Hotel

Scott pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car. Looking at Alan, who was still sleeping, Scott gently took his phone from his brother's hand and silently got out. Walking around to the passenger side of the car, Scott called his father. "Dad," Scott greeted, "We're down in the parking garage."

"Alright, we'll be right down," Jeff said hurriedly.

"Dad, wait!" Scott responded quickly.

"What is it, Scott?"

"Right now Alan is sleeping in the passenger seat," Scott explained, "He does not need everyone surrounding him and asking a million questions…like I know we will all do. What he needs is a shirt and sleep. Then his hand looked at by Virgil."

Jeff sighed, "Alright, bring him up, we'll wait here. And have a shirt and bed ready for him. Then we'll let each of your brothers see him, before letting him sleep. Sound good?"

"I know that's the best I'll get," Scott said turning and opening Alan's door, "So I'll take it. Mother Henning will have to wait though; Alan doesn't seem up to it, right now. I'll see you in a few minutes. Oh and someone should call Agent Sufern…" Scott muttered unhappily, "He needs to know we have Alan."

"I'll do that, while you get Alan up here," Jeff promised, and then both men hung up.

"Okay, Sprout," Scott said, shaking Alan's shoulder, "Time to go upstairs."

"Hmm," Alan mumbled, peeking a blue eye at Scott, "Where are we?"

"The hotel I've been calling home recently," Scott smiled, "Want me to carry you, or can you walk?" Scott asked, unbuckling Alan.

"We'll have to see," he responded stretching a little. Alan groaned a little as his tight muscles stretched and took his weight. Scott steadied him, "Thanks, Scooter," Alan smiled, "Let's go."

Keeping and arm around Alan, Scott supported Alan while he guided him towards the elevator, "Just a heads up, Al," Scott said as he pushed the button for the third floor, "Everyone is in the room. I told Dad no Mother Henning, for now, so hopefully you don't have a million questions. But don't be surprised if some slip."

"Great," Alan mock grumbled, "Take it you all want the gritty details?"

"Yes," Scott nodded seriously, "But not right away. We can wait until you get some rest and Virg looks at your hand."

Alan glanced at his right hand; the bandage was starting to show signs of bleeding through. Chewing on his cheek, Alan said, "We'll all figure out how bad it is together then, I don't even know what it looks like."

Guiding Alan off the elevator and to the room, Scott frowned, "Were you blindfolded the whole time?"

Alan nodded, "Except for a few minutes, yes."

Jeff opened the door hearing his oldest and youngest in the hall, "Alan," He breathed, taking Alan into a strong embrace.

"Hey, Dad," Alan returned the hug on armed, protecting his right hand.

Scott herded them into the room and out of the hall. "Hey, Sprout," Virgil said with his own hug, followed by John, then Gordon.

Alan accepted each hug, not wanting to leave his family's strong and loving holds. Stifling a yawn, he said, "Good to see you guys."

"Same here, Al," Gordon smiled, "Now would you put a shirt on?"

Alan gratefully took the offered shirt and pulled it on; getting help with his right sleeve, "Thanks, Gordo," he muttered.

"Alright, to bed with you," Scott said putting a strong hand on Alan's shoulder and leading him to the bedroom.

Jeff followed them and closed the door behind him, "Alan," Jeff started, "How are you holding up?"

Alan sat on the bed with a sigh, "Honestly, Dad," he finally responded, lying down, "I am much better than I was a few hours ago. And right now I just want to sleep and try to forget for a few more hours."

Jeff pulled the blankets over Alan and sat on top of them, "I can understand that, Alan," Jeff began, "But you also will need to talk about it. First to the FBI or another officer, then we want to know, and talking might help."

Alan turned onto his left side, facing Jeff, "I know," he said quietly, "But can it wait?" He pleaded.

Jeff looked at Scott, both worried, then nodded, "Yes we can wait, for a little longer," Jeff said patting Alan's shoulder, "Get some sleep, son. We'll talk in the morning."

Alan nodded into the pillow and closed his eyes. Scott and Jeff left, leaving the door open a crack, "Someone should stay near him," Scott whispered glancing back at the room.

"Let's give him some time first," Jeff whispered back, "Do you think Virgil can look at his hand in the morning?"

"I have no idea," Scott frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, "Alan doesn't even know what it looks like."

Jeff nodded to himself, finally deciding, "Virgil," he called his middle and most medical son over, "Take the med kit we packed and have a look at Alan's hand, will you?"

"Sure, Dad," Virgil returned, "Any idea what to expect?" This last bit he directed at Scott.

