So. It has been brought to my attention that while I spent a lot of time rambling in my last author's note, I completely forgot to mention the most important thing of all, which was that there wasn't going be an update last Friday... SORRY! On the plus side, I got my results back... and this nerd's going to uni. Whoo!

Do you ever have those chapters where you don't actually like the chapter very much because not a lot of action happens but it's essential to the plot so you have to keep it in? That's me with this chapter. I'm just not very fond of it. I sorta glowered at the screen when proofreading. But I hope you enjoy it all the same.


Scott ran over the data once more with John, EOS, Kayo and Parker. Kayo didn't like the idea of remaining behind, but she was needed here. John didn't like the plan any more than Kayo did, but they needed every last scrap of information that they could get their hands on and right now Israel was their best bet.

EOS reported substantial numbers of infected moving towards Jerusalem, but the city hadn't yet been breached. Even so, Scott was reluctant to wait to see if the walls could withstand a zombie siege, and Parker agreed, so after an emotional rollercoaster of a conversation with the rest of the family, they planned to take One within the hour.

Brains called Scott when he was alone, back in his room, changing his bandage. The scientist's form sprung up from the projector on the desk and Scott didn't notice at first, too busy attempting to wrestle into the undershirt he wore beneath his flight suit.

"Scott," Brains prompted, earning an undignified yelp from the man in question. Brains had the good grace not to mention it. "I need a f-favour."

Scott paused. Brains didn't ask for favours, ever. It was just a fact of life, like it was a fact of life that Gordon loved swimming and that John always had a weird craving for bagels in the morning. For this reason alone, he gave Brains his full attention.

"What's up?"

Brains glanced at something out of view of the projector. "I need you to p-postpone your launch." He glimpsed Scott's doubtful expression. "Only for about an hour." He hesitated, then, softly, "Please, Scott."

As impatient as he was to get in the sky, Scott knew Brains wouldn't ever ask to delay a launch without good reason. "Okay," he agreed easily. "What, are you zombie-proofing Thunderbird One or something?"

"Not your ship," Brains corrected, "but your suit. Parker's too."

Scott hadn't expected that. He wasn't sure why the thought hadn't occurred to him before now – Brains was a genius and he thought of everything, so of course zombie-proofing their IR suits was on his to-do list.

"An hour, huh?"

Brains ran a hand down his face, suddenly looking exhausted. It struck Scott that his friend probably hadn't slept in nearly forty-eight hours.

"I'll grab Parker and meet you down in your lab in about forty-five minutes. Is that okay?"

Brains nodded, shoving his glasses further up his nose. His eyes were bloodshot from sleep-deprivation and Scott repressed a wince.

"Thanks Brains."

Brains pinched the brim of his nose and offered a tired smile. "Not a p-problem, Scott."


The unfortunate issue with delaying launch was that it prevented Scott from fleeing the island without further discussion. Not that he was running out on anyone, it was just that John had this irritating habit of tracking him down and reading him the Riot Act whenever he was on the verge of doing something that counted as monumentally stupid, and Scott suspected that leaving the safety of Tracy Island definitely made the list. He skulked around his room for a few more minutes before his own thoughts grew too suffocating so he made his way up to the Roundhouse where he could lurk in the spare office undiscovered.

Scott did not, in fact, go undiscovered for long. Whether EOS had tipped John off or whether he was simply that intuitive, it only took him five minutes to track his eldest brother down. Scott had been expecting John to show up at some point, but he'd been hoping for a little while longer to perfect the mask and remember how to breathe and to scrub his hands against his jeans until he could no longer feel the non-existent grime of human remains under his nails.

In reality, he only got as far as sitting in the swivel chair that faced the ocean and counting the lightning strikes out to sea before John was quietly slipping into the room too. Out of everyone, Scott was glad it was John. John had been there through all the bullshit life had thrown at them. John knew Scott the best out of all his brothers, even Virgil, so there was no need to pretend to be fine, to be coping well as if this wasn't single-handedly the most insane thing to have ever happened to them, because John would see straight through the farce.

So.

