already beat the shit out of you."

Another time for Alan to burst into tears. Scott sighed. John hadn't meant to hurt Alan, but his tone of voice was making seven-year-old Alan more traumatized than he already was.

Scott hadn't liked the plan, but John wasn't listening to reason. Scott whispered a prayer, saying,

God, please protect John –

And then all hell broke loose.