"I only know that he hurt it gripping a cup so hard is shattered," Scott answered, "Muscle spasms after the round of shocking," he added after seeing the confused looks he was getting, "My guess is it's cut up bad…but otherwise, Alan didn't know."

Taking in the information, Virgil went into doctor mode, "Alright, I'll let you know what I find."

Virgil entered the bed room silently, carrying the field med kit from Thunderbird Two; packed as a just in case, but would really rather not use. Closing the door, Virgil walked over to Alan's dozing form.

As Virgil turned on the light on the end table, Alan groaned and scrunched up his face, "Sorry, Al," Virgil cooed, kneeling next to the bed and opening the med kit, "Dad thought it would be best to look at your hand now. Mind if I look?"

Alan cracked his eyes open, squinting at the light, "Could you use a different light? That one is too bright."

Virgil smiled, "Sure, Sprout," he said getting up and turning on the ceiling light; dimming it so it wasn't too bright, but still gave him enough light to work. Walking back to the bed, he turned off the table lamp, "That better?"

"Yeah," Alan grumbled, "But any light hurts right now, no matter what."

Putting on gloves, Virgil frowned, "What do you mean by that, Sprout?"

Rubbing his face with his left hand, Alan pushed the blankets down and brought his right out for Virgil, "What I mean is I couldn't see because of that stupid blindfold, which only came off for bathroom breaks. And that was only twice," Alan muttered; then threw a mock glare ay his brother, "And don't call me Sprout."

"Sorry, but you are going to be hearing that for a while," Virgil chuckled, taking Alan's right hand gently into his, "Now let's see your hand."

Virgil carefully unwrapped the bandage, putting it into a bag when it was all off. Gently peeling the gauze off of Alan's palm, Virgil tried to not reopen what scabs where formed; but they opened anyway because they were dried to the gauze, "Ouch," Virgil said as he put the bloody gauze into the bag.

Alan glanced at his hand, then looked away and closed his eyes, breathing through his nose. "What's the verdict?" He asked after a minute.

Virgil gently, held Alan's hand and turned it to get a better look, "Looks like you slapped a knife rack and lost," he finally said, trying to lighten the mood.

A humorless chuckle came from Alan, "Billy thought it was infected," he offered.

"Billy?" Virgil asked confuse, as he picked up a clean piece of gauze and saline based cleaner, "I'm going to clean our hand, it might sting," he warned.

Alan nodded, then answered Virgil's question, "Billy is what I called whoever had me. He picked it; I suggested Geoffrey, with a 'G', but he thought it was too preppy," Alan hissed as Virgil cleaned a particularly tender cut.

"And how did…Billy…treat you while off camera?" Virgil asked, finishing with the cleaning; putting the dirty gauze in his waste bag.

Alan took a shuddering breath, "I really don't want to talk about it right now, Virgie," Alan mumbled, biting his lower lip.

"That's okay, Al," Virgil reassured softly, "I won't push." Looking at the now clean hand, Virgil found a few more small pieces of glass and tweezed them out, "We are going to have to scan this when we get home to make sure all of the glass it out, but you would feel if any was."

"I don't know that I would," Alan said peeking at Virgil, "It is all kind of one painful and burning feeling."

"Is the pain a sharp or dull pain?" Virgil asked, taking out a sterile needle and thread.

"Both," Alan replied eyeing the needle, "It's mostly dull, but sharp and shooting every time I move my fingers or hand."

Virgil nodded, "Then I would have to agree with this Billy, your hand is infected. But it isn't too bad right now, so some general antibiotics should take care of it. Now I have to stitch up some of these bigger cuts, Sprout," Virgil looked Alan in the eyes, "I'll give you a local anesthetic, so you'll only feel a little pull for each stitch, okay?"

"Okay, Virgie," Alan replied quietly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Okay, I'm going to give you the anesthetic now. Try not to move," Virgil warned, before taking a dose of the drug and injecting it.

Alan grimaced and groaned, but kept his hand as still as possible.

"There, all done with that," Virgil said patting Alan's forearm, "We'll wait a minute for it to take effect. Go to sleep if you can."

Alan nodded and tried to relax.

Virgil waited a few minutes and was glad Alan had fallen back asleep. Taking a strong grip on Alan's hand, he set to work stitching the longer and/or deeper of the cuts.

Twenty minutes later, Virgil was finishing off wrapping Alan's hand in a clean bandage. Taking off his gloves, he put them in the waste bag with the old bandage and needles. Tying the bag closed he put it into another one and sealed that one closed as well. Cleaning up the rest of the med kit, he picked up the box and waste bag, before moving to the door.

Turing off the light and leaving the door cracked, Virgil joined the rest of his family.