Scott didn't lift his gaze from the lightning. He imagined the sea broiling around the strikes. There was a small outcrop of rocks to the south-east but to his imagination they looked awfully like bloated bodies. He dug his nails into his jeans. The leather of the chair felt stiff and unnatural. He was too used to Dad's chair. This place was wrong. He rarely came up to the Roundhouse. It was usually Alan's haunt when the kid was having a bad day and needed a break from the chaos of the Tracy household.

"I don't like this plan," John informed him.

"Yeah, no shit," Scott said without turning to face him. "I don't particularly relish the idea of waltzing back into Zombieland myself, but we need information and as brilliant as EOS is, she's limited to technology. The facts we need are stuck in a human brain and you know it. We need a man on the ground and I'm the guy for the job."

John hunched his shoulders and moved so that Scott could see his reflection in the window. With his hands in his pockets and the dark shadows under his eyes, John could have been that same overworked college kid Scott had picked up on his way back home for Thanksgiving all those years ago. It was weird how time passed you by. This trip to Jerusalem was just the tip of the iceberg of all the things they needed to discuss, but New York wasn't on the cards until Scott could think of the city without losing his ability to speak, and the entire apocalypse at large was just too much to handle. They'd talk, but not yet. For now, Israel was as far as the conversation would go.

"It's gotta be me, Jay," he continued, gentler this time, to be rewarded by the slight loosening of the tension John held in his jaw. "You know that. Only Gordon and I are ex-military and Gordon's too close to cracking right now, not that I'd ever consider sending him in my place to begin with." He observed another lightning strike absently. "Parker will keep me on the straight and narrow."

"He'd better," John muttered, sinking onto the desk at Scott's side. He fiddled with the strap of his IR watch, trying but failing to repress a yawn.

Scott watched him. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Night before you headed out to New York?"

"Jesus, John. How are you still standing?"

John lifted a hand and examined the tremors skittering through his fingers. "A lot of caffeine," he commented. "Like a lot of caffeine. Sugar, too."

"You're going to crash and when you do it's gonna hit you hard."

John lowered his hand back to his side and raised a brow. "Really, Scott? Pot meet kettle."

Scott didn't have a reply to that, mainly because John was right and he hated it when that happened, which was unfortunate because ninety-nine percent of the time when John was calling him out on being a stubborn idiot he had a lot of evidence to back this claim up. Of course, the fact that John was also being a stubborn idiot was neither here nor there. Scott was known for working himself into the ground and being caught doing it. John was the exact same way – he just happened to be sneakier about it. They were both messes, that was the point, and sooner or later it was going to catch up with them. Scott just hoped this happened when they were all tucked away safe and sound, be that in a GDF bunker or Tracy Island or the New Martian Colony.

"I understand why you have to leave," John said heavily, after a brief moment in which the aircon kicked back into action with a low whine. He studied his trembling hands. "That doesn't mean I like it."

"You never like my plans," Scott pointed out.

John shot him a sharp look. "Your plans always end with you in a hospital bed. Eighty percent of the decisions you make when I'm not there to supervise result in martyrdom. You have a complex."

"Bite me, Freud."

John flipped him off. Scott lifted his hands in surrender, because yeah, alright, he deserved that.

"Parker and I will be in and out within three hours. We shouldn't be in danger at any point, provided we stay within the walls."

"And if they fail?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

John pushed away from the desk to pace the length of windows. Scott wasn't used to being the one sitting while another wore a hole in the carpet. The role reversal seemed even stranger than the apocalypse.

"We need you here."

"I'll come back," Scott reminded him.

John slowed to a halt. "Good, because if you don't I'll hunt you down and put a bullet in your mangy zombie brain myself."

"Nice imagery."

"Fuck off Scott, you know how batshit this plan is. You shouldn't be going. You're trying to play hero again."

"And?"

John gestured wildly to the ocean in front of them. "And the world's gone. It's over. We need to focus on what's important. You know I'm not above manipulation. Do you want me to mention Alan? To explain what losing you would do to him? He lost Mom. He lost Dad. He can't lose another parental figure."

"Alright, enough already." Scott kicked the chair aside. The damn thing was uncomfortable as hell anyway. He moved to John's side, standing at the window, watching the rain drive in across the ocean, thick and cloudy with ash from the burning cities. "You could just say you don't want me to go."

John slumped against the window. "What good would it do?" he asked tiredly. "You'll go no matter what I say."

Scott put a hand on his brother's shoulder. Denial wouldn't help either of them. The truth was bitter and it stung, but at least it wasn't a lie.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I'm going. But it feels a hell of a lot better leaving when I know you've got my back."

John turned his cheek away from the window to stare at him, deadpan. "You know I have."

Scott didn't bother to hide his smile. "Yeah, I do. Just like I know you'll come looking for me if I don't make it back on time. Now I don't like the idea of my brother walking headfirst into danger, least of all one who has issues with gravity on the best of days, so I have extra incentive to keep to the timings."

John exhaled slowly. "You're an asshole."

"Thanks."

"I'd make a shitty eldest brother, you know that, right?"

"Virgil would do a better job than you."

"It's your job."

"Yuh-uh."

"Get your ass back here by oh-four-hundred or I'm taking Shadow with Kayo and hauling you out of Israel myself."

"John."

"What?"

Scott looked at him for a long, drawn-out moment. "Thank you."

John shook his head, hiding the glimmers of a smile. "You should talk with Alan before you go." He reconsidered this sentence when Scott frowned. "Well. Maybe talking isn't the right word."

"Still nothing?"

"He didn't talk for almost two months after Dad…"

"I know." Scott scrubbed a hand down his face. "I know," he repeated. "I'll speak to him."

John's expression was unusually soft and open. "I don't ask you for promises," he began quietly, as though the walls had ears. "But I'm going to ask you for one now."

"Don't say it."

"Scott."

"Don't."

"Scott," John tried again, something young and scared and broken in all the ways that hurt the most in his voice. He swallowed. "Scotty."

Scott and John were the closest in age. John claimed that despite these two years he still managed to have racked up the most maturity points because Scott tended to fling himself into danger like it was a foam pit at a kids' party. They were a team, a damn good team, and because of this they were on equal footing.

The point was that John hadn't called him Scotty since they were little, very little, before they lost Mom, when Virgil was barely a year old, because the nickname had connotations. People called John Johnny to annoy or to tease or when trying to show affection without getting too sappy on the emotional front. Half the time when Scott heard himself referred to as Scotty it was by a younger brother seeking reassurance. That just wasn't John's role. It never had been.

And yet.

"I promise I won't leave you to deal with this alone. I promise I'll come back. I promise we'll figure this out, together." Scott hesitated, then added, teasingly, "Johnny."

The elbow to his ribs was well worth it.


Alan found Scott, not the other way around as Scott had planned. This was partly his own fault because he'd decided to stop by the kitchen first to check in with Grandma, and a certain blond gremlin was lurking behind the island, back pressed against the cupboards, picking at the corner of an empty cereal carton. Scott nudged the kid's knee with his foot and leant against the island to wait for Alan to pick himself up off the floor.

"I understand if you're angry at me, but I don't want to leave like this. It doesn't feel right."

Alan glowered at him. "What doesn't feel right is you leaving in the first place."

Scott hadn't known it was possible to make sign language sound angry, but oh boy was his brother managing it. "We need that information so we can keep ourselves safe. I'll be there and back within four hours. That's no time at all."

Alan crossed his arms and attempted to glare, but it couldn't quite cover up the fear in his eyes. Leaving the island seemed like a death sentence right now and Alan had lost too many people in his young life. Scott wished there were another way but short of sending Kayo in his place, he didn't know what else to do. He stole a glance at EOS's latest hologram projections of the seabound zombies – because apparently that was the world he was living in now, a place where video-game foes had sprung into reality. The currents were still on their side, carrying the creatures away from their shores, but how long that would last was unknown.

"Can we talk?" He tried to catch Alan's eyes, but Alan remained as obstinate as ever, staring at his threadbare socks as if they held the secrets of the universe. "Al. Come on." He played his final card with a slight wince. "Please?"

Alan pushed himself away from the counter and stopped halfway across the lounge. "Are you coming or what?" he signed back at Scott but didn't wait for a reply.

With the shutters caging them in, the difference between night and day had become almost imperceptible. It was as though the world were collapsing, condensing into a single point, that beyond the horizon there was nothing left but dust and decay, that they were the last survivors left on Earth. Alan bypassed the Den and led the way directly to his bedroom, closing the door behind Scott until the lock caught with a click. Paranoia was running rife – Alan never locked his door.

It was dark, with only a lava lamp illuminating the space in a blue glow, but even in the dim light Scott picked out the details. It was a scene of destruction. The only thing that had escaped Alan's warpath was the guitar that he'd inherited from Gordon, which remained safely tucked on its wall brackets. Everything else was torn to shreds. Posters, photos, blankets, even a gaming console, all of it had been shattered.

Glass crunched underfoot. Scott reached out instinctively to keep Alan from treading on the shards, but his brother took a running jump and landed on the bed, the only part of the room free from chaos. The duvet was balled into a sweaty clump at one end. Alan kicked it onto the floor and looked at the newly made space pointedly. Scott took the hint and picked his way through the mess to join him.

Alan rested his chin on one knee and stared at the glass glittering across the carpet.

"So," Scott began hesitantly. "When did this happen?"

"Earlier," Alan signed, a hint of nervousness flitting across his face. He ducked his head. "After you said you were leaving." He picked at his ragged thumbnail and added, "I know it was dumb. You don't have to tell me."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Sure."

"Alan, I'm serious."

There were definitely healthier coping strategies than destroying a bedroom, but Scott was just grateful that Alan had opened up enough to show him this. He reached over to the photo on the bedside cabinet and tilted it into the reflection of the lava lamp, tracing Mom's face before Alan gave a meaningful cough and drew him back to reality.

"I'm sorry I wrecked everything." Alan was watching him with wide eyes, on the verge of tears. His signing was shaky. It wasn't cold, but he was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Scott plucked the duvet from the floor and shook out the glass shards until he was satisfied it was safe for use and draped it around Alan's shoulders.

"Don't worry about it. We can fix it up. I'll give you a hand later."

"Will you?" Alan picked at a loose thread in the duvet. "What if you don't come back?"

"I will. I made it back from New York, didn't I?"

"Barely."

"Yes, well…" Scott leant against the wall. Alan inched closer but kept that slither of space between them that felt more like a canyon than a few centimetres. "You know me. I always make it home in the end."

"You can't make it home if you're dead."

Scott fought a sigh. He could do with sleeping for twenty-four hours straight. "I promise you," he said at last. "I keep my promises, Al, you know I do. I'll find you."

He waited a few moments more, but Alan didn't move, didn't even make eye contact, so he shifted off the bed and made his way towards the door. There was a slight scuffling and then a weight barrelled into him from behind, arms wrapping around his waist so tightly that it was like being hugged by a boa constrictor.

"Hey," Scott coaxed. "Alan? Talk to me, buddy."

He hadn't actually meant literally, but Alan cleared his throat.

"I love you." His voice was rough, cracked from past sobs.

For a split second, Scott deliberated sending Kayo with Parker instead, but throwing his sister into the danger zone was even worse than going himself. He tugged Alan close and didn't let go. Alan hugged him back just as fiercely.

"I love you too."

Alan sniffed. Scott lifted his chin with two fingers until Alan finally looked at him.

"You know I love you."

Alan nodded. There was another suspicious sniff. Scott's watch chimed, warning that he was going to be late for his meeting with Brains. Alan caught his wrist before he could move away.

"Come home, Scotty. Please."

Scott had seen Hell on Earth and come out the other side on numerous occasions. He'd stood through his father's funeral and believed it would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do. He knew now that it was nothing, that none of these experiences had ever come close to this, because leaving Alan was single-handedly the worst decision he'd ever had to make. It didn't matter that he knew Alan was in probably the safest place on the planet right now, because all he wanted to do was take his brother and keep him close and not let him out of his sight until the danger was over.

But he had a responsibility to the world at large, and he knew that his family wouldn't let anything happen to Alan. Hell, John would burn the entire goddam universe to cinders if it meant protecting his brothers, and Kayo… well. There was a reason Scott had asked her to stay behind, on island, where she could fight tooth and nail to defend them from anything that may wash up on their shores.

So, he memorised Alan's hug, planted a quick kiss on tousled blond hair, and forced himself to walk out the door, because if he didn't take to the sky now he wasn't sure he ever would.


Scott met Parker outside Brains' lab just before the clock struck quarter-to. He was obviously on edge and looked suspiciously emotional. Clearly the conversation with Penelope hadn't gone well. Scott knew well enough that Penelope was like a daughter to the man and leaving her behind was going to be painful no matter how safe Tracy Island was right now. But he didn't ask, and Parker didn't volunteer the information, and they headed into Brains' lab without further discussion.

Brains looked the very picture of a mad scientist. Scott tried not to cough and waved a hand to clear some of the smoke. MAX was darting around with a fire extinguisher. Brains' glasses were shoved into his hair, his eyes streaming from the chemical fumes. He grabbed Scott's wrist and yanked him over to one of the desks. Scott steadied his friend before Brains could lose his balance and smash his elbow into the still-lit welding machine. Parker edged closer, glowering at all the hazard labels on the equipment surrounding them.

International Rescue suits were blue. Scott didn't know why Dad had decided upon that colour, but he had and so Scott had continued the legacy. But the suit in front of him was decidedly not blue. It didn't have the distinctive silver or any of his brothers' colours. It was jet black and the sash was gone, replaced by armoured plating that was a lot more streamlined than Alan's and ran like scales down both arms. He couldn't quite make out all the details due to the smoke, but he knew Brains well enough to guess that the suit was hiding several tricks up its sleeves.

Parker's suit was a similar design, but the uniforms were tailored to complement their different skills. Scott found grapple packs and flares in his belt. Parker didn't reveal his own devices but there was the distinctive flash of something metal whenever he stepped into the light.

"Scott," Brains called after him before he could step into the corridor.

Scott waved Parker on ahead and turned back. "Yeah?"

Brains seemed unsure of himself. He cleared his throat but kept his eyes downcast. "I know how you feel about weapons, but… if you need it… check your toolbelt."

Scott put a hand to his hip. The gun was so streamlined that he wouldn't necessarily have noticed it unless he'd been purposely looking for it. He hated how familiar it felt in his palm, the way his finger instinctively curled around the trigger.

He reached for Brains' shoulder. "Thank you."

Brains looked at him for a long moment. "Come home, Scott. We need you."

"I will. In the meantime…"

"I'll look out for Virgil."

Scott grinned. Was it the end of the world? Yes. Was he still going to give both his brother and Brains hell about being oblivious idiots? Also yes. "Yeah, and maybe the others too…"

Brains flushed. "Oh, o-of course."

Scott left him with a loud laugh. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"You'd better!" Brains called after him.

Kayo was waiting at the end of the corridor. It was strange not using One's launch chute to suit up, but Scott was already wearing his undershirt and there were less tricky zips and sashes in his new uniform. He acknowledged Kayo lurking in the corner with a brief nod as he attempted to prise his reinforced boots on. The new suit felt strange, more like he was preparing for a battle in space than a wander into a militarised survival camp in one of the last cities on Earth.

"Scott," Kayo said quietly, still unmoving from the shadows. "If everything goes to shit, do I get everyone to Five, or are we making a final stand here?"

Scott froze. The gun at his hip suddenly weighed a ton. "It shouldn't come to that." But Kayo was like him, and he knew it – always planning for the worst-case scenario whilst hoping for the best. "If I'm not back by noon tomorrow, start barricading the hangars. Five is… if the island is overrun, leave. Straight to the Martian Colony. You won't have enough fuel if you make pitstops along the way."

"And if you're not back by then?"

"You know what you have to do."

Kayo swept a hand through her hair. "You're my brother," she whispered.

"And I know you can do this. But hey," Scott offered her a bright smile, "I'll be back in time, so you don't have to worry."

Kayo peered past him at One's gleaming hull. "Bring him home safe," she murmured to the aircraft, tracing a hand along silver paintwork. "Both of them."

"I think my flying will have a lot to do with it…"

"Nope. It's all on One."

Scott grinned. "She's awesome."

Kayo elbowed him. "Less drooling, more flying. The sooner you get this over and done with the better." She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around him for a brief moment. "Love you, Scooter."

"Love you too," he whispered back, before Parker's inquiring shout drew him towards One's cockpit.

"Good luck!" Kayo shouted. "Kick some zombie ass."

Scott flipped her a salute before he ducked into the cockpit. "FAB."


Okay, I promise there's a lot more action next chapter. Those of you who have seen WWZ can probably guess why... And don't worry - the next instalment will actually be on time... no more skipped Fridays!

Review?

Kat x