Vaulting. That was the most accurate way to describe Alan's leap over the maternity ward's security barrier. They had returned Thunderbird Three to the island and, with only a brief stop to change into civilian clothing, they left again in Tracy One.

"Oi!"

Scott jogged up and grabbed the security officer's elbow. The man spun around, his eyes ablaze.

"Give him a break," Scott said. "His wife's going to give birth any second now."

The flames in the man's eyes were doused and shook his head, the gesture conveying that this was not a first-time occurrence.

"Well he should have been here earlier," he groused. "Do you know how much trouble I'll be in if he's a troublemaker?"

Scott gave him a sympathetic look.

"He may be a troublemaker in some ways," he said, "but right now, all he wants is to be there for the birth of his first baby."

The security officer grunted and pointed at Scott.

"Well, if there's any trouble I'll be coming for you, first," he said.

Scott gave him a sickly smile and started to walk away.

"No problem," he said.

When he reached the waiting area, it was clear that his father was wearing out the carpet with his pacing. Kyrano was sitting on one of the Spartan couches but rose when Scott entered. Jeff turned and gave his son a nod.

"Good to see you, Scott," he said. "Alan just came barrelling through here and nearly took out an orderly."

His expression flicked from worry to disapproval and back again.

"Yeah, he didn't make himself too popular with security, either. Any news."

"As far as we know, Master Scott," Kyrano said, his voice still poised and measured, but with the slightest hint of concern, "Tin-Tin is just about ready to bring her child into the world."

"That's great news," Scott said. "Just great. I hope we got here in time."

~oOo~

Alan skidded to a halt outside the room Tin-Tin was in and threw himself on the door handle. He burst into the delivery suite to a sound that made his heart explode: a baby's cries.

His baby's cries.

"Alan, at last!" his grandmother said.

But Alan only had eyes for the tiny red bundle in his fiancé's arms. He went to her side as tears began to slip down his cheeks.

"Tin-Tin, I'm so sorry, I-"

Tin-Tin smiled up at him, her eyes watery but shining with joy.

"It doesn't matter, Alan, it doesn't matter. Look. Just look! It's your son."

She held the little child close to her breast and Alan found himself staggering backwards, bumping into an armchair. He flopped down into it.

"A boy. It's a boy. I have a son… A son!"

He leapt up again and ran to his grandmother's side, planting a wet kiss on the side of her head.

"Grandma, it's a boy!"

"Well, Alan, I know that," she said, a chuckle in her voice. "Don't you think you should hold him? I'll go and tell the others. Land's sakes, I'm a great-grandmother!"

Alan went to Tin-Tin's side and gave her a much gentler peck on the temple and gazed down at Tin-Tin and their child. Tin-Tin's hair was matted and her button down pyjama top was soaked with sweat. She looked exhausted and yet exhilarated at the same time.

"Tin-Tin, I'm so sorry I wasn't here. We tried, we really did."

"Oh, Alan," she said, turning her face to give him a kiss. "I think you have a valid excuse." Then she smiled at him and shifted. "Here, take him."

Alan's hands trembled as she passed the bundle to him but the moment his son was in his arms, all nerves ceased.

"Oh, my God…" he whispered.

The boy was tiny, with miniature hands that curled into themselves. A clump of tangled hair sat on top of his head and when he opened his eyes, they were like two enormous marbles staring up at him. Alan felt more tears escape.

"I know," Tin-Tin said. "Isn't he beautiful?"

"He's…perfect," Alan said. "Just perfect. Oh, Tin-Tin, this is incredible. Thank you."

Tin-Tin sat up a little but winced. She lay back on the pillow and sighed.

"You're welcome, Alan. But, I have to tell you…" she paused, then caught his gaze. "Never again!"

Alan laughed, a hearty, deep-belly sound. The little one, who had quieted in his father's arms, began to whimper and sniffle.

The door opened and his grandmother entered, the others in tow.

"Dad, Kyrano, Scott, I'd like you to meet our son."

Jeff's grin couldn't have been wider and Kyrano wiped his eyes, crossing first to give his daughter a hug, then to look at his grandson.

"It is an honour to meet you, little one," he said.

Jeff slung his arm around Kyrano's shoulders and squeezed. Alan looked over at Tin-Tin, who was grinning tiredly.

"Well, Kyrano," Jeff said. "Our kids haven't done half bad, have they?"

Kyrano nodded.

"Have you any names in mind?" Scott asked as he pulled his grandmother in for a one-armed cuddle.

"Well, we decided that if it was a boy, we were going to call him Adam," Alan said. He looked at Tin-Tin again. "What do you say, Tin-Tin?"

The young woman thought for a moment, before nodding her consent.

"Yes, I think we'll stick with that."

"Alright, Adam it is," Alan said. "And now, Adam, it's time to meet your grandfathers. Grandpa Jeff, Datuk, meet Adam Tracy."

~oOo~

John lay on the bed, staring up at the peeling paint on the ceiling. Occasionally, little flakes floated down, tumbling until they hit the faded blanket below. They're giving up the fight, he thought. Just letting it all go. I understand, my little flaky friends. Boy do I understand…

With his fingers intertwined and laid on his chest, he felt like a corpse. He felt like one too. Glancing down at his protruding ribs and atrophying muscles, he huffed out a laugh. Eventually there would be nothing left of him to save. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths, trying to remember what it was like to feel the breeze on his skin or the warmth of sunlight that didn't have to struggle through a dirty window. I haven't been outside in six months. I missed the whole spring being cooped up in here. I missed Easter. I missed Gordon's birthday, Alan's birthday, Scott's birthday… Pretty soon I'll miss Tin-Tins and then Virgil's, too.

He let his arms drop to his sides and dug his fingers into the blanket. Did they miss me? Of course they did… Did they think of me? I'm sure they must have, but… No. No 'buts.' They're looking for you. They've got to be.

Cursing his thoughts, he wound his hands further into the bed covering until it was taut under his body. You can't give up hope. Don't imagine that they've forgotten you because they can't. They won't. You've just got to be strong. What did Dad say? Never give up at any cost. That's what you've got to do, Tracy.

John relinquished the blankets and rolled over onto his side, tucking his hands under his head and bringing his knees up to his chest. He looked out the dirty window. Night had truly set in. The last time he had looked, it had still been light. The stars, twinkling on a background of black, were just about visible through the grime. I wish I could visit you again, old friends, he thought. But wishing never got anyone anywhere.

Trying to befriend Amelia wasn't getting him anywhere, either. He closed his eyes and sighed. The girl was too controlled by her mother, too scared of what might happen. The incident at the kitchen table had proved that. As soon as he mentioned escape, she had snapped shut, tight as a clam, and walked away from him. And who could blame her? She's been living in this nightmare for far longer than I have. Maybe she's just not capable of getting out of here. And of course, she's only fourteen. I can't put that kind of pressure on a teenager. It isn't fair.

Not much was fair. Not much was good. John turned again and pressed his face into the pillow, lying completely prone. I bet Tin-Tin's had her baby by now. I bet they're all celebrating. At least they'll have something to smile about. He was struggling to get enough oxygen through the lumpy pillow but he couldn't bring himself to turn again. I don't think fatherhood is going to bring me much joy, he thought. How will I ever be able to love something that was created through hate, through exploitation? How could a kid ever find joy in life if they knew how violently they came into the world? I just don't know…

His head starting to spin and his lung burning, John finally pulled himself onto his back again and stared back up at the ceiling. How can I be a father to a child that I'll probably hate? What is every time I look at it, I'm just reminded of what she's done to me – or is doing to me. Hell, I could be stuck here for the rest of my life…

No. No, he wouldn't be. He couldn't be. I'd rather die before thirty than spend the next few decades slowly wasting away in this godforsaken house. John thought. Then the gravity of what he had said hit him like a meteorite. You can't think like that. Don't even entertain the idea. You've got to keep going.

The handle turned and the door crept open. John sat up, his gut clenching. Here we go…

Grace entered the room, her pregnant belly swathed in a loose nightgown. John frowned. There was something different, something strange about her movements. They were half-hearted, lacking the drive and calculation that she normally exuded. She didn't look at him once the door was closed again. Without a word, she crossed to the window and stared out. Her arms hung loosely at her sides.

There was silence in the room for several minutes. John refused to speak. Eventually, Grace opened her mouth.

"I'm a bad person, John," she said. Her voice was tiny, like a berated child's. "I'm a bad, bad woman."

Can't argue with that, John thought, but said nothing. Remember Amelia.

Moonlight strained to penetrate the window. Grace's face was eerie, pale as milk. Her eyes looked sunken and her mouth was pulled down at the corners. Her bottom lip quivered from time to time. Unbound, her hair tumbled in messy waves down her back. Her feet were bare on the floorboards.

"I wasn't always like this, you know," she said. "I was a happy child. There were no problems. My parents loved me. Or so I thought."

She turned towards him, her face half-concealed in shadow.

"Daddy left. He didn't even say goodbye. He just left me. Then Mummy started getting drunk all the time. Then she killed herself."

John's eyes widened as Grace brought up her left hand, a hand that had previously been concealed from him. The edge of a huge kitchen knife glinted. Oh, fuck…

"Do you think that was fair, John?" she asked, walking towards him. "Do you?"

"N-no," he said. "It wasn't fair of either of them to treat you that way."

I hope to God that was what she wanted to hear.

Grace slumped onto the bed beside him and laid her head on his shoulder, the knife still held limply in her left hand. John kept his eyes on it. His heart was beating so fast he could hear his pulse.

"Pet my head," Grace said.

John did as he was told. Disobedience was not usually an option but even less so in the presence of a very deadly weapon.

"They left me. They both left me and there was nothing I could do about it. Then I got married and I thought everything would be okay. But then I had three miscarriages in a row, though I finally managed to have Amelia. Things seemed okay for a few years. Then Stephen left me, too. Why do people leave me, John? What did I do that was so bad?"

John didn't respond.

"I was a good person. I always did the right thing, helped other people, studied hard, went out of my way to please everyone else. And yet, I never got anything from all that." John felt her body tighten like a coiled spring and he closed his eyes. "It wasn't fair. It was never fair."

Please, don't kill me…

Her body relaxed again and John suppressed a sigh of relief.

"So, one day I decided that I would stop caring about other people. I would just take what I wanted and damn the consequences. That led to Ian, then Marcus, and now you. And, even better, now the baby." The knife shifted in her hand, picking up the faint light from the window. "Are you happy about the baby, John?"

Swallowing down the bilious feeling that crept into his throat, John nodded.

"Yes," he lied. "I am."

"Did you always want a baby?" Grace asked, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him.

"I had never really considered it," John said. "But now, I guess, it's great."

It was a battle to keep the rising inflection from his tone.

"Good," Grace said. "I'm glad. You're going to be a wonderful father, John. The best." Her face crumpled and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. "But I won't be a wonderful mother. I'm not a wonderful mother to Amelia. I'm a witch." She took up the knife and pointed it at her belly. "I don't deserve it."

"No!" John said. "Please, don't do it."

Tears spilled down Grace's face and her hands began to tremble.

"Will you stay with me forever?" she asked. "John Tracy, say you'll stay with me forever or I'll do it."

What followed was the longest second of John's life. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and within that second, a million thoughts went through his head. If she does it, I can run. If she does it, she might die. I can get away. I can take Amelia away from this.

And yet.

I can't let her harm the baby. I know I don't want it and I know it came from violence but I can't let her harm it. It hasn't done anything wrong…

And so.

"Yes, Grace," John said, his voice quiet. "I'll stay with you."

She turned her face to him again, her eyes wide.

"Forever?"

"Forever," John said.

The knife clattered to the floor and John gulped against tears.

"Do you mean it? Do you really want to stay with me?" Grace asked, her voice girlish and high.

Of course he hadn't meant it. Of course he didn't want to. However, what choice did he have?

"Yes, Grace, I did and I do."

She flung her arms around him with a joyous laugh and John felt his arms stiffen, before he forced himself to return her embrace.

"Oh, John," she said. "You've made me so happy. We'll be together forever!"

Forever…

~oOo~

Datuk: Malay term for 'grandfather' or 'grandpa